The Renegade Reporters

by Elissa Brent Weissman

  But Brielle just leaned back and popped her gum. “Ads are everywhere anyway, right? They always have been. All this data stuff just helps the ads get to people who might want to see them. It’s pretty cool tech, actually. I’d rather see ads for things I might want to buy than ads for things I don’t care about. And yeah, maybe they know some stuff about me, but so what? It’s not like I have something to hide.”

  “Sometimes you do,” Ash pointed out. “What if Harry was secretly recording our conversation right now? He could use it to steal our story again.”

  “We’re not talking about Harry,” Brielle argued. “We’re talking about computers at big companies that record our info, turn it into ones and zeroes, and spit out ads. Who cares?”

  Maya, speechless, looked at Ash to back her up. So did Brielle. But Ash was caught in the middle. On the one hand, Brielle had a point. Ads were all around, and more relevant ads could work in everyone’s favor, like they did when Ash wanted gray boots, or when Dev wanted to let high schoolers know about a new study guide.

  On the other hand, Abba had recently made Ash pick out a stick of deodorant for herself, which was embarrassing enough while it was happening. What if Van Ness Media had noticed that her specific location dot had spent time in the deodorant aisle of CVS and sent her a coupon for another stick? What if it said “We know your armpits are smelly!” and it popped up while she was using a Van Ness program at school, where other kids could see it?

  Thankfully, she remembered that that specific nightmare could never happen—because of a fact that should reassure Maya too. “Van Ness Media doesn’t allow any advertising in their programs! There isn’t a single ad in any app. Maria Van Ness mentions that in basically every interview she does. It’s one of their biggest selling points to schools.” Ash took out her phone and tried to pull up the links to interviews she’d read. But she’d saved the links in Van Ness Writer, and the app wouldn’t load.

  “Huh,” Ash said, showing her friends the screen. “It won’t let me open Van Ness Writer unless I turn my location settings back on.”

  Maya gasped. “See? They want to track your location.”

  “So what?” Brielle said, getting annoyed. “They don’t allow ads.”

  “Okay,” Ash said loudly, the key question becoming clear. “They don’t allow ads, but they’re still recording our location—and probably everything else we do—to keep profiles on us. Why?”

  They all sat there in silence for a good thirty seconds. Then Brielle took out her phone and began to scroll through the Movie Maker privacy policy. Maya paged through printouts of articles Dev had sent her. Ash pulled up the photo of Maria Van Ness with her dog in Federal Hill Park. Ironically, it was soon blocked by a popup ad for Van Ness Media. VAN NESS MEDIA: POWERED BY KIDS’ IMAGINATIONS.

  Something popped for Ash and it wasn’t her gum. Powered by kids’ imaginations. What if that wasn’t just a slogan? What if kids’ imaginations—and their notes, and their creations, and their physical locations—were powering Van Ness Media’s rapid-fire growth?

  “Remember when we were interviewing Dev,” Ash said slowly, “and he didn’t want us to get any of his analytics on camera? He said he didn’t want his customers to think he was sharing their personal information—or selling it.”

  “Oh yeah,” said Maya. “There are companies that buy data from websites and sell it to advertisers and stuff. They’re called”—she looked through her notes until she found it—“data brokers. Data brokers buy and sell our personal information without us knowing.”

  “And it’s worth a lot of money?” Brielle asked.

  “Tons.”

  “Enough to pay for a fancy headquarters in Harbor East with coffee and Ping-Pong and yoga rooms?” Ash said.

  Maya’s eyes widened. Brielle cocked her head, like they’d finally hit on something interesting.

  “Van Ness Media doesn’t let any advertising come in,” Ash said, piecing her thoughts together.

  Maya picked up those pieces and completed the connection. “But they could still let their users’ personal information go out.”

  “So that means . . .” said Ash.

  “Van Ness Media . . .” said Brielle.

  “Is selling our personal details to the highest bidder!” announced Maya.

