Chapter Three: Minoru and Kojima Chat
When Minoru Kokubunji started a new project, he often let it consume him. He would work through the day and well into the night, ignoring everything but the task at hand. It was not uncommon for time to get away from him as he worked, so it didn't come as much of a surprise when he glanced at his watch and found it well past 3 AM.
His current project was a program designed to remotely analyze networks for security vulnerabilities. It had been in the works for more than a year, but only now had Minoru been able to dedicate any time to it. He had been forced to put it aside in favor of programs ordered by his clients, who had deep pockets but shallow patience. The demand for Minoru's coding was almost as high as for his legendary hacking abilities -- the difference, of course, was that he freely advertised the former. The latter, as he made very clear to prospective clients, was strictly a privilege granted to those that truly needed it.
Although the program was coming along nicely, Minoru had been working for several continuous hours and his accuracy was beginning to deteriorate. He caught himself making small, obvious errors in the code -- missing backslashes, unclosed parenthesis, or needlessly repeated commands. He knew that he wouldn't be making these mistakes if he were more alert. Quite reluctantly, Minoru resigned himself to taking a break.
The programmer got up from his chair and stretched his arms behind his head. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware of how long he had been sitting at his desk. Yuzuki had fallen asleep hours ago, tired of waiting for him to abandon his work and come to bed. She was lying on the sofa at the other end of his study, curled in a ball with her face buried in the seat cushion. Minoru felt a pang of guilt as he looked at her -- he had been so busy, he hadn't sat down and had an actual conversation with her in days. When he had graduated from college a few years earlier, he vowed to never let work come between him and those he cared about. He recalled this promise as he thought of how he'd acted over the past few days and his guilt deepened. "Well, it looks like that was a great success," he muttered bitterly.
Minoru stepped out of the room, taking care not to slam the door behind him. He decided that he should have some tea to clear his mind, and he walked down the hallway and into the kitchen. He filled the tea-maker with water and rummaged around in the cupboard for the tea. He found it after a small struggle and emptied the powder into the machine. The maid Persocoms usually did things like this for him, and Minoru felt embarrassingly out of his element. There was a copy of Connected magazine on the counter, and he picked it up and flipped through the articles while he waited for the tea to brew. He was halfway through a piece about the implications of increasing virus outbreaks on global commerce when the timer on the machine went off, startling him a bit. He poured the tea into a carafe and cleaned up the kitchen, taking the magazine along with him to finish later. The article he'd been reading couldn't have come at a better time -- Minoru's new security program would be ready for beta testing in the coming weeks, just in time for the inevitable wave of hysteria the article would spark among network administrators.
Minoru walked back toward his study, entering the room as quietly as possible to avoid disturbing Yuzuki. He took his tea and sat back down at his desk. Resisting the urge to resume work on the program, he opened his web browser instead. He needed to completely detach himself from work or risk becoming immersed in it again. He figured that a bit of aimless surfing would be good for him, so he clicked around various news and entertainment sites before returning to his old haunt -- the Tech Underground message board.
Minoru had discovered the forum after searching for information on Persocom customization many years before. To test the board's knowledge, he had posted several high-difficulty questions under the username "M." The board's regulars gave quick and competent answers to these questions, and he was impressed. He decided to become a permanent member of the community, soon building a reputation for giving sound and rational advice. He didn't visit the board as often as he used to in recent years, but he still checked it from time to time. He liked to challenge himself with the often-obtuse tech support questions posed by new users, but he also liked reading the entertaining banter exchanged between forum regulars.
After logging in, Minoru scanned the topic list in search of a good puzzle. He didn't see anything particularly interesting, however, and he was admittedly disappointed. He clicked out of the forum and entered the chat room, knowing that it was unlikely that he would have any company.
Predictably, Minoru was met with an empty chat room. He waited there for a few minutes hoping for someone to join him -- after all, Tech Underground was a global community that spanned several time zones -- but the prospects didn't look good. He picked up the issue of Connected again and returned to the article, though he left the chat window open so he'd notice if anyone decided to show up. He was almost finished reading when the site's user counter beeped.
