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archive:news:night
                        The Night of the Hackers
                        ________________________
.  As you are surveying the dark and misty swamp you come across what
   appears to be a small cave.  You light  a  torch  and  enter.  You
   have  walked  several  hundred feet when you stumble into a bright
   blue portal.  .  .  With a  sudden  burst  of  light  and  a  loud
   explosion you are swept into . . . DRAGONFIRE . . .  Press Any Key
   if You Dare."
.  You have programmed your personal computer to dial into
   Dragonfire, a computer bulletin board in Gainesville,  Texas.  But
   before you get any information, Dragonfire demands your name, home
   city  and phone number.  So,  for tonight's tour of the electronic
   wilderness you become Montana Wildhack of San Francisco.
.  Dragonfire, Sherwood Forest (sic), Forbidden Zone,
   Blottoland,  Plovernet,  The Vault, Shadowland, PHBI and scores of
   other computer bulletin boards are hangouts of a new generation of
   vandals. These precocious teenagers use their electronic skills to
   play hide-and-seek with computer and  telephone  security  forces.
   Many  computer  bulletin  boards  are  perfectly legitimate:  they
   resemble electronic  versions  of  the  familiar  cork  boards  in
   supermarkets and school corridors,  listing services and providing
   information someone out there is bound to find  useful.  But  this
   is  a walk on the wild side,  a trip into the world of underground
   bulletin  boards  dedicated  to  encouraging  --  and  making   --
   mischief.
.  The phone number for these boards are as closely guarded as a
   psychiatrist's home telephone number.  Some numbers are posted on
   underground  boards;  others  are exchanged over the telephone.  A
   friendly hacker provided Dragonfire's number.  Hook up and you see
   a broad choice of topics offered. For Phone Phreaks -- who delight
   in  stealing  service  from  AT&T  and  other  phone  networks   .
   Phreakenstein's Lair is a potpourri of phone numbers, access codes
   and  technical information.  For computer hackers -- who dial into
   other people's computers -- Ranger's Lodge is chock-full of  phone
   numbers  and  passwords  for government,  university and corporate
   computers.  Moving through Dragonfire's offerings,  you  can  only
   marvel  at  how conversant these teen-agers are with the technical
   esoterica of today's electronic age.  Obviously they have spent  a
   great  deal  of time studying computers,  though their grammar and
   spelling indicate they haven't been diligent  in  other  subjects.
   You are constantly reminded of how young they are.
.  "Well it's that time of year again. School is back in session
   so  let's get those high school computer phone numbers rolling in.
   Time to get straight A's,  have perfect  attendance  (except  when
   you've been up all night hacking school passwords), and messing up
   you worst teacher's paycheck."
.  Forbidden Zone, in Detroit, is offering ammunition for hacker
   civil war -- tips on  crashing  the  most  popular  bulletin-board
   software.  There  also are plans for building black,  red and blue
   boxes to mimic operator tones and get free phone service.  And  he
   re  are  the  details for "the safest and best way to make and use
   nitroglycerine," compliments of Doctor Hex, who says he got it
   "from my chemistry teacher."
.  Flip through the "pages." You have to wonder if this
   information  is accurate.  Can this really be the phone number and
   password for Taco Bell's computer?  Do these kids really have  the
   dial-up numbers for dozens of university computers? The temptation
   is  too much.  You sign off and have your computer dial the number
   for the Yale computer.  Bingo -- the words Yale University  appear
   on your screen.  You enter the password.  A menu appears. You hang
   up in a sweat. You are now a hacker.
.  Punch in another number and your modem zips off the touch
   tones. Here comes the tedious side of all of this. Bulletin boards
   are popular. No vacancy in Bates Motel (named for Anthony Perkin's
   creepy motel in the movie "Psycho"); the line is busy.  So are 221
   B.  Baker Street, PHBI, Shadowland and The Vault,  Caesar's Palace
   rings  and  connects.  This is different breed of board.  Caesar's
   Palace is a combination Phreak board and computer store in  Miami.
   This  is  the  place to learn ways to mess up a department store's
   anti-shoplifting system,  or make free calls  on  telephones  with
   locks  on  the  dial.  Pure  capitalism  accompanies such anarchy,
   Caesar's Palace is offering good deals on disc  drives,  software,
   computers  and  all  sorts of hardware.  Orders are placed through
   electronic mail messages.
.  'Tele-Trial': Bored by Caesar's Palace, you enter the number
   for Blottoland,  the board operated by one of  the  nation's  most
   notorious computer phreaks -- King Blotto.  This one has been busy
   all night, but it's now pretty late in Cleveland.  The phone rings
   and you connect.  To get past the blank screen, type the secondary
   password "S-L-I-M-E." King Blotto obliges,  listing his rules:  he
   must have your real name,  phone number,  address,  occupation and
   interests. He will call and disclose the primary password, "if you
   belong on this board." If admitted, do not reveal the phone number
   or  the  secondary password,  lest you face "tele-trial," the King
   warns as he dismisses  you  by  hanging  up.  You  expected  heavy
   security,  but this teenager's security is,  as they say, awesome.
