by D. B. Goodin
Word had already got out that he was creating an auto-leveling system for The Colossal Machine, so he knew he could sell thousands of dollars of product before Pretzelverse got around to changing things.
Len has been keeping his followers informed of the development of his mod on his blog called Dark Happenings. Although the official title of the add-on was CM Helper, the community dubbed it Dark Glider because he had often described it as a way to glide through the universe of The Colossal Machine as if on skates. Many followers wondered what the actual mechanisms of Dark Glider were, since much of the code was sent electronically to a private server on the Dark Web. However, most players of The Colossal Machine only cared that it would help them achieve their in-game goals quickly.
“There it is,” Len said to no one in particular as he finished the last module for Dark Glider. After tonight's finishing touches, Dark Glider was ready for launch!
Len's heart was pounding as he clicked on the submit button that would send his changes back to the repository. There were a million other details to be done before he could launch Dark Glider. He hastily jotted down some notes.
Send email to the marketing list
Notify the community boards
Web banner advertisements
Final secure code review
Tighten modules
As he left the café, Len pulled up his secure communications app on his smartphone and sent a message to his ghost coders: “Code complete when your mods are ready.”
Chapter 4
John Appleton started his day with a promising lead in the cybercriminal case he had been working on for several months. An encoded message addressed to one of the known associates that are connected to a cyber hacking group known as “The Collective” arrived in his office.
The message originated in Minsk, which was not surprising since the group was active in Eastern Europe. He launched his secure email program, checked out the evidence, then ran the program to detect the decoding method. After eight seconds, the program listed the encoding type as "ROT-13." Luckily for John, this was one of the easiest algorithms to decode. It was time to deal with the big DD.
Marcus Sienna was the deputy director of the FBI's cyber command of the eastern United States. Janice, his secretary, was the gatekeeper for everything related to the deputy director. John was always polite and respectful of Janice's time. This kindness had gone a long way when John needed to see the deputy director on an emergency basis. Janice had been known to make agents wait a very long time before seeing the deputy director. She would prioritize the director's schedule, even if it was empty, to make an offending agent wait as long as possible.
“The deputy director will see you now, Agent Appleton,” Janice said.
“Thank you, Janice.”
“Have a seat,” barked the deputy director. “What news do you have for us in Eastern Europe?”
The deputy director, also known as the DD, was often short-tempered with direct reports. He didn't have anything to report, so John felt a little better going into his office with some actionable news.
“I have a new lead on The Collective, Sir,” John said.
“Go on.”
“I was able to intercept an encoded message using one of the network taps that we have in place,” John said. “We have them installed at several cybercafés in several suspected cities The Collective operates in. This one was in a coffee bar in Minsk.”
“What was in the message?”
“I haven't had time to decode the message, Sir. I got the alert as I was commuting in. I was able to determine the encoding mechanism.”
When the DD said nothing, John took that as a sign to continue. “The message tripped the alert because of metadata inside the message header. A person on a watchlist sent a message to known members of The Collective. We get these all the time, but usually the message is encrypted. This time, the message was encoded with the ROT-13 algorithm, which is significantly easier to crack than standard asynchronous encryption.”
“English, please!” barked the DD.
“Think of it this way. Asynchronous encryption is similar to a lockbox at a bus station. You put quarters in (your private key), then you take the key (public facing) out of the lockbox when you have enough quarters. When you have the key, you can unlock the locker to reveal the contents at any time.”
“Can’t you just pick the lock?”
“Yes, you can pick the lock, and you may get lucky and unlock it within the first few minutes. However, usually it takes a very long time to do this,” John said. “Even with lockpicks. Or, you can break the lock with a hammer, but then you risk damaging what is protected, as well as drawing unwanted attention to yourself.”
After several long moments, the deputy director motioned for John to continue.
“Encoding is better for us because the lock is not as strong. It’s like a lock that protects a jewelry box. One strong tug and it’s open,” John said.
“This is all very interesting, Agent Appleton, but we need a solid lead. You shouldn't have wasted my time with this preliminary information,” the DD scolded. “Is there anything else?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then you better get back to it. The director has been on my ass, and we need a solid lead to move the investigation forward. Otherwise, we are going to shut you down.”
“Give me a week, Sir. You will have your leads.”
John left the office with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.
The popularity of Dark Glider took Len by surprise. He sold more than 2,200 copies during the first week. With each copy selling for $30, and after his fixed costs of $6,455 for programmers and advertising, he netted just over $60,000! Of course, there were other costs to consider, such as seller commissions for the services hired to handle his digital distribution and equipment costs. To add an extra layer of security, the seller offered payments be made with an untraceable cryptocurrency called Digibit. Len was skeptical at first since he thought it would hamper sales, but obviously this wasn't the case. If this kept up, Len might just be able to quit his day job.
Ellen was having a very difficult day. She had to hang up on two creeps and another customer who could only be described as belligerent. All she could think about was finishing her shift, grabbing some takeout, and heading home. She should be home in about an hour, but Chuck Stevens, her shift supervisor, almost always had some sort of surprise waiting for her toward the end of her work week.
