White Hat Black Heart (Cyber Teen Project Book 1)

by D. B. Goodin

  “How long does the process take?”

  “Usually a few days. Remember, the employer cannot require you to work during school hours, and there is a twenty-three-hour limit each week,” Fred said.

  “Great! Thanks for your help.”

  Nigel stared at the login screen of the Collective Systems exam portal, apprehensive about taking the challenge. The test was designed to be taken only once. To prevent exam question leakage, each applicant was filmed during each exam. The test proctor was a live person that instructed the candidates on how to set up the room for the exam so no intellectual property could escape.

  The proctors often asked candidates to move the camera around the room before the exam began. The proctors were given strict instructions. If the exam room preparation took longer than fifteen minutes, then the candidate was automatically disqualified.

  As Nigel entered his username and password that was supplied by the corporation, the Collective Systems logo appeared on screen in a three-dimensional font. After a few seconds, the exam proctor appeared. She is beautiful, Nigel thought. She had blonde hair that was tied up so he could see her bare neck. For a brief moment, Nigel's thoughts started to wander. She was in her late twenties and had smooth skin and emerald eyes. Is this part of the test? Trying to forget about a beautiful woman was not easy for a sexually aware seventeen-year-old.

  “I'm Natasha, your exam proctor for this session. Before we begin, I will record the standard legal requirement for this exam session. Are you ready?” Natasha asked.

  “Yes!”

  “Please read the text as you see it on the screen. I'm going to start recording, okay?” Natasha asked.

  “Okay.”

  “Great! Now please give your legal statement. Read the text as you see it, no deviations.”

  Nigel took a small sip of water, then proceeded to read the text. Pretty standard legal stuff.

  “Now position the enhancement camera we sent you in the line of sight of the camera on the computer.”

  Nigel fiddled with the camera until Natasha was satisfied with its positioning. He put sensors on his right hand and chest as instructed by Natasha. He was specifically told to place the sensors on his chest in such a way as to not reveal his bare skin. He could hear the shutter on the camera and additional motors while the exam proctor moved the camera around the room to find any blind spots.

  “Stay still and look forward at the computer while I get a calibration.”

  Nigel felt a tingling sensation through the sensors which quickly changed into a slight burning sensation. Nigel immediately reached for the sensor on his left breast.

  “Stop!” Natasha screamed into the microphone.

  Nigel froze.

  “Endure the minor discomfort,” Natasha said.

  Nigel's face contorted into a mask of pain; sweat began to pour into his eyes, blurring his vision. After what seemed like an eternity, all sensation ceased, and the monitors turned the darkest ebony. After a few moments, all screens came to life, and Nigel immediately saw a close-up of Natasha.

  “Calibration complete. Are you ready to begin?” Natasha asked.

  “Err, wait a moment,” Nigel said as he put on his augmented reality glasses.

  “Ready!”

  Nigel felt his chest and groin areas tighten simultaneously. His head was spinning, giving him the strangest combination of feelings he had ever experienced.

  As the sensation continued, he thought he was experiencing vertigo or having a panic attack. He lost track of this thought when his vision briefly blurred. The next thing he remembered was Natasha asking if he was ready. He answered, “Yes,” but could not remember doing so; it was like watching a movie of someone else.

  “Great! Let's proceed with the first challenge,” Natasha said.

  After a few minutes, Nigel began to feel like himself again.

  “The first test is spatial integrity, which tests your ability to process three-dimensional shapes,” Natasha said.

  The screen briefly went blank, then a number of three-dimensional shapes appeared on the screen. Some of the shapes were standard geometrical shapes; others weren't.

  “Now, reach out and attempt to interact with the shapes.”

  Nigel raised his right hand. Just as he did, he saw a hand appear on screen. He flexed his fingers and the three-dimensional hand on the screen followed. Nigel attempted to manipulate some of the shapes by trying to turn them left or right or flick them up and down. The exercise reminded him of one of the games he played as a kid. As each shape touched another, they appeared to stick. He tried to pull apart the shapes but couldn't. He realized that when the shapes finally touched, they would stick together like glue. He grabbed a couple of square blocks and banged them together; they repelled and started soaring fast through the air. When they touched other shapes, like triangles, they would slow; when the same types touched, they sped up. Nigel noticed a pattern. He tried to group the shapes so only the different shapes would be together. When he grouped some cylinders and circles together, an explosion happened and both shapes disappeared.

  He continued to group the shapes together until only a few shapes remained.

  “Good job,” Natasha said. “The next test will allow you to demonstrate your cognitive abilities. Test continues in thirty seconds.”

  Several shapes rapidly displayed, and Nigel was given a few seconds to match each pair. Other small tests measured numerical patterns, memory, and attention to detail.

  “Excellent! You have done well on all of my tests so far,” Natasha said. “The final test measures your ability to think critically.”

  “I’m ready to begin,” Nigel said.

  After another twenty seconds, all screens in front of Nigel went dark, then the next test screen appeared.

  “Try to capture the largest numbers possible within the shape in the time provided. Test begins in ten seconds.”