   Computers at the Defense Department and hundreds of businesses let
   you know when you've reached them.  Here you need a password  just
   to find out what system answered the phone.  Then King Blotto asks
   questions -- and hangs up.  Professional computer-security experts
   could learn something from this kid.  He knows that ever since the
   414 computer hackers were arrested in August 1982, law-enforcement
   officers  have  been  searching  for  leads  on  computer bulletin
   boards.
.  "Do you have any ties to or connections with any law
   enforcement  agency  or  any  agency which would inform such a law
   enforcement agency of this bulletin board?"
.  Such is the welcoming message from Plovernet, a Florida board
   known  for  its great hacker/phreak files.  There amid a string of
   valid VISA and MasterCard numbers are  dozens  of  computer  phone
   numbers  and  passwords.  Here you also learn what Blotto means by
   tele-trial.  "As some of you may or may not know, a session of the
   conference  court was held and the Wizard was found guilty of some
   miscellaneous  charges,  and  sentenced  to  four  months  without
   bulletin  boards."  If  Wizard  calls,  system operators like King
   Blotto disconnect him. Paging through bulletin boards is a test of
   your patience. Each board has different commands.  Few are easy to
   follow,  leaving you to hunt and peck your way around.  So far you
   haven't had the nerve  to  type  "C,"  which  summons  the  system
   operator for a live, computer-to-computer conversation.  The time,
   however,  however  has  come for you to ask a few questions of the
   "sysop." You dial a computer in Boston.  It answers and you  begin
   working your way throughout the menus. You scan a handful of dial-
   up  numbers,  including one for Arpanet,  the Defense Department's
   research computer.  Bravely tap C and in seconds the screen blanks
   and your cursor dances across the screen.
.  Hello . . . What kind of computer do you have?
.  Contact. The sysop is here. You exchange amenities and get
   "talking." How much hacking does he do?  Not much, too busy. Is he
   afraid of being busted,  having his computer confiscated like  the
   Los  Angeles  man  facing  criminal  changes  because his computer
   bulletin board contained a  stolen  telephone-credit-card  number?
   "Hmmmm  .  .  .  No,"  he  replies.  Finally,  he asks the dreaded
   question:  "How old are  you?"  "How  old  are  YOU,"  you  reply,
   stalling.  "15,"  he  types.  Once you confess and he knows you're
   old enough to be his father,  the conversation gets very  serious.
   You fear each new question;  he probably thinks you're a cop.  But
   all he wants to know  is  your  choice  for  president.  The  chat
   continues,  until  he  asks,  "What  time  is it there?" Just past
   midnight, you reply. Expletive. "it's 3:08 here," Sysop types.  "I
   must be going to sleep.  I've got  school  tomorrow."  The  cursor
   dances "*********** Thank you for Calling." The screen goes blank.
                               Epilog:
.  A few weeks after this reporter submitted this article to
   Newsweek,  he found that his credit had been altered, his drivers'
   licence revoked,  and EVEN HIS Social  Security  records  changed!
   Just in case you all might like to construe this as a 'Victimless'
   crime.  The  next  time  a  computer fouls up your billing on some
   matter, and COSTS YOU, think about it!
                   _______________________________
.  This the follow-up to the previous article concerning the
   Newsweek reporter.  It spells out SOME of the REAL dangers to  ALL
                 of us, due to this type of activity!
                   _______________________________
                      The REVENGE of the Hackers
                   _______________________________
.  In the mischievous fraternity of computer hackers, few things
   are  prized  more  than  the  veil  of  secrecy.  As  NEWSWEEK San
   Francisco correspondent Richard Sandza found out after  writing  a
   story on the electronic underground's (DISPATCHES,  Nov.  12, 198\
   ability  to  exact  revenge  can  be  unnerving.  Also  severe....
   Sandza's report:
.  "Conference!" someone yelled as I put the phone to my ear.
   Then came a mind-piercing "beep," and suddenly my  kitchen  seemed
   full  of  hyperactive  15-year-olds.  "You  the  guy who wrote the
   article in NEWSWEEK?" someone shouted from the depths  of  static,
   and  giggles.  "We're  going disconnect your phone," one shrieked.
   "We're going to blow up your house," called another. I hung up.
