Hackernaut
Mark A Davis
068
Strangely-shaped vehicles covered in dust cloth loomed in the dim light. Grandpa Anarchy paced the floor of his Anarchy Cave. His fists clenched and unclenched. Nearby two people leaned over the Anarchy Computer while a third chased dust with a broom. One was an older gentleman, perhaps in his sixties, but with the toned body of a dancer. He was dressed in an armored suit of electric blue, with built-in wings. The second was a young girl dressed like Fred Astaire in a black suit, top hat and spats.
The girl sweeping wore a plaid skirt of white and blue and light blue jacket. She had white fur and the head of a dog.
"I hate cyber crime," Grandpa muttered. "There's nobody to punch! Gimme someone to punch, and there's no end to what I can accomplish!"
"That is certainly not true, as your well-paid lawyer Mal is very fond of saying," said Electric Bluejay. "Patience, Grandpa. Your sidekick and I will resolve this problem presently."
"I can't figure it," said Grandpa. "I thought the Anarchy Computer was impregnable... I mean, you built it, after all."
Bluejay rolled his eyes. "Grandpa, that was in the early 1960's. The world of computing has changed slightly in the last fifty years.
"Yeah, sure," said Grandpa, "But it's been updated numerous times since then, Bluejay."
"Don't I know it," the former sidekick replied. "That's one of your problems. The Anarchy Computer currently has more back doors than a door maker's convention -- at least two for every computer-literate sidekick you've ever hired."
"First thing I did," said Grandpa's current sidekick, The Ritzy Cracker. "In fact, it's right in the instruction manual, written by Kid Calculus himself."
"Yes, yes," said Bluejay. "And there's good logic there, but...."
"Is that them?" Grandpa asked, leaning over their shoulders. He pointed to the screen. "That thing there? Where's the VR helmets? Let's take 'em down!"
"Grandpa, this isn't the Matrix. You can't see hackers attacking you...." He paused as a Guy Fawkes mask floated across the screen. "Okay, but that's just Annonymous, the international hacker group. They keep tabs on you, you know. But they tend to favor loose cannon justice, so they like you on the whole. In fact, some of your computer literate sidekicks have been members, I dare say."
The Ritzy Cracker stared up at the ceiling. "Don't know who you're talking about, Bluejay," she said.
For a few minutes the only sound was the soft sweeping of Dog Is My Copilot's broom and Grandpa's renewed pacing. Then Electric Bluejay said, "Good grief. Grandpa, did you give out your social security number?"
"Only to the Superhero Retirement Security Administration," Grandpa Anarchy replied. "They needed it."
"Grandpa, there's no such thing as a Superhero Retirement Security Administration," Bluejay replied patiently. "If there was, then I'm sure they'd already know your number."
"Well, they know it now, anyways."
"Yes. That's the problem. And it looks like you gave out your bank account routing number too?"
"For the Orphans of Djanatonia," replied Grandpa. "Those poor orphans! You gotta help in whatever way you can."
"Yes, but I don't think I've ever heard of Djanatonia."
"It's in Eastern Europe," said Grandpa. "Or Africa."
"And you gave out your credit card too, I see."
"I'd never do that."
"But you'd verify it if your bank requested via e-mail?"
"Well, of course," said Grandpa. "You have to. It's to prevent fraud. You can never be too careful."
"Grandpa, your credit card is maxed out and your bank account is empty, and it looks like a dozen more credit cards have been issued in your name using the information you supplied."
"Really?" Grandpa said. "Well, it's a good thing my friend the Nigerian Prince is gonna split his inheritance with me then."
The Electric Bluejay sighed. He pushed his chair back.
"This is hopeless," he said. "We're going to have to shut everything down, isolate ourselves from the net, and scrub everything...."
"When things look bleak," said Grandpa, "I always ask myself: What Would The Gentleman Brawler Do?"
"Yes," said Electric Bluejay. "He'd punch them in the face."
"Dang straight!" Grandpa replied.
"But as much as I hold the Gentleman Brawler in high esteem, you can't solve every problem with...."
Sparks flew across the console. There was a crack and a flash of light. The Ritzy Cracker was knocked across the room. "Power surge!" Electric Bluejay exclaimed, leaping to his feet. Electricity arced in all directions. Bluejay formed a barrier around himself, Grandpa, and Dog Is My Copilot, deflecting several bolts. Energy gathered into a sparking ball of light. It took on a human form -- a being of energy in a stovepipe hat. It turned to glare at them, malevolently.
It raised its hands. Electricity cracked.
"Well, isn't this a surprise?" it said. "Grandpa Anarchy and his little hacker sidekick, along with none other than the Electric Bluejay himself -- perhaps the first of the hacker heroes. My name is the Black Silk Hat, and I am here to...."
Grandpa Anarchy leaped forward. He punched the creature in the face. The being collapsed on the ground. The electric light faded, and now there was just an unconscious young man in a black hat.
"Someone I can punch!" Grandpa crowed. "That's my kind of hacker!"
The Electric Bluejay sighed. "Dog, cuff the idiot. Ritz, please shut this computer down." He glanced at Grandpa and added, "Really, after fifty years you'd think I'd see this stuff coming...."
FINI
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