Ellen looked up from her computer. Chuck was standing in her work area, and a little too close for Ellen's comfort.
“Ellie, do you have your weekly end-of-shift report for me?” Chuck asked.
She hated when he called her Ellie. Ellen suspected that Chuck was just toying with her. Ever since Ellen shunned his several requests for a date, he had been even more demanding and critical of her work.
“Reports are due at the end of your weekly shift,” Chuck said.
“Well, technically they are due on Friday.” Ellen usually finalized the report Friday morning, because she wanted as many extra calls as possible before her final shift ended. More calls meant bigger bonuses at the end of the month.
“That is only true if your shift is Monday through Friday,” he said with a smug expression on his face. “You work Sunday through Thursday, so I want that report in my inbox by 6 p.m., or I will need to write you up!”
Ellen just sat there for a moment in stunned silence. This was the first time he asked for the report. Until now, he had always approved its submission on Friday. She would have to call Nigel and let him know that dinner was going to be late.
Nigel was in his junior year of high school, and though he went through the motions of getting essays written and sending them to colleges with acceptable video game development programs such as the University of Southern California (USC), or UC Berkeley, his primary focus was his video game side business. Ellen was constantly reminding Nigel that he had the responsibility of trying to get a
s many scholarships as he could so that Ellen wouldn't have to pay as much. At this rate, he may not need any tuition money at all. That thought scared Ellen more than any amount of extra night shifts.
At 5:59 p.m., Ellen got up from her desk and presented Chuck with a hard copy of her report for the week. He briefly glanced at it, then tossed it in his inbox dismissively.
“You can leave now,” Chuck said.
The bastard didn't even look at the report, she thought incredulously. She immediately left without another word to Chuck. At least she wouldn't need to see him again until Monday. Gary would be in charge on Sunday. She liked Gary's management style much better than Chuck's, but he only worked weekends.
She called Nigel on the drive home from her Bluetooth-connected phone. Nigel didn't pick up. She called again about ten minutes later when she arrived at the supermarket and was sent to voicemail! She decided to just pick up a ready-made roast chicken for their dinner.
Every light in the house was turned off except for the one in Nigel's bedroom. Thursday was Ralphie’s study group, so she didn’t have to pick him up until after dinner. She dropped off the chicken, groceries, and her briefcase on the island in the kitchen, then walked upstairs, turning on lights as she went.
She knocked on Nigel's bedroom door.
“Honey, it's me!”
All she heard was a grunt. She tried a few minutes later after she popped the cooling chicken in the oven for a quick warm-up. Nigel did not respond, so she opened the door.
Nigel was sitting in the middle of the floor with his face in his hands.
“What's the matter, Sweetheart?” Ellen asked.
“Nothing!” cried Nigel.
“I think it is a bit more than nothing.”
She pulled Nigel's hands away, and her heart sank as she noticed the bruises covering nearly half his face.
“What happened?”
“I got into a fight.”
“With who?”
“With some kid.” Nigel turned away.
They ate in silence. Nigel was clearly upset, so Ellen didn't press the issue. The moment he was feeling better, they were going to have a talk. She needed to set the record straight with her boy. After dinner, Nigel went to his room. Ellen didn't see him again for the rest of the evening.
Chapter 5
Nigel’s heart pounded so hard at the mere thought of facing Jake again that his chest began to ache. A jumbled, unfiltered stream of data entered his mind: punches from Jake, Jet, his mother, the game—that cursed game! Nigel could barely swallow, and his thoughts were confused. Am I having a panic attack?
After several deep breaths, Nigel’s head cleared, and he focused on finding solutions to unlocking both his and Jake’s accounts. The Dark Web came to mind, but he had no idea how to gain access to the place where the shadows lurked. He couldn't think of any real solutions, so he did what anyone in trouble might do: call for help.
Jet was sitting at her computer (as usual), jacked into a remote section of The Colossal Machine, a premium section of the verse that hadn't been released yet. She was helping the game developers test for bugs and other problems in their new expansion.
Pretzelverse had sent her a large box full of goodies which contained a pair of bulky but functional virtual reality (VR) lenses. While the headset actually needed to be connected to her computer via wires, the immersive experience more than made up for it.
Through the eyes of the VR lenses, Jet noticed that she was on the top level of a tall silver tower. Her avatar had a long staff with a blue crystal at the end, and she could see it waving before her as if it were truly in her own hand. She activated her cloaking armor as she entered the metallic-lined corridor. To her immediate left, an oozing black sludge leaked out of several holes. She knew from experience that touching the sludge was an instant permanent death. She had many hours invested in her avatar and didn't want to lose her place in the queue by starting over. If any of the testers died in the game, they were immediately resurrected in a starting area with no equipment, and since it had taken her approximately forty hours to get this far, Jet didn't want to risk anything. She had limited time to play during school nights; her mother enforced a strict curfew on gaming. She had to be off The Machine at 9:45, and lights out was at 10 p.m., but it was only 7:30. Plenty of time to clear this level, gather her loot, and stash it in her hidden hovel.
