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the Government

carries weight with their spook shit, but a bank can’t push hard

enough to pull a story, if it’s true. And Kirk, whoever that

was, offered Scott the ideal way to prove it. Do it yourself.

So he prepared himself for a long night, and he would definitely

sleep in tomorrow; no matter what! Scott so cherished his sleep

time. He wormed his way through the mess of the downstairs

“study in disaster,” and made space by redistributing the mess

into other corners.

He felt a commitment, an excitement that was beyond that of de-

veloping a great story. Scott was gripped with an intensity that

was a result of the apprehension of invading a computer, and the

irony of it all. He was an engineer, turned writer, using com-

puters as an active journalistic instrument other than for word

processing. To Scott, the computer, being the news itself, was

being used as a tool to perform self examination as a sentient

being, as a separate entity. Techno-psychoanalysis?

Is it narcissistic for man’s tools to use themselves as both

images of the mirror of reflective analysis? They say man’s brain

can never fully understand itself. Is the same true with comput-

ers? And since they grow in power so quickly compared to man’s

snail-like millennia by millennia evolution, can they catch up

with themselves?

Back to reality, Scott. The Great American Techno-Philosophy and

Pulitzer could wait. He had a bank to rob. Scott left his

computer on all the time since Kirk had first called. If the

Intergalactic Traveler called back, the computer would answer,

and Kirk could leave a message. Scott checked the Mail Box in

the ProCom communications program. No calls. Not that his modem

was a popular number. Only he, his office computer and Kirk knew

it. And the phone company, but everyone knows about them . . .

Just as the clock struck midnight, Kirk jumped in his seat. Not

only was the bell chiming an annoying 12 mini-gongs, but his

computer was beeping. It took a couple of beeps from the small

speaker in his computer for him to realize he was receiving a

call. What do I do know? The 14″ color screen came alive and it

entered terminal mode from the auto-answer screen that Scott had

left yesterday.

WTFO

The screen rang out. Scott knew the answer.

naft

VERY GOOD! COULDN’T HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF.

Welcome pilgrim, what has brought thee to these shores?

I GUESS WRITERS HAVE AN ADVANTAGE ON COMM. MAKE YOURSELF VERY

COLORFUL. CREATE ANY PICTURE YOU WANT.

Seems a bit more sporting that hiding behind techy-talk.

YEAH, WELL, I’LL WORK ON IT.

So, as Maynard G. Crebbs asked, “You Rang?”

AH! DOBIE GILLIS. NICK AT NIGHT!

No, the originals.

WHEN WAS THAT?

You’ve just dated yourself. Thanks.

TO-FUCKING-SHAY! NOT AS OLD AS YOU. READY FOR A TRIP TO THE

BANK?

You read my mind :-)

I FIGURED YOU’D WIMP OUT ON A SOLO TRIP, FIRST TIME AND ALL.

THOUGHT I MIGHT BE ABLE TO HELP. I MAKE A HELL OF A CHAUFFEUR.

What do you mean?

I MEAN I’M GOING TO TAKE YOU FOR A RIDE.

You’re kidding. Just like Superman carries Lois Lane?

JUST ABOUT. FIRST I’M GOING TO SEND YOU A COPY OF ‘MIRAGE’

SOFTWARE.

When?

RIGHT NOW. THEN, YOU’LL USE MIRAGE. ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS

EXECUTE FROM THE COMMAND LINE AFTER I DOWN LOAD.

English kimosabe.

OK, ITS SIMPLE. WHEN I SAY SO, YOU ENTER ALT-F9. THAT SETS YOU

UP TO RECEIVE. NAME THE FILE MIRAGE.EXE. THERE’S ONLY ONE.

THEN WHEN IT SAYS ITS DONE, PRESS CTRL-ALT-R. YOU WILL HAVE A

DOS LINE APPEAR. ENTER MIRAGE.EXE AND RETURN.

Stop! I’m writing . . .

USE PRTSCR

What’s that?

IS YOUR PRINTER ON LINE?

Yes.

WHENEVER YOU WANT TO PRINT WHAT’S ON THE SCREEN ENTER ‘SHIFT-

PrtScr’. LOOK FOR IT. HIT IT NOW.

Thanks! Got it.

OR SAVE THE WHOLE THING TO A FILE. USE CTRL-ALT-S. THEN PICK A

NEW FILE NAME. MEANS MONGO EDITING THOUGH.

Done! I like Ctrl-Alt-S. Suits me fine. No memory needed.

HIT ALT-F9. MIRAGE IS COMING.

Scott did as instructed. The entire procedure made sense intel-

lectually, but inside, there was an inherent disbelief that any

of these simple procedures would produce anything meaningful. It

is inherently difficult to feel progress, a sense of achievement

without instantaneous feedback that all was well.

Less than a minute later, the screen told Scott it was finished.

