The Day My Finger Was Stolen by the Dark Web
W…ritten
By Jaron Summers © 2026
It began with an email.
Not the friendly kind that says, “Your subscription expired.”
This one announced — in all caps — that my digital life was being PERMANENTLY INCINERATED.
Apparently, due to “repeated negligence” (which I assume means misplacing a password sometime in 2014), an “Internal Destruction Protocol” had been activated.
My banking logins were purging.
My private photos were 67% destroyed.
My OS kernel had failed.
A “hardware kill-switch” was engaged.
My device would soon be a permanent paperweight.
The email urged immediate action. It also offered an “immediate bypass payment,” which is a lovely phrase if you enjoy being mugged by vocabulary.
Then I remembered something important:
To get into my email, I use my fingerprint.
Which means the only way these people could access my account is by stealing my forefinger.
So I checked my hand.
At midnight, I’m fairly sure I had five fingers.
This morning, in a moment of pure panic mathematics, I counted three.
This is the danger of fear: it makes you bad at counting things you’ve owned your whole life.
I tried again. Calmly.
All five were present. Slightly older, yes — but still attached, still mine, still not leased to the dark web.
I reread the email with a cooler head.
Real companies sound boring. They say “billing.”
Scammers sound like Bond villains with a Wi-Fi problem. They say “FULL DATA ANNIHILATION.”
It also promised I could “unsubscribe at any time,” which felt generous for an organization actively incinerating my existence.
I did not pay.
I blocked the sender.
Another email arrived the next day. Different address. Same apocalypse. It seems the dark web is persistent, but not especially creative.
Here’s my rule now:
If someone truly controls your operating system, they don’t send you a countdown in ALL CAPS.
They quietly take your money and buy a boat.
My fingers remain attached.
My “kernel,” whatever it is, continues to kernel.
And my device has not become a paperweight — though it does an excellent job holding down mail.
I deleted the email.
Kate looked up from her book and said, “How many fingers do you have now?”