DEF CON 30 Short Story Writing Contest
https://media.defcon.org/

The Hack - J. T. Evans

As Garrett chewed the final morsel of his sandwich, he slowly scraped his hand the
stubble that seemed to grow in random patches on his face. The whiskers on his face annoyed
him to no end, but his last razor had broken a week ago, and he had run out of Amero
Dollars. His other hand absently stroked the large head of his Great Dane in an effort to draw
comfort from the large, gentle beast that stood guard over the small abode that they both
occupied.

He slowly looked around the small one-room apartment in dismay. The small
refrigerator stood empty next to the door, but leaned against the squealing piece of equipment
was a fresh bag of premium dog food. The middle portion of the room contained a series of
shelves cobbled together from milk crates, planks of rotting wood, and broken cinder blocks.
On the shelves was an assortment of books that ranged in topics from technical manuals for
computers, electronic engineering and science fiction novels.

The focus of the apartment was really the far end, near the window. Stretched across
the narrow width of the room were two hammocks arranged like bunk beds. The top-most
hammock held a variety of computer equipment, cables, boxes, junctions for the cables, and
tools. Two cables ran from the wall above the boards that covered the window to the largest
of the boxes that resided in the middle of the upper hammock like a fat sheik in the middle of
a technological harem.

When Garrett's eyes fell on the computer equipment, his tired face broke into a small
smile. Every spare Amero that he scraped together went into that system. It's the tool he used
to earn extra money on the side. His day job barely covered the cost of dog food for Cerberus,
and his high-speed connection to the Ultranet. His side activities brought in enough money
cover the rest of his expenses and allowed him to indulge in the latest and greatest computer
equipment.

The smile faded as he realized that now he only had his side job to support himself.
His day job as a Network Genius for the Guru Group abruptly halted a week ago under
accusations that he had installed a piece of sub-par network equipment instead of the top of
the line router that the grandmother in Patrol Sector A purchased. Garrett knew that he had
delivered, installed, configured and put his back door hack in the Cyrus Optiplex 39-AG
Multicast Ultranet router instead of the Tardus S-47 QuikConnect router the grandmother's
teenage grandson called to complain about. No amount of wheedling and begging could keep
Garrett from being fired in the face of the Tardus router that was brought into the store by the
grandson. Garrett wished that he had the courage to wipe the sneer off of the zit covered face
of the teen with his boot, but Garrett never could handle face-to-face confrontation.
Garrett knew what he had to do, but he was hesitant to commit to the actions that lay
ahead of him. He had to do what Mr. Swan had asked of him during their mysterious meeting
at La Princesa that had occurred a little over two weeks ago. Garrett played back the meeting
in his head for the hundredth time in an effort to recall some tiny detail that would push him
towards a final decision. As the recent memories flooded over him, he leaned his head back
in his stained chair, gently stroked Cerberus' head, and closed his eyes.

# # #

The skinny hacker walked into La Princesa and looked around. He could see half of
the tables from the hostess' stand near the entrance. Garrett disregarded any table with more
than one person, and narrowed things down to a thin woman in a well-cut white evening
gown who looked very nervous, and a balding older man that was wearing an ill-fitting suit
that looked to be at least a dozen years old. He dismissed both of them as being his
mysterious Mr. Swan because they didn't fit the mental image of the man that he had received
an encrypted email from. Mr. Swan's email was carefully worded, firmly stated and oozed
confidence. Neither of these people matched that type of personality.

The hostess finally arrived back at her stand after seating someone and looked at
Garrett with derision. He looked down at himself and realized that he was still wearing his
work clothes: black slacks, a white button-up shirt, and a thin black tie. His clothing wasn't
the problem; it was his name tag that proclaimed in white letters on a neon orange
background, "Garrett Jacobsen, Guru Group, Network Genius" that the hostess was focused
on. The "genius" had sense enough to blush while he took the name tag off and slipped it into
his breast pocket.

The elegant woman watched him fumble the piece of plastic into his pocket before
looking him in the eye, "Mr. Jacobsen, welcome to La Princesa. Your party is waiting for
you. Please follow me." Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and boldly led
the way through the restaurant. Garrett paused in surprise for a moment before falling in step.
As he approached a table in the back, the young hacker's eyes fell on Mr. Swan for the
first time. Mr. Swan was exactly as Garrett had imagined him. He was of average height, but
well-muscled. Even the perfectly tailored suit could not hide the breadth of Mr. Swan's
shoulders, thickness of his arms, and the powerful frame the muscles were piled on top of.
The older man's face was formed as if he was perfectly chiseled by an ancient Greek sculptor,
and everything was totally symmetric.

