Login - The Novel, Nowhere near completed

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Booting PassHack9000 ...
Booted - Hacking ...
Brute force unsuccessful
Hashing ...
...
...
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Welcome to ShallowNet Dazirius

I've got ten minutes or so.
Step 1. Find weak spot. Three minutes.
Step 2. Minelaying. Five minutes.
Step 3. Erase logs. Two minutes.
An even ten if I work fast.

"...haven't had a break in six hours man. Coffee room here I come ..."

Nothing like a tiny mission window to get the adrenaline pumping.
The perfect spot. Back end of the system page area. Should buy me a few minutes to get out of the building.
You need to be close in for this kind of hack but I was wearing my one and only suit so, guess what, just another yuppy with a flat computer.
Mines, mines, mines. When it comes to shattering a super-network in a matter of seconds, they hold their own.
Payload in place.
Logsweeping.
Done.
Let's roll.

I'm not a bad person.

"Better get back to work. Phil's got me cementing a demonstration model into the final system, the jerk. Later, man."

I just have a highly specialised skill set. Getting fired is a skill, right? Anyhow, no-one's gonna employ me after what happened to the last guy to criticise my code.

"Aw shit. My terminal's playing up again. Wait a second. My code! FUCK! SECURITY!"

Let's say it was a denial of service attack. His head lost all spinal services for a few years.
Only work I can get now is medium scale hacks. Industrial espionage. Fat corporate whores who want to sabotage the competition. Pays well though.

"The whole damned network's screwed. Someone's gonna pay for this..."

It only took ten minutes. It costs them three months.

"Fifteen subsystems simultaneously crashed. Months' worth of work, destroyed!"

When I'm not working, I clean.
Compulsion.

What with the drop in jobs recently the place is bloody pristine. No-one to share it with though. Never is. How do you deal with this kinda shit...
"I've had a wonderful time..."
"Me too..."
"Well, goodnight."
"Goodnight."

And she was gone.

Story beginning, middle, and end of my life.

Yeah, the work drought. Could be due to CyberCrime's crackdown on anyone with a keyboard. It is now deemed suspect to have a home computer that is built for heavy processing. If your graphics card doesn't match your CPU in speed then you must be doing something illegal right? So they said when they arrested Damage last week. Fast CPU, slow graphics and sound. Must be hacking,

Assholes.

I have a cat. Bergman.
Sometimes I think of Bergman saying, "I have a Dave."

"Bergie, come on Bergie. Food time, dude."

He likes to be out at night. Likes to prowl. I've seen him disappear into the shadows and come out looking proud.
If I had a heart he'd be a cat after mine.

I don't mix too well with others as you may have guessed. I can show a girl a good time, don't get me wrong, but friends? Hard to make in my world. The only people I meet that I could even consider getting to know are other hackers. A sickening breed.

"Got the new Cellkore 512k SuperSwitch."
"Whoah, cool man."

I got a life while that geek was buying his first Athlon. I have goals. It's all a means to an end.
Mo' money, mo' money, mo' money. Then it's life on the farm.

A call.
It's my boy Damage.

"Dave!"
"You out?"
"This morning. Got some things to tidy up but I can swing by later if you want."
"Sure. No plans this end."
"See you soon man."
"Laters."

I wasn't kidding. No work, no play, just me, Bergie and Alice.
My machine.
Don't be like that. When you get into this profession its good karma to give your machine a personality. Alice is my girl right now. She keeps me safe. Terrabit encryption firewalls and a million and one bait probes keep the feds off my IP. My guardian angel.

I mentioned karma before. I'm not really into that stuff but I've seen too many Techphreaks taken down because of their lack of respect for their machines. You live and die by the keyboard. It's true. A badly maintained machine can land you in a shit-load of trouble.

Once again, without laughing, she's my baby. Like a redneck naming his truck, I named my computer. She's called Alice.

***

A bit of music goes a long way to keeping you focused.

"Ekaj - Artemis"

The hi-fi threw some relaxation my way and I melted.
Slumped in my leather-bound I reach out. Alice is there as always. Waiting. She needs me. Always has. I swear I feel her thrashing the network when I leave and spinning down the hard-disc when I return.
Just keep writing man. One day this will be your life's work and all you need to do is keep writing, keep coding, keep building. It's a better life for everyone.

Alice's keyboard felt warm. I really was home.
All this time outside had my head spinning. How nice it was to just sit and build.

"Ekaj - Orion"

This drum'n'bass stuff kept my head in just the right place for the task at hand. I was weaving spells. I was stacking the bricks of the tower of Babel. I was a Techpriest and Alice was my prophet.

I can't say what I was working on. In truth I don't know. It flowed from my fingers into Alice and fell on the screen to be admired and at once devoured by the compiler. Turned into a flawless gem. Spun for the world to see. Glinting and perfect.

***

"Hey Damage. How's things?"
"Been inside man, how do you think?! Get over here man."

Hugs. He felt... real.
We sat. We talked. I told Alice he was back. She was pleased. We ate. We drank. We did some zeedust. We passed out.

"You've been gone so long Damage. A lot has changed. You still got Terra?" I knew the answer, but I thought he'd better tell me and cry it out if he needed to.
"They torched her. Rotting husk now. Alice OK?"
"Yeah, she's ok. Sorry dude."
"S'ok Dave, that's what happens when you slip."

The next day kinda drifted by. I got coffee about two-thirty. Stoned at about five. Nothing much to report. Dam went back to his place around ten.

