Title: A Hacker's Tale
By: Nodachi
Rating: friendly PG13 for language and a small mention regarding sexual orientation
POV: Steven Sinclair of course
Disclaimer: I didn't write the Hacker's Manifesto. I have no claim to it, nor do I claim to be, or know anything about being, a hacker.
Note: italics are the manifesto, basically in full. I tried to fix it up as much as possible. Anything with only one of these (') is typed
Manifesto. Man.i.festo. n. A public declaration of principles, policies or intentions. esp. of a political nature.
Another one got caught today; it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering."
Steven Sinclair let the last news ebb through his veins. The small TV monitor gave the otherwise black room an eerie blue tinge. He half wondered why they had the power to make colour computer monitors, but only black and white TVs. Three more arrests in the hacker district... Malika was cracking down. That meant Steven would have to guard his paces, and those of his employees.
But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950s technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of a hacker?
The flick of a switch, a few knobs and an array of screens began flashing the obligatory warning. Grey eyes flashed with excitement at the mere thought of keying in the password. The screens were life, a constant force detailing the flow of his greatest desire.
Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?
The daily routine first led him to email. One cursed message followed another, descending to the inevitable. Even at age twenty, practically disowned except for traditional family gatherings, Steven could not escape the occasional message from his parents.
Inwardly he cringed, and felt himself reaching for the coffee cup that wasn't there. Resisted the urge to throw a fit... and left to find the coffee pot.
I am a hacker, enter my world. Mine is a world that begins with school. I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me.
Long, long ago they had called a meeting with Steven's parents and his teachers. They had a few observations they had wanted to speak with them about. Among other things, they mentioned failing grades though the child himself demonstrated an advanced learning in everything that was taught, a seeming disinterest in class activities and assignments, and a great aversion to the students at large. That was the first of a number of "meetings." They said everything from "he's depressed" to "he's disturbed" to "he could be a threat" and eventually... "I think your son may have... different sexual tastes."
I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head.
Present time, Steven returned from another room with a cup of boiling coffee and stared disdainfully at the screen once more. He shuddered, and considered the options. Positive was far outweighed by negative. Unfortunately, it had to be done sometime.
I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to.
He took a seat, re-read the message for the third time, and gulped half the burning coffee. He could always put a delay on the reply... the date would read this day, this very moment, but the email wouldn't be sent until after the date they wanted to see him. Simple and clean.
If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me, or feels threatened by me, or thinks I'm a smart ass, or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here.
"Shit!!" No bug... email sent. "No, no, no, no..."
Another swig of coffee, spark of the lighter and the first cigarette of the night. Officially Steven would now visit his parents on the fifth of July. Officially, Steven wanted to crawl into a hole and die. For once he wished he would be caught, the name Balinese exposed, and he would be freed from their presence. No such luck. Balinese had been caught only once and that was because of a person he had thought he could trust.
Time for some quality hacking.
Damn kid, all he does is play games.
"For my first trick, let's put something good on TV."
The three TV stations Varekai did have were easy hacks, and frequent targets. The stations had even stopped making schedules because what went to air was most certainly not what was supposed to be there. The only thing that stayed the same day in and day out was the news. Everything after was free range.
They're all alike. And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electric pulse is sent out, a refuge from day-to-day incompetence is sought... a board is found.
Steven bypassed half a million options, including various new-age movies that had him thrilled and chilled in the past. Tonight he needed something light. The best choice: Army of Darkness.
"Mothers and fathers, keep your children far from the TV tonight. Balinese has infiltrated your systems."
In response, TVs everywhere sputtered and jumped. Army of Darkness interrupted the mundane shit that had dominated the screen for the past fifteen minutes. Steven felt the first tendrils of the thrill rush full force through his veins. It tensed his muscles and left him feeling invigorated, like Rilana must have felt after a fresh kill*. It licked at his raw soul like a cat at a wound. He felt he could do anything. And that included a visit to the Sinclair clan.