Garrett felt himself break out into a cold sweat because these were the types of men
that constantly bullied him during his entire high school and college careers. The primal
instinct to flee from this predator ingrained in him for a long eight years rose to the surface
and threatened to ruin the moment. The geek managed to swallow his fear long enough to
flash a nervous smile towards Mr. Swan, and jut out a sweaty palm in the general direction of
the man that he just met.

Garrett looked past his shaking hand to see a perfect smile flash his way as the man in
the suit stood to greet him. Garrett was surprised by the lack of pain in the firm handshake as
men like Mr. Swan would establish their dominance over the hacker through a painful
squeeze of the hand. As their hands parted with a slight bit of stickiness, Garrett realized that
he was sweating profusely. If the older gentleman had noticed, he did not show a reaction.
Mr. Swan motioned to the chair opposite the one he had been sitting in as he took his
seat again, "Please, Garrett -- I may call you Garrett, yes? -- have a seat and relax a bit. We
are here on friendly terms, not as -- what is the word? -- adversaries."

Garrett slowly sat down as he realized that Mr. Swan was a pseudonym as he had
suspected. The man sitting across the table from him was from somewhere in the newly
reformed Soviet Union, and the name "Swan" was probably not very common in that area.
Garrett didn't mind using false names. He dealt with people every day on the Ultranet that
used handles to hide their true identity, and he was one of those people. Garrett looked across
the table as if to judge what to do next, and his Soviet host read his face as if it were a book.
"Please. No business yet. First we drink, then we eat, then we go on roof to smoke
cigars, then we talk. That okay with you, Mr. Jacobsen, da?" The American phrase "okay"
seemed unnatural coming out of Mr. Swan's mouth as if he had heard the utterance before,
but had never actually spoken it until that moment.

Garrett sat in his chair numb. He had not really known what to expect, but had not
anticipated a meeting with a gregarious Soviet man that appeared to be the offspring of
Hercules himself. The email that brought him to this table was cryptic, but it held enough
promise of wealth and challenge he agreed to this meeting. He decided he would try to enjoy
the meeting with Mr. Swan, but promised himself he would agree to nothing the muscle-
bound European offered unless the offer was sound.

His internal musings were interrupted by the arrival of the waitress asking for their
drink orders. The Soviet asked for a chilled bottle of Stolichnaya Elit and two glasses. As the
waitress walked away, Mr. Swan looked intently at the glass of water that the waitress had
placed in front of him. He then picked up his butter knife and flipped it with the blade pointed
upwards. He seemed to pause for a moment as if pondering his next action, and then swiftly
lowered the knife, handle first, into the ice water. He looked up to see if Garrett had been
paying attention to this display, and smiled when he realized that Garrett was enraptured by
the motions.

Garrett felt a lump rise in his throat. He knew those motions, and he now knew he was
in over his head. He didn't know what Mr. Swan was going to ask of him, but he knew he
could not refuse. The knife in the water was a symbol of invitation to the Yellow Dog
Syndicate. This was the break the hacker had been waiting for, and now that it was here, he
was very afraid that he would let it slip through his grasp.

The Yellow Dog Syndicate was the third largest multi-national crime organizations in
the world. They had their fingers in every type of traditional organized crime that had been
imagined, but their main weakness was their lack of presence on the Ultranet. Garrett could
build that presence, and with his efforts he could catapult the Yellow Dogs into the second
spot behind the Corvi Family. Everyone in the underground of the Ultranet knew that there
was as much crime online as there was in the real world, but no one had really tapped into it
in an organized fashion yet.

Garrett, as his online handle, "Syfon", was well known, well respected, and somewhat
feared. He never met any of his victims, allies or adversaries in person. He had actually never
met anyone in person that he had established a relationship with online, and he did his best to
keep it that way. The mystique of his online image was too powerful to allow an in-person
meeting to destroy what he had built and cultivated over the years. Garrett knew that with the
power of Syfon, he could bring the Yellow Dogs what they wanted, but he was not sure what
they willing to offer him, or how they were going to test him. The invitation always came
with a test. Perhaps he would learn about it tonight.

The young hacker became painfully aware he had been staring at the knife in the
glass, and Mr. Swan had been studying him. He snapped out of his reverie and looked the
Soviet in the eye. Garrett was greeted with that perfect smile again, and this time the smile
reached the eyes of Mr. Swan. A large finger was brought up in front of the smiling man's
lips in a gesture for Garrett to keep silent. The young man swallowed hard, and merely
nodded his head. To keep his mind from racing about all of the possibilities that lay through
the open door in front of him, he decided to study the menu for a few moments.

