by Indra Sinha
We enter Durward Street – it used to be called Buck’s Row – where the Ripper’s first victim, Polly Nichols, was found dying on the cobbles, guts hooked from her body by an upswept knife. Along the north side are boarded-up terraced houses with grimy broken windows. To the south is a wasteland of mud and rubble in which a single building remains. It is a gaunt ruin, its roof half off, its gable wall pierced by small holes. As we come near, we see that the upper floor has caved in and the interior is a mess of fallen beams and masonry. Don ducks inside and I follow him. There is a frantic scuffling, like that of a giant rat. Someone is inside. Then a figure shifts in the shadows, an old man, filthy, bearded and drooling, with melting eyes and the most beautiful face you ever saw. He cowers back as we stoop to enter the ruin.
‘Don’t be afraid,’ says Don.
The old man stands up. A dribble of spit runs down from the corner of his mouth onto his coat.
‘Dunno you,’ he says in a weak voice.
‘We’re taking pictures.’ Don shows him the camera. ‘I’d like to take your picture. Is that okay?’
‘Not safe here,’ mumbles the old man. ‘Not any more.’
‘What happened?’ asks Don, looking for the best angle.
‘A fella got killed.’
He gestures at a mess of timber dangling from a hole in the floor above. ‘Sleeping upstairs. Killed while he was sleeping.’
The old fellow looks at us with head on one side, like a crazy old bird. I wonder if he can grasp what we are asking him. But then he grins and brushes down the front of his coat.
‘Just a minute. Want to look me best.’
The session begins, the tramp sitting on a pile of bricks, half-lit by a shaft of dusty light from above. Nearby there is a tin with a candle stuck in it and a pile of yellowed newspapers. In front of his boots, which look as if they have been chewed by some starving animal, is a circle of half bricks in which are some charred sticks.
We’ve been there ten minutes when Don says to me quietly, ‘Don’t turn around. Look on the floor for something you can use as a weapon, but don’t pick it up till I tell you.’
Fear flickers through me. I can feel it building up in my body like static. Don, still clicking, murmurs, ‘There’s a stick on the ground, couple of feet to your left. Know where it is in case you have to grab it. There’s a couple of heavy-looking guys heading this way.’
One part of me is calm, as if this has happened a hundred times before. A weird fantasy starts inventing itself in my mind.
>The Scottish Tramp attacks you barehanded.
>get stick
>You have taken the heavy stick.
>ret stick
>You start to use the heavy stick.
>The Scottish Tramp has stolen the heavy stick from you.
>The Scottish Tramp thrusts at you with the heavy stick.
>st stick tramp
>Your attempt to steal the stick from the Tramp fails miserably.
>A blow from the Tramp lands solidly.
>look
>Burnt out warehouse.
>Picking your way through the burnt out timbers you eye what remains of the roof with caution, as it looks likely to cave in at any time. You get very black and dirty. There is a brick lying on the ground here.
>g brick
>You have taken the broken paving brick.
>ret brick
>You start to use the brick.
Application to join NuKE
The ad that took Don and me to Whitechapel was one of a long line the agency has produced to attract recruits for the Metropolitan Police. Over the years, we’ve spent an enormous amount of time talking to policemen, going on patrol with them. I spent a week wandering round Southall learning about the misdeeds of an Asian gang called, unless I had misheard, the ‘Tooting Nuns’. The Nuns revved up and down the High Street in cars and motorbikes flying horsetail insignia. One had recently attacked a rival gang member and split his head open with a hammer in front of a lunch time crowd buying filmi songs, idli and sari borders. It all sounded most unlikely. ‘Them Nuns is everywhere,’ the officer who was showing me round muttered darkly. ‘They recruit in school playgrounds. Use threats to make the youngsters join. Poor bloody parents don’t know what to advise.’ I told him I would like to talk to a parent about the problem, so he took me into a shop where a smirking hand-wringing proprietor bade us welcome, offered us tea and miniature fried samosas. ‘This is Mr Bear from Scotland Yard,’ said the copper by way of introduction. ‘He’d like to ask you a few questions about gangs.’ The poor man was paralysed with horror.
