[ WP ] You decide to double check the permissions you 've given to certain apps . It turns out you gave them more permissions than you expected .

I scroll down to the older apps, the one ’ s I've had downloaded since I first got the phone. 
 
 “ Alright, time to revisit your privacy settings. ” 
 
 Not having been well-versed in smartphone usage at the time of the downloads, I may very well have given permissions to the apps that I had no intention of giving. I tap on my photo-sharing app, and am brought to the Options screen. From there I go to Privacy, where it lists all the things the app can access. 
 
 -Permissions- 
 
 -This app has access to: - 
 
 -Camera Roll- 
 
 
 Keeping that, of course. 
 
 
 -Contacts- 
 
 
 Makes sense. 
 
 
 -TouchToRetouch- 
 
 -Facebook- 
 
 -Markup- 
 
 -100Filters- 
 
 
 So far so good. 
 
 
 -User ’ s location- 
 
 
 That can be turned off. 
 
 
 -Microphone- 
 
 
 What? There ’ s no reason a photo app needs to use the microphone. I turn it off and continue down the list. 
 
 
 -User ’ s usage statistics- 
 
 
 Now that ’ s just creepy. 
 
 
 -User ’ s firstborn- 
 
 
 WHAT!? 
 
 
 I quickly toggle that to ‘ off ’ and hurriedly scroll down to scan the rest of the permissions. 
 
 -User ’ s phone conversations- 
 
 -User ’ s body temperature- 
 
 -Raw footage of user ’ s humiliating strikeout in Little League during the second grade- 
 
 -User ’ s leftover chicken casserole- 
 
 
 This is absurd. It must be a joke, a prank, something - it can ’ t possibly be real. 
 
 I keep reading. 
 
 
 -User ’ s stress levels- 
 
 -User ’ s surface thoughts- 
 
 -User ’ s pantry- 
 
 -User ’ s History notes- 
 
 -User ’ s pathetically small circle of friends- 
 
 
 Now it ’ s insulting me? 
 
 
 -User ’ s physical energy, to be drained upon discovery of extent of conspiracy- 
 
 
... What? What does that even- 
 
 My chest shudders as I struggle to draw a breath. What ’ s happening!? The phone drops from my fingers. My arm quickly becomes to heavy to hold itself up. I collapse to the floor, wheezing. In front of me lies my phone, still displaying the mind-baffling list. I tilt my head enough to read from the screen. 
 
 
 -User ’ s house, to be entered upon discovery of extent of conspiracy- 
 
 
 I hear a crash from the front of the house. Voices, curt and commanding. Boots hitting the floor. 
 
 Immobilized, helpless, my eyes point to my phone, and the list of permissions. I try to gasp, but my lungs are no longer listening to my brain. As my vision darkens, I see a group of men dressed in black enter my living room. Fear is the last thing I feel, thinking of the final item on the list. 
 
 
 -User ’ s organs, to be retrieved following incapacitation due to drainage of physical energy- 