Steven's mark took over the station's website, showing the world that today's programming was strictly due to the skills of one Balinese, hacker extraordinaire. He reclined in the beaten computer chair and fell to reminiscing.
"This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all.
Message. When had he even signed on? The small noise from the computer was enough to jolt him from his self-induced depression.
'hckrdude says: BALINESE! Nice job man! I love that movie!'
Irritated, Steven hammered back: 'CatStevens says: Thanks. Fuck off.'
"Happy people should be drug out into the street and shot. You think you're a hacker?" The blonde lit another cigarette, his night now entirely a total write-off in terms of parents and stupid kids who thought they were cool. Not even a man fighting against the living dead and gushing buckets of blood could cheer him up.
Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again.
"I could fix that... kids like you shouldn't be allowed near a computer in the first place."
Another message. Same damn kid.
'hckrdude says: Dude, you don't gotta be rude.'
'CatStevens says: Listen "dude," you got a real nerve messaging me like this. Where the hell did you get my login from anyway?'
'hckrdude says: a friend'
'CatStevens says: And that's all I need. A fan base. Fuck off!'
One nice little button shone with heavenly light. It had a frequent use policy that Steven took advantage of quite often. The blonde had few friends to show for it, but that was the way he liked it.
They're all alike.
Who said that in the first place? Hackers are bound by one common interest only: curiosity and the need that drives it. That doesn't make them all alike.
"Great. Now my depression has been replaced with rage. And that's just what everyone wants."
More coffee, yet another cigarette.
You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak...
Time to cool down. Take a minute to reduce yourself to the depression from before. So maybe hackers really are all alike. Maybe they all are depressed, raving lunatics that nobody wants.
... the bits of meat you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless.
Steven returned to his position on the chair and the previous thought train. Now the depression was fueled by the rage. He recalled the moments he had felt so proud to achieve something so mundane, and was greeted with the traditional "that's nice."
Those two words fueled the being that now sat senselessly hacking every terminal, every platform and everything with computable parts. He felt no remorse. Someone who got hacked simply had no wits to protect themselves.
We've been dominated by sadists, and ignored by the apathetic.
"Sadists, that's what they are. All of them. Evil sadists out to beat all of us into submission, and they take complete and utter joy out of it. But now, now it's time to rise against them.... later. Back to self-indulgent depression." He finished the coffee and lit another cigarette.
The few that have something to teach found us willing pupils, but those are like drops of water in the desert.
In his past, Steven had but one teacher. The man had eventually become his mentor in more things than one. Steven gleaned his name from the man who called himself Abyssinian. Two weeks after Balinese surfaced, Abyssinian was uncovered and shipped off for "re-education."
This is our world now. The world of the electron and the switch, the beauty and the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals.
Three million hacks or more were clocked in Varekai every day. Of those three million, an average of 12 hackers were convicted in a week. The numbers suggested to officials that only a handful of hackers were online and working virtually all the time, or that the hackers were getting smarter. That's where Balinese came in.
The thought made Steven smile. In his entourage were technicians and engineers developing products at least three years ahead of their business counterparts. The products were practically free for hacking use so long as the buyer could prove their worth on the computer. Steven, and his "company" of sorts, was considered sacred. Revealing their location was considered a sin worthy of death.
We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals.
Hackers in Varekai were numbered. Literally. A small shift in the chair would reveal Steven's mark: a barcode tattooed on his left wrist. Others weren't so fortunate... tattoos could be made anywhere, any length, and any size so long as they contained at least thirteen numbers and a corresponding code. Steven had long since removed his number, and those of his co-workers, from the computers. Nonetheless, he recalled vividly the betrayal he felt when his father had dragged him to the depot where he was forever branded an outcast. He simply had wanted to know... everything.
We exist without skin colour, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals.
Steven repeated that line in his head. Said it aloud, than edited it to fit the times.brbr"We exist without bias."