‘Sir . . .,’ he said, tears of sincerity brimming in his lower lashes, ‘Sir, I would rather my own child was dead, dead I tell you, than in such a gang.’
‘Got you there, didn’t he?’ my copper sniggered as we left.
In the same line of duty, I’ve gagged at the saucepan, on display in Scotland Yard’s Black Museum, in which Dennis Nilsen boiled his victims’ heads, leafed through scene-of-murder photographs at the Streatham CID office and listened to a Chief Superintendant in Brixton describe police work as ‘a cascade of tragedies’.
‘Twenty bloody years staring down the toilet bowl.’
A copper I meet in Brixton tells me that not only are London’s police stations not online to one another, many of them do not even have computers. (Eve, this is no longer true.) I start talking about the net. He tells me about the hospital that was hit by a virus and lost all its records. This is a legend that everyone has heard but no-one can verify.
‘Ah, but could it happen?’ he asks.
After this conversation I decide that I will try to infiltrate NuKE and other virus-writing groups, with a view to discovering their secrets and grassing them up. I know zilch about viruses, or ASM programming (assembler code), but it doesn’t matter. On the whole, members of virus groups don’t do anything as radical and dangerous as actually write viruses. They just swap them. Failing real viruses, pseudo-viruses. The virus-exchange bulletin boards are full of bugs that aren’t in the least bit infectious. Some won’t run at all. It’s very easy to fake a virus. Just take any relatively small .exe or .com file and rename it to something terrifying. Now upload it to your local VX board. Hardly any sysops will dare to test it. They will just stash it away with the rest of their collection, which is nothing more than a list of file names over which, like the dirty pictures in the adjacent directory, they gloat in private. In applying to NuKE World HQ for admittance, I don’t even bother to upload fake files. There is not a single reason why they should admit me and – given that I am planning to leech their secrets and then denounce them to the Feds – every reason why they shouldn’t.
NuKE InFoForm Questionnaire
Your Validation to this BBS heavily revolves on the answers of this questionnaire. None of these questions are HARD, as I am conjuring the questions for this questionnaire right now, right out of my head.
NOTE: THERE’S ONLY 13 Questions! (Very Simple) They are basically on your opinion! There’s NO RIGHT or WRONG Answer! Just GOOD and COMPLETE and SPECIFIC Answers! Thank you! AND NO “FUCKING” around. Any dumb answer, will get you DELETED! AND ALSO: NOTHING Illegal or corrupt is taken, NO CODE POSTING, No Cards#, you name it, any of this material will be turned over to the local law enforces. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
Do you wish to continue [y/n]: Yes
Name us three BBSes you tend to call often. That will vouch for you.
Where did you get this Phone Number? By Whom? or where? BE EXACT! from a friend in NuKE
What do you EXPECT to get from this system? Why are you calling here? BE VERY SPECIFIC, don’t post To meet People, Msgs...etc you can call ANY BOARD for that! (3 Lines)
to hone knowledge about viruses
to exchange viruses
to perfect skills in relation to viruses
This System is a [NuKE] WHQ, Do you know anything on this organization? As this BBS is dedicated on the NuKE idea, and we don’t need anyone that is di
sinterested. (3 Lines)
i have heard nuke rubbished by the anti-virus crowd, but i reckon that those people are arrogant and nuke has the edge...i like that. i would like to be part of it.
What is a COMPUTER VIRUS for you? Do you have a view on them?
Do you like them? Hate them? Why? (Be Specific) (3 Lines)
an interesting intellectual exercise. i think they are fascinating. i don’t hate them, actually i doubt if people who are researching into these things have time or inclination to go wrecking systems
What is your view on the AntiVirus community? Do you hate them?
Do you like them? Why? (Be Specific) (2 Lines)
i don’t hate them, they are complacent, or maybe they just appear that way. some, at any rate. vhey are very opinionated. some are okay. they too have their useful function.