  That’s it! They’d got it. And they could report it long before Harry. Ash felt triumphant. Until she replayed the news in her mind, letting it sink in.

  Then she felt sick.

  CHAPTER 18

  Investigators Create Fake Person, Account

  It was Maya who came up with the theory. It was Brielle who pointed out that even if it was right, they didn’t have any hard proof. It was Ash who thought of a way to get that proof: Create a new Van Ness Media account and fill it with specific information. If Van Ness Media was selling that information to other companies, the computer they used to create the account would soon be filled with ads for things their fake person had mentioned.

  So, the very next day, the Renegade Reporters gathered again, this time at Brielle’s house, to create a fake account. The frightened Maya from the day before seemed to have been swapped overnight with a confident, determined Maya. She brought Dev’s old laptop, which he agreed to let them use for the investigation. “He reformatted it before he left for college,” Maya said, “so it doesn’t have any of his personal information on it. But he said that before we create the account, we should still”—she checked a page of handwritten notes—“use a new browser, and clear the cookies.”

  “Clear the cookies!” Ash said. “Where are they? I’ll eat them.”

  “Not real cookies,” Brielle explained as she set up the browser according to those instructions. “Digital cookies. They’re little text files that websites put on your computer. But now I want real cookies too. We have some Berger cookies downstairs.”

  Ash’s stomach rumbled at the thought of Berger cookies, specifically the thick layer of fudgy icing that topped them.

  “Focus,” Maya said, placing a steady hand on the anchor’s shoulder. “We can have Berger cookies at lunch. After we prove our theory.”

  “My mom said she’d order pizza too,” Brielle said.

  Pizza and Berger cookies? Ash could barely wait.

  “The lighting and sound are good,” Maya said.

  “And the browser’s ready,” Brielle said, stepping away from the laptop.

  “Cool.” Ash rubbed her hands together. “Let’s do this.”

  The editor positioned herself behind the camera and assumed her directorial voice. “Footage for the fake account in three . . . two . . .”

  The anchor looked at the camera. “We’re creating our fake Van Ness Media account on this laptop. It was completely reformatted, so there’s no personal information on it. In order to make sure ads aren’t targeted using old searches, we’re using a new browser that we just installed on this computer. As an extra precaution, we cleared the cookies.”

  Proud of herself for keeping a straight face about cookies, Ash turned to the laptop. She opened the browser, went to the Van Ness Media software page, and clicked on log in to begin creating. “Here’s the welcome screen,” the anchor said, pointing. “New users click here.” The next screen listed all the programs you could access with your Van Ness Media account, along with prices for individuals and links to information for schools. “It’s a good thing they offer new users a one-week free trial. We don’t have much of a budget here at The Underground News.”

  The editor rolled her eyes. The videographer tried not to giggle. The anchor continued on.

  “Now it’s time to put in some personal information for our fake user.”

  Ash clicked in the box for first name and paused. They’d decided to create a fake user, but that was as far as they’d gotten. “Our user will be . . . a boy . . . named . . .” Ash glanced at her crew, but th
ey looked just as blank as her mind was. So she went with the name of the street they were on. “Warren,” she said, typing it in. “Warren . . . G. Harding.”

  “Cut!” said Brielle. “Warren G. Harding is the name of a president.”

  “No wonder it sounded so good!” Ash said. “I thought it had a real ring to it.”

  Maya giggled. “We need to think of a different name.”

  “How about Andrew . . .” Ash said, “Jackson.”

  Brielle snorted. “He was a president too!”

  “I’ve got it,” Ash said. She turned to the laptop and typed in George Washington.

  “Stop!” Maya said. She was full-on laughing now. “Stop naming presidents.”

  “Their names just sound so real,” Ash explained. “All the other names I can think of sound made up. Like . . . Maximillian Goldenfarber.”

  Brielle looked at her over her glasses. “You jumped from George Washington to Maximillian Goldenfarber?”

  Ash tried again. “Bink Winkleman?”

