Post by CYPHER on May 6, 2022 14:11:39 GMT -5
May, 2022.
Djibouti, Africa.
Click-clack, click-clack.
The sound of fingers meeting keys reverberated around the darkened room.
Click-clack, click-clack.
Rows of nerds sat shoulder to shoulder, hunched over desktop computers and peering into monitors.
Click-clack, click-clack.
Except today they weren’t nerds. They were shredding the label that society had bestowed upon them because they didn’t conform. Because they were too fat. Too skinny. Neck beard. Long nose. Fat lips. Who knows? Whatever it was, they were ostracized for just being who they were.
But not tonight.
Tonight they were superheroes.
They were The Avengers assembled to tackle a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Code became their hammer, Windows 95 became their shield…
Wait.
Windows 95?
Cypher raised an eyebrow at the splash screen of the extremely outdated OS. He wasn’t in the states anymore, he was in Djibouti. The society here was more advanced than the natives on “the island” but not by much. Taking a quick look under the hood, it was clear that they were working with some less than optimal specs. The computer looked like it was from the stone age - a jungle of wires exploding from out of the back of the grimy tower.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Djibouti Hackerthon!”
The voice over a crackly PA came with a strong African accent.
“The instructions will appear on your device shortly. Please direct any questions to the system admin. Remember that any outside help is strictly forbidden.”
Cypher surveyed the room. He was one of the few hackers alone, the rest were all gathered in groups - one or two of them acting as the main “pilots” while the others backed them up. This was a traditional set up for hackathons, and Cypher knew it. He was immediately at a disadvantage, but he didn’t plan to rely on outside help either.
He would try to win on his own.
“But before we begin, a message from our sponsor…”
The MC, an older African man with greying hair, stepped away from the mic and was soon joined by a slick-looking man in a three piece suit. The MC applauded the businessman, encouraging the crowd to as well, but most were too preoccupied with their PCs to notice or care.
The sponsor looked more like he belonged at a CEO’s boardroom meeting than a hackathon. He took centre stage with a swagger which indicated he was comfortable speaking to crowds, and Cypher wondered how much he was being paid to attend a goddamn hackerthon.
“Thank you so much, it’s great to be here in Djibouti for the traditional hackathon! Let’s hear it for Omari and the team!”
As if blind to the previous attempt at rousing any response from the disinterested crowd, he applauded his statement loudly. The only ones who appeared to clap along were the staff, who even then looked like they were being forced to.
“We here at Entity are proud to be the official sponsors of the 2022 Djibouti Hackathon. We’d like to encourage all of you try out of our software, which you can access in the Start menu of all of these machines. Designed to help the older generation understand coding, Entity is an easy to use, easy to manipulate code which we think you’ll all come to appreciate.”
He smiled that fake as fuck smile that bankers kept in their back pocket. The whole thing seemed nonsensical to Cypher. He understood why the software was being used in this situation, since they were on old machines…but as an actual product? Old people coding? Lol, in this guy’s dreams.
“It’s also worth pointing out that this event has attracted some international attention, right over there, than esports pro turned professional wrestler, CYPHER!”
In an instant he felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him. A switch had been flipped, and now there was no way to un-flip it. His back prickled at the uneasy sensation of all the attention being focused on him. Normally he loved the spotlight, but this was different. It was too much, too soon. The sleazy prick on the microphone winked at him, a Cheshire grin plastered on his face. Cypher quickly pulled his hood forward, blocking most of his face from the room, and turned away, back to his PC.
“Annnnnyway, maybe you guys can get an autograph from him later, right now it’s time to start hacking!”
\~\
The first step was always about finding the entry point.
Once you had found that little opening, that one space where perhaps the coder had gotten lazy, or even implemented the second best defence instead of the first, everything else was just performance.
Many musicians say their anxiety peaks right before a performance, but once they’re on stage everything floats away.
For Cypher, all his worries would dissipate once he found his way in. Once he was inside the system, everything in his mind became clearer. Calmer.
From there it was about execution. Exploiting the system to make it work for him without triggering any alarms. The cat and mouse game between the system and its unwelcome occupant.
But he wasn’t renting a second rate instrument to play out his symphony. No, Cypher refused to touch the program Entity had put on the table. As he had promised himself, he would do this on his own, with no help from anyone.
Recently he had felt rusty and uninspired when it came to hacking. These days everyone was so quick to reach for military-grade encryption because they were paranoid about the government being up their ass. And while yes, it encryption could be broken, it was a hell of a lot of time and effort to do it. Time that he hadn’t really had as of late. So the hackathon presented an opportunity to prove that he still had it.
So far?
So good.
Time to make a deposit.
To gift the malware he had so carefully wrapped up to the clueless host, sit back, and watch the magic happen.
Click-clack.
…
ACCESS DENIED
What?
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time he was met with an ACCESS DENIED message that shouldn’t have been there. It didn’t make sense. Everything had gone to plan…and yet…
Sweat began to form on his brow. His hands trembled slightly, poised above the gritty Microsoft keyboard as the error message continued to flash on the screen.
Something wasn’t right…
The clock was ticking…
But he was frozen.
And then…
“WE HAVE A WINNER!”
Cypher’s immersion was instantly broken. He turned to see a group celebrating at their station, victorious after hours of hacking.
The staff were there to confirm it, they had reached the goal, and Cypher?
He had failed.
Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Next time, you should try the Entity software…Tyler.”
Cypher whipped around to see the businessman from earlier smirking at him. Smugness oozed out of him, from his slicked back light brown hair and dark red suit right down to his polished loafers and the name-tag which read "Aaron Swartz". He made Cypher feel incredibly uneasy, the way said his name dripped with venom.
