Mitch rubbed his eyes with fists as he waited for the scan disc to complete. The four computers he had in his one room studio apartment were in need of a good dusting, so he went to the file cabinet to pull out the cloth. As his hand swept over each box and monitor, the gentle hum and sporadic clickings of the engines that sparked his life gave to him a sense of peace and power.
Along the large floor to ceiling windows, his pot plants grew, now standing at four feet, easily. He went over to water them, carefully noting the temperature gage he had stuck in each bucket of soil. He had found that so many factors made a difference in the potency, temperature being his main focus this year. A green covered notebook had all his written notations of his various findings in water, temperature, lighting, and elements added or not added to each different batch of marajuana, the seeds for which he'd purchased from Walmart's online gardening section, as well as some basil and thyme, to bake into his breads.
A timer went off in the small kitchen area, and as Mitch checked the home-made bread he'd put into the oven only an hour earlier, he noticed a small mouse scurrying over the top of his mini-stove and oven. Breaking off a small piece of crust, he hand fed the rodent and smiled as the little creature took the bread crust into his tiny paws, placed it into his teeth, and ran to a small opening between the counters, disappearing from view.
As he sat back down at his computer area, Mitch watched as the sun set lower and lower and his eagerness to view Microsoft's sky ad was tugging at him like the pull of his young brother's hand at the park. Mitch fell into the memory as the words came back in far away whispers that came closer and closer.
"Mitch, Mitch, frisbee, frisbee," his young brother had exclaimed, his wheelchair going forward with the use of one hand as his other hand held on to and pulled Mitch by the arm.
"Ok, ok, Lars," Mitch laughed, as he took the frisbee out of his backpack, where a small lunch for the both of them sat in brown paper bags. He hated that his father had named his younger brother after Lars Ulrich of Metallica, after some computer debate over right to file sharing in the 1990s and early 2000s. His father, who didn't even like heavy metal music, and was more apt to listen to country music, had often spent hours debating the 'theft of music through file sharing'. Mitch disagreed with his father on this issue, and had begged his dad not to name his little brother Lars. Even though Mitch knew it wasn't a logical thought, he sometimes felt that Lars' condition was brought on by the name.
He had spent an entire week, back in his teen years, putting files of Metallica tunes which would cut off briefly mid-song to the sounds of loud flatulence, which he'd added himself, on every file sharing server he could find.
But he loved his brother Lars. No matter his name, and no matter his condition. Having spent most of his spare time helping his dad raise Lars, when their mother had left the family to marry a coworker she'd been having an affair with for years, Mitch was both an older brother and a mother to Lars. And he had no regrets about it, felt there was no sacrifice to any of this, just the common sense of dealing with each day, each situation, as it came in life. And his father, who remarried a few years later himself, was happier than he'd been with their mother, anyways. So, sometimes, Mitch surmised, change can truly be for the better. Disruption in life's day to day can change things for the better, too. And it was that line of thinking that had gotten him into hacking computer websites and entire businesses and all of society, worldwide, knew of his online nickname because of it. ObS0L33T had begun his quest to shake things up in his teen years and when his first hacking made headline news on CNN, he was instantly hooked.
As he was to home-made bread. Mitch cut a piece from the middle and pulled it apart into two small rectangles and began eating from the middle. Some would say he lived the life of a prisoner; bread, tap water, pot. The occasional pizza. The occasional banana. Never really leaving the small cell of his apartment, not even to watch movies, which could be ordered online in lens-form; just lean back, close your eyes, and enjoy the show, with a pair of headphones on, you fell into the movie as deeply as a dream. The solitude and confinement to such a small space would appear, to most, like a self-inflicted life sentence, alright.
But Mitch didn't feel that way about the simplicity of his living and the complexity of it, once online.
Spacemarketing.com's main authorization password was jackjack, and for all his access to the site, to the emails shared by those in charge, and those not in charge, Mitch could not figure out why. Nobody had any kids named Jack, or family member named Jack, so Mitch figured it had to be a private joke of some sort.