Bias in Varekai consisted of class, occupation, and whether or not you followed the Zen faith. Steven was a hacker who avidly fought against the global domination of Zen. Outlaw x 2.
You build atom bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.
Dead set against him was Malika Petulengro, the world leader. She had long ago claimed that everything she did was to prevent the past from occurring again. She said the invasion was the fault of humanity contacting a hostile species. She claimed Hackers were the only ones with that technology.
In two years, she had done everything within her power to eliminate the "hacker species" from the surface world. In doing so, she had driven them down into the underworld. She had created of Steven aka "Balinese", a leader of the opposition.
In those same two years, Steven had come across many hackers he found inspiring, intriguing, and annoying. Some he simply wanted to deliver bound and gagged to Malika's doorstep.
Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like.
Thinking back on it, Steven remembered briefly meeting the hacker he had messaged earlier. He had some interesting ideals and, despite the annoying talk, Steven had wanted to talk to him more. He thought the young man rather useful. And besides, against an enemy as big as Malika, they would need as much firepower as they could get. After all, weren't they all the same?
My crime is that of outsmarting you, something you will never forgive me for.
Steven turned from the movie he hadn't been watching, glanced again at the computer, and found the young man still online.
I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto.
Now unblocked, free to wage terror on the world, Steven typed a message no hacker could resist.
Malika was out of the question right now. There weren't enough men to finish that job. But... there was still the issue of his parents...
You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all...
Typing...
'CatStevens says: hey "dude", want to have some fun?'
"After all, we're all alike."
FIN
A/N: Now that I've re-read it and fixed it up a bit. I'm finding it a bit rocky. kind of sketchy. R&R would be appreciated. If anybody really wants, I'll consider revising it so it's not so. blah. I should also note that the names I used (Balinese and Abyssinian) are from the anime Weiss Kreuz. At the time I didn't have a reason for doing it other than not having a hacking name to give them. The same happened when trying to get online screen names for the conversation that occurred over the computer. But. going over this again I've just been tempted to explain how they ended up having those names in the first place. Muses can often times be demanding little things.
By: Nodachi
Rating: friendly PG13 for language and a small mention regarding sexual orientation
POV: Steven Sinclair of course
Disclaimer: I didn't write the Hacker's Manifesto. I have no claim to it, nor do I claim to be, or know anything about being, a hacker.
Note: italics are the manifesto, basically in full. I tried to fix it up as much as possible. Anything with only one of these (') is typed
Manifesto. Man.i.festo. n. A public declaration of principles, policies or intentions. esp. of a political nature.
Another one got caught today; it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering."
Steven Sinclair let the last news ebb through his veins. The small TV monitor gave the otherwise black room an eerie blue tinge. He half wondered why they had the power to make colour computer monitors, but only black and white TVs. Three more arrests in the hacker district... Malika was cracking down. That meant Steven would have to guard his paces, and those of his employees.
But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950s technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of a hacker?
The flick of a switch, a few knobs and an array of screens began flashing the obligatory warning. Grey eyes flashed with excitement at the mere thought of keying in the password. The screens were life, a constant force detailing the flow of his greatest desire.
Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him?
The daily routine first led him to email. One cursed message followed another, descending to the inevitable. Even at age twenty, practically disowned except for traditional family gatherings, Steven could not escape the occasional message from his parents.
Inwardly he cringed, and felt himself reaching for the coffee cup that wasn't there. Resisted the urge to throw a fit... and left to find the coffee pot.
I am a hacker, enter my world. Mine is a world that begins with school. I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me.
Long, long ago they had called a meeting with Steven's parents and his teachers. They had a few observations they had wanted to speak with them about. Among other things, they mentioned failing grades though the child himself demonstrated an advanced learning in everything that was taught, a seeming disinterest in class activities and assignments, and a great aversion to the students at large. That was the first of a number of "meetings." They said everything from "he's depressed" to "he's disturbed" to "he could be a threat" and eventually... "I think your son may have... different sexual tastes."
I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head.
