I, the pirate (chapters 3-5)

There is a relative lull in my story. For almost 2 months now, I have been in the pirate community. They somehow made me new cards, all identification, I can go out, buy what I need, even if I wanted to, go to the movies. Now I was a different person. Man and partisan.

I did not declare war, did not tear my shirt off and did not climb onto the barricades. I admit, I never liked this position with copyright, but to oppose ... I would not dare. But the circumstances were such that now I am here, and will never return. Therefore, if ever I have the opportunity to write a book about my life, it will probably start like this:

I, a pirate, _{last name, name} , _patronymic , was born in the year ____ in the city of N.
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However, given the dangers of pirate life, if I want the book to come into being, it’s worth starting now. It seemed like I, an old man with an eye patch, without one leg, which I lost in a deadly fight with the rightholders, I sit by the fire at night and tell terrible stories to the kids from my pirate life full of dangers. The next picture was the same fire, but my story is told for me, because I fell in unequal battles for information freedom. This is still not enough. Although, I do not know how the leg, but here the wrist is sometimes very unpleasantly whining.

I looked at the computer, comfortably settled on the table. He was not connected to any network. All programs, all help, everything is installed offline, as Simon said, this should have been enough. And if suddenly there is not enough - they will bring everything they need on a flash drive. It is inconvenient, but reliable, and creates in its own way a tempting atmosphere of isolation from the world, as on a desert island.

Basically, I'm used to it. I also sit at home, I also write programs. I make some modules for hacking servers. I’m certainly not an expert on this case, but as I was told, we have time, slowly I study the question, I even sometimes read the documentation. I debug on virtual machines, with pleasure watching how small but well-aimed code strokes are embedded in the intricacies of enemy systems.

Periodically I make backups that Semen takes, and in return he copies me the films, the music I ask to bring. This reminds me of Petrovich's stories about the times when in order to get, say, a game, you had to know the right people, wait a few days, and then go with the diskettes and patiently rewrite the multivolume archives with verification so that you don’t walk a second time.

Apparently, so that I was not at all crazy about this disconnection, they brought me a laptop with the Internet. Of course, I myself understand, but Simon insistently repeated, just in case, so that I would not reveal any details of my past. I try not to write anything anywhere, and not even register, and if I really need to, I choose names as a random set of characters.

Of all the partisans, only one Simon communicates with me, and we always meet on neutral territory. He promised later to acquaint me with the others, to show the place where they gather and watch pirated films, listen to pirated music. When the whole epic of severe prohibitions began, content collectors, who had previously quietly participated in file sharing, gradually went underground. Some of them joined the partisans, someone chose to give or copy their collections to them. Of course I could not wait to dig into it all.

In general, everything seems to be good, except for one. Attacks do not stop, and most importantly it is not clear because of what. If earlier they happened, when an important meeting was coming, or I was late, then now ... For example, I just launch another part of the program. This is just a test, not a real hack. And I was shaking, as if I was illegally copying secret information from the PEB network. Or, let's say, I go to the store to buy something, without haste, people walk with their children, the cool sun shines, the weather is great. And the tension is stifling, as if I am breaking through the battlefield through trenches torn by shells, covered with smoke. With shaking hands, I try to stretch my muscles, breathe deeper and more evenly. I tell myself: after all, nothing special is happening, I don’t need to run away from anyone ... but apparently the cases when the patient persuaded himself not to twitch, the medicine is not known.

While those green pills remained, I took them, but when they ran out, I did not buy new ones. I didn’t want to go to the doctor either, in the first place, I didn’t want to risk it, they would suddenly reveal me, and then, as soon as I had the tests, I would find some more terrible disease, about which it’s better not to know.

If you think about it, it turned out as if the brain was used to these nervous stresses and now even the slightest excuse is enough for it to provoke them. But today I just have reasons. Today I am going to another meeting in the park, where they promised to tell me what these server hacks are for. It seems that the work has reached a stage where it is impossible to continue without an understanding of the common goal. Or, who knows, some critical moment is coming, and they have to hurry. At least at the last meeting with my "liaison" I thought so. He acted uncertainly, as if he had been unsaid, he was about to say all the time, but he doubted.