.  Some irate readers write letters to the editor. A few call
   their  lawyers.   Hackers,  however,  use  the  computer  and  the
   telephone, and for more than simple comment. Within days, computer
   "bulletin  boards"  around the country were lit up with attacks on
   NEWSWEEK's "Montana Wildhack" (a name I took from a Kurt  Vonnegut
   character),  questioning  everything  from  my manhood to my prose
   style.  "Until we get real good revenge," said  one  message  from
   Unknown  Warrior,  "I  would like to suggest that everyone with an
   auto-l modem call Montana Butthack then hang up when he  answers."
   Since  then  the  hackers  of America have called my home at least
   2000 times.  My harshest  critics  communicate  on  Dragonfire,  a
   Gainesville,  Texas,  bulletin  board  where I am on teletrial,  a
   video-lynching in which a computer user with grievance  dials  the
   board  and  presses  charges  against  the offending party.  Other
   hackers  --  including  the  defendant  --post   concurrences   or
   rebuttals.  Despite  the  mealtime interruptions,  all this was at
   most a minor nuisance; some was amusing, even fun.
.  FRAUD: The fun stopped with a call from a man who identified
   himself only as Joe.  "I'm calling to warn you," he said.  When  I
   barked back, he said, "Wait, I'm on your side.  Someone has broken
   into TRW and obtained a list of all your credit-card numbers, your
   home address,  social-security  number  and  wife's  name  and  is
   posting  it  on  bulletin boards around the country." He named the
   charge cards in my wallet.
.  Credit-card numbers are a very hot commodity among some
   hackers.  To get one from a computer system and  post  it  is  the
   hacker  equivalent  of  making the team.  After hearing from Joe I
   visited the local office of the TRW credit bureau and got  a  copy
   of my credit record.  Sure enough, it showed a Nov.  13 inquiry by
   the Lenox (Mass.) Savings Bank,  an  institution  with  no  reason
   whatever  to  ask  about me.  Clearly some hacker had used Lenox's
   password to the TRW computers to get to my  files  (the  bank  has
   since changed the password).
.  It wasn't long before I found out what was being done with my
   credit-card numbers,  thanks to another friendly hacker who tipped
   me to Pirate 80,  a bulletin board in Charleston,  W.Va.,  where I
   found  this:  "I'm  sure you guys have heard about Richard Stza or
   Montana Wildhack.  He's the guy who wrote the obscene story  about
   phreaking  in NewsWeek Well,  my friend did a credit card check on
   TRW . . . try this number, it' a VISA . .  .  Please nail this guy
   bad . . . Captain Quieg.
.  Captain Quieg may himself be nailed. He has violated the
   Credit  Card  Fraud Act of 1984 signed by President Reagan on Oct.
   12.  The law provides a $10,000 fine and up to  a  15-year  prison
   term  for  "trafficking" in illegally obtained credit-card account
   numbers.  His "friend" has committed  a  felony  violation  of  the
   California  computer-crime  law.  TRW  spokeswoman Delia Fernandex
   said that TRW would "be more than  happy  to  prosecute"  both  of
   them.
.  TRW has good reason for concern. Its computers contain the
   credit  histories  of  120  million people.  Last year TRW sold 50
   million credit  reports  on  their  customers.  But  these  highly
   confidential   personal   records   are  so  poorly  guarded  that
   computerized  teenagers  can  ransack   the   files   and   depart
   undetected. TRW passwords -- unlike many others -- often print out
   when  entered by TRW's customers.  Hackers then look for discarded
   printouts.  A good source:  the  trash  of  banks  and  automobile
   dealerships,  which  routinely do credit checks.  "Everybody hacks
   TRW," says Cleveland hacker King Blotto,  whose bulletin board has
   security  system the Pentagon would envy.  "It's the easiest." For
   her her part,  Fernandez insists that TRW "does everything it  can
   to keep the system secure.
.  In my case, however, that was not enough. My credit limits
   would hardly support big-time fraud,  but victimization takes many
   forms. Another hacker said it was likely that merchandise would be
   ordered in my name and shipped to me -- just to harass me.  I used
   to  use  credit-card  numbers  against someone I didn't like," the
   hacker said.  "I'd call Sears and have a dozen toilets shipped  to
   his house."
.  Meanwhile, back on Dragonfire, my teletrial was going strong.
   The charges,  as pressed my Unknown Warrior,  include "endangering
   all phreaks and hacks." The judge in this case is  a  hacker  with
   the  apt name of Ax Murderer.  Possible sentences range from exile
   from the entire planet" to "kill the dude." King Blotto has  taken
   up my defense,  using hacker power to make his first pleading:  he
   dialed  up  Dragonfire,   broke  into  its  operating  system  and
   "crashed"  the  bulletin  board,  destroying  all  of its messages
   naming me. The board is back up now, with a retrial in full swing.
   But then,  exile from the electronic underground looks better  all
   the time.
/data/webs/external/dokuwiki/data/pages/archive/news/night.txt · Last modified: 1999/08/01 17:08 by 127.0.0.1

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