Complete Bookshop/CompleteWorkshop.iso/jokes/hacker/pheak.txt

Text File | 1988-04-29 | 17KB | 273 lines

                            The Night of the Hackers
                            ________________________


      . As you are surveying the dark and misty swamp you come across what
        appears to be a small cave.  You light  a  torch  and  enter.  You
        have  walked  several  hundred feet when you stumble into a bright
        blue portal.  .  .  With a  sudden  burst  of  light  and  a  loud
        explosion you are swept into . . . DRAGONFIRE . . .  Press Any Key
        if You Dare."

     .  You have programmed your personal computer to dial into
        Dragonfire, a computer bulletin board in Gainesville,  Texas.  But
        before you get any information, Dragonfire demands your name, home
        city  and phone number.  So,  for tonight's tour of the electronic
        wilderness you become Montana Wildhack of San Francisco.

     .  Dragonfire, Sherwood Forest (sic), Forbidden Zone,
        Blottoland,  Plovernet,  The Vault, Shadowland, PHBI and scores of
        other computer bulletin boards are hangouts of a new generation of
        vandals. These precocious teenagers use their electronic skills to
        play hide-and-seek with computer and  telephone  security  forces.
        Many  computer  bulletin  boards  are  perfectly legitimate:  they
        resemble electronic  versions  of  the  familiar  cork  boards  in
        supermarkets and school corridors,  listing services and providing
        information someone out there is bound to find  useful.  But  this
        is  a walk on the wild side,  a trip into the world of underground
        bulletin  boards  dedicated  to  encouraging  --  and  making   --
        mischief.

     .  The phone number for these boards are as closely guarded as a
        psychiatrist's home telephone number.  Some numbers are posted  on
        underground  boards;  others  are exchanged over the telephone.  A
        friendly hacker provided Dragonfire's number.  Hook up and you see
        a broad choice of topics offered. For Phone Phreaks -- who delight
        in  stealing  service  from  AT&T  and  other  phone  networks   .
        Phreakenstein's Lair is a potpourri of phone numbers, access codes
        and  technical information.  For computer hackers -- who dial into
        other people's computers -- Ranger's Lodge is chock-full of  phone
        numbers  and  passwords  for government,  university and corporate
        computers.  Moving through Dragonfire's offerings,  you  can  only
        marvel  at  how conversant these teen-agers are with the technical
        esoterica of today's electronic age.  Obviously they have spent  a
        great  deal  of time studying computers,  though their grammar and
        spelling indicate they haven't been diligent  in  other  subjects.
        You are constantly reminded of how young they are.

     .  "Well it's that time of year again. School is back in session
        so  let's get those high school computer phone numbers rolling in.
        Time to get straight A's,  have perfect  attendance  (except  when
        you've been up all night hacking school passwords), and messing up
        you worst teacher's paycheck."

     .  Forbidden Zone, in Detroit, is offering ammunition for hacker
        civil war -- tips on  crashing  the  most  popular  bulletin-board
        software.  There  also are plans for building black,  red and blue
        boxes to mimic operator tones and get free phone service.  And  he
        re  are  the  details for "the safest and best way to make and use
        nitroglycerine," compliments of Doctor Hex, who says he got it
        "from my chemistry teacher."

     .  Flip through the "pages." You have to wonder if this
        information  is accurate.  Can this really be the phone number and
        password for Taco Bell's computer?  Do these kids really have  the
        dial-up numbers for dozens of university computers? The temptation
        is  too much.  You sign off and have your computer dial the number
        for the Yale computer.  Bingo -- the words Yale University  appear
        on your screen.  You enter the password.  A menu appears. You hang
        up in a sweat. You are now a hacker.

     .  Punch in another number and your modem zips off the touch
        tones. Here comes the tedious side of all of this. Bulletin boards
        are popular. No vacancy in Bates Motel (named for Anthony Perkin's
        creepy motel in the movie "Psycho"); the line is busy.  So are 221
        B.  Baker Street, PHBI, Shadowland and The Vault,  Caesar's Palace
        rings  and  connects.  This is different breed of board.  Caesar's
        Palace is a combination Phreak board and computer store in  Miami.
        This  is  the  place to learn ways to mess up a department store's
        anti-shoplifting system,  or make free calls  on  telephones  with
        locks  on  the  dial.  Pure  capitalism  accompanies such anarchy,
        Caesar's Palace is offering good deals on disc  drives,  software,
        computers  and  all  sorts of hardware.  Orders are placed through
        electronic mail messages.