As Garrett decided what to order, the waitress returned with the vodka and glasses.
She started to pour some of drink into the glasses when Mr. Swan interrupted her motions by
placing his hand on hers, "We will take care of the drinks. It must be poured with a gentle
lover's touch, or the drink will turn bad."

As the large man removed his hand, the waitress blushed deeply, and she managed to
stammer out, "Wha? what? What would you like to order tonight, sir?"
By the time Mr. Swan had ordered his meal, Garrett decided upon his order as well.
After they ordered, the Soviet took the chilled Stolichnaya, and very gently poured half a
lowball glass full for each man at the table. Mr. Swan motioned to Garrett to pick up the one
of the glasses. The nervous young man managed a smile back as he picked up the glass. He
was very surprised by the weight of the glass. It had been a number of years since he had held
a real glass container in his hands. He had forgotten the weight of it.

The American followed the Soviet's lead, and slowly sipped the vodka. Garrett had no
idea if the vodka was high quality or not, and he hardly had time to notice the chilling
warmth of the alcohol going down. He hadn't eaten since he had downed a pseudo-protein
shake earlier in the morning before his shift at the Guru Group headquarters and the vodka hit
him hard.

Garrett didn't remember much of the meal. He recalled telling Mr. Swan, who was
visiting from out of town, what it was like to live in the Greater Southern California
Metropolitan District (which the locals called Big SoCalMed) which ran from old San Diego
to just north and west of Los Angeles. He also recalled eating his meal, and feeling more and
more relaxed as the evening grew on and the bottle of Stolichnaya became more and more
empty.

What snapped Garrett out of his fog was the sudden change in temperature. He had
somehow followed the big Soviet upstairs to the roof of the building that housed La Princesa.
He was nowhere near sober, but he was no longer in danger of falling down and hurting
himself.

Mr. Swan reached into his left inner suit pocket, and sternly stated, "We have enjoyed
our dinner and vodka. Now it is time to discuss business."

For a brief moment, Garrett felt a twinge of panic as he was sure that a gun was about
to reveal itself, and he was going to be on the wrong end of the weapon. Just before the
inebriated brain of the hacker could formulate a plan of action, two cigars revealed
themselves from outside the folds of the suit. Garrett couldn't help but laugh at himself as
relief flooded his system.

The larger man looked puzzled for a moment before flashing his brilliant smile that
seemed to light up the night air, "It is good to see you finally relax. Please, smoke with me.
These are imported from Cuba. Now that democracy has finally established itself there again,
people like me can do business in the open here in America. It's not nearly as profitable as it
once used to be, da?"

Mr. Swan cut the ends from the cigars, handed one to Garrett, and lit the other. He
handed the lighter to Garrett, and enjoyed the first few puffs of the smoke as Garrett
struggled to get the cigar lit. After a few moments, Garrett was enjoying the cigar along with
the Soviet. Nothing was said between the men for several long minutes as they admired the
low levels of smog blessing Big SoCalMed for the first time in over two months.
The young hacker found himself looking down at the large right hand of the other
man. Nestled in the palm of the hand was a micro-ESD data chip. Garrett looked up in
curiosity, "Do you want me to read that, Mr. Swan?"

"Yes. Now."

Garrett shook his head, "I can't read it now. I don't have my portable system with me."
"Don't think me the fool, Mr. Jacobsen. I know that you had an experimental
Hyobachi XNI-33 neural interface jack installed as part of a class experiment in college. It
turns out the instructor had stolen the hardware, but it was not discovered until after your
successful operation. The entire experiment was covered up, and all records of your
cybernetics were destroyed. You thought you were flying under the radar, which in a way
you were. However, not all things can be hidden from all people. Someone will eventually
find out, and we're that someone. We know things about you that you have probably
forgotten. We know that you need us. We think that we may need you. If you prove yourself,
we're certain that our relationship will be helpful to everyone involved."

Mr. Swan extended his hand containing the chip a little further, "Now. Read the chip."
Garrett stared at the chip for a second before carefully picking it up. He pulled back
the hair behind his right ear to expose a trapezoid-shaped socket that was about an inch in
length and half an inch in height. Before inserting the data chip, he enabled all of his
protective software in case the data chip contained malicious data, a virus, or some
instructions that could potentially fry his internal neural network. Once he was prepared, he
inserted the chip in the socket, waited for it to initialize, and then opened the chip for reading.
The hacker was presented with an encrypted file system, but a quick scan revealed
that the encryption method was TEP-9, and the key was his very own public encryption key.
Only a person with his private key could unlock the file system, so the data on this chip was
specifically tailored for Garrett. As this revelation came to him, he focused even more on the
task at hand in an effort to get through the fog of the vodka that was still flowing through his
bloodstream.