  After the countdown, a group of numbers appeared in a nine-by-eight grid. Nigel did his best to capture as many large numbers in that grid within the given time limit. The frustrating experience lasted for several minutes.

  “Final results will be available within a few days.”

  “How did I do?” Nigel asked.

  “I can only say that preliminary results look promising. Thank you for your time.”

  Nigel awoke to the sound of his brother Ralphie playing a race car game. Although Nigel was six years older than Ralphie, they shared an oversized room the boys called the Loft. Ralphie thought the name sounded sophisticated and cool. Nigel could care less about the name—he thought of it as his sanctuary, since his mother rarely ventured into the room uninvited. Even with Nigel's eyes closed, he instantly knew the game that Ralphie was playing was Kenny Kart, a piece-of-garbage racing game with overemphasized character expressions accompanied by a meaningless cartoon soundtrack. Nigel preferred games with challenge, games that actually required a certain amount of skill to complete.

  Nigel's mind wandered back to the rigorous series of tests that he was subjected to. The entire battery of tests lasted over four hours. Nigel was sweating all over after the exams were finished. The tests were nothing like anything he had experienced before. The woman with the blonde hair and piercing emerald eyes haunted him during his nap.

  Nigel's line of thought was interrupted when Ralphie abruptly exclaimed, “Nige, you’re up!”

  Nigel ignored him and reached for his laptop. He must have been sleeping for more than three hours. He opened his email in anticipation. He had a nagging feeling that he didn't do so well. After waiting several agonizing seconds, he saw the message he was waiting for from Natasha at Collective Systems, Inc.

  Nigel opened the message.

  Greetings Nigel,

  I hope this note finds you well.

  You have been accepted for the Senior Student Researcher position. We feel that this position is best suited for your skills and abilities.

  “I didn't apply for that position,” N
igel said.

  “What was that, Nige?” Ralphie asked.

  “Nothing, Ralphie, just talking to myself,” Nigel said.

  You now have the option to assemble a team that will assist you in the day-to-day aspects of this position. You can recruit up to two additional people to help with these tasks. However, should you choose to enlist the help of others, they must be vetted and approved by Collective Systems, Inc. Since you are a student under the age of eighteen, we are required to obtain written permission from a parent or guardian. We also require a work permit to be issued by your school.

  Nigel was particularly worried about this last part. He didn't think that his mother would be happy that he was applying for a job.

  Attached is a formal offer and employment agreement. If the terms outlined in these documents are acceptable, please respond within 72 hours of receiving this email for further instructions. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact me directly.

  Regards,

  Natasha Solikov

  Chief Recruitment Officer

  Collective Systems, Inc.

  After some thought and deliberation, Nigel decided to accept the offer. However, since he was underage, he had to produce a work permit. He decided to ask Natasha for guidance, but he didn't have her phone number. He could ring up Collective Systems in the morning but figured that an email would be best.

  Dear Natasha,

  Thank you so much for the offer letter. I'm interested in accepting; however, in the event that I cannot produce a work permit, is there any other position I can apply for? My school may take some time issuing the permit. How long do I have to produce that document?

  Warmest Regards,

  Nigel Watson

  Nigel checked his email as soon as he got up the next morning. He received a reply from Natasha!

  Nigel,

  You have thirty days to produce the actual work permit. If you cannot obtain an approved work permit in this time, then you will be suspended from the position and will need to wait at least thirty-six months before reapplying to Collective Systems, Inc.

  Regards,

  Natasha Solikov

  Chapter 8

  Gregor brought up Pretzelverse’s intrusion protection dashboard. The numbers seemed off, a larger than normal amount of inbound email was present, and there was an increase in outbound network packets.

  “Damn! The stupid users are at it again,” Gregor said.

  From the patterns Gregor observed, it appeared an attack was imminent. Some stupid user probably clicked on a phishing link and got malware. Gregor sent a Cyber Advisory warning of the threat to IT and Network Operations. Better to let the grunts handle the details of chasing the malware. Gregor had more pressing issues, like collecting on a payday.

  He retrieved a tablet from his backpack and looked at his own dashboard. His own phishing campaigns had been successful. Usually one user out of thousands clicked on any link. Last week, Gregor netted over one hundred out of ten thousand.

  Gregor’s red phone rang, his burner phone reserved for Collective business.

  “Code word?”

  “Sleeper.”

  “Connecting to Jaded Communicator,” dispatch confirmed.

  “We need to meet about our next move,” Sasha said.

  “Are you in Chechnya this week?”

  “I’m at the cottage,” Gregor said.

  “Meet on level five in fifteen minutes.”

  Gregor was in the quiet study of the cottage. He approached the statue of Plato in the corner. He pulled the index finger on the left hand. The wall opened behind the statue. Gregor carefully stepped through the opening, which revealed a narrow passage.

  Gregor pulled out a small flashlight to help navigate the small passageways located behind each room in the cottage. Gregor wasn’t a very large man, so he could easily navigate the passage. He snickered at the thought of giant Viktor trying to navigate these tunnels. He would probably get stuck. About ten minutes later, he entered a large room on level five. Someone was waiting for him at the opposite end of the room.

