216 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
216 lines
12 KiB
Plaintext
THE K-RAD
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By Stephen King
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writing as THE SILVER GHOST
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It all started, I guess, when I noticed that I wasn't getting quite as many
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calls as I was used to. Thirty calls was normal, on weekdays, a handful more
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on Saturdays. I didn't really expect anything huge, nor did I want it. I had
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enough trouble finding space on my two floppies to worry about more users, and
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posts, and text files. I did run an AE on Sunday. Since I wasn't afraid to do
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some phreaking and leeching (unlike the other sysops in my area), I usually had
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the "latest warez," and my AE enjoyed quite a lot of popularity. Until "Dragon
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Hacker" came along.
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He logged on my board Thursday, and I validated him Friday. Dragon Hacker, I
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laughed--wonderful name. His questionaire was filled in like this:
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Name: JIM HUTCHINSON
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Phone: 616-344-2718
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Age: 13
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Cmnts: I REALLY LIK THIS SYSTEM ITS VERYY GOOD DO YOU HAVE ANY WAREZ?
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I was in a pleasant mood as I read it. K-K00L, I thought to myself, I got me
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a real thirteen-year-old geek and leech here. I could tell he was a leech
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because he started making requests before he even knew me; I could tell he was
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a geek because he had to have filled in the questionaire before he saw the
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system, and he "REALLY LIK"ed it. Wonderful. Oh well--give him a thrill.
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Access--all sub-boards. I left him e-mail explaining my AE to him, and gave
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him the password. What the fuck. How much damage could a thirteen-year-old
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kid do?
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I was astonished. He left me e-mail the next day. He got on five times, the
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limit) saying first "WOW THANX FOR THE AXES" (ah, if I only had one...) and
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later "WHY DON'T YOU GET ON THE SYSTEM MORE OFTEN." I guess I sort of felt it
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was my duty to straighten this kid out, to help him enter the world of cool
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bulletin board users. I wasn't quite sure how to do it, so I just left him
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intelligent and mature replies like "No problem. And I only get on the system
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once a day, because I work noon to eight."
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The other users tore him up, though. I had installed a warboard the week
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before, and some of the younger ones were going apeshit over it. Our friend
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Dragon Hacker posted the wrong thing on the wrong board: "DOES ANYONE HAV ENY
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COOL APPLE WAREZ?????" The most vivacious, Cirocco Jones (that's a handle, not
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a real name), jumped on him. "Hey loser," she called him, among other things,
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"get your dumb ass off this cool board and go visit Shack-Roads!" Never hurts
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to sucker up to a sysop. Anyway, the others soon joined her in denouncing this
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non-cool person that invaded their "private" air-space. (In reality the board
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was public and always had been; the AE was private.)
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I came home and turned on the monitor to find Dragon Hacker reading those
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messages. He waited a very long time between keypresses, and I didn't think he
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was such a bad typist that it took him five seconds to find C/R. I smiled.
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Poor kid, I thought, probably sitting there in shock. Should I break into
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chat? No, then he'll know I was watching--major embarrassment. When he was
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through with all the war-board posts, he prepared to leave a replying bulletin
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of his own.
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Uh-oh, I thought, here it comes. Hell hath no fury worse than a 13-year-old
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scorned. I mentally bet with myself how many profane words he'd use.
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I guessed wrong.
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His reply, in its entirety, read "I'M GOING TO GET YOU."
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He saved the message, then sat there at the prompt for a long time. I was a
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little P.O.'ed at this time, and I hit CTRL-O to break into chat.
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Nothing happened. That's odd, I said. Oh--he must have dropped carrier.
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Stupid software hasn't realized it yet. I picked up the extension phone, to
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listen to my lousy computer sending a carrier to an empty line.
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The phone was dead. No originate carrier, no answer carrier, no dial tone,
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nothing. I checked the plug--it was plugged into the same Y-plug as the modem.
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I toggled the switchook, and heard the clickety-click in my ear. Then I looked
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back at the screen. He HADN'T dropped carrier! "Terminate Connection?" it
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asked. "YES," he typed. I flipped the switchook again, and heard the click.
