As my Derch contract unceremoniously completed itself out to the end of its time, my Swiss ex boyfriends father did indeed have a good idea: I should make software that could steal my own documents the Derch stole, back. Dominik might have been an old guy but he was no dummy so maybe if I thought hard enough I could make a something to “type. Type. Gone”
The calendar days marked off and a bittersweet energy-wave overtook my body as I realized the days were here. I had “fulfilled” my contract with the Nellerland government, it was done.
Be it a miracle or deep personal restraint but somehow, despite all the drama, despite all the backstabbing I still indeed kept my promises—even if others had not. However, old dude Dominik had a point: it was also time for some revenge and taking back what’s mine.
Of course when life phases out one nemesis she presents another. I was now headed and arriving in Los Hellas to square off some old battles in the city of origin for venture capital and the software I started making weeks ago was working perfectly— I could at any time now activate and ruin the Derch’s work computers back in Nellerland and take back any files I created or they stole from a few clicks on my cell phone. I just didn’t have the courage. Yet.
Time to Hack
Before I left Europe for the US a strange phone call from an American politician arrived, some tricky scheduling and a backpack with full on “revenge kit” I was now at the Los Hellas airport with my hacker friend Brad who would serve as my technical sherpa. Normally a fun and quirky guy we had some serious items to handle and I knew the trip would not be easy.
After motioning me to get into his Telsa were were now bound for Pacifica. Why? You’d have to ask Brad.
Brad: Did you open the backpack yet?
Playing with the unmarked black backpack in my lap, the jet lag was so strong and I had not heard such fast native English in half a year my brain took a second to adjust
Brad: Open it silly! Look! In there… there’s a burner phone
I unzipped the bag to see a couple piece of printed paper with a long list of contacts and information, a black mobile phone not turned on and a few other items.
Brad: DON’T TURN IT ON. I REPEAT. WAIT
Me: What is going on?
Brad: You made the software right? The stuff to delete your files from the Derch computers right?
Me: Well, yeah, but…I mean… I have it here set on my phone
As I fiddle with my cell phone Brad swats it from my hands and it hits the plastic smelling Tesla carpet below my feet.
Brad: Stop it! Power that off, actually, yes power that off right…about… now
Still jetlagged I was too tired to fight him. I turned off my cell phone and look at him in complete exhaustion for the next steps. I was his simp.
Brad: Now in about 20 minutes when we get to Pacifica, I want you to power up this phone.
The burner phone its fully charged but don’t turn it on.
I held the burner phone noticing how much lighter it felt in weight and mentally taking note at the current time on the car’s dashboard.
Brad: When we get to Pacifica, you’re going to power it on.
Keeping your iPhone off, I made a back entry IP address to get to your iCloud. You’re going to hack yourself when we get to the beach, copy the app to the burner phone, and hit “ACTIVATE”
What he was saying sort of made sense. If anything were to happen it would trace back to this beat up cell phone. How could the phone be mine if the SIM was registered elsewhere and while I was in Europe…
…my tired mind was playing a sleep deprived version of CSI before Brad goes on in his super fast English I’m struggling to keep the tempo with
Brad: Okay, so the phone will power on at Pacifica Taco Bell, download what it needs, activate, then power off and into the ocean it goes.
Me: Can I at least get some Taco Bell. A Taco Supreme sounds amazing about…
Brad: No dumbass they have cameras! I’m going to go in and pay cash for lunch. You stay here in the car, but first thing first lets activate this b*tch and turn it into the titanic
Maybe it was the American pace or highly energized hacker in my presence but the energy was overwhelming. I stared out the car window as we sped through the silicon valley freeways to Pacifica as the fog rolled in thicker and it became cooler and cooler despite being the middle of summer.
Finally the digital clock was getting closer and my hands began to profusely sweat as we arrived to an ocean facing taco hut.
Brad: Okay, this one on.
Let me punch in the IP. You do the thing and when I come back
with tacos we sink the ship.
He typed into the burner phone browser a bunch of digital web address and then popped out quickly grabbing cash from his left pocket and headed towards the building of the worlds most scenic Taco Bell.
The phone loaded so slowly it only had two bars of a cell signal. After what seemed forever, the phone showed a link to download the spidey software I made in Europe which would essentially trace back to a government headquarters in Amsterdam, detect any files to which were stolen from my computers or that I was the author, and mass delete. The goal was take back what was mine and nothing else.
No need to be detected either or be goofy, just make it so all the government officials in Europe who used me or stole my venture capital files couldn’t freeload anymore. My contract and time was done. A deal is a deal
Burning Bridges
I stared at the burner cell phone screen now fully loaded with the software I worked so hard to make, to unmake the things I made that others were pretending they made. Technically a hybrid between software and a computer virus depending on who you asked.
Activate.
That’s what is said right there on the center of the screen with a red button.
I looked up at the Ocean hut Taco building, back down to the phone, back down to my feet in the car, up to the freezing fog rolling in from every direction. It felt like the world was watching me in this empty parking lot.