Garrett quickly unlocked the file system with his private key and dove in. He pulled
up a listing of files and found several. He flipped a mental switch to fire off his anti-virus
software on the entire file system as he opened a file that was simply marked "README".
The contained a single line of text.

file_key = hash(surgeon) . hash(instructor) . hash(handle);

As he scanned the code, his anti-virus program reported an error about being unable
to scan an encrypted file. He knew what he had to do next. Figure out the key to unlock the
secret data in the files. He had only gone under the knife once, so he knew the name of the
surgeon. He assumed that the instructor responsible for his surgery was the name that came
next, and the last bit was, of course, "Syfon." There were two questions to answer. Did the
algorithm call for first name, last name, or some combination of the two? The second
question was which hashing method to use. There were literally hundreds of them. Only a
dozen or so were any good, and of those dozen, a mere handful was really worthy of use in a
security system.

Garrett decided to combine intelligence with brute force, and he went with all possible
combinations of the names, and applied the top five hashing algorithms to the data. He took
all of the resulting strings of characters and concatenated them together as the README file
had specified, and then used those combined strings of characters as passwords to attempt to
unlock the encrypted files. The end result was 45 different passwords with 45 different
failures. Garrett almost lost hope, and then he realized that all of the keys to the password
were based on him. He had developed a security hashing method in college, but a fatal flaw
was discovered in it before publication. No one outside his development team had ever seen
his method, but he still had it. He applied the nine name combinations through the hashing
algorithm, and on the fourth try, he was able to unlock a file. He tried the same password on
each of the other files, and he was able to decrypt each one.

Garrett paused his internal hacking long enough to look Mr. Swan in the eye, "I have
the files opened. Give me a few moments to read through them."

The Soviet had expected to finish half his cigar before the decryption was finished
and was surprised only eight seconds had passed since the time the skinny little man inserted
the chip into his skull. He sat back, took a deep draw off of his cigar, and smiled his brilliant
smile into the night.

Garrett didn't notice any of this. He had turned inward again, and began to dissect the
files on the data chip. There were collections of Ultranet addresses, computer network
diagrams, listings of security hardware with model numbers, detailed listings of computers
that resided behind the security hardware, and more. Garrett quickly realized that this was
everything that he needed to plan an attack of some sort on a very large and very secure
network.

The last file that he opened was marked "The Offer", and he saved this one for last. It
contained the following message:

Researchers at Harbin Laboratories secretly developed a drug that will be the breakout
drug for the cure of HIV-3. They are sitting on this research until their pharmaceutical patents
are approved. People are dying every day from this disease, and we feel that this information
must be released to the public. The data here is everything that you need to enter their
systems, retrieve their research data, and get out with the information. The Ultranet address in
the list marked "Waypoint" is where you will go to inform your contact of your acceptance of
the job. You will be given the daily pass codes to bypass the Watchdogs on the network.
When you are done, return to the Waypoint to inform your contact of your success. We will
be in touch with instructions on how to deliver the data. Good luck.
Garrett finished the message, and refocused his eyes on Mr. Swan, "I'm in. Give me a
month to prepare, and I'll do your job."

Mr. Swan flicked his cigar off of the roof even though over half was left, "You have
two weeks to finish the job, or we go elsewhere. This is non-negotiable."
Garrett looked down at his feet, "Okay. Two weeks. I'll get it done in two weeks." He
hated himself for caving in so easily, but he was really scared that Mr. Swan would throw
him from the roof next.

Mr. Swan roughly slapped Garrett on top of the shoulder, "Good. You will do good.
We will do good for you. Contact me at Waypoint when you begin. I must know the moment
you have started, so that I can prepare to collect the data from you, da?"
Garrett couldn't bring himself to speak over the ball of fear in his throat, so he just
silently nodded without ever raising his eyes from the tops of his shoes. Garrett felt the
weight of the large hand lift from his shoulder, and heard retreating footsteps. It was still
several more minutes before he could gather himself enough to move. He finally turned and
walked down the stairs towards the street leaving the cigar that had fallen from his limp
fingers smoldering on the rooftop.

# # #

Garrett snapped out of his reverie to find Cerberus curled up on the flimsy floor mat
he used for a bed. Garrett smiled down at his Great Dane and mentally promised to buy a real
dog bed stuffed with all of the synth-fiber he could buy once he was done with this job and
put in charge of the Ultranet operations for the Yellow Dog Syndicate.