His visitor was Yoshiyuki Kojima, signed in under his old handle "Dragonfly." Kojima was also a regular on the board, but unlike Minoru, he seldom showed his true nature when posting. Security professionals consistently ranked him among the most dangerous Internet criminals in the world, but he hid behind his familiar and ubiquitous username and gained the trust of board members with his wit and charm. There was never any doubt that Kojima was smooth -- even Minoru forgot who he was talking to at times -- but that's what made him so dangerous. Tech Underground regulars, who followed the news and read Connected religiously, doubtlessly knew quite a bit about Kojima's exploits. However, those charmed by his computer expertise and sense of humor refused to believe that "Dragonfly" could be the same person as the man thought to be behind four of the five most destructive viruses currently burning their way through the Persocom population.
Minoru didn't really want to talk to Kojima, seeing as he was tired and his patience was wearing thin, but he was never very good at ignoring him. He found Kojima's behavior appalling, but he couldn't help being fascinated with the Black Hat. As a security consultant, Minoru wanted to know what made the man tick so he could unravel his schemes before they came to fruition, but his fascination went beyond the academic. Above all, he wanted to know why someone could harbor such malice toward Persocoms. While most darkside hackers had long moved on to the more lucrative endeavors of data theft and botnet management, Kojima dealt only with destruction. Most, if not all, of his malware was designed to be lethal. He had a particular knack for writing shredder viruses -- programs that brought about sudden, agonizing data loss and eventual system failure. Members of Kojima's cracking ring, "Circuitry," often criticized this preference for destruction as a fruitless obsession with the cinematic, but Kojima cared very little about what they thought. In fact, as Minoru often noted, he seemed to fetishize his ability to cause Persocoms horrific pain. This pathology, more than any desire to predict Kojima's moves, was what kept Minoru from breaking off contact with the Black Hat. He wanted to uncover a reason for Kojima's cruelty, but he hadn't found any real clues in all the years they'd known each other.
Dragonfly: Can't sleep, Kokubunji?
Minoru set the magazine on the floor and pulled his chair closer to the keyboard. He could sense that Kojima was up to something, and he was going to find out what it was.
M: No, I've been working on a program and time got away from me.
Dragonfly: What a coincidence! Me as well.
M: You've been working on a program?
Dragonfly: Yes.
Minoru frowned, knowing that Kojima could only be referring to a new virus. The security professional in him craved details, and he decided to try to get the Black Hat to spill information by playing to his ego.
M: Really? What kind of program is it?
Dragonfly: Well, what kind do you think it is?
M: I'm not a mind-reader, Kojima.
Dragonfly: Well, that's certainly true!
Dragonfly: I mean, of course, that if you could really read my mind, you'd have stopped my last creation. "Annihilator.K" -- remember her?
M: How can I forget? My last big fight was with that nasty little virus of yours.
Dragonfly: Really? Do tell.
Minoru laughed to himself. It appeared that Kojima was headed right where he wanted him to go.
M: Are you sure you want the details? This one got a little gory.
Dragonfly: I'm not averse.
M: Alright, but don't say I didn't warn you.
Dragonfly: Of course, of course.
M: Well, where do you want me to start?
Dragonfly: The very beginning. I want to know everything.
M: Alright, then. It was around 23:00 last Thursday, and I was at home watching a movie with Yuzuki. It was a cheap cyberpunk film, but it was entertaining and we were pretty into it. It was just about over when the phone suddenly rang. Long story short, it turned out to be a call from the head of Information Technologies over at Ichiban Communications.
Dragonfly: The internet service provider?
M: That's the one. Well, he was quite upset, and I repeatedly had to tell him to calm down so I could make sense of what he was saying. He explained that he was in the middle of a serious crisis -- one of the company's servers (which he was directly responsible for) had suddenly developed serious problems, and he had no idea what had gone wrong. All he knew was that a security breach might have been involved, since the office network's firewall had logged some strange activity immediately before the server started having trouble.
Dragonfly: Not an unreasonable assumption. What did you say to that?
M: I told him that I suspected an intrusion, but it would be hard for me to guess what was wrong with the server unless I came down to the office myself. He wasn't quick to give me any details on the Persocom's condition, so I decided to get back into my work clothes and go downtown to see the poor thing myself. If the problem was serious enough to warrant a call so late, it probably needed immediate attention.