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"Leave feedback?" it asked. I stabbed CTRL-O and nothing happened. "NO," he
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typed. "Dammit!" I exclaimed. I listened to my extension phone--the phone
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must be broke, that's it, I thought. Then Dragon Hacker hung up, and so did my
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system. I toggled the switchook again...and heard a dial tone. "Fuck this
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shit," I thought, and went to bed.
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-:-
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I got on at 11:45 the next morning, harried and late for work. I printed out
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the userlog. JESUS! There must be millions of them! I counted. No, only
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thirty-two. Thirty-two new users in one night. Uh-oh, with names like
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"Hackman" and "Killer Creature" and "Black Sabbath." Okay, fine, go to
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validation. I had to leave for work in ten minutes, so I hurried.
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I stared. Every one of them, all thirty-two, had co-sysop access.
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"SHIT!" I screamed. It was very late, and I had no time to change thirty-two
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access levels. I suspected who did all this, and re-checked Dragon Hacker's
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account. Yep--that 34th bit, the co-sysop bit, was set. How, I didn't know.
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But I had no time to speculate. Thinking at a speed bred into us sysops, I
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merely changed the remote sysop password. Easy enough...now they can still get
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on, but not use any co-sysop functions. But something strange was going on.
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-:-
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I came home to find the board down--DOWN. The floppy drive was spinning
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aimlessly, and probably had been for hours. FUCK. I read somewhere that a
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nonstop disk drive explodes, or something, or maybe that was for a Commodore.
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Whatever. I clicked on the monitor, which I keep off to save on phosphor.
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The screen warmed up slowly.
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Cold chills ran from the small of my back into the cords of my throat. I
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stared, unable to comprehend. The green screen was filled, completely filled,
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with "THIS B0ARD IS K-RAD!!"
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I pounded RESET. The ] prompt and cursor appeared at the bottom of the screen.
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The disk drive stopped. I typed CATALOG with fear and trepidation, mouth set
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hard, waiting for I/O ERROR or a blank disk or something. The disk catalog
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scrolled by, normally. I tapped the spacebar until all the files had gone by.
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They were all there. I checked some of them out--all there. I put the board
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back up--it worked perfectly. I toyed with calling the author of the software,
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but since I was running a pirated version of GBBS Pro, I decided it wasn't a
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good idea. He might not like pirates. I changed Dragon Hacker's access to 0,
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and repeated the process for all thirty-two of his friends. No--there were an
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even dozen more. All forty-four of his friends. Popular guy.
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I decided to call Dragon Hacker.
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-:-
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Ring. Ring. Ring.
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My adrenalin started to pump--I was getting nervous.
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Ring. Ring.
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This was silly--me, afraid of a thirteen-year-old kid.
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Ring. Ring. Ring.
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Maybe he's a Mafia member or something.
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Ring. Ring.
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When is the little fucker gonna answer his phone?
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Ring. Ring. Click.
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"Hello?" It was a woman.
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"Uh. Hello. Is Jim Hutchinson there?"
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"Yes, he is. May I tell him who's calling." It wasn't a question. The woman
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was middle-aged, probably his mother. I thought. "This is David Jones. He
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doesn't know me." Most mothers don't understand handles. She covered the
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mouthpiece with her hand. "JIMMY!" she yelled, muffled."TELEPHONE! DAVID
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JONES!" A pause, then the phone was picked up. Another hand covered another
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mouth-piece. "I GOT IT MOM!" A click.
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"Hello?" he asked. His voice was high. I didn't doubt that he was thirteen.
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"Are you Jim Hutchinson?" I asked.
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"Yeah, who are you?"
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"I'm the sysop of the board you crashed this morning." I paused to let it sink
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in. "I just want to ask you a few questions."
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He chuckled. "Yes?"
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This wasn't what I'd expected. "First of all, how did you do it?"
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"Sorry."
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"SORRY?"
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"Sorry."
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"You're not going to tell me?"
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Silence.
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"Okay, you're not going to tell me. Question two. Why did you do it?" I was
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trying to stay calm, cool, and interested instead of angry and flustered.