Do you understand ASM (Assembly) Language? If yes, what? (2 Lines)
un peu
This system contains users from ALL parts of the world, And we gather here to brainstorm and talk, can you be an ‘Active’ supporter of the group? Are you willing to participate? or Help us in anyway? (Also what way can you help us by) (3 Lines)
i could join in, yeah, but at this cost (calling from the UK), i would have to be a millionaire, so offline mail is better for me. i can help with research, to some extent, but obviously you guys know more than i do... which is why i am here.
What computer are you using? IBM Compatible? And what OS System?
(MS-DOS, PC-DOS, DR-DOS, OS/2?) (2 Lines)
a pc 386 clone, dos5
that’s ms-dos 5, good old billgates
Do You know we do not tolerate any ‘Illegalities?’ we are not NARCs But for legitimate reasons, we do not take that, this BBS is for the purpose of [NuKE] with the idea of Self-Knowledge advancements No POSTING on illegalities, NO UPLOADING of Illegalities... Do you understand this? And are willing to comply by this? (1 Line)
yes no problem
This BBS contains a Legitimate Collection of ‘Computer Viruses’ and Related Sources and Text files on them! All Viruses are LABELLED as Viruses! So there can be no MISUNDERTANDING! So you CANNOT SAY “I didn’t know what I was Downloading!” ALL Viruses here are EXPECTED to be used in a LEGITIMATE fasion (sic), for research, and understanding and/or Testing. If you are unsure or unable to meet with the following Answer ‘NO’ bellow (sic), but if you find that you are responsible enough to understand Viruses on a Mature Level, Answer ‘Yes’ bellow and we will grant you the Virus Section!
So did you understand the above? (Yes/No) yes
So do you want access to the Virus section? (Yes/No) yes
Thank you Very Much. For the questions. All Applicants are Validated within 24 hrs. So call back after 24hrs to abtain Full Access to this system.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
NOTE: you will NOW WRITE a Message to the Sysop, add ANYTHING you wish inside there, Your background is nice. IF [NuKE] wishes to contact you, what number can we reach you at?
Ex: XXX-XXX-XXXX or +XX-XX-XXX-XXXX
Phone Number: = +44 XXXX XXX XXX
Ask for Whom: Bear
You will now send a new user letter to the SysOp. This letter is required, and cannot be aborted. If you choose to not put anything in it, you will probably not be noticed, and thus not validated. In this message, it is required that you write about yourself, and why you think you deserve access to the system. Just remember, no matter what you put in this message, chances are you’ll get validated.
-= PAUSE =-
To: Rock Steady #2
Title: New User Application
Enter your message now, Private EMAIL [LOCAL] #0. You may use up to 200 lines. Press /S to save, or /? for a list of commands.
[—+—1—+—2—+—3—+—4—+—5—+—6—+—7—+—]
okay, well i am fascinated by the subject of computer viruses...and have been studying up what i can on my own...as you know, it is not easy to come across viruses in the wild or to get infected files passed on, but what one or two came my way, i have done my best to open up and suss out how they work and what they were all about...frankly assembly ain’t my strong point and this is a bit of a bastard, but anyhow, some progress...then i was reading the virus echoes and came across an advert which listed nuke...sounded interesting, at the same there was a discussion about vnuke’s test scan of various av systems... i found the av leaders to be rather complacent and the rest of the av crowd seemed to take a closed minded position, whereas the nuke position was more exciting and imaginative, well i decided there and then that i would like to make contact and see if i could join you and really learn something...so there you go...i’ll call back with high hopes... ciao, bear, bye for now
Command (?=Help): ®h¥5Jj)m/Õ¢/äjMÖŸï‘ÅjïÕÕÖùï″/ïUuÅ″/¥5≤/äj˘Yes
Saving message...<<
‘He’ll never swallow all this bullshit,’ I tell myself, but twenty-four hours later I log back, and I’m in.
The art of death
>look
>Burnt out Timber warehouse.
>Picking your way through the burnt out timbers you eye what remains of the roof with caution, as it looks likely to cave in at any time. You get very black and dirty. There is a brick lying on the ground here.
>g brick
>You have taken the broken paving brick.
>ret brick
>You start to use the brick.
>Sabbath has stolen the brick from you.
>Sabbath thrusts at you with the brick.
