The Wi-Fi That Liked to Watch

So I’m skint, right? My grant’s gone on instant noodles and bus fares, and the only place I can afford is this mouldy box above the kebab shop. Landlord says, “Internet’s included.” I’m like, sweet, one less bill. He hands me a Post-it: “Network: 4B_Legacy. Password: stay4ever.” Cheesy, but whatever.

First night, phone connects before I even unlock the door. Full bars, crazy fast. I’m scrolling TikTok when the feed glitches—every video shows the same girl sitting on my bed. Same wallpaper, same cracked window, same me in the background brushing my teeth. I chuck the phone, heart banging. Pick it up again: normal vids. Must’ve been the cheap cider.

Next day I’m on Zoom lecture, camera on. Chat pops up from “guest_user”: “Don’t sit on the left side, that’s mine.” I live alone, so I laugh it off, but I shift to the right anyway. Professor’s droning when my own face on the screen winks at me—except I didn’t wink. My arms are crossed. I watch myself mouth, “Get out.” I slam the laptop shut; the fan keeps whirring like it’s hyperventilating.

I message the letting agent: “Previous tenant?” She ghosts me. I hunt through the kitchen drawers till I find an old utility bill. Name: L. C. Ever. Cute, like “forever” without the “for.” Same surname as the Wi-Fi. I Google her—obituary, three months ago. “Suddenly, at home.” Picture? Yep, the girl from TikTok. Same dimple, same chipped black nail polish.

I’m proper freaked, but I’ve got coursework due. I open Google Docs; cursor moves on its own, types: “You took my spot. I want it back.” I type back: “It’s just rent, mate.” Doc replies: “I paid in blood.” Screen flickers, doc closes itself, file gone. I check the router; the sticker says “4B_Legacy” but someone’s scratched “stay4ever” deeper into the plastic, letters red like they’ve been dug with a bobby pin.

Night three, I decide to unplug the thing, finish my essay at the library. I yank the power cord—lights stay on. Router’s still humming, even though the flat’s fuse box is older than dinosaurs. I wrap it in a towel, stuff it in the bin. Ten minutes later it’s back on the shelf, warm, smelling of burnt hair. My phone auto-connects, starts playing a Spotify playlist called “Songs I Died To.” Track one: “I Will Always Love You.” Cheesy, but the volume cranks till the speakers crackle.

I’ve had enough. I Facetime my mate Ollie, show him the router. He goes white: “Bro, that’s a hotspot for ghosts. You gotta change the SSID, rename her, break the spell.” Sounded like Harry Potter nonsense, but I’m desperate. I log into the settings page—no password prompt, just a chat window. L.C.Ever types: “Don’t rename me. I’ll rename YOU.” The webpage reloads: my name’s now the network. Every device in the building shows “Connected to @JamieDead2025.” Great, even the neighbours think I’m a walking corpse.

I remember something my nana said: salt and sage, but also “tell them they’re finished.” I pour table salt in a circle round the router, light a tea-light, and read my essay intro out loud like it’s a funeral speech. “Here lies L.C.Ever, bandwidth thief, forever young, forever online.” The lights blink once, twice, then go dark. Silence. I actually smile—till the smoke alarm chirps. Not the alarm, the router. It’s beeping Morse code. I Google the pattern: S.O.S.

I grab the router, sprint downstairs, chuck it in the canal. It sinks, bubbles, then the water glows blue—same colour as her nail polish. My phone finally says “No Internet.” Relief lasts about five seconds. A new network appears: “4B_Legacy2.” Signal strength? One bar, but it’s climbing.

I move out next morning, kip on Ollie’s sofa. Weeks later, new place, new provider, everything chill. One night I’m gaming when the screen freezes. Chat box opens: “Thanks for the upgrade.” I look at my shiny new router. The default name’s changed. It now reads: “Stay5ever.” I yank the plug—lights stay on. Somewhere, I swear I hear a giggle, like a girl who’s just found faster fibre.

Moral? Cheap rent ain’t worth free Wi-Fi. Sometimes the cloud isn’t storage—it’s storage for souls. And once you’re connected, logout ain’t an option. So if you see “stay4ever” pop up on your list, keep walking. Or better yet, switch to airplane mode and stay off the grid. Trust me, data caps are the least of your worries when the previous user’s still streaming… from the other side.