  “Sasha, that you?”

  “Aye, come closer. It is difficult to see with just one lamp.”

  As Gregor came closer, Sasha appeared to have a large shadow behind him which reminded Gregor of a large, demon-like thing with talons.

  “Have a seat. We need to talk about the vote,” Sasha said.

  “What about it?”

  “I’m crafting a series of texts and will need your help with execution. I’m not a technical man, as you are. I’ve harvested a list of cell phone numbers that I got from your voter registration worm. It took some doing, but I finally got it to work. You need to provide better instructions,” Sasha said.

  “I will include a guide for dimwits next time. You have the numbers; what else do you need?”

  “An automated way to send a message to all these numbers at the same time, and a way to not include a return number.”

  “Easy enough. What is your execution plan?”

  “Send texts to young voters reminding them to use the eVote app during election day. Most young people in the United States don’t want to be bothered with going down to vote, so I will leverage the eVote app. Users will download the app from the link that is sent from the text. They will see a voting form similar to the actual ballot in their state, but we will get so much more,” Sasha explained. “The app contains the ability to track, record, and collect any information that we want. We can even limit the uploads for when Wi-Fi is active so their mobile data plans are not exceeded.”

  “That’s brilliant!”

  “I just need some help in execution. That’s where you come in.”

  Ellen answered the next call that was in her queue. It was the last call before she could go to lunch. She was having a good morning so far and was two calls ahead of her daily quota.

  “Telemarketers’ Union, Ellen speaking. How may I assist you?” she answered in an upbeat tone.

  “Hello, Honey,” Rick said.

  Ellen was speechless.

  “What do you want?” Ellen asked. “How did you get past the screening process?”

  Ellen felt her face turn hot; she felt flushed when she got angry. Rick had no right to invade her workplace!

  “Calm down, Ellie.”

  Ellen needed to get Rick off the phone as soon as possible because her boss might be monitoring connections.

  “Can I call you tonight?” Rick asked.

  “No,” Ellen said as she severed the connection.

  Ellen looked at her small clock radio next to her computer monitor as she took her last call of the day. It was 4:40 p.m. The small display on her phone indicated that her average call time was ten minutes and fifty-two seconds. If this call fell into that range, she would get to leave early. She was five calls ahead of her usual average.

  After her standard greeting, her caller identified himself as Chris and claimed to be from the IT department.

  “Telemarketers’ Union, Ellen speaking. How may I assist you?”

  “Hello, Ellen. My name is Chris, and I'm from the home office.”

  “Oh, hi… How can I help you?” For some reason, Ellen immediately felt uneasy about this guy and couldn't put her finger on it.

  “I cannot access the network in the Milford office, and I think I might have messed something up. I was wondering if you could help me test?”

  “I'm not the help desk.”

  “Okay, but I cannot reach them and was wondering if you could help me out? It will only take a minute or two. I'm new here and have been out of work for a while, and it would really help me out if you could test something.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Ellen, you are a lifesaver! Pull up a web browser. We have Internet Navigator here; do you have that?”

  “We use a new browser called Corus. Are you familiar with that?”

  “That’s fine. Next, please go to CMHORG.org. It’s a website for me to check on you
r connectivity.”

  “The site won’t load.”

  “I see. Your antivirus may be interfering. Can you shut it off and try again?”

  “We can lose our jobs for changing things on the computer,” Ellen said. “And I cannot lose my job.”

  “I'm only suggesting that we pause it temporarily; it will reset back to normal at the end of the day when you turn off your system.”

  “Okay… How do I do it?”

  “It's easy. Do you see a small yellow shield on the bottom right portion of your screen?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right-click on that shield; you will see a small menu. Click on the pause option.”

  “Okay, that little shield turned red.”

  “That’s normal. Could you please try to go to the website again?”

  Ellen did. “The screen just turned red. That’s it. I see no text or anything.”

  “Hmmm, that is puzzling. I think I might have really messed up your system now. Do you know the number of your local help desk?”

  “Don’t you have it?”

  “The help desk in the home office is so swamped I cannot get in.”

  “Sure, it is 555-3487.”

  “Thanks, Ellen. I really appreciate the help.”

  Immediately after the call, she wrote down the conversation from memory; she was going to complain to Chuck about the lack of screening on these calls.

  Ellen felt drained. Her head was pounding, and she felt like someone used it for drum practice. She locked her desk, quickly gathered her purse, and stopped by Chuck's office for a discussion about the mysterious caller. Unfortunately, Chuck had left for the day. It looked like his office had been unoccupied for quite some time. She remembered that Rick was supposed to call her this evening. She wanted to be prepared for that. She left the building around five. With any luck, she would be at home before six.

  Rick called Ellen several times as she drove home. She didn't take a lot of calls from her car, so she never equipped her car with hands-free technology. The drive home seemed long and arduous for Ellen. She kept thinking about those damn calls! Ellen glanced at the microwave clock in her kitchen as she put her purse on the couch. It was 6:04 p.m. It had been twenty minutes since Rick's last call. She would not delay the inevitable any longer. She picked up the phone and dialed Rick.