Sabbath is the most feared killer on Shades, with a huge lust for blood. He is played by a friend of Jarly’s called Graeme. I meet him one day at Gawain’s, a large youth in a Motorhead tee-shirt, lank hair hanging halfway down his back. He has written a program called Ripper which allows him to enter macros – whole strings of commands – with one or two key presses. Thus pressing alt+c might generate ‘get shortsword, go northeast, cut the wall with the shortsword, climb up, go out, feed the bone to the cub’. This is a sequence of commands to be executed in the middle of a sand strewn Roman arena. You leap down, unarmed, into a tunnel which leads to an arena where a large and hungry lion is pacing. Lying on the sand ahead is a bloody bone with tattered shreds of flesh still attached. Beyond this is the gate beyond which the lion waits. Once through this gate there is no way back. Inside the arena, a dinted but serviceable short sword lies on the sand and further off in a different direction, a golden helmet. The helmet is what you’ve come for. But first you have to avoid the lion and get the sword. If the lion attacks, you have little chance of survival. Graeme’s program speeds you through the lion’s den and out of trouble. But the real use of Ripper, the true purpose for which Graeme designed it, is murdering other players. Some multi-user games view the idea of ‘player killing’ with revulsion. Homicides are treated with the same horror as in ancient Greece, banished, fair game to be hunted down and killed without mercy. Not so in Shades. Fighting is the fun of the game. Killing one’s friends is as natural as breathing. One murders daily with a song in one’s heart.
Fighting in Shades is practised with as much dedication as any obscure eastern martial art. It’s so important that we have seminars on it. In most MUDs of the Lambda and Diku sort, players belong to a race and a guild, and acquire special armour, weapons, skills and magic. In a fight, these are tallied against those of the opponent. The outcome is pretty much predetermined. Shades is not like that. Shades is like the real world, random and unpredictable. Fighting skill depends entirely on the players. Their level determines how hard they can hit, but tactics, surprise and luck can enable a small player to bring down the biggest in the game. Unlike most other games, Shades allows players to steal each other’s weapons. Timing is crucial. You must steal the weapon and use it just before your own blow goes in, and try to make sure that you have got it when your opponent’s blow falls. You must keep careful track of your stamina and your opponent’s as they fall towards the death-point of zero. Y
ou must know always where the Strange Little Girl is, because strength and stamina are restored by touching her. The complexity and freedom of action on Shades have led to several distinct schools of fighting. Some teach multi-weapon combat, attacking with longsword and deadly ninja fighting cabbage or mild unassuming rat and brick. Others rely on the use of spells like ‘fumble’ which causes the opponent to drop what he is carrying, ‘strip’ which denudes him of weapons, and ‘butterfingers’ which ensures that anything he picks up will slide harmlessly out of his fingers. You can also ‘force’ your opponent to do things, drop his weapon, for instance, or hand it to you. If you are defending against his attack, you can force him to flee. You can even force your opponent to execute a ‘where is everything?’ command. If this works, it leaves him watching helplessly while a list of every single object on the game scrolls slowly up his screen. By the time it has finished, so is he. ‘Force where all’ is considered very vile, although its exponents point out that everyone has the same opportunity to use it. The real reason for most players’ dislike of it is that it spoils the fantasy. It steps outside the game’s carefully painted illusions and tampers with the under-stage machinery. The problem with all of these fine tactics is that they must be typed and if you’re a bad typist, you are dead. Graeme is a terrible typist, which is why he invented:
Ripper enables players to automate their fighting. For example, instead of slowly and laboriously typing ‘steal rat from Sabbath’, you just press F4. Ripper turns Graeme and his friends into superkillers. Jarly, particularly, becomes addicted to the shedding of blood. Suddenly every player on Shades wants Ripper. But Graeme has written it for his own computer, which happens to be an Atari ST. It will run on nothing else. An underclass develops of people who neither have ‘f-key software’ nor that other most desirable fighting tool, a ‘fast’ modem. Determined to keep up in the arms race, I spend several hundred pounds on an Atari ST, telling Eve I need it for desktop publishing. I also buy, for three hundred quid, a 2,400 bps modem, but this I don’t mention at all.