Terminal Compromise Part 99

"Flight simulators for the people," chimed in Che2.

"I see the day when every Mall in America will have Virtual Reality Parlors where you can live out your fantasies. No more than 5 years," Dave confidently prognosticated.

Scott imagined the Spook's interpretation of virtual realities.

He immediately conjured up the memory of Woody Allen's o.r.g.a.s.ma- tron in the movie Sleeper. The hackers claimed that computer generated s.e.x was less than ten years away.

"And that will be an ideal terrain for hackers. That kind of power over the mind can be used for terrible things, and it will be up to us to make sure it's not abused." Che2 maintained his position of guardian of world freedom.

As they finished their lunch and Scott paid the check, they thanked him vigorously for the treat. They might be nuts, but they were polite, and genuine.

"I'm confused about one thing," Scott said as they left the restaurant and walked the wide boulevard. "You all advocate an independence, an anarchy where the individual is paramount, and the Government is worse than a necessary evil. Yet I detect disorganization, no plan; more like a leaf in a lake, not knowing where it will go next." There were no disagreements with his summary a.s.sessment.

"Don't any of you work together? As a group, a kind of a gang?

It seems to me that if there was an agenda, a program, that you might achieve your aims more quickly." Scott was trying to avoid being critical by his inquisitiveness.

"Then we would be a government, too, and that's not what we want.

This is about individual power, responsibility. At any rate, I don't think you could find two of us in enough agreement on anything to build a platform." As usual, Solon maintained a pragmatic approach.

"Well," Scott mused out loud. "What would happen if a group, like you, got together and followed a game plan. Built a hacker's guide book and stuck to it, all for a common cause, which I realize is impossible. But for argument's sake, what would happen?"

"That would be immense power," said Che2. "If there were enough, they could do pretty much what they wanted. Very political."

"I would see it as dangerous, potentially very dangerous," com- mented DRDR. He pondered the question. "The effects of synergy in any endeavor are unpredictable. If they worked as group, a unit, it is possible that they would be a force to be reckoned with."

"There would be only one word for it," Dave said with finality.

"They could easily become a strong and deadly opponent if their aims are not benevolent. Personally, I would have to call such a group, terrorists."

"Sounds like the Freedom League," Pinball said off handedly.

Scott's head jerked toward Pinball. "What about the Freedom League?" he asked pointedly.

"All I said is that this political hacking sounds like the Free- dom League," Pinball said innocently. "They b.l.o.o.d.y well go on for a fortnight and a day about how software should be free to anyone that needs it, and that only those that can afford it should pay. Like big corporations."

"I've heard of Freedom before," piped Scott.

"The Freedom League is a huge BBS, mate. They have hundreds of local BBS's around the States, and even a few across the pond in G.o.d's country. Quite an operation, if I say."

Pinball had Scott's full attention. "They run the BBS's, and have an incredible shareware library. Thousands of programs, and they give them all away."

"It's very impressive," Dave said giving credit where credit was due. "They prove that software can be socially responsible.

We've been saying that for years."

"What does anybody know about this Freedom League?" Scott asked suspiciously.

"What's to know? They've been around for years, have a great service, fabulous BBS's, and reliable software."

"It just sounds too good to be true," Scott mused as they made it back to the warehouse for more hours of education.

Until late that night, Scott continued to elicit viewpoints and opinions and political positions from the radical underground elements of the 1990's he had traveled 3000 miles to meet. Each encounter, each discussion, each conversation yielded yet another perspective on the social rational for hacking and the invasion of privacy. Most everyone at the InterGalactic Hackers Confer- ence had heard about Scott, the Repo Man, and knew why he was there. He was accepted as a fair and impartial observer, thus many of them made a concerted effort to preach their particular case to him. By midnight, overload had consumed Scott and he made a polite exit, promising to return the following day.

Still, no one had heard from or seen the Spook.

Scott walked back to his hotel through the Red Light District and stopped to purchase a souvenir or two. The s.e.xually explicit T- s.h.i.+rts would have both made Larry Flynt blush and be banned on Florida beaches, but the counterfeit $1 bills, with George Wash- ington and the pyramid replaced by closeups of impossible oral s.e.xual acts was a compelling gift. They were so well made, that without a close inspection, the p.o.r.nographic money could easily find itself in the till at a church bake sale.

There was a message waiting for Scott when he arrived at the Eureka! It was from Tyrone and marked urgent. New York was 6 hours behind, so hopefully Ty was at home. Scott dialed USA Connect, the service that allows travelers to get to an AT&T operator rather than fight the local phone system.

"Make it good." Tyrone answered his home phone.

"Hey, guy. You rang?" Scott said cheerily.

"s.h.i.+t, it's about time. Where the h.e.l.l have you been?" Tyrone whispered as loud as he could. It was obvious he didn't want anyone on his end hearing. "You can thank your secretary for telling me where you were staying." Tyrone spoke quickly.

"I'll give her a raise," lied Scott. He didn't have a secretary.

The paper used a pool for all the reporters. "What's the panic?"

"Then you don't know." Tyrone caught himself. "Of course you didn't hear, how could you?"

"How could I hear what?"

"The s.h.i.+t has done hit the fan," Tyrone said drawling his words.

"Two more EMP-T bombs. The Atlanta regional IRS office and a payroll service in New Jersey. A quarter million folks aren't getting paid tomorrow. And I'll tell you, these folks is mighty p.i.s.sed off."

"Christ," Scott said, mentally chastising himself for not having been where the action was.

What lousy timing.

"So dig this. Did you know that the Senate was having open subcommittee hearings on Privacy and Technology Protection?"

"No."

"Neither do a lot of people. It's been a completely underplayed and underpromoted effort. Until yesterday that is. Now the eyes of millions are watching. Starting tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Scott yelled across the Atlantic. "That's the eighth.

Congress doesn't usually convene until late January . . ."

"Used to," Ty said. "The Const.i.tution says that Congress shall meet on January third, after the holidays. Since the Gulf War Congress has returned in the first week. 'Bout time they did something for their paychecks."

"d.a.m.n," Scott thought out loud.

"I knew that would excite you," Tyrone said sarcastically. "And there's more. Congressman Rickfield, you know who he is?" asked Tyrone.

"Yeah, sure. Long timer on the Hill. Got as many enemies as he does friends. Wields an immense amount of power," Scott re- called.

"Right, exactly. And that little weasel is the chair."

"I guess you're not on his Christmas list," Scott observed.