     .  'Tele-Trial': Bored by Caesar's Palace, you enter the number
        for Blottoland,  the board operated by one of  the  nation's  most
        notorious computer phreaks -- King Blotto.  This one has been busy
        all night, but it's now pretty late in Cleveland.  The phone rings
        and you connect.  To get past the blank screen, type the secondary
        password "S-L-I-M-E." King Blotto obliges,  listing his rules:  he
        must have your real name,  phone number,  address,  occupation and
        interests. He will call and disclose the primary password, "if you
        belong on this board." If admitted, do not reveal the phone number
        or  the  secondary password,  lest you face "tele-trial," the King
        warns as he dismisses  you  by  hanging  up.  You  expected  heavy
        security,  but this teenager's security is,  as they say, awesome.
        Computers at the Defense Department and hundreds of businesses let
        you know when you've reached them.  Here you need a password  just
        to find out what system answered the phone.  Then King Blotto asks
        questions -- and hangs up.  Professional computer-security experts
        could learn something from this kid.  He knows that ever since the
        414 computer hackers were arrested in August 1982, law-enforcement
        officers  have  been  searching  for  leads  on  computer bulletin
        boards.

     .  "Do you have any ties to or connections with any law
        enforcement  agency  or  any  agency which would inform such a law
        enforcement agency of this bulletin board?"

     .  Such is the welcoming message from Plovernet, a Florida board
        known  for  its great hacker/phreak files.  There amid a string of
        valid VISA and MasterCard numbers are  dozens  of  computer  phone
        numbers  and  passwords.  Here you also learn what Blotto means by
        tele-trial.  "As some of you may or may not know, a session of the
        conference  court was held and the Wizard was found guilty of some
        miscellaneous  charges,  and  sentenced  to  four  months  without
        bulletin  boards."  If  Wizard  calls,  system operators like King
        Blotto disconnect him. Paging through bulletin boards is a test of
        your patience. Each board has different commands.  Few are easy to
        follow,  leaving you to hunt and peck your way around.  So far you
        haven't had the nerve  to  type  "C,"  which  summons  the  system
        operator for a live, computer-to-computer conversation.  The time,
        however,  however  has  come for you to ask a few questions of the
        "sysop." You dial a computer in Boston.  It answers and you  begin
        working your way throughout the menus. You scan a handful of dial-
        up  numbers,  including one for Arpanet,  the Defense Department's
        research computer.  Bravely tap C and in seconds the screen blanks
        and your cursor dances across the screen.

     .  Hello . . . What kind of computer do you have?

     .  Contact. The sysop is here. You exchange amenities and get
        "talking." How much hacking does he do?  Not much, too busy. Is he
        afraid of being busted,  having his computer confiscated like  the
        Los  Angeles  man  facing  criminal  changes  because his computer
        bulletin board contained a  stolen  telephone-credit-card  number?
        "Hmmmm  .  .  .  No,"  he  replies.  Finally,  he asks the dreaded
        question:  "How old are  you?"  "How  old  are  YOU,"  you  reply,
        stalling.  "15,"  he  types.  Once you confess and he knows you're
        old enough to be his father,  the conversation gets very  serious.
        You fear each new question;  he probably thinks you're a cop.  But
        all he wants to know  is  your  choice  for  president.  The  chat
        continues,  until  he  asks,  "What  time  is it there?" Just past
        midnight, you reply. Expletive. "it's 3:08 here," Sysop types.  "I
        must be going to sleep.  I've got  school  tomorrow."  The  cursor
        dances "*********** Thank you for Calling." The screen goes blank.


                                    Epilog:

     .  A few weeks after this reporter submitted this article to
        Newsweek,  he found that his credit had been altered, his drivers'
        licence revoked,  and EVEN HIS Social  Security  records  changed!
        Just in case you all might like to construe this as a 'Victimless'
        crime.  The  next  time  a  computer fouls up your billing on some
        matter, and COSTS YOU, think about it!
                        _______________________________


     .  This the follow-up to the previous article concerning the
        Newsweek reporter.  It spells out SOME of the REAL dangers to  ALL
                      of us, due to this type of activity!


                        _______________________________
                           The REVENGE of the Hackers
                        _______________________________

     .  In the mischievous fraternity of computer hackers, few things
        are  prized  more  than  the  veil  of  secrecy.  As  NEWSWEEK San
        Francisco correspondent Richard Sandza found out after  writing  a
        story on the electronic underground's (DISPATCHES,  Nov.  12, 198\
        ability  to  exact  revenge  can  be  unnerving.  Also  severe....
        Sandza's report:

     .  "Conference!" someone yelled as I put the phone to my ear.
        Then came a mind-piercing "beep," and suddenly my  kitchen  seemed
        full  of  hyperactive  15-year-olds.  "You  the  guy who wrote the
        article in NEWSWEEK?" someone shouted from the depths  of  static,
        and  giggles.  "We're  going disconnect your phone," one shrieked.
        "We're going to blow up your house," called another. I hung up.