Garrett hefted himself from his worn chair with determination. He would dive into the
secret networks of Harbin Laboratories and do his best to get out alive. In the past two weeks,
he had studied every file on the data chip that Mr. Swan had given him, and researched every
machine, switch, router, firewall, and other item connected to Harbin's network. He had a
long list of exploits, vulnerabilities, and attacks that would put him through to the inner
circles of the network where the real secrets lie.

In addition to learning the weaknesses of the network, he also learned the strengths.
The Harbin tech team had the best set of software guarding the network. Garrett had almost
all of the passwords to the dumb devices. It was the smart devices that had him concerned.
The crude artificial intelligence of the Watchdogs, Sentries, and Guardians could be tricky
when easy, and harrowing at the hardest end of the spectrum. Harbin spared no expense on its
AI defenses.

The one thing that worried him to no end was the discovery of black intrusion counter
measures on the network. If a an ICM discovered an intruder, then they would launch the
counter measures to deal with them. White ICM would merely log the intrusion and notify
administrators. Gray ICM would perform the same tasks as a White, but it would also attempt
to destroy the network connection the intruder had on the network. Black ICM, which was
illegal, did not stop at destroying the network connection. It would actually trace the
connection back to the source, and do its best to bring down the attacking system in a
permanent manner. Since Garrett used an implanted neural network, this meant he would
never feed his dog again if the black ICM traced his connection back to the source.
Garrett went over his game plan one more time as he locked his front door with the
three dead bolts on the door. Anyone kicking in the door would alert Cerberus, who would
scare them off. One of the problems with using a neural network interface on the Ultranet
was the total sensory immersion. He relied on his Great Dane to protect him while he was in
such a vulnerable position.

He slowly climbed into his lower hammock, and settled into place. The hacker
reached up for his interface cable, pulled his hair behind his right ear back, and jacked in. He
slowly closed his eyes as the neural interface synced with the computer system in the upper
hammock.

Syfon awoke to a world of digital light and fire. He could feel the steady pulse of
information trickle over him. His main computer acted as a filter between himself and the
Ultranet. Once he stepped outside the boundaries of his protective shell, he would be fully
immersed in the flood of knowledge, truth, lies, deceptions, and wonderment of the 'net.
Syfon scanned the network in his immediate area to make sure no one was watching.

He did this with every jack because the network of the world held as much danger as it was
wonderment. As his scans did their job, he mentally flipped through his music library until he
came across Aiko Toyoma's latest album he had stolen from the music studio's file server
three weeks before its release date. This was his current favorite because no matter how
stressful his side jobs got, the soft crooning of Aiko's voice relaxed him, and rhythmic techno
behind her voice beat in time with the Pulse of the Ultranet.

His standard sweeps revealed nothing immediately dangerous, so he stepped out from
behind his computer's firewall as Aiko's first song, "March of the Keybound", began to play.
The flood of the Pulse washed over Syfon like a wave. He stood at the edge of his shell and
let the data flow through him like a crisp wind blowing through a child's hair. He could feel
the hammer of the Pulse hitting him with its reverberation.

Until he had his neural network implanted, Syfon had viewed the Ultranet as a steady
flow of information. This is how most keybound people viewed it as well. The truth of the
matter is that the data arrives in steady pulses over the network. Each one carries new
information, new threats, and new discoveries. With the advantage of the neural network, he
could experience the Ultranet at speeds that outpace the abilities of the hardware and software
that run the entire system. He could detect the lulls in data flow, and can anticipate the arrival
of each new segment of binary digits. This was the Pulse.

Syfon jacked into the Ultranet every day, but the sensation of the Pulse was wonderful
each time. He heard stories of people that became so addicted to the Pulse they would remain
jacked in for days on end. This would lead to dehydration, starvation and, in some cases,
death. Like any addiction, access to the drug of choice must be managed, or it will take
control. He made sure to keep health monitors on his physical body going at all times to warn
him if he was jacked in for too long.

The hacker surveyed his surroundings, and found nothing out of the ordinary. There
were avatars of people moving through the pipelines of the Ultranet going about their
business. Many of them were simple geometric shapes, but a few were customized to look
like a variety of creatures. Some chose movie actors, others mythological creatures, others
characters from books, and a few even chose to try to recreate themselves in a digital version.
Syfon had chosen a simple cube with a yellow smiley face on each surface of the cube for his
avatar. He had chosen this one because it was fairly common, and the sight of the avatar
would not tip off authorities of his identity if he were seen near the scene of a digital break-
in.

