textfiles/piracy/anatomy.txt

	 ANATOMY OF A PIRATE

	 His eyes are bloodshot; he doesn't sleep.  His wife and children
	 used to know him; they no longer do.  At one time, he was a fairly
	 nice, easy-going guy.	He liked to tinker, so he bought a
	 computer.  His life will never be the same.

	 At night, he lurks in the shadows, seeking bad sectors, tearing
	 them apart bit by bit, knowing that, soon, he will have broken the
	 code and will have the world's first illegal copy of that
	 diskette.  He will keep his old car three more years, won't get
	 his plumbing fixed, and will only survive on coffee and TV
	 dinners, so that he may afford a third or fourth disk drive or the
	 memory expansion he needs.

	 Decryption and un-protection are his only goals.  He does not care
	 what the disk contains or how useful the program may be; breaking
	 the code is far more challenging to him that completing ZORK III.
	 He broke the ZORK series, but never played them.  His purpose in
	 life has become all-encompassing.  He will get sick from lack of
	 rest; he will have marathon sessions trying to undo the last
	 protection check in the program, and, when he finally has reached
	 his goal, he will experience post-partum depression.

	 He is not after money, he is not after fame.  He just wants to
	 prove to himself that he is more intelligent that the one who
	 devised the protection scheme in the first place.  He will relate
	 his exploits to a very close circle of friends at the club, and,
	 because they listened, he will give them copies.

	 His energy and imagination, if harnessed, could be used to create
	 another LOTUS or WordStar.  His mind, unfortunately, is
	 single-tracked and lacks the visionary and creative qualities
	 required.  He is not unlike a counterfeiter; an electronic
	 safe-craker who has amassed a wealth of technical knowledge and
	 has invested thousands in tools, only to satisfy that one
	 consuming obsession.

	 He knows he will never get caught.  He knows that, in reality, the
	 ever-increasing complaints of software manufacturers, and
	 programmers whose wealth and luxury are threatened by his actions,
	 are but a reflection on their inability to effectively protect
	 their treasures.  He knows that if one man can do it, another man
	 can undo it.  He knows that computers have rules that must be
	 obeyed, and that all bootable disks must start the same way.  That
	 is enough of a crack for him to get through.

	 He hates unprotected disks; they offer no challenge.  He will save
	 enough to buy a new piece of software whose code hasn't been
	 cracked, and sell it to the highest bidder at the first club
	 meeting which follows his success.

	 In his public life, he is likely to be non-descript; an underdog
	 who doesn't shine much at anyhting he does or says.  He probably
	 doesn't dress well, his physical appearance is of no importance to
	 him.  He doesn't have the charisma and moral fiber of a Long John
	 Silver.  His opinions aren't sought, his advice isn't followed.
	 He isn't respected much, except by the freeloaders who depend on
	 him.  After all, he is giving something for nothing.

	 His darkest secret, however, is that he lives in constant fear
	 that, some day, he will fail.	He will not crack the code.  He
	 will realize that other club members were fair-weather friends and
	 that he lost, in a single stroke of fate, the attention he was so
	 eagerly seeking.

	 Like the rest of us, he will grow old, his priorities will change,
	 his eagerness will die down.  As he looks around him, he may
	 realize that the best times of life have passed him by, and that
	 there is no making up for the lost time.  He will be bitter,
	 having left an insignificant mark on the world, having wasted his
	 time in pointless pursuits.  No one will miss him.

	 To him, I dedicate this epitaph:

	 Here Lies a Pirate
	 Who Never Sailed.