Dragonfly: Again, not an unreasonable assumption.
M: When I got to the office, the IT executive I'd spoken with was waiting outside for me. He was very agitated, and I noticed that his hands were shaking a bit. He didn't say much to me during the elevator ride upstairs, but he did thank me for coming on such short notice. When we got to our floor, he stepped out before me and opened the glass door to the server room. The network appeared to be down, as the room was completely silent. He led me over to the corner of the room, where a Persocom lay curled on the floor. She was wearing the company's uniform -- a short-sleeved black shirt with a pin bearing the company's logo and a short, black skirt -- and was quite pretty. The executive told me her name was Mayuko and that she was the company's principal server. She had recently taken on the customer database as well, but she had been handling it extremely well until that night. Then, after a few mild-looking firewall disturbances, she had suddenly started losing data. A lot.
Dragonfly: Awwww. What a shame.
M: Don't get smug. Anyways, I asked to see a copy of the firewall's records, and he went to retrieve them. While he was out of the room, I cautiously approached the stricken Persocom. I knelt beside her and placed my hand on her forehead. "Hey there, Mayuko," I said. "What's wrong?" She mumbled something incoherently and grabbed at my suit jacket. I could tell she was in a lot of pain, and her general distress (along with the problems the executive had described) made me strongly suspect she was hit by a shredder virus. My suspicions were confirmed when the executive returned with the firewall's event logs, which showed definite abnormal behavior that was very suggestive of a hack attack.
Dragonfly: Very good! You truly must be as smart as you make yourself out to be.
M: You're a regular comedian, Kojima.
Dragonfly: Hey, I try.
M: Getting on with the story, I recommended that we set up a closed system and at least try to get Mayuko's countermeasures running. The girl must have realized there was something very wrong at once, since she had been quick enough to disconnect herself from the network before the virus could spread further. This made my work much easier, and I commended her on her foresight. In response, she only whimpered and locked her arms around her middle. I felt so sorry for her -- shredder viruses are terrible things. I wanted to work quickly so she wouldn't have to suffer much longer, so I ordered the executive to start setting up a crude, limited network that I could use to gain access to her system without infecting the rest of the office. He ran off to do this, and I was again left alone with Mayuko. I asked her what she had been doing before she was attacked, but she didn't answer -- she was unable to speak. Her hard drive was making a nasty grinding sound, which almost always means big trouble. I began to doubt that I could save her.
Dragonfly: It was just a Persocom. Why do you let these things get to you so much?
M: And why do you have to be so cold? In the past, computer security had to do with protecting people's privacy and preventing costly attacks on business networks. It was still fascinating and important work, but it was largely impersonal -- after all, who ever cried over a crashed mainframe? Now, with the advent of Persocoms, the rules have completely changed. The network can literally talk to you. It has a personality. It can feel pain. It is very close to being just as alive as we are, Kojima. That is why it bothers me to see Persocoms suffer. Why can't you understand?
Dragonfly: But they aren't really alive. Nobody's ever gone to prison for killing a Persocom.
M: Maybe so, but you can be thrown in prison for writing viruses, so I'd watch out if I were you.
Dragonfly: Is that right! In that case, I'll be sure to cover my tracks well. Anyways, enough with this moralistic nonsense! Get on with the story, Kokubunji.
M: As you wish. However, I want to know something from you in return.
Minoru was amazed at how well his plan was working. Now he had leverage. As long as he kept feeding him infoporn, he would have the Black Hat's undivided attention. If he threatened to pull the plug before the climax, Kojima would talk.
Dragonfly: What are you talking about? What do you want to know?
M: Your new program. What does it do?
Dragonfly: I thought we already talked about this.
M: You didn't tell me anything.
Dragonfly: And I'm not going to!
M: Well, that's your choice. However, if you're not going to talk, I'm done here.
Dragonfly: What? You haven't finished the story!
M: That's right. I'm done unless you hold up your end of the deal and tell me about the program.
Dragonfly: That's not fair!
M: Goodnight, Kojima.