To cover his tracks on this job, he splintered his avatar into a dozen copies. He threw
them out into the network with different goals in mind. Each one would route itself through
some hapless person's Ultranet router that he had installed while working as a Network
Genius for the Guru Group. The traffic on those routers would be small enough that they
would not notice a slow-down in their connection speeds. The extra traffic being routed
across Big SoCalMed's local network would be enough to confuse anyone trying to trace his
signal.

Normally, he would also take his main traffic and route it through someone's hacked
router as well to better cover his tracks. For this job, he could not do that. If his unknown
accomplice started streaming a video or hit his favorite porn site at the wrong moment, it
could seize up Syfon's connection to the network he was attacking, and this could lead to
disastrous results. Routing through another person's system might protect him from the black
ICM, but that was a level of protection that he could not afford. He would have to risk being
caught, or killed, while doing this job.

Syfon checked his inventory of data and software that he had prepared for this outing
to ensure that all was in order. Once he was ready, he flicked himself down the nearest
pipeline on the way to the Waypoint specified in the files from Mr. Swan's data chip. The
sensation of movement through the Ultranet was one of flying without wings. Man had
always wanted to fly without assistance, and now he could feel that. Syfon felt so sorry for
the keybound people surfing the Ultranet because they would never know the true joy of
soaring through the Pulse.

Syfon arrived at the Waypoint within a few seconds. It was an offshore network
stored somewhere in Hainan region of China. As he approached, he noticed a white portal
open up on the firewall that he could enter. This was the usual sign that his traffic was
anticipated, so he entered the portal.

He found himself in a small computer system with an AI waiting for him. The AI sent
a prompt:

Enter Rush Key:
One of the files on the data chip from Mr. Swan was labeled "rush_key.txt". Syfon
had assumed that this was a key for access to Harbin's network. He now knew that it was to
get the data from the AI at the Waypoint. He opened the file and streamed the contents of the
file to the AI.

The AI immediately responded with a request for a file transfer. Syfon opened up the
connection to allow the file to be copied to him. As the file pulsed from the AI to Syfon's
neural network, he scanned the file. It was today's access codes for the internal Watchdog's of
Harbin's network. This meant Syfon would have an easier time navigating the network once
he was in. It was up to his skills to get himself past the external firewalls of the system.
After the file transfer was finished, Syfon disconnected from the AI and left the
network in China. He headed back to Big SoCalMed's network, but he took a misleading
route in case someone was following his steps. He took a side trip through the Taiwan
Nuclear Disaster Online Museum, and then down to view an interactive display of the
creation of Diana's Island off of the east coast of New Zealand. He thought about heading
down to the Antarctic, but decided that would be too obvious. A quick pass by Hawaii, then
to the Soviet Union's newest acquisition, Alaska, and a final trip through what was left of
Seattle's network before settling back in Big SoCalMed. He delayed at each stop long enough
to pick up the usual digital tourist brochures before moving on.

By the time he was back in his local area, Aiko's second song, "On the Pulse", was
beginning to play. The lyrics "On the Pulse we fly, in the fire we die" pushed its way into
Syfon's mind. Harbin's network was not too far away from Syfon's home turf, so he did not
bother returning home. It was time to get started before he found another reason to delay.
With the flick of his mind, he flew to the public access point where Harbin's network
connected to the rest of the world. Syfon waited here and observed the network perimeter
without drawing any undue attention. He checked his health monitors, and found that
everything was in the normal range.

Syfon fired up a network probe and launched it at the external firewall. He was fairly
certain that he already knew how to get past it without alerting the administrators or AIs that
were monitoring from the other side, but he had to be sure. The probe struck the firewall, and
the reaction was immediate. Gray ICM fell on to his probes like a pack of starving wolves
fighting over a steaming corpse. There was a pattern to the countermeasures' actions. Syfon
studied these patterns, and made some mental notes as his probe died an ugly, digital death.
The final wisps of his probe vanished into a static echo that resounded across the network.
Syfon was surprised to see gray ICM on an external firewall. White ICM was usually
used at this level, and the network diagrams he had showed white ICM normally in use here.
Harbin must be more serious about security than he thought. Did they know he was coming?
Perhaps they just did an upgrade? What else had changed between the time Mr. Swan had
gathered his information on Harbin and now?

Syfon put his doubts in the back of his mind. The death of his probe had told him
everything that he needed to know. The gray ICM would only respond if the firewall
indicated a problem. The firewall had a weakness in it that he could exploit to get through
without triggering any alarms. A keybound person would have never noticed, but the flaw
was obvious to a skilled Pulser like Syfon.

