That Saturday, a fierce debate raged in the high school auditorium. Well, it was actually a match between debate teams, so the ferocity level matched an annoyed squirrel, but it was fierce enough for debate club. Since Bill's school was playing host to the match, he volunteered to help run things. During the day, he had plenty of idle time to find mischief.

In an unlocked classroom, Bill found a Macintosh LC, unsupervised, unattended, and equipped with a microphone. In the actual computer lab across the hall, Bill and his classmates constantly pranked each other's machines, and it struck him as a good idea to play a prank on this one. Quickly, he recorded himself proclaiming, "This computer has been hacked. I am in complete control of this computer. BWAHAHAHAHA." Bill placed the audio file in the machine's Startup folder, shut the machine down, and went back to the debates.

That night, Bill couldn't sleep. He was a bit embarrassed about the prank; what felt funny earlier that day just seemed silly to him now. What really worried him was the fact that the victim- some teacher he didn't know- would seek an expert on computers to deal with the "hacker". An expert like Ms. Foote, the CompSci teacher. He had Ms. Foote first period, and she'd almost certainly recognize even his disguised voice on the computer. For the kind of student that was on the debate team and had never seen detention in his entire life, that was a terrifying thought. His brain invented the worst scenarios: he saw himself sitting before a college recruiter; "Well, your GPA is fantastic," the recruiter said, "but it says here you were suspended? We don't want that kind of person in our school."

Bill resolved to go to school early on Monday morning. He would return to the scene of the crime, undo his little prank, forget it ever happened. With a clear plan in mind, he slept easy. Sunday passed uneventfully, and by Monday, his early morning errand was completely forgotten. He arrived at school at the normal time and went about his business.

The reminder he needed was an unfamiliar teacher entering his first-period CompSci classroom to talk to Ms. Foote. The two teachers exchanged words for a few moments, and Ms. Foote pointed at Bill. He did his best to look casual and ignore it. The strange teacher came over to him and said, "Hi, I'm Mr. Rosso. I'm having a little problem with the computer in my room across the hall."

Bill swallowed, and casually replied, "Well, I can take a look." His voice cracked in the middle, destroying his otherwise suave delivery. He adjusted his glasses and followed Mr. Rosso across the hall. Bill's pulse rate increased with every step, and when he saw the computer monitor was blank, it crashed back down.

"I'm subbing for Mr. Kowchevski," Mr. Rosso explained, "and he left a note that his lesson plans were on the computer." With a self deprecating smile, he added, "But I don't know my way around Macs, apparently. I can't turn it on."

With a sigh of relief, Bill glanced down at the keyboard. In true Apple fashion, the keyboard was proprietary; the power button was just another key on the keyboard. It didn't look like any other power button on Earth, and it confused nearly everyone the first time. Bill sat down and said, "Oh, it's easy. But here, let me make sure it's configured so that you can access Mr. Kowchevski's files."

A quick keyboard shortcut kept the machine from executing its Startup Items, and Mr. Rosso didn't even notice when Bill deleted the offending file and emptied the Trash. He wiped the sweat from his brow, handed the mouse to Mr. Rosso, and went back to class. Bill would go on to a career in IT, and usually, he would always try and make sure what he worked on was well designed. But he always remembered that sometimes terrible design can save the day.