Although Mitch could easily change the authorization password and obtain solo access to the site, he hadn't yet. At this point, his main intent was to figure out how and where the words for the billboard ads were sent to the satelite sign. Since that night, on New Year's Eve, when Microsoft.com had it's first shining as a star in the heavens, Mitch had wanted to see his nickname up there, shining down upon the world with both a smirk, a wink, and a bit of pride. ObS0L33t He knew it had to be through some computer command, and he was determined to obtain the password to that part of the site, which was a different code altogether.
He also wanted to understand Space Marketing, from every level, before embarking on what could potentially be his masterpiece. Skimming through an inbox, he came across her email.
From :
"Elizabeth Miller"
To :
spacemarketing.com
Subject :
An idea to help shake off the bad press
Date :
Thu, 17 January 2030 19:19:24 +0000
Dear SpaceMarketing,
I first would like to say that this email is a positive one, and that I think it's great your company finally got permission to have your billboard on at night in the sky. I'm sure, from all the media attention, you get your share of hate emails, but this isn't one of those types of emails.
My name is Elizabeth Miller, and I have an idea that might help you to ward off some of the bad press. A friend of mine is turning 100 years old in August of this year. He's a wonderful man who has shared many stories about a time and place in this world I could not learn from history books in the same way, and with the details he has offered. Bill was born in 1930, and it would truly amaze him if on the night of his 100th birthday, August 24th, if the billboard in the sky said HAPPY 100th BIRTHDAY, BILL. For just one ten minute slot, the first time slot if possible, at 10 p.m., as Bill is usually asleep by midnight and gets up at the crack of dawn.
Bill is a regular customer at the store I work at as a cashier/clerk. I have to tell you that he is a man who has seen so many changes, and he also speaks in favor of the progress of technology, although he doesn't own a computer or anything like that. Most of my elderly customers at the store find the billboards in the sky hideous, but not Bill! He thinks it is fantastic!
I think if one ten minute time slot each month were given to this kind of celebration of our oldest citizens, those turning 100, it might help to show the humanistic side of your company and also lift a little of the stigma off. It will guarentee media coverage of a more positive nature, and could really make a difference in how some people are viewing the billboards in the sky.
I hope you will at least consider this idea, and let me know if you can give to Bill the gift he'd never expect to get from me (and from you!)
Sincerely,
Elizabeth Miller
23 Shiftlock Drive
Apt. 2
MetroWest, MA. 02223-2121-56
phone-watch #: 727.311.1229
***
Mitch wasn't sure if it was Elizabeth's use of the word 'shake off' in her topic of the email, or the email itself, but he immediately felt a strong connection to her. Using a search engine, he found information on her and began reading her online blog.
One particular entry changed the entire focus of his hacking of Space Marketing and their ad box in the sky.
Bill once told me about going to a library back in the early 2000s, and someone at a computer cubicle was showing everyone a hacked website. He explained to me what happened on 9/11 and why the person had hacked the website, and he said he thought it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen. I said "But, Bill, hacking is like stealing, isn't it?" and he said "No, because hacking is done with a sense of humor about it, and comedy is what makes life a happier and more laughable experience, Elizabeth. And the man at the computer cubicle explained to me, as clueless as I am about all this computer stuff, that hacking is an important aspect of the cyberspace, and he said that it actually improves things and makes people think harder, so, hey. I think change is good, you know that, and unexpected changes are sometimes just what this life needs."
My friend, who is almost 100 years old, defending hackers when he doesn't even own a computer!
I found an archive of the news story on the hacker, too:
http://edition.cnn.com/2003/TECH/internet/11/17/sprj.irq.aljazeera.hacked.ap/index.html
He got in trouble for what he did, but he certainly shook things up!
Mitch tapped his pen on his nose and thought about Bill, almost one hundred years old. And Elizabeth. Perhaps it was just coincidence that Elizabeth and Bill understood the 'shake it up' theory he'd long fashioned his life on, but it felt like something more. As he surfed around other parts of the Space Marketing website, his mind soon changed the vision of ObS0L33t to HAPPY 100TH BIRTHDAY, BILL and he knew, once he saw it in his mind's eye, that it would become a reality.
Posted by nft at May 24, 2004 10:57 PM