  Maya sank to the floor in a heap of laughter.

  Brielle cried, “Think of something common and boring!”

  “John . . .” Ash started.

  “There you go.”

  “Smith,” Ash finished.

  Brielle shook her head. “That’s so real it sounds fake.”

  Maya laughed so hard, she started crying.

  “You try!” Ash said to Brielle.

  Brielle looked her straight in the eye. Without hesitating or even blinking, she said, “Michael Conway.”

  Maya could barely catch her breath. “He goes to our school!” she panted.

  “He does?” Brielle asked.

  Ash did her best impression of the main office lady. “Michael Conway, report to the main office. Michael Conway to the main office.”

  “You’re right!” Now Brielle was laughing too. “I knew it sounded familiar. How about Joseph . . . Taylor.”

  “He goes to our school too!” Maya cried before rushing out of the room and into the bathroom, which made Ash and Brielle break down in hysterics.

  When Maya came back and they all calmed down, the team finally came up with a name that sounded real and didn’t belong to anyone they knew from school or history: Jacob Brown. Realizing they needed more information to create Jacob Brown’s Van Ness Media account, they got him an email address and decided on his birthday. They checked the box to accept the terms and conditions (which had a link to the same incomprehensible privacy policy they’d already seen), and then clicked submit.

  A new screen popped up.

  “ ‘We see that you’re twelve years old,’ ” Ash read aloud for the camera. “ ‘That’s great! Van Ness Media products are made especially for kids. But we do need to make sure an adult says it’s okay for you to sign up. Please provide your parent or guardian’s email address here.’ ”

  The team looked at one another. They hadn’t expected this step.

  “Cut,” Brielle said.

  Maya did, then said, “Uh-oh. What do we do now?”

  “We create an email account for Jacob Brown’s parent or guardian,” Brielle answered, “then open the email and say it’s okay for Jacob Brown to sign up.”

  Ash shifted nervously. She already felt kind of slimy for pretending to be a person who didn’t exist. Pretending to be that person’s parent or guardian felt like an even worse form of lying. One glance at Maya confirmed that she was uncomfortable with it too; she looked like she might need to run to the bathroom again, this time because she was sick.

  “I guess it’s not that different from ‘Jacob Brown’ agreeing to the terms and conditions himself?” Ash said uneasily.

  “Exactly,” said Brielle. “It’s not like Jacob Brown’s parents would spend a couple hours reading the terms and conditions.”

  “Or be able to change them,” Maya pointed out with a sigh.

  Even so, Ash’s palms were suddenly clammy.

  Maya took a breath and stood up straighter, summoning her courage. “We’ve got to do it, so we can find out for sure what’s going on. If we don’t, our investigation ends here.”

  Ash didn’t want that to happen. She knew their theory about Van Ness Media was right, and she knew it would be a huge story for The Underground News. But they couldn’t report it if they couldn’t prove it, and Harry E. Levin was probably researching Van Ness Media right now, determined to find and break the story himself. Would her rival anchor think twice about creating an email address for a fake person’s fake parents? Not a chance.

  “All right,” Ash said finally. “Let’s do it.”

  They opened a new email account for Jacob Brown’s pretend parents, then gave that email address to Van Ness Media. Seconds later, a message appeared in the otherwise empty in-box, alerting Jacob Brown’s parents that their son wanted to activate a one-week free trial from the fastest-growing educational software company in America. The email provided a link to the usual terms of service and privacy policy—which were still a reading comprehension nightmare—and a button that said approve.

  “All set,” Ash said into the camera. “Twelve-year-old Jacob Brown is ready to use the full suite of Van Ness Media software.”

  “Aaaaand cut,” said Brielle. “Good work. Now for the fun part. What is he going to create?”

  “We could start with a newsletter,” suggested Maya, who was clearly prepared for this part. “Then there are those templates we can use.”