     .  Some irate readers write letters to the editor. A few call
        their  lawyers.   Hackers,  however,  use  the  computer  and  the
        telephone, and for more than simple comment. Within days, computer
        "bulletin  boards"  around the country were lit up with attacks on
        NEWSWEEK's "Montana Wildhack" (a name I took from a Kurt  Vonnegut
        character),  questioning  everything  from  my manhood to my prose
        style.  "Until we get real good revenge," said  one  message  from
        Unknown  Warrior,  "I  would like to suggest that everyone with an
        auto-l modem call Montana Butthack then hang up when he  answers."
        Since  then  the  hackers  of America have called my home at least
        2000 times.  My harshest  critics  communicate  on  Dragonfire,  a
        Gainesville,  Texas,  bulletin  board  where I am on teletrial,  a
        video-lynching in which a computer user with grievance  dials  the
        board  and  presses  charges  against  the offending party.  Other
        hackers  --  including  the  defendant  --post   concurrences   or
        rebuttals.  Despite  the  mealtime interruptions,  all this was at
        most a minor nuisance; some was amusing, even fun.

     .  FRAUD: The fun stopped with a call from a man who identified
        himself only as Joe.  "I'm calling to warn you," he said.  When  I
        barked back, he said, "Wait, I'm on your side.  Someone has broken
        into TRW and obtained a list of all your credit-card numbers, your
        home address,  social-security  number  and  wife's  name  and  is
        posting  it  on  bulletin boards around the country." He named the
        charge cards in my wallet.

     .  Credit-card numbers are a very hot commodity among some
        hackers.  To get one from a computer system and  post  it  is  the
        hacker  equivalent  of  making the team.  After hearing from Joe I
        visited the local office of the TRW credit bureau and got  a  copy
        of my credit record.  Sure enough, it showed a Nov.  13 inquiry by
        the Lenox (Mass.) Savings Bank,  an  institution  with  no  reason
        whatever  to  ask  about me.  Clearly some hacker had used Lenox's
        password to the TRW computers to get to my  files  (the  bank  has
        since changed the password).

     .  It wasn't long before I found out what was being done with my
        credit-card numbers,  thanks to another friendly hacker who tipped
        me to Pirate 80,  a bulletin board in Charleston,  W.Va.,  where I
        found  this:  "I'm  sure you guys have heard about Richard Stza or
        Montana Wildhack.  He's the guy who wrote the obscene story  about
        phreaking  in NewsWeek Well,  my friend did a credit card check on
        TRW . . . try this number, it' a VISA . .  .  Please nail this guy
        bad . . . Captain Quieg.

     .  Captain Quieg may himself be nailed. He has violated the
        Credit  Card  Fraud Act of 1984 signed by President Reagan on Oct.
        12.  The law provides a $10,000 fine and up to  a  15-year  prison
        term  for  "trafficking" in illegally obtained credit-card account
        numbers.  He "friend" has committed  a  felony  violation  of  the
        California  computer-crime  law.  TRW  spokeswoman Delia Fernandex
        said that TRW would "be more than  happy  to  prosecute"  both  of
        them.

     .  TRW has good reason for concern. Its computers contain the
        credit  histories  of  120  million people.  Last year TRW sold 50
        million credit  reports  on  their  customers.  But  these  highly
        confidential   personal   records   are  so  poorly  guarded  that
        computerized  teenagers  can  ransack   the   files   and   depart
        undetected. TRW passwords -- unlike many others -- often print out
        when  entered by TRW's customers.  Hackers then look for discarded
        printouts.  A good source:  the  trash  of  banks  and  automobile
        dealerships,  which  routinely do credit checks.  "Everybody hacks
        TRW," says Cleveland hacker King Blotto,  whose bulletin board has
        security  system the Pentagon would envy.  "It's the easiest." For
        her her part,  Fernandez insists that TRW "does everything it  can
        to keep the system secure

     .  In my case, however, that was not enough. My credit limits
        would hardly support big-time fraud,  but victimization takes many
        forms. Another hacker said it was likely that merchandise would be
        ordered in my name and shipped to me -- just to harass me.  I used
        to  use  credit-card  numbers  against someone I didn't like," the
        hacker said.  "I'd call Sears and have a dozen toilets shipped  to
        his house."

     .  Meanwhile, back on Dragonfire, my teletrial was going strong.
        The charges,  as pressed my Unknown Warrior,  include "endangering
        all phreaks and hacks." The judge in this case is  a  hacker  with
        the  apt name of Ax Murderer.  Possible sentences range from exile
        from the entire planet" to "kill the dude." King Blotto has  taken
        up my defense,  using hacker power to make his first pleading:  he
        dialed  up  Dragonfire,   broke  into  its  operating  system  and
        "crashed"  the  bulletin  board,  destroying  all  of its messages
        naming me. The board is back up now, with a retrial in full swing.
        But then,  exile from the electronic underground looks better  all
        the time.