There was still more than an hour before the meeting and I did not find a place for myself. He flopped into a chair, then jumped up again, walked around the room, looked out of the window, tapping his fingers on the wall. Working now is useless, only time is lost. I firmly rested my hands on the table, which is why a part of its upper panel moved a little to one side. A strip of light lit up the dust inside. I pulled the panel harder. Obviously, the last tenant did not often invite guests to himself, and he did not have to move the table. But it seems that he was given the same advice as me: to write. Inside the table, behind the retractable drawers, where you can climb, just by pulling them all, lay a few sheets, written in small handwriting.

Two people were sitting in a small, dark room without windows. One of them, younger, was wearing jeans and a T-shirt, on the other a dark blue robe was put on over his shirt and the indefinite color of his trousers.

In fact, the room was large, but it was crowded due to the fact that everything around was filled with boxes with disks, piles of books and records. Here and there, separate cassettes were pushed between them, and it seems even packs of floppy disks. The hard drives gleamed with metal ends, and the transparent cylinders of the pigs folded into the banks dimmed with transparent edges.

A narrow passage between the shelves and the boxes led to the open door, through which a corridor could be seen fading into the distance. Along its walls, carriers, carriers, carriers were also piled up in different order ... Occasionally some devices were seen, cables going around rare doorways were running.

The man in the bathrobe said:

- Yes, it is of course good that when the opportunity is given, we save the accused, especially those who actually did nothing. We do not know if we will keep all these archives, they will ever be available to people or not. But now at last we will do something real. So much time getting ready, I just can not believe that soon.

- No, I still do not understand how we can destroy the database. After all, they probably have backup and replication around the world.

- First, and most importantly, they do not expect it. Of course there are copies, but the fact of the matter is that we attack all the servers at the same time. As for protection, any hacker knows that if protection cannot be cracked through the network, it can be done from the inside. In such cases, no physical intervention is complete. We have foreseen everything, even emergency annual backups. No wonder so much time collecting data. One decisive blow, and information on all objects of intellectual property will be completely destroyed.

From the corridor there was a dissatisfied howl: “well, where, where-ah? !!” Then there was some kind of fuss, a muffled knock of throwing headphones and curses. A disheveled man entered the room, slammed his hand on the doorjamb. “They lost again”, he said with displeasure, apparently expecting sympathetic comments, and added, turning his head toward the next door: “all because of this deer.” Those sitting meaningfully remained silent, and he sighed and headed back.

The young man continued:

- And what, the base will be so difficult to restore? Can't the authors somehow be able to prove who created what?

- Forget you about the authors! Nowadays, everything was resold so many times that the only reliable source of ownership is the very base. They only do what they sue, to whom that "belongs". Of course, over time they will again share the pieces of the cake, but this will not be soon, and during this time they will surely bite.

- Well, it means a simultaneous attack. And for this attack it is necessary in some places to physically penetrate the control centers and enter some passwords there, right?

- Like that.

- But since it is so important, how are you not afraid to entrust the newcomer to participate? Suddenly he refuses? Or washed off at the most important moment. What if he is still a spy, or is being watched, but so carefully that we did not notice?

- And what do you suggest? Can I go or you? If they grab it, we’ll actually lose nothing. He is not connected with anyone, knows nothing. And if me? Can you imagine what will happen if they find out where we are sitting with you now? No, it just fits. In the end, if it does not work out, we have spare options. But you are right of course, it would be better if he did not know what he was going on.

There was a pause. The young man looked around. A few years ago, it seemed to him that he would never forget where any discs are, and therefore did not always mark the boxes. Today, there was not enough time even to compile lists of new receipts, not to mention dismantling the old mess.

