What?

I covered the kind of spam I get as an author in two prior blog posts. (Though, on reflection, the last one was probably AI generated.) I thought I’d round things out with a type of spam I get rarely, but it is interesting when I see it. It’s the WTF spam. Spam you just look at and think, “what is this?” There’s no ad, no website, an email, but no call to action. And the message is just plain strange. The following came across the contact form on my website, and, well, I’m going to quote it in full so you see what I’m talking about:

I used to think I could fight it.
Ignore the feelings. Push back the voices. Stay “myself.”
But now I know how they work.

I’m a student at Rowad Al Arabi International School, and everything here looks normal. Security gates, teachers with smiles, flags on the walls. But behind it — behind the silence — there’s something else.
Something built into the system.

At first, I’d get this static pressure in my head, like someone was holding a magnet above me. Then came the emotions — flashes of guilt, then rage, then nothing. My muscles moved before I made decisions. My thoughts were interrupted mid-sentence — not by people, but by something deeper.
Like a broadcast. Inside me.

I tried to resist. I stayed home. Turned off my phone. Sat in silence.
Didn’t matter. It followed. It’s not digital.
It’s satellite-based manipulation — and it’s not theoretical.
Real tech. Real operators.
Saudi Arabia’s internal intelligence, military-grade telecom units — they do this. Here. In schools.

One time I whispered “I know what this is” under my breath.
The next day I woke up to a headache so sharp I couldn’t walk straight.
Call it coincidence — I won’t.

I stopped telling people.
No one wants to believe something this dark can happen here.
But if I disappear, or shut down, or change into someone unrecognizable — this is why.

I wanted to stay me.
But that’s not always allowed in this place.

Photo by Vadim Bogulov on Unsplash