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NightHack : A Story about Hackers
The word HACKER has taken on a new meaning recently. It used tomean an avid
computer user. But now it has taken to the likes (baically) of someone who uses
his computer to steal, alter, or misuse online data that is not theirs. Below is
a story obtained from a BBS and no author's name was given. But it is my
inference from reading the story that it was written by Montana Wildhack, the
Newsweek reporter who gained access to a hacking board, and then found himself
being harassed by hackers all over the country. (WE ARE NOT *POSITIVE* AS TO WHO
WROTE THIS. ASSUME IT IS ANONYMOUSLY WRITTEN!). The authors story....
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, 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 here 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,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 charges 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 is 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 G