Skimmers stroked the sky-line. Humpbacks rode the scarred plains. It sure was a beautiful site from my 4th floor apartment. Even the fire escape, which in winter seemed like a sieve that I would fall out of if not through, became a wrought iron crown upon the city below. I smoked. Banned in the streets, the bars, the restaurants, the parks, the highways; damn - even in my own apartment. They told me I owned it. Security. Home. Still, rules are rules. Eviction is eviction. My fire escape is my mountain top, my sentinel point, my haven of voyeurism. I've seen a great many people do a great deal of business from this very spot. And because the sky no longer holds any wonder I'm never noticed.

Time to come down.

Took me a whole fifteen minutes to find my pants. Got them eventually. Hidden behind the hi-fi. Must've got really messed up last night. Didn't realise I'd got back into stripping off to my music. Terrible habit but encouraged by the zeedust I guess. Good job only Dam was watching.
Hitting the streets, what was left of them. Terrorists? Guess not. They were all killed years ago, at least the terrorists in the traditional sense. True the streets are riddled with holes, pock marks, craters and blast patches from all sorts of groovy weapons, but it was only a matter of time before the city-council bots cleaned up this area.

Wasn't it?

Maybe they never would. Maybe I should just accept that I live in a rat infested shit-hole. Perhaps the guys on the corner dealing weren't there because they wanted to be. They probably had nowhere else to go.
Damned long half-life on zeedust. It was all I could do to walk straight. Still, no work at the moment so, party hard, pay for it later.

Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. Can't go into city central. Not till my suit's been cleaned.
I spot someone jumping the fence. Looking away at this point is advisable, unless you really want to see a poor guy get his skull crushed.
Yeah, enforcers. All over the border of city central.
Gotta keep the citizens safe, huh? I'm safe. I have job security. None of the punks that call themselves 1337 H4XX0RZ get anywhere near the jobs I pull in. Well, "pulled" in anyhow. They get enough work to survive though. Enough to buy food, beer and dust. But I almost earn enough to be a reputable citizen. Funny, isn't it? Almost like the drug dealers with their wing-tip shoes. Except I don't buy flash clothes. Techmart thought it was Christmas when I got my first big score.

I can't complain about a hacking dry spell. To be perfectly honest I was suffering a bit with the stress of short range jobs. Being in the building you're hacking can make you feel like your heart's going to burst.

Thump, thump, thump
Password accepted
Welcome to the FNA Mainframe
Get in, get the files, get out.
I wish the bandwidth on this piece of shit was at least respectable. Mental note, buy a faster ethercard.
Thump, thump, thump

I stay cool enough while I'm doing the job but the second I get home, hands shaking and legs weak, I pour a shot of black label and crash; hard.

The way I work takes planning since I normally follow the first shot with the rest of the bottle. Here's the checklist:

1.Prep anti-trace
2.Buy whisky and smokes
3.Download any software to help with current job
4.Get high (at least 24 hours before the start time)
5.Chill out
6.Get pumped up and do what has to be done

Seems to work for me.


"Do we have a problem?"
"Looks that way."
"Serious?"
"Yep."
"Well what in the fuck are you gonna do about it?"
"Sir, we're doing all we can, but the database has been compromised. It'll take hours just to prepare for what we have to do to clean up this mess."
"You told me this shit was hack-proof! How did this asshole get in?"
"We're still not sure. We think it may have been during a server update, but again, we can't be certain."
"Fuck this. If anyone calls, I'm at Cherie's getting a burger. I'll be back... when I'm back. OK?"
"Yes Sir."

Seven years. Seven freaking years I worked as sysadmin for Shitcorp PLC. Nothing but grief. Ask anybody if a system is impenetrable to hackers and they'll tell you. No. Anyone, that is, except the fucking CTO. You might think that a Chief TECHNICAL Officer would know his shit. You'd be wrong. These guys get thrown a bone directly after washing off the moisturiser that made the hand-job they gave the boss so good. It's not about skill and expertise any more. Not that it ever has been, but I can dream of a better time when people were rewarded for their skills.

I'm being rewarded for mine. Pretty handsomely too. I could probably get another suit a couple of weeks down the line. We'll see. Don't know how much time I'll spend in central next month. Depends on the jobs.

*Beep*

Alice! Email! Cool beans, a job offer! Details, details, details, spike the database, blah, blah, kill outbound comms, yakkety yakkety, drown the fileserver. Woot! Paydirt! Easy shit, big money! Time to start the checklist.

1.Prep anti-trace - Done! Been done for some time. Like to keep that up to date.
2.Buy whiskey and smokes - Hehehehe, after that last job I went down to Eddie's and scored about four litres of whiskey and a shitload of fags so I'm cool on that front.
3.Download any software to help with current job - This might be tricky. The details were a little sketchy but I'll err on the side of caution and update my trace tracker and darkftp software.
4.Get high - Plenty of time. I'll rack up some zeedust later and space out. I'll check if Dam can make it.
5.Chill out - Well duh!...
6.Get pumped up and do what has to be done - This is gonna be a fuckin' cakewalk.

Ok, briefing, bust into Xeron Corp's primary network server, chug down about two terabytes of classified data, leave enough shit to drop the whole network to the ground, go home and receive several hundred thousand credits. No problem. I can do that.

It's funny that only a few years ago, you'd need an agent just to get you these jobs. Then the government rolled over on encrypted email and it got much much easier. My old agent actually killed himself, the stupid fuck. Sure he's got no tech knowledge. Sure without me and others like me he'd have no income, but come on! He could have used his talents elsewhere. All he could see was the shrivelled up husk of his business. Always was an unstable man. Took a Redburgh asault rifle to his right hemisphere and ejected it, messily, all over the wall of his apartment.