She heard the chirping noise of her cell phone as she laid waste to dozens of minions the game was procedurally generating for her slaughtering pleasure. Since the game was online, she couldn't pause. She needed to reach the next checkpoint or a temporary safe camping area before she could even look at the text messages she was receiving. She couldn't think of anyone who might be contacting her at this hour. She didn't have many friends. She didn’t date, either. She knew other like-minded classmates that might be testing, but most of them rarely used the phone; communication was usually handled by the in-game chat system. Her friends’ accounts were “account-linked,” which meant they didn't need to be online playing the same game to communicate. Pretzelverse had established its own communications platform that was truly impressive. The company could have sold subscriptions to the communications system to non-gaming customers. Jet didn't know why Pretzelverse hadn't done this already; it seemed like a good idea to her. She snatched a small peek at her phone as she entered into cloaking mode on her avatar’s armor.
She picked up her phone. The message that caught her eye was from Nigel. It read, “Jet hlp 4 I T...STAT.” Jet's heart skipped a beat when she read the next line: “I O U 4evr TIA.” If a non-technical person received this text message, confusion might have ensued; however, Jet knew its meaning, a call for help. The first line translated to: “Jet HELP for I'm in trouble.” The second line gave her hope, and the meaning was what motivated her to act: “I owe you forever and thanks in advance.” Although this sounded innocent enough, when a fellow gamer sent the letters “I O U” together, it was a sacred message to the recipient. It meant that at any time the IOU could be called in for a favor of the person's choosing. Jet's palms started to sweat at the thought of Nigel owing her. She had sat next to him in class for a long time, and she was very fond of him. Jet quickly checked her inventory and found her recall scroll, which allowed her to instantly teleport to a previous location where she had been in the game. She cast the spell, then logged off in a safe place.
Jet replied, “Where do u want to meet?”
“Public Library at 8 p.m.?”
She lived about ten minutes from the library by bike and figured she better get going if she wanted to get there by eight. She replied,“Sure, 8 by the front.”
“10-4. Bring your laptop.”
The library was practically deserted. No one could be seen as she put her bicycle in the rack near the entrance.
Nigel appeared from the shadows. He was wearing a black hoodie and blue jeans, and she could see his laptop in his hands.
“Hey,” said Nigel.
“Hey, yourself.” Jet didn't realize it, but she had a grin on her face.
Nigel smiled briefly but regained his composure. “Should we get started?” he asked.
Nigel led them to a table just outside the library and explained the Jake situation. Jet cringed when she heard Jake's name. Unfortunately, Jet knew Jake well. A couple of years ago, Jet's father got transferred to a military base just up the coast from Milford as a civilian contractor. During her first day at school, Jake made several unwanted advances toward Jet, which continued for more than a month. Jet liked to study outside the school gymnasium because it provided a semi-private, quiet area to study when it was too cold or rainy to practice. One day, Jake appeared out of nowhere and grabbed her by the arm.
“Get your hands off me, Creep!”
Jet shoved Jake back hard enough for him to lose his balance. As Jake stumbled, Jet spun around to flee, but another slightly shorter boy blocked her path. She attempted to run past when Jake grabbed her arm and started pull
ing her toward the gymnasium. She wriggled and almost broke free.
“Hold on to her, Donnie!” Jake yelled.
Before she knew it, she was in a darkened room. She had been so focused on Jake and his intent that she realized, too late, that the boys were carrying her to another area inside the gymnasium.
“Watch the door!” Jake said as he slammed it. Jake hurled her into an area that resembled a storage room. As she tried to get up, he pinned her down to the floor and immediately started kissing her.
Repulsed by his touch, she started screaming.
Jake backhanded her and quickly cupped his hands over her mouth. “If you do that again, I'm going to hurt you really bad, Bitch!”
He groped for the buttons on her blouse, but they wouldn't come free. Jet bit her lip and sobbed.
Is this really happening? Jet thought. At that instant, she heard voices.
“What are you doing here with the lights off, Young Man?” Mr. Robinson asked Donnie.
When Mr. Robinson got no response from Donnie, he pushed him aside and started flipping switches for the main gymnasium and adjacent hallways.
Startled by the change in ambient light, Jake stood up and attempted to flee toward the opposite end of the room where another door was barely visible.
Jet heard a loud crash. Jake was trying to move several tables that were placed in front of the door. Seconds later, the door of the storage room was flung open; it was Mr. Robinson.
Jet’s vision blurred as the tears flowed.
“Jet, are you okay?” Nigel asked. He had a worried look on his face. She shook off the bad memory.
“Yes, I would love to help you with your Jake problem, Nigel,” Jet said.
Nigel let out a small but meaningful smile.
“Since Jake doesn't want to give his information to Pretzelverse to help unlock his account, I'm thinking of finding an exploit of some kind to break into the account system. I read somewhere that there is malware, rootkits, or other software that can help me,” Nigel said. “But I don't know where to look for them.”