Facebook Conspiracies

A recent investigation by undercover Stuyvesant students has produced some shocking findings. Earlier this year, a group of students congregated in a secret corner of the Hudson staircase, whispering to one another about suspicious rumors they had picked up on throughout their time at Stuyvesant. However, this was no ordinary gossip: it was something much darker.

A black market.

Get it? Darker? Black market? Haha? Just me? Okay.

Since 2020, President Donald Trump has threatened to ban TikTok from the public. People went bananas at this prospect, and for Stuyvesant students especially, the idea of not having social media to fall back on during times of stress was unthinkable.

With TikTok potentially compromised, children began exploring other platforms. For Stuyvesant whippersnappers, one tried and true social media outlet remained godly and above all: Facebook. 

On the surface level, Facebook served as an easy and efficient way for students to communicate and spread news—the way it always was. Beneath the superficial details, however, a mystery was left unsolved to the general Stuyvesant population—until today. 

The aforementioned Hudson staircase cabal took it upon themselves to, ahem, “take one for the team” and go undercover as blissfully ignorant freshmen so they could discover exactly what abnormal activities occurred and record their findings to expose the truth. Deep inside classified chat rooms accessed with meticulous hacking skills (sophomores take computer science for a reason), they found students trading illicit goods, test answers, free response questions, OSIS numbers, and more. One of the most serious scandals they stumbled across was the Tragic Textbook Trickery.

Facebook posts were made advertising secondhand AP textbooks as a cover-up for risky operations. Unsuspecting students were lured in by upperclassmen scammers waiting to corrupt the new generation. 

One of the students at the head of the scandal, who was condemned to eighth-period lunch after the discovery of their involvement, commented, “You know, after you spend some time in Stuy and realize it really is not all that. You stop caring about grades and just want to have fun. It toughens you, makes you grow up. I just wanted to help the naïve little newbies get adjusted to real life quicker.”

On the other hand, the victims strongly oppose that ideology.

“I had felt absolutely ecstatic after seeing that acceptance message on MySchools,” a Stuyvesant freshman reminisced, one of the victims of the AP textbook cover-up scandal. “Then I got into AP Bio—the second best day of my life, I had thought. Then, I stumbled across the Class of 2028 Facebook page and found this nice-looking kid offering up their old biology textbook. And like a fool, I bought it. I let myself be sucked in. When I opened that textbook, I found not bio notes but endless paragraphs of AP Brainrot. I tried to look away, but the more I read on, the more my resolve crumbled. Now I can’t even look at a map of the U.S. because I’m scared of that state. It’s incredibly difficult to use the toilet now, too. I have to do my business in the bathroom with my eyes closed or else I’ll relive the trauma of Unit Four: Photoskibidisis…” 

Too overwhelmed, the sobbing freshman refused to comment further. 

Another top-secret operation that the Hudson coterie publicized was a convoluted network made for the express purpose of copying each other’s work. The detectives quickly identified those at the top of the pyramid scheme and were able to suck up to them, leading them to find a web of manipulation and desperation.

“It was a really dark time for me,” a junior culprit, sentenced to an 8:00 AM double period, confessed. “Believe me when I say I was failing all my classes…seeing those dreadfully low 90s across my report card did terrible things to my mental health. The cheating network was like my saving grace. There had clearly been a lot of effort put into it; there were massive servers filled with test answers dating back to the BC era and almost every homework assignment you could ever want. The only problem was…the leaders used me for food. I had to skip class and sacrifice my lunch and frees to bolt to Terry’s and buy them three spicy Buldak noodles at their beck and call. Do you know how embarrassing it is to tell your teacher you urgently need the bathroom for explosive diarrhea because one of the top hats was craving a pizza bagel?”

After these astounding findings, the Hudson staircase detectives hacked into the weekly opportunity bulletin and appended a long report of the situation at hand. Nocturnal, chronically online kids are the only reason we have access to the information, as the black market officials were quick to retaliate and take down the report. The Hudson gang, kept anonymous for their safety, did not respond to our request for comment. 

Disclaimer: To the black market running in the depths of Facebook, we are throwing no shade, even if some activities do seem a little shady. Proceed with caution when journeying into this shadow economy.