The library was old and, if it was possible, even more wooden than the long hallways and bedrooms of the dormitory block.
The tables were scrawled with graffiti, most of it obscene. There was shelf after shelf of books but Sam didn’t stop to investigate just yet. First stop was the computer table.
There were four computers in all, separated by wooden partitions. Only the first one was in use. The user was a rat-faced boy with the word BadAss tattooed, not professionally, on the back of his neck.
Sam chose the farthest computer.
He sent a quick email to his mom, assuring her that he was okay and not to worry, then browsed around the computer, seeing what was available to the inmates.
It was a standard HP computer, running a Microsoft operating system. But it was locked down tighter than any computer he had ever seen. Net Nanny, WebMarshal, the list went on, all bound into a managed environment so the user couldn’t reconfigure the machine in any way.
Internet Explorer was available, but only a restricted list of sites was accessible. Solitaire and Minesweeper were the only games, although one of the allowed websites was a chess site where you could play against people from all over the world.
One way of passing the time.
The prison email program was allowed, as well as a few utilities like calculators and spreadsheets.
Other than that, there was nothing.
Nor was there any way of loading software onto the computer. The keyboard, mouse and screen were the only accessible parts. Everything else was locked away in a solid-looking cupboard below the table.
A sign affixed to the top of each computer warned that any attempt to interfere with the computers would result in the computers being removed.
That would be one way to get yourself noticed, Sam thought, and become highly unpopular with the other inmates. Still …
Sam played solitaire until BadAss left, and kept a careful eye on the door to make sure nobody else came in.
He didn’t know where he was and he didn’t know how long he would be staying, but he did know that he was sitting in front of a computer. And that computer was connected to the prison network.
And despite the warning sign on the top of the screen, he couldn’t resist the temptation.
To have a go.
Just once, to see if it could be done.
Control, alt, delete: the basic reset keys did nothing. That was no surprise.
The spreadsheet program was the key. He was surprised that they allowed it, but that had to be plain ignorance.
Most people just used spreadsheets for basic calculations, but the cells allowed functions, and functions were really tiny programs in their own right.
It was an old trick, but a good one. He opened a spreadsheet and created a function that caused an endless loop. A complex mathematical calculation with no end, just whizzing around and around inside itself going nowhere.
He opened a second spreadsheet page and copied in the same function. Already, the machine was performing like an arthritic snail.
He opened a third page and a fourth. By the tenth the overloaded computer was taking over a minute just to bring up a page, the hourglass spinning frantically as the processor ground its teeth to nothing.
One more page tipped it. The computer froze. It stayed that way for a couple of minutes until the Managed Environment Controller decided that the machine had died (which it had) and started a reboot.
Too easy, Sam thought.
He caught the machine on the reboot and flicked it into Safe Mode, disabling all of the software, including the Managed Environment software. When it had finished restarting, in the subdued colours and low resolution of Safe Mode, he opened the registry file and disabled the Managed Environment completely before restarting the machine again.
This time it booted up normally and when it started, everything worked. The restrictions imposed by the security software were gone. The computer was his.
Quickly, keeping one eye on the door, he wrote a trapdoor, deep in the operating system, so that a certain combination of keys would automatically kill the Managed Environment and give him full control. That way he could return the machine to its normal state, but still use it whenever he felt like it.
So, he thought, let’s have a look around.
He accessed one of his drones in Mexico, where he permanently stored a copy of Ghillie and released it into the prison network.
The SAM database was easy and the SysAdmin rights were his within seconds. He strode through the prison network security without breaking his stride.
Everything was there. Menus for the meals, weekly supply orders. Guard rosters (along with their personal details and income details).
Even the codes for the electronic doors.