Hackers Story Part 5

Hack, With, Us.... More of a terrible Life..


1. Hackers Story 5

Where'd everybody get the idea that I was demented?!?

I should sue.

I really should. There's gotta be something about it in law. Human rights, maybe. The right to hack without being labelled "demented" or "geek" or "nerd". And if there isn't, it won't take terrifically long to go on-line and add something. Tidy up a few unnecessary laws, such as "theft of electricity" when you phone phreak, that kind of rubbish. Oh, and totally make it illegal to have more than four administrators per task whatever that task may be.

For all you up and coming hackettes, you might like to know that my scribblings are now available on the big (and some might say bad) Internet. You know, the place where female genitalia present themselves to you before you've even switched on the modem. These media people must have a whole bunch of URLs I never found.... Anyhow, point your browser (preferably ArcWeb or the Acorn browser, Fresco at a push, never MSIE) to:

and (cliché alert!) "enjoy!".

Sorry it took so long. Was busy with other activities. As you know, I saw this doctor guy in the newsagent and appropriated some hardware off of his SWITCH card. Well, he must have some bizarre connections because astonishingly I saw him on the security camera the other day. He had a copy of one of my invoices and he was looking up the address. So I hacked the bank (easier than you might think!) to send me a SWITCH card with a number almost identical to his, only two digits transposed. We met, sat down, I apologised profusely and he bought it!

Turns out there is some freaky lab down the road. Our doctor has like a billion degrees in subjects I didn't know existed, and he makes LASER guidance systems. His claim to fame is a smart missile used extensively in the Gulf War. I wrangled for a job there - sounds like fun - but the military have a very thorough vetting procedure. Not to mention the fact that I'm clueless when it comes to stuff like that hardware. They don't even program in the usual computer languages!

There are probably only four places I would not hack. The Pentagon, the NSA, MI5 and the British military. All four of them are so paranoid they'd know you were there before you knew you were there. Like that guy a while back that hacked the Pentagon with a BBC micro or something ridiculously low-tech. He wasn't a hacker - he got caught. The whole point is to not get caught.

So, life continues. I am doing well at college. This is an honest "doing well", not a computer modified one! The Principal and Sopowitz still look at me as if I'm the spawn of Satan, but Albert Sanawuse is acting like he's my personal slave. After walking on the harddiscs for two weeks solid, I now know all the juice and hidden stuff and, frankly, it has started to get boring. There's only so many times you can read the iternal emails between the Principal and the cookery teacher (good bribe, I'll bet his wife doesn't know!) and some really explicit emails between one female secretary and another female secretary. Might get out my binoculars and see what a female-female friendship means when it "goes all the way". For the benefit of younger readers, I'll keep the remainder of my sick little comments to myself... Cucumbers! Oh, sorry.....

Talking of females, I have found my own. She doesn't know it yet, though. A trawl in her user directory reveals no relationships. She is small, about five four at a guess with fuzzy hair that seems like a blonde redhead that can't quite decide which to go with. She has that studenty look and is currently being taught the horrors of PASCAL. I've hooked my video recorder into the college security video cameras (courtesy of the framestore and the college ISDN link) and spend time drooling over her. She isn't what you would call "well proportioned", but I never did figure the idea of judging a girl by the breasts, butt and legs. Seems to me everybody is looking at the wrong end. As for beauty - it's an odd thing. She does not fit the profile of traditional beautiful, but the me she rocks. She is eighteen, never had a boyfriend as far as I could tell and she lives alone in a little apartment on the west side of town. Bought outright, no mortgage. Always pays her bills on time and she regularly receives cheques from the local council. I think she works part-time in the library... 



It was a cold night. I was standing in the rain somewhere in the west side of town. The place where the street lights are far apart, creating little blips of orange light in a void of darkness. Few cars come this way since the bypass was finished. As the road was running with water from the blocked drain, it was just as well. I found a little shelter in the overhang of a small oak. You might be wondering why I'm hanging around getting wet when I could easily hook up an SSTV camera and watch from home. Well, I'm not sure exactly where my future wife (hehehe) lives and if you want to do something right, you should do it yourself.

I switched to the other side of the oak and lay low. My binoculars picked her up a way away. Do I watch or do I approach? If I approach, what do I say? 



I took Sarah's plastic bag and carried it for her. She too was soaked, wearing her library uniform. The bag was heavy, full of books. I rattled off some really lame excuse about being out birdwatching and caught by the storm. She bought that and no hacking was needed. 



She sat on the end of her bed sipping a mug of tea. I sipped mine and looked around. Her apartment consisted of a bedroom which was wall to wall with books. A little kitchen area and a living room. Her bed, her life, was contained in this living room. The apartment below was for sale, and the one above was used by some rich guy on his holidays into the country (whatever nutter would call this place the "country"?). Other than that, she lived here alone. Her back window overlooked a field and then the river. Her front window overlooked the road and more fields, with a school beyond. It was quiet and dark around this place.

Two hours later I found out she likes me, but her parents had recently died in a car accident and she wasn't sure if having a relationship was a good idea at this time. I told her I was a freelance programmer and to call on me if she had any queries. She kicked off her wet shoes and said she was going to bed, she was tired. I wasn't sure if I was supposed to stay or go. So I went. Better leave when expected than hang around too long. She didn't seem like the type to hop into bed on the zeroth date. Neither did I. 


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