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"Because."
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"This isn't going to get very far."
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Silence.
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"You're a loser," I said.
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Silence.
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"You're just another asshole who crashes boards." I stayed calm, listening
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for his reaction. "If you think it made you popular--you're wrong. If you
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think it made you cool, you're wrong. If you think--"
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His voice was a menacing rasp. "I'M GOING TO GET YOU," he said.
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I stopped, and listened to the dial tone. A dial tone doesn't come onto the
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line until about thirty seconds after the other party hung up. Ergo, he had
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hung up thirty seconds ago.
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Was I going nuts?
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I took the board down, and posted that fact around. I made sure to mention
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why I was taking it down, and I mentioned names. My board was popular. Dragon
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Hacker soon wouldn't be allowed anywhere.
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I turned the computer off and went to bed.
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I awoke in the middle of the night. My computer sits in the den, seperated
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from my bedroom by a wall. I heard the fan running, and I heard the
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high-pitched whine of the monitor. I saw the green of the power light and the
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red of the modem off-hook light, projected faintly onto the hallway wall.
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I heard the noise that woke me up. BEE-DEE-DEEP, three pitches rising in tone.
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It was the call for chat.
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"Go away," I whispered.
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BEE-DEE-DEEP.
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My throat rose.
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BEE-DEE-DEEP.
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-:-
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I looked up "Hutchinson" in the White Pages. Eight listed, none with a phone
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number of 344-2718. I called CN/A and was told there was no such number. I
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called back--busy. I tried an hour later--still busy. I tried at 3:00 AM--
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still busy.
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I became very scared.
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Who the hell WAS Dragon Hacker?
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I found a file called "README--FROM D.H." on my program disk. I didn't read it.
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I initted the disk. I initted all my BBS disks. But I called around, to
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out-of-state boards. I found a Dragon Hacker on some of them. Apparently some
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sysops had felt the way I did. I posted all over them about how Dragon Hacker
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of <616> had crashed my board, and how he was a geek...
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-:-
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I got a call on my voice line.
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"Hello?" he rasped.
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I didn't say anything.
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I sat in my chair, afraid to move.
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"I'm going to get you," he growled, and it seemed to me like his voice was
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that of an old, old, man--or of an aged wild beast, unable to forage.
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I slammed the phone onto the hook.
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It rang again.
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I got into my car and drove to a motel.
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-:-
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I sit here tonight unsure of what I've seen. I woke up in the middle of the
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night, again. I laid in bed, unmoving, on my back, eyes wide, staring at the
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same spot in the ceiling. I felt that moving my eyes in their sockets would be
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deadly.
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There was someone in the room with me.
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I laid there for a long time, listening to him breathe. His breath was heavy.
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He was at the foot of my bed. I breathed shallowly, afraid that he would hear
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me, although he obviously already had.
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I swallowed, and held my breath. He kept breathing.
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I drew one hand carefully out from under the blankets, toward the lamp. With
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one smooth, quick motion I whipped my hand over and flicked on the lamp.
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Sitting against the far wall, between the television set and the dresser,
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staring malevolently into my eyes, was a red, ten-foot dragon.
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Dragon Hacker smiled. "I got you," he growled.
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I screamed, and fainted.
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When I awoke, the light was out.
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Now, I lie here in my bed, tucked in neatly, heart pounding, afraid to move.
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When I hold my breath, there are no other sounds. I have laid here for many
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minutes, and the sun is starting to come up through my drape-shrouded window.
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I can almost see the contents of my room. Everything is covered in the orange
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of the rising sun. It's spooky and pretty.
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I don't doubt, any more, that Dragon Hacker is thirteen years old.
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I don't think I'm insane--but there's no other explanation.
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I pick up the phone, and very slowly dial the Kalamazoo County Mental Health
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Institution.
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------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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<)=||=(> <\ />
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|| \\/\// ...and if you enjoyed this Text File...
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|| \/\/ ...call Thieves' World FIDO: [616]<344>(2718)...
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...where all Users are created people.
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