He slid through the firewall and into the internal network. He had memorized this
portion of the network topology, so time would not be wasted looking at diagrams. He
quickly moved through the computers composing Harbin's infrastructure. The security
seemed a little lax at this point, but this was probably their office network full of human
resources, marketing, sales, and the like. It was hardly worth protecting with expensive
hardware and software.

Within a few seconds Syfon arrived at the research and development portion of the
network. This is where the security would become more serious. The firewall protecting this
segment of the system was more advanced than the one he had already bypassed. The hacker
was now on the internals of the network and did not have the luxury of watching the firewall
for long. A quick scan of the protective hardware revealed its model number, serial number,
firmware version, and basic configuration.

Syfon laughed to himself. The firmware on this system was out of date by over six
months! He knew of three exploits for this version of the firmware off the top of his head,
and knew of another five that he had yet to research. The network administrator in charge of
this hardware must have thought that he was safe since the firewall was on the internal
network. What a fool. The hacker quickly chose the best exploit to allow him passage
through the security measures, and walked through to the R&D network of Harbin
Laboratories.

Immediately upon entering the network he met the first Watchdog. The AI issued its
authentication challenge to Syfon, and he pulled up the appropriate response from the file he
had received in China. The Watchdog seemed to take forever to process the pass code.
Milliseconds flew by while he waited. The health monitors showed an increase in heart rate.
He was getting nervous, and that was never a good thing. Mistakes were made when nerves
controlled your reactions. The hacker forced himself to relax as he waited on the Watchdog.
Finally, the authentication code was accepted, and Syfon was allowed to pass. He knew other
Watchdogs would be informed of his presence, and they would allow him to pass. The pass
code would expire in a few minutes, and he would be challenged again. This was plenty of
time to get in, get the files, and get out. The Watchdogs should leave him alone for the rest of
his trip.

He left the AI behind him and moved deeper into the network. There were so many
interesting things here. Shared data exposed itself on the Pulse to Syfon, and it tantalized him
to no end. He thought of the secrets that he could steal and sell to the highest bidder, but the
promise of greater rewards as a member of the Yellow Dog Syndicate kept him focused on
the goal. His next destination in the network was the file storage on the system.

Syfon quickly moved through the Pulse to the next firewall that protected the file
servers. This was the next-to-last barrier standing in his way. Again, he probed for the vital
information from the firewall. This one was updated, secured, and locked down tight. There
was no easy way in, but the hacker had come prepared. He brought up his custom virus, and
launched it at the firewall. The system under attack immediately responded, and for a few
brief moments it looked like the virus would fail. The digital battle waged for a long three
seconds, but in the end Syfon's malicious code had won the day. The virus pulled up the
internal configurations of the firewall, and reported back the administrative password.
Syfon immediately logged into the device as the administrator, removed all traces of
the virus, and granted himself access to the file servers. The entire process took longer than
he would have liked because he was a bit rusty with this version of the software. It came back
to him quickly enough, and he had his access within fifteen seconds.

He moved through the firewall with his newly granted access, and was now deep into
Harbin's network right next to their R&D file storage. All of their most important secrets lie
at the tips of his fingers. Now he just had to find it. He was presented with five servers. His
network diagram had listed these five, but his information did not state which of them the
HIV-3 cure was on. He brought forth a probe for each server and launched them. In a few
moments he had the basic information about four of the five, but the fifth server refused to
respond to the probe even though it was clearly powered on and connected to the network.
Acting on a hunch, he attempted to enter the non-responsive server. His haste and
carelessness almost cost him, though. As soon as he attempted to connect to the fifth server, a
black ICM attacked him! Syfon's health monitor showed a spike in respiration, heart rate, and
a measure of adrenaline above normal ranges.

He had battled many grays in the past, but had never been in a pitched battle with a
black before. He decided to try his past successful tactics that had worked against grays. He
launched his Hydra denial of service attack at the black. The ICM responded as expected. It
began handling Hydra's requests for information as it moved in on Syfon, but for each request
that the guardian handled, Hydra launched two more. Before the ICM could close the
distance to destroy Syfon's neural network and push him into a vegetative state the AI
software floundered and collapsed under the barrage of Hydra's overwhelming presence.
Syfon blew out a digital sigh of relief before refocusing. The deployment and
subsequent destruction of a black ICM would trigger alarms. It was only a matter of minutes
before a security tech at Harbin would log into a console to see what the problem was. Syfon
could only hope that the tech was taking a bathroom break at the moment to give him
additional time to get out of the network before everything was locked down.