Did he want to Save the file? Yes. Please name it. Mirage.Exe.

Would you like to receive another? No. Do you want to exit to

Command line? Yes. He entered Mirage.Exe as Kirk had instruct-

ed, hoping that he was still waiting at the other end. The

screen displayed various copyrights and Federal warnings about

illegal copying of software, the very crime Scott had just com-

mitted.

The video suddenly split into two windows. The bottom window

looked just like the screen he used to talk to Kirk, except much

smaller. Only 10 out of a possible 25 lines. The upper half of

the screen was new. MIRAGE-Remote View ©1988.

Kirk announced himself.

WTFO

Yup! I got something. Two screens.

GOOD. THAT MEANS EVERYTHING PROBABLY WORKED. LET’S TEST IT.

YOU AND I TALK JUST AS USUAL, ON THE SMALL WINDOW, LIKE WE’RE

DOING NOW. ON THE TOP WINDOW, YOU WILL SEE WHAT I’M DOING.

EXCEPT IN MINIATURE. BECAUSE YOU ONLY HAVE 15 LINES TO SEE, AND

A NORMAL SCREEN IS 25 LINES, THE PROGRAM COMPRESSES THE SIGNAL TO

DISPLAY IT IN FULL. DO YOU HAVE A DECENT MONITOR?

vga 14 inch

GOOD. YOU WON’T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS. REMEMBER, WHENEVER YOU WANT

A COPY OF THE SCREEN, HIT SHIFT-PRTSCR.

Can’t I save everything?

CTRL-ALT-S, YEAH.

Done. Anything else?

YOU CAN’T INTERFERE. JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE.

A Sunday drive in the country . . .

WITH ME DRIVING. HA! FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS.

Scott watched with his fingers sitting on the keyboard with

anticipation. A phone number was displayed on top line in the

Upper Window: 18005555500.

<>

In a few seconds the screen announced,

WELCOME TO USA-NET, THE COMPLETE DATA BASE.

The graphics got fancy but in black and white.

ARE YOU A FIRST TIME USER? NO ID? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX PASSWORD? XXXXXXXX

The video monitor did not let Scott see the access codes.

Welcome to USA-NET, Kirk. Time synchronizing: 0:04:57 December 18, 1990 DO YOU WANT THE MAIN MENU? Y

Scott’s large window began to scroll and fill with lines after

line of options:

(A) Instructions (B) Charges (C) Updating (D) OAG (E) Shopping Menus (F) Trading Menus (G) Conversation Pits

In all there were 54 choices displayed. The lower window came

alive.

SEE HOW IT WORKS?

Fascinating.

THAT WAS JUST A TEST. NOW FOR THE REAL THING. SURE YOU WANNA

GO?

Scott had gone this far. He would worry about the legalities in

the morning. Higgins would have his work cut out for him.

Aye, aye, Captain.

ENGAGE WARP ENGINES.

The upper window changed again.

QUIT? Y ARE YOU SURE? Y <<<<<>>>>>

Another number flashed in the upper window. 12125559796.

<>

After less than 2 rings the screen announced that they had ar-

rived at the front doors to the computer system at First State

Bank, in New York. Another clue. Kirk was not from New York.

He used an area code.

Scott felt like looking back over his shoulders to see who was

watching him. His automatic flight-or-fight response made the

experience more exhilarating. He tried to force his intellect to

convince himself that he was far from view, unobservable, unde-

tectable. Only partially successful, he remained tense realizing

that he was borderline legal.

<<<<<>>>>>

PORT CONTROL SECURITY, CENTRAL DATA PROCESSING CENTER, FIRST

STATE BANK. O/S VMS R31

SECURITY: SE-PROTECT, 4.0 REV. 3.12.1 10, OCT, 1989 TIME: 00:12:43.1 DATE: 04 December PORT: 214 ARE YOU SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR? YES ENTER SYS-ADMIN ID CODE SEQUENCE: 8854 <>

PRIMARY SYS-ADMIN AUTHENTICATION ACCEPTED. PLEASE BEGIN SECOND-

ARY IDENTIFICATION.

PASSWORD: 4Q-BAN/HKR <>

SECONDARY SYS-ADMIN AUTHENTICATION ACCEPTED. PLEASE BEGIN FINAL

IDENTIFICATION.

ID: 374552100/1 <>

WELCOME TO CENTRAL DATA PROCESSING, FIRST STATE BANK, NEW YORK

CITY. YOU ARE THE SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR.

***************** WARNING!!!

PLEASE ONLY INITIATE CHANGES WHICH HAVE BEEN TESTED ON BACKUP

PROCESSORS. SEVERE DAMAGE MAY RESULT FROM IMPROPER ADMINISTRA-

TION.

*****************

Scott watched in fascination. Here he was, riding shotgun on a

trip through one of New York’s largest bank computers, and there

was no resistance.

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