Present time, Steven returned from another room with a cup of boiling coffee and stared disdainfully at the screen once more. He shuddered, and considered the options. Positive was far outweighed by negative. Unfortunately, it had to be done sometime.
I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to.
He took a seat, re-read the message for the third time, and gulped half the burning coffee. He could always put a delay on the reply... the date would read this day, this very moment, but the email wouldn't be sent until after the date they wanted to see him. Simple and clean.
If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me, or feels threatened by me, or thinks I'm a smart ass, or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here.
"Shit!!" No bug... email sent. "No, no, no, no..."
Another swig of coffee, spark of the lighter and the first cigarette of the night. Officially Steven would now visit his parents on the fifth of July. Officially, Steven wanted to crawl into a hole and die. For once he wished he would be caught, the name Balinese exposed, and he would be freed from their presence. No such luck. Balinese had been caught only once and that was because of a person he had thought he could trust.
Time for some quality hacking.
Damn kid, all he does is play games.
"For my first trick, let's put something good on TV."
The three TV stations Varekai did have were easy hacks, and frequent targets. The stations had even stopped making schedules because what went to air was most certainly not what was supposed to be there. The only thing that stayed the same day in and day out was the news. Everything after was free range.
They're all alike. And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electric pulse is sent out, a refuge from day-to-day incompetence is sought... a board is found.
Steven bypassed half a million options, including various new-age movies that had him thrilled and chilled in the past. Tonight he needed something light. The best choice: Army of Darkness.
"Mothers and fathers, keep your children far from the TV tonight. Balinese has infiltrated your systems."
In response, TVs everywhere sputtered and jumped. Army of Darkness interrupted the mundane shit that had dominated the screen for the past fifteen minutes. Steven felt the first tendrils of the thrill rush full force through his veins. It tensed his muscles and left him feeling invigorated, like Rilana must have felt after a fresh kill*. It licked at his raw soul like a cat at a wound. He felt he could do anything. And that included a visit to the Sinclair clan.
Steven's mark took over the station's website, showing the world that today's programming was strictly due to the skills of one Balinese, hacker extraordinaire. He reclined in the beaten computer chair and fell to reminiscing.
"This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all.
Message. When had he even signed on? The small noise from the computer was enough to jolt him from his self-induced depression.
'hckrdude says: BALINESE! Nice job man! I love that movie!'
Irritated, Steven hammered back: 'CatStevens says: Thanks. Fuck off.'
"Happy people should be drug out into the street and shot. You think you're a hacker?" The blonde lit another cigarette, his night now entirely a total write-off in terms of parents and stupid kids who thought they were cool. Not even a man fighting against the living dead and gushing buckets of blood could cheer him up.
Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again.
"I could fix that... kids like you shouldn't be allowed near a computer in the first place."
Another message. Same damn kid.
'hckrdude says: Dude, you don't gotta be rude.'
'CatStevens says: Listen "dude," you got a real nerve messaging me like this. Where the hell did you get my login from anyway?'
'hckrdude says: a friend'
'CatStevens says: And that's all I need. A fan base. Fuck off!'
One nice little button shone with heavenly light. It had a frequent use policy that Steven took advantage of quite often. The blonde had few friends to show for it, but that was the way he liked it.
They're all alike.
Who said that in the first place? Hackers are bound by one common interest only: curiosity and the need that drives it. That doesn't make them all alike.
"Great. Now my depression has been replaced with rage. And that's just what everyone wants."
More coffee, yet another cigarette.
You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak...
Time to cool down. Take a minute to reduce yourself to the depression from before. So maybe hackers really are all alike. Maybe they all are depressed, raving lunatics that nobody wants.
... the bits of meat you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless.
Steven returned to his position on the chair and the previous thought train. Now the depression was fueled by the rage. He recalled the moments he had felt so proud to achieve something so mundane, and was greeted with the traditional "that's nice."
Those two words fueled the being that now sat senselessly hacking every terminal, every platform and everything with computable parts. He felt no remorse. Someone who got hacked simply had no wits to protect themselves.