Being more careful this time, he sent a different style of probe against the fifth server.
This time he was checking the network layer of the server to see what ports of access were
available. The usual suspects returned along with an additional port. The port was designated
as a game server. Syfon was stunned that such a highly secured facility would allow a game
server on one of its most precious commodities. Then he realized that a bored system
administrator must have installed the software in order to play a networked game with his co-
workers. What a perfect place to hide it, but what a horrible place to put it.

Syfon scanned the game server to see what access levels were open, and to see what
kind of software it was. The server was not locked down, which meant anyone could start or
control a game on the software. However, this would not grant him access to the files that he
needed. The next step was to see if there was an exploit for the game server that he could take
advantage of. The game server reported that it was "Blood Rites Server v 1.3.2". Syfon
quickly referenced the list of exploits he always had with him. It took him a great deal of time
to compile the list, but it always came in handy. This time was no different. It turns out that
any version of this software less than 1.3.7 was vulnerable to attack.

Syfon pulled up the details of the attack from his internal database, and applied it to
the game server. The server smoothly let him into the file server without requiring any further
credentials. Now that he was into the keeper of the information that he was looking for, he
had to find it. A check of the system revealed two local disks for system files, and an external
array of redundant disks for data storage. He knew that the files would be on the external
disks, and started a scan for the filename that he had been given on the data chip.

He hated disks. They were horribly slow, even the solid-state ones. Long minutes had
already passed while he infiltrated the file server, and he had little time left before the
guillotine of human-guided counter measures fell on his connection, and maybe his neck.
While his scan worked, Syfon looked at the specs on the disks. They were the latest
generation, which meant that they were fast. However, they were not fast enough. Valuable
seconds crept by that turned into precious minutes. Aiko's third song, "Binary Flower
Garden", started playing.

Finally, the file he was looking for was found. He opened the file to find that it
contained all sorts of biochemical data that he didn't understand. The important part was that
the file was not encrypted. He quickly copied the file to his avatar, and began backing out of
the file server.

Getting out of a network is always easier than getting in because the firewalls are
generally setup to keep people out. Syfon managed to fly through the system, past the black
ICM, past the Watchdogs, and through all of the security back to the Ultranet. Once back on
the public access point, he took the file that he had stolen, and broke it into dozens of pieces.
He then made copies of his avatar, gave a piece to each avatar, and routed them around the
world with the final destination of his home computer. This would throw off anyone trying to
track the data through its signature.

Once the copies of his avatar were away and flying on the Pulse, Syfon took himself
on a grand tour of the Rocky Mountain networks, across the Mideast, and through what was
left of the East Coast since the Great Quake of '09. He thought about a side trip in Mexico,
but there was a price on his head there, and he didn't feel like risking it. He was considering
where to go next when he received an alert from his home system informing him that the
entire file had arrived at home, and it had been reassembled correctly. Syfon issued a
command to burn the file to an optical disk while he continued to leave a false trail.

He decided to see what the Soviet stock market was doing, so he headed that
direction. As he was wasting time perusing stocks that he was dreaming of buying with his
newfound wealth, he received a message from his home system that the optical disk had been
burned, and was ready for him. This was his cue to head home, but first he had to visit the
Waypoint. He made his way from the Soviet network and into China through a satellite
bounce. Bounces were always interminably slow, but the sensations of zipping into space and
back to the ground in mere seconds was always worth the delay.

As he neared the Waypoint, the port opened up for him again. He entered, was
challenged by the AI again, and gave the correct response. This time Syfon initiated a file
transfer with the AI, and delivered the message that the job was done. He disconnected from
the AI, and left China's network behind.

This time Syfon took a route through India, around what was left of the Middle East,
into Germany, and then back to America. Once in America, he took the most direct route
home. As he was on his way home, the final words of Aiko's album faded away, "Pulsers fly!
Avoid the march of the keys." Syfon arrived home safe and sound. After checking his local
area again to make sure no one was watching, he deactivated his neural network link and
awoke his flesh and blood body.

Garrett sat up in his hammock to the real world. The dingy and peeling paint on his
walls always depressed him after riding the Pulse. This time, Garrett was too excited and
overjoyed to be brought down by something as minor as dingy paint. He reached up to the
computer system in the upper hammock to pull out the optical disk. The disk looked no
different from any other disk, but this one was special. It was his ticket out of the day-to-day
grind. It was his path to potential wealth and to Pulsing all day long for a living.

He slipped the small disk into a protective case, and waited for Mr. Swan, or someone
else from the Yellow Dog Syndicate, to contact him. He sat in his chair, which was Cerberus'
cue to come get his head scratched, and sat back to dream of what the future holds. It had
been almost a decade since Garrett had any dreams. Now he had them again. Dreams of the
Pulse and what its digital wave could bring.