Minoru waited, staring at the screen. He knew that it wouldn't be long before Kojima caved. Sure enough, he got a frantic reply after he'd let a few minutes go by.
Dragonfly: Kokubunji! Are you still there?
Dragonfly: I can't take it!
Dragonfly: I'll tell!
A grin spread across Minoru's face. "Just as I thought!" he said to no one in particular. "Do I know him or do I know him?"
M: I'm glad you've reconsidered.
M: Tell me what I want to hear, and I'll tell you what you want to hear.
Dragonfly: Alright.
Dragonfly: I've been working on a program for Circuitry. They wanted me to write a personal-data relayer, since we're a bit short on money.
M: A glorified keylogger? Kojima, I must say I'm disappointed. I thought that wasn't your style.
Dragonfly: It isn't. As I said, Circuitry wanted me to write it.
M: Once you release it, it'll only take me a few hours to crack it. Relayers aren't very complicated programs, you know. Before you know it, I'll have contacted every security firm in the business, and your little program will be extinct. Syntech will publish the fix and send the definition file to everything in the world that's running Norman AntiVirus, and most of your potential victims will be immune.
Dragonfly: Is that a challenge?
M: Perhaps. However, the way I see it, I'm just telling you the honest truth.
Dragonfly: I'll just have to make it harder to crack, then.
M: You go right ahead and do that.
Dragonfly: Alright, enough of this chatter. I told you what you wanted, so tell me the rest of the story!
M: Well, there isn't much more to tell. The executive finished setting up the closed network, and I connected Mayuko to it and had a look around her hard drive. It was in a very bad state, with lots of data corruption and hundreds of bad sectors. She was running Norman Internet Security, which was still functional although failing to attack the invasion. In fact, it reacted more to me poking around in the system than it did to the virus taking it over. I checked the activity logs and discovered the name of the enemy -- "Annihilator.K." Your creation, as I understand it.
Dragonfly: Sure is. I'm so proud of her.
M: Typical. Anyway, I tried to get Mayuko's countermeasures to attack the malware, but no commands I tried seemed to do anything. I began to suspect that her drive was too far gone and her CPU too damaged for my actions to be of any help. I apologized to the executive, explaining that the server had taken extensive damage and would probably not make it through the night. To my relative surprise, he broke down and cried. I thought that he was worried about losing his job, so I assured him that I'd tell his superiors that the incident was an accident. This didn't seem to calm him down any, and he went over to where Mayuko lie and sat next to her. He took her in his arms and rocked her like a baby. It was a terrible sight, Kojima, and I hope you realize that you're to blame for their agony. I found out later that Mayuko and the executive had been in a relationship for more than a year, although they could only meet in private because of company regulations.
Dragonfly: And you expect me to care?
M: I can't believe how brutal you are, Kojima. It really amazes me sometimes.
M: The end was horrible and drawn-out. Mayuko's system fell to pieces. First, her protection software stopped responding. Then, the hard drive stopped spinning. She lost her cooling liquid all over the floor and her CPU started to melt. That's what finally did her in. The executive was in shock, still holding her and refusing to believe the previous hours' events had actually happened. According to Ichiban, he put in his letter of resignation the next day. I, on the other hand, went home feeling drained and dejected. It never feels good to lose a fight, but I took this one personally.
Dragonfly: And that's how it ends?
M: Yes. Satisfied?
Dragonfly: Yeah, that was a good one. Lots of detail and drama, just how I like it.
M: You're...incredible.
M: Goodbye, Kojima.
Minoru felt dirty. Kojima's reaction to the story wasn't unexpected by any means, but he couldn't help being amazed at the Black Hat's sadism. If he was capable of getting off on something as awful as the incident at Ichiban (which was by far the worst thing Minoru had seen in his years as a security consultant), then what was he really capable of? It was only a matter of time before he did something truly horrible. The night's chat hadn't given Minoru any more clues about the source of Kojima's pathology, but he did gain a few more unsettling insights into his personality that might prove useful in the future. He had also successfully manipulated Kojima into giving up information on his latest virus, which would likely prove child's play to crack.
Too agitated to sleep, the White Hat resumed work on his program with a renewed sense of purpose.