We've been dominated by sadists, and ignored by the apathetic.
"Sadists, that's what they are. All of them. Evil sadists out to beat all of us into submission, and they take complete and utter joy out of it. But now, now it's time to rise against them.... later. Back to self-indulgent depression." He finished the coffee and lit another cigarette.
The few that have something to teach found us willing pupils, but those are like drops of water in the desert.
In his past, Steven had but one teacher. The man had eventually become his mentor in more things than one. Steven gleaned his name from the man who called himself Abyssinian. Two weeks after Balinese surfaced, Abyssinian was uncovered and shipped off for "re-education."
This is our world now. The world of the electron and the switch, the beauty and the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals.
Three million hacks or more were clocked in Varekai every day. Of those three million, an average of 12 hackers were convicted in a week. The numbers suggested to officials that only a handful of hackers were online and working virtually all the time, or that the hackers were getting smarter. That's where Balinese came in.
The thought made Steven smile. In his entourage were technicians and engineers developing products at least three years ahead of their business counterparts. The products were practically free for hacking use so long as the buyer could prove their worth on the computer. Steven, and his "company" of sorts, was considered sacred. Revealing their location was considered a sin worthy of death.
We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals.
Hackers in Varekai were numbered. Literally. A small shift in the chair would reveal Steven's mark: a barcode tattooed on his left wrist. Others weren't so fortunate... tattoos could be made anywhere, any length, and any size so long as they contained at least thirteen numbers and a corresponding code. Steven had long since removed his number, and those of his co-workers, from the computers. Nonetheless, he recalled vividly the betrayal he felt when his father had dragged him to the depot where he was forever branded an outcast. He simply had wanted to know... everything.
We exist without skin colour, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals.
Steven repeated that line in his head. Said it aloud, than edited it to fit the times.brbr"We exist without bias."
Bias in Varekai consisted of class, occupation, and whether or not you followed the Zen faith. Steven was a hacker who avidly fought against the global domination of Zen. Outlaw x 2.
You build atom bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.
Dead set against him was Malika Petulengro, the world leader. She had long ago claimed that everything she did was to prevent the past from occurring again. She said the invasion was the fault of humanity contacting a hostile species. She claimed Hackers were the only ones with that technology.
In two years, she had done everything within her power to eliminate the "hacker species" from the surface world. In doing so, she had driven them down into the underworld. She had created of Steven aka "Balinese", a leader of the opposition.
In those same two years, Steven had come across many hackers he found inspiring, intriguing, and annoying. Some he simply wanted to deliver bound and gagged to Malika's doorstep.
Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like.
Thinking back on it, Steven remembered briefly meeting the hacker he had messaged earlier. He had some interesting ideals and, despite the annoying talk, Steven had wanted to talk to him more. He thought the young man rather useful. And besides, against an enemy as big as Malika, they would need as much firepower as they could get. After all, weren't they all the same?
My crime is that of outsmarting you, something you will never forgive me for.
Steven turned from the movie he hadn't been watching, glanced again at the computer, and found the young man still online.
I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto.
Now unblocked, free to wage terror on the world, Steven typed a message no hacker could resist.
Malika was out of the question right now. There weren't enough men to finish that job. But... there was still the issue of his parents...
You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all...
Typing...
'CatStevens says: hey "dude", want to have some fun?'
"After all, we're all alike."
FIN
A/N: Now that I've re-read it and fixed it up a bit. I'm finding it a bit rocky. kind of sketchy. R&R would be appreciated. If anybody really wants, I'll consider revising it so it's not so. blah. I should also note that the names I used (Balinese and Abyssinian) are from the anime Weiss Kreuz. At the time I didn't have a reason for doing it other than not having a hacking name to give them. The same happened when trying to get online screen names for the conversation that occurred over the computer. But. going over this again I've just been tempted to explain how they ended up having those names in the first place. Muses can often times be demanding little things.