  Happy to follow Maya’s lead, Ash opened Van Ness Publisher and clicked on newsletter templates. An option on the first page jumped out at her. It was dark blue and dotted with specks that looked like stars and galaxies. “Space,” she said excitedly. “Jacob Brown can be really into planets and stars and stuff.”

  The editor shrugged. “I like it.”

  “I like it too,” the camerawoman said. “But maybe we should add one more thing. Something companies would want you to buy, so they can show Jacob ads and coupons for it.”

  They all sat quietly, thinking, until their thoughts were interrupted by the ring of the doorbell and the sound of Brielle’s mom calling to them from downstairs. “Girls! Pizza!”

  So it was settled. Jacob Brown would fill his Van Ness Media account with stuff about space . . . and pizza.

  THE PLANET PIZZA MONTHLY

  A newsletter about space and pizza

  Editor in chief: Jacob Brown

  Cool things about Saturn’s rings

  Facts from spaceplace.nasa.gov

  Saturn’s rings are about 240,000 miles wide! That’s the distance from the Earth to the moon! They are not solid, though. They’re made of particles that scientists think are like icy snowballs. Some of the particles are too small to see and some are as big as a school bus. Saturn probably has 500 to 1,000 rings, and there are gaps between them. Saturn is really cool!

  Cool things about pizza

  People have been eating some type of pizza since ancient times in Egypt, Greece, and Rome. Pizza with tomato sauce and cheese started as a fast and easy food for poor people in Naples, Italy, in the 1700s and 1800s. Italian immigrants brought pizza to America in the 1900s. It became a popular American food before it became popular in all of Italy. Pizza is yummy and delicious!

  It’s Not Fair

  A haiku by Pluto

  I just can’t believe

  I used to be a planet

  But now I am not.

  It’s Not Fair

  A haiku by Jacob Brown

  For some reason I’m

  Not allowed to have pizza

  For three meals a day.

  Horoscopes

  Aries: Today’s a good day for pepperoni.

  Taurus: Go ahead, ask for extra cheese.

  Gemini: Mercury is in retrograde. Your
crust will be soggy.

  Cancer: Your pizza will take over an hour to be delivered, but it will be worth it.

  Leo: Take a risk and try a new pizza topping. You won’t regret it.

  Virgo: A bubble in your crust is a sign of good luck.

  Libra: Invite a friend over for pizza.

  Scorpio: Grounded? Make homemade pizza!

  Sagittarius: Be patient or you’ll burn that spot on the roof of your mouth right behind your top front teeth.

  Capricorn: Stop and smell the pizza.

  Aquarius: Mercury is in retrograde. Your favorite pizza place is closed.

  Pisces: I see deep dish in your future.

  About the editor in chief:

  Jacob Brown loves space and pizza. His favorite planet is Jupiter. His favorite star is Rigel. His favorite type of pizza is pepperoni.

  CHAPTER 19

  Siblings Good Test Subjects for Theory

  That night after dinner, while the Simon-Hockheimers were working on a five-hundred-piece puzzle (except for Beckett, who was in his jumper so he couldn’t eat the pieces), Ash got a text from Maya.

  How long do you think it will take for Jacob Brown to start seeing targeted ads?

  “Are you working on the teeth?” Dad asked.

  “Huh?” said Ash.

  “The shark teeth,” Dad repeated. “I have some pieces for you.”

  “Oh,” Ash said. “Yeah. I’ll take them.” She took the pieces, but she couldn’t focus on fitting them into her part of the puzzle. She was thinking about Maya’s question. The grocery store had sent Brielle’s grandfather a yogurt coupon almost instantaneously, but Dev might wait a few weeks to email his customers about a new study guide. How quickly did Van Ness Media make profiles for their users, and how often did they share those profiles with data brokers or advertisers?

  I don’t know, she typed back to Maya.

  Sadie’s head popped up behind Ash’s. “What don’t you know?” she asked.

  “Sadie!” Ash cried, putting her phone screen down on the table. “This is a private conversation.”