Was I really going to do this? Was I really going to hack, back?
Its probably better I was sleep deprived, jet lagged, and traumatized from the hardest years of my life getting schooled in Europe because by the time I saw Brad with a small paper bag of tacos rushing back to the car, I knew he had a schedule too.
I clicked activate expecting fireworks but it didn’t work! No dice.
Brad was getting closer now half way across the parking lot and headed towards me in clearly short on time.
I tried again. Nothing. One cell signal bar. The program wasn’t reacting to my button pushing.
Brad was now 100 feet away from the car and panic ensued. I hit refresh on the browser URL and watched as the phone gained TWO MORE BARS OF CELL SIGNALS TO THREE! I saw Brad’s hand now on the door handle about to open his side open. Time was running out.
“You motherf**cker* I screamed therapeutically while frantically hitting the activate button repeatedly with every reflex in my body. activate. activate. activateeeeeeeee
Then I closed my eyes while tapping the button over, and over, repeating saying a prayer inside. Whoosh! I heard the suction noise of the driver’s door opening up
Brad: Well, did you do it?
Afraid to be a failure. Afraid of being mean. Afraid of now being potentially an international hacker, there were so many things I felt mostly around fear— I was afraid I had not completed sending a computer virus back to Amsterdam and I was also terrified that I indeed had. Afraid to look I checked the phone screen to see:
“100% Transfer Complete”
Without hesitation, Brad threw the bag of tacos he was holding down, grabbed the burner phone from my hands and motioned me to step outside the car but also not speak.
We rushed walking from the parking lot of the Pacifica Taco Bell down to where the sand and ocean begin, particularly looking for something, a spot, a bit far out and with rocks around it. We never said it to each other with words our minds just knew.
Brad looked at me, a particular grouping of rocks, then back at me. His face was too peaceful and calm about the situation it made me wonder what else he’s seen in his hacker life. Quickly powering the phone off, he threw it into one of the larger rocks in a grouping we both had been eyeing—the cell phone made a cracking sound against a large rock before sliding down patches of dried white bird droppings then into the ocean where waves began hitting it immediately again against the same rocks. It must have been in tiny pieces in seconds.
Brad: Okay. Lets go. I have an Zoom in an hour and want to be back in the city
Running back to the car neither of us said a word.
I was actually getting hungry so as we got back into his car I opened the paper bag of tacos and ate them as if we had done nothing. Wow, I missed tacos. My mind tried to erase what just happened…
Brad: In like a half hour when we get back Los Hellas turn on your REGULAR cell phone
This man really thought of it all. There’s zero proof I was ever in Pacifica, his car and items are tracked but not me or the burner phone— which probably came from some Reddit black hat who lives in his moms’ basement.
I ate tacos in silence for a half hour before I began to see the city scape of Los Hellas, as if I was an expert at throwing burner phones in the ocean I clicked the power on my phone as normal as could be as Brad started a conference call on speaker in the car.
Perhaps it was the tacos or the comfort of a hacker friend or maybe because I just silently stripped a bunch of European computers of my work, something was at peace inside my heart. I had just spent several years working hard for zero respect and was now back to where it all began.
American Blackmail Hits Different
My cell phone caught up with all the voicemails and messages, since it was turned off. One voicemail alert popped up making my chest turn into a brick—it was the crazy American politician who had been threatening me while I was abroad in Europe.
“Ms. Taylor, this is your political friend from Los Hellas. My sources tell me you are in town and I don’t appreciate you hiding from me. Do I need to put a warrant for your arrest or is a tweet better?
We never know with you techie kids, however, I suggest you or your lawyer get in contact with someone on my team rather soon or your return to Silicon Valley is not going to be a pretty one.” Click.
Brad and I arrived into Los Hellas, him still on his conference call in the car he dropped me at my hotel with the only two bags I was able to take from Europe. As the scary political voicemail rang over in my head I stood there stunned: the city was nearly destroyed I didn’t recognize it.
Looking around I barely recognized the builldings, hotel or city.
Was this the right address?
Someone from the hotel security scurried out to take my bags inside before getting stolen as dozens of signs around warned of violence and public health issues. and I was ushered inside for safety while in a daze. It felt like I was hallucinating.
Was the city a war zone? What had happened while I was gone?
Trying the follow the men who took my bags inside the hotel lobby at lightening speed, all the hotel furniture looked new and yet seemingly depressing and empty there wasn’t another guest to be found.
I tried to find the receptionist desk before I heard the same male voice from the politician in my voicemail. It was his voice. THE Man. The dude who’s spent years harassing me, shaking me down in Europe while the Derch also were shaking me down.
“Ms. Taylor. Oh good. I assume you got my message?”
Bodgdan Brown himself sat in a blue business suit and red tie, awaiting my presence in the hotel lobby chair next to a fake indoor fireplace that showed flames on a digital screen.
“Welcome back”