Chapter 11

Tweet failed. That’s the response I receive on the phone when I try to use Twitter. Service is intermittent.

The school’s network issues don’t just affect computer science classes. No more smartboards or laptops, and Principal Wolzowski’s roaming the halls twice as much—probably because he no longer has access to Facebook.

It throws everybody off a little. One kid who left school property for lunch said that people are complaining everywhere. At least nobody is pointing the finger at me.

On the way home the radio host calls it the Zombie Worm. Some speculators are forecasting a technological apocalypse if it cannot be contained. Oddly, Ottawa appears to be the focal point of it all, but it’s spreading. As more computers are infected, they’re propagating the virus by sending off spam emails with embedded links and other forms of attacks. The goal of the virus isn’t clear, but that’s not all that strange. A lot of viruses don’t serve much of a purpose.

Back at Assured Destruction, I ask Trin to stick around an extra half an hour so that I can try to access Darkslinger and see what’s up.

I’m online. It’s slow but not as bad as school.

In the forums, it’s like going from a war zone to a parade. High fives all around. No one is claiming responsibility but it’s clear someone on Darkslinger has been involved. Not everyone is pleased, though. About a third of the comments are warnings from white hats saying that this makes all hackers look bad. And that it’s potentially dangerous. That whatever script kiddie delivered this payload isn’t thinking about the potential impact on emergency services and other vital parts of the city. This whole tech-disaster scenario seems a bit over the top to me, but what do I know?

I seek out posts by CrowBar and find several. He’s even commented on some of my iOS code, saying how great it is. On my prior post about the servers being slow is a whole lot of LOL and oh you too, eh? and didn’t you get the memo. Sw1ftM3rcy left an equally weird note. Decision time.

I type a private message to him: Are you doing this? Because it’s a real pain. Don’t you realize that it’s not all some sort of joke?

Don’t you realize how deep this goes? Peter asked me once. What does he know that I don’t? Or is he so desperate to see Assured Destruction fail, he just doesn’t want me tracking down old customers?

I’m about to hit submit, but pause, thinking about something else Peter said: To take my time online. I have all the time in the world. And besides, my initial missive to Sw1ftM3rcy surprises even me. It sounds like something … Jonny would say.

Maybe I am beginning to see how deep this world goes. How much of a real impact the online world has on daily life. There are people at the other end of a cracker’s digital pipe. If I hit submit, only one thing will happen. I’ll be expunged. So what do I want to do? Who do I want to be? White, gray, or black hat?

Over the last couple of months, everything that’s happened to me has been some mistake on my part. Not thinking things through. Assuming too much. Here’s what I know about Sw1ftM3rcy. Time to think.

Sw1ftM3rcy may or may not be the same age as me. He might be a super-cool hacker who sometimes gets mixed up in gray-hat things. Like maybe he’s part of the group Anonymous and leaks secret government documents to the media for a good cause—that’s cool, right? But the reality is, and experience tells me, he’s much more likely to be a middle-aged geek in the Ukraine. What does he want from me? I’m not sure yet. But the forum is as much a social network as it is a place to do business.

I’m not a bad person. I don’t want to be a black hat. But I still sorta like Sw1ftM3rcy and Darkslinger and what they represent. I need more information. If Sw1ftM3rcy is part of the Zombie Worm, then maybe I’ll take him down. If not, well … maybe he’s the cute hacker next door.

I draft a different note. Hey, Sw1ftM3rcy, what do you have in mind? I always need more cash if I can find the time. But this Zombie Worm is killer.

His reply is immediate. IRC same bat time, same bat channel.

I groan. The last time we spoke over IRC, a chat program favored by hackers, the bat time was 3 AM.

Later, I say.

Ha! Now at least I know where you live, he replies, and it’s like my heart stops.

I check for Peter’s armor and find it plugged into the USB port. Then I slap my head. My servers were some of the first hit and the Zombie Worm is Ottawa based. The best hacking solutions are usually the simplest forms of social engineering.

Zombie ate my brain, I reply.

Oh, and I recommend you delete any email you ever saved to draft …

Before I can ask why, the light on his Darkslinger user panel goes from green to red. He’s offline.

Opening my inbox, I send all my draft email to the recycling bin. Over three hundred messages, some go back years. Half-written emails to friends, to my mom. Who knows what havoc Sw1ftM3rcy’s planning. I push away from the desk and resist trying to update Shadownet from the desktop terminals.

After waving goodbye to Trin, I try to update the Assured Destruction website, changing our closing hours, moving it an hour earlier, but give up after hitting refresh for the eleventh time. Instead I change the outdoor sign. I am the boss after all and can do what I like! This will mean I can make it on time to Annie’s Kitchen to help the homeless of Ottawa.

I glance down at my jeans, sniff my armpit, and reel away. I brush the crumbs of lunch off my shirt. I’m filthy and I stink. Maybe I’ll be lucky and they’ll fire me.