He suddenly turned around, apparently delighted by an unexpected thought, and almost waving his arms, blurted out:

- And you do not tell him that this is the actual attack. Say, this is the type of the preparatory stage, well, like a breakthrough of the first ring of protection or something. As if we are just being introduced into their system, then to strike. Say that it will be a type of test for him, and after this action, if everything goes smoothly, we will accept him, and he will become a full-fledged pirate, a warrior of cyberspace!

Smiling, the man in the robe calmly stood up.

- Well, you bent, "warrior." It is necessary to be more modest, colleague, - he said. Then he hesitated, and with a wink, agreed: - I'll think about it.

After that, he took a measured step into the corridor. His interlocutor remained seated in the same place, apparently thinking about something.

Passing by the works of his favorite artist, Vladimir Alekseevich slowed his pace, went right up to the canvas. A natural wood floorboard creaked nobly under her foot. It is surprising how the seemingly close-looking brush strokes add up to an incredibly realistic picture. Vladimir Alekseevich slowly moved on, opened the heavy door and went into the office.

The decor inside at the same time calmed and tuned for business. Even the smell of furniture, mixed with a delicate aroma from the climate generator, seemed to say to the owner of a spacious room: “Everything will be as it should.”

Obedient to the usual gesture, the computer turned on, on the screen of which a message from the copyright holders of media content attracted attention:

“Dear Vladimir Alekseevich,
Our leadership is concerned about the increasing frequency of escaping criminals. We believe that this may create an unfavorable impression on the public about the state of affairs in the field of the protection of intellectual property. ”

Vladimir Alekseevich frowned and decided to immediately write the answer.

“Dear Edward Mikhailovich,
Our units protect your intellectual property in the best possible way. Do not hesitate, all violators are caught. The execution of sentences is regularly reported in the media, so that suspicions about the possible impunity of such incidents should not arise. As for the persons who have not been brought before the court, I can remind you that this information is outside your jurisdiction. ”

Like this. Let not climb into their own business. They are concerned. We know what they are concerned about. When the highest measure of piracy was introduced, the executions were broadcast online, for everyone. Then it was decided that it was inhumane. But today, for a lot of money, fans of the spectacle can watch, or even attend. Surely someone from their office is connected with this, so they worry that there are few sentenced.

The mood has deteriorated a bit, so before starting to study the situation, Vladimir Alekseevich decided to talk with a colleague from Europe. They communicated in English, and for the first time, I remember, an unfamiliar accent severely hurt the ears. Now this feeling has smoothed out, and the voice seems normal, as well as the manner of speaking. A colleague lived as if in another world. And although they had common interests, sometimes it seemed that he was playing some kind of very special game, understandable only to him alone. However, conversations with him usually left a positive impression.

They talked about half an hour, about important and not important things, and said goodbye. Vladimir Alekseevich still stood for a while at the window, admiring the view, and returned to the table. Well, let's get started.

A man from the 23rd group reported: “One of the new wards is nervous, everyone suspects. This may affect the entire operation. ” A brief description of the implementation process was attached. Vladimir Alekseevich thought about it, studying the history of his escape: it is indeed slightly implausible that he was never found under all these circumstances. Well, since a person doubts, you need to calm him down. Let's open some secrets to him.

Suppose he should learn that among PEB there are people who sympathize, and not just sympathizers, but actively help. These people made it so that they did not detect it on the way, deleted unnecessary records, made it invisible. Especially because in fact it was like this.

How to throw information? Directly undesirable. It is better to present it as if he himself had excavated. For example, let him accidentally find in the apartment the records of a previous fugitive who knew that he had been helped. Records, which will say that around "our people" and everything is under control.

Good. It remains to run through the statistics, daily reports, to get acquainted with the analysis of events. Outwardly, nothing special. And this is the best sign that people working in the system know their stuff.

On the face of Vladimir Alekseevich nothing was reflected. But if his character was a little more open, one would guess that he was pleased with himself. Everything went according to plan.