Still, he shrugged him off.
“No thanks.”
Cypher quickly grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and brushed past him.
“We could use a sponsorship from someone like you.”
“Not interested.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
Tired of Aaron's shit, Cypher whipped around.
“Bruh, can u leave me the fuck alone? I don’t want anything to do with u or ur cringe software that ur marketing to boomers, k?”
“As I’ve heard, you still have the tendency to act like a child.”
“Stop acting like u know me, u don’t know shit about me. U found my name through a Google search, just like most losers in my Twitch chat.”
Aaron's expression hardened, and Cypher took great pleasure in having wiped that shit-eating grin off of his face.
Now, time to make his exit, gorge himself on Djibouti (food) and get on the next plane outta here.
He had only taken a few steps when something dawned on him. A little thought that had been in the back of his mind but he was unable to reach finally came to the fore.
“This was never a competition…”
“I’m sorry?”
“It was a demonstration.”
Cypher walked over to the PC used by the winning team. Sticking out of one of the USB ports was a red stick with a large stainless steel E on the middle of it.
“The reason I couldn’t access the final objective…
Cypher ripped the USB stick out of the ancient computer.
“Was because to even access it, we had to be using ur program.”
He held the end of the stick up to his eyes. USB 3.1 Gen 1. Contents likely encrypted.
This was some high-level shit.
Cypher looked up at Aaron, who half-smiled at him, as if to say "I can neither confirm, nor deny".
“Sort of smart, but I think I’m gonna be taking this..."
He turned heel and began walking away, expecting the rep to stop him.
But he didn't.
Instead he let him walk away without another word, allowing him to take the flash drive.
...
Then, once Cypher was out of sight, he quickly took out his phone and hit a number under speed dial.
"Hey, it's Aaron."
...
"Yeah, no commitment to sponsorship but he has taken the bait."
...
"I should know in a few hours."
...
"Ok, bye."
\~\
Veronica Strader.
A name synonymous with Online Championship Wrestling.
Still hoarding that Trans Atlantic Championship after 14 straight victories.
And there’s like three of you? Four of you? Guess OCW has a crazy lady quota to fill…Tuesday Night Equality is evidence of that.
But unlike a lot of other scrubs in this fed, I’m not scared of ur undefeated record. Numbers always look scary on the surface, but let’s be real, it doesn’t how many matches u have won in a row, the most important one is always the next one.
Some might turn their heads at the prospect of the unheralded CYPH3R being the one to break the Strader streak. It’s true I’ve had a rocky start here but after demoralising the cowboy last week, OCW is beginning to feel like home.
Now I stand outside the kingdom of the self-proclaimed Queen of OCW, ready to bust the doors down and make a statement that will shake the OCW landscape.
That their precious queen isn’t as infallible as you have led them to believe.
Not only can I outwrestle my opponents, I can outthink them. Now I don’t want to know what goes on in that peabrain of urs but I can only assume it’s completely inane. So I doubt you’re going to be hard to outthink, I’m going to make the rest of your 14 opponents look like fifth graders when I get in that ring. No one has the combination of striking and wrestling smarts that I possess.
The OCW landscape is populated with plenty of weirdos who have little to no business being in a wrestling ring. I’m here to bring some legitimacy to this place, to redefine what the typical OCW star looks like.
I’ve got support from a few stars that are also looking to create a change in this business. Don’t call it a revolution just yet, but CYPH3R and pals are set to shake this bitch up with some pro gamer moves. Suffice to say, everything u thought u knew about OCW is going to change.
We are the new wave.
Veronica? Ronnie? Whatever the fuck u want to be called?
Ur a relic from an older time, a decrepit leader clutching to a meaningless title like a crown which has long since rusted and faded.
Queen Strader?
It’s time for a revolution.
Djibouti, Africa.
Click-clack, click-clack.
The sound of fingers meeting keys reverberated around the darkened room.
Click-clack, click-clack.
Rows of nerds sat shoulder to shoulder, hunched over desktop computers and peering into monitors.
Click-clack, click-clack.
Except today they weren’t nerds. They were shredding the label that society had bestowed upon them because they didn’t conform. Because they were too fat. Too skinny. Neck beard. Long nose. Fat lips. Who knows? Whatever it was, they were ostracized for just being who they were.
But not tonight.
Tonight they were superheroes.
They were The Avengers assembled to tackle a seemingly insurmountable obstacle. Code became their hammer, Windows 95 became their shield…
Wait.
Windows 95?
Cypher raised an eyebrow at the splash screen of the extremely outdated OS. He wasn’t in the states anymore, he was in Djibouti. The society here was more advanced than the natives on “the island” but not by much. Taking a quick look under the hood, it was clear that they were working with some less than optimal specs. The computer looked like it was from the stone age - a jungle of wires exploding from out of the back of the grimy tower.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Djibouti Hackerthon!”
The voice over a crackly PA came with a strong African accent.
“The instructions will appear on your device shortly. Please direct any questions to the system admin. Remember that any outside help is strictly forbidden.”
Cypher surveyed the room. He was one of the few hackers alone, the rest were all gathered in groups - one or two of them acting as the main “pilots” while the others backed them up. This was a traditional set up for hackathons, and Cypher knew it. He was immediately at a disadvantage, but he didn’t plan to rely on outside help either.
He would try to win on his own.
“But before we begin, a message from our sponsor…”
The MC, an older African man with greying hair, stepped away from the mic and was soon joined by a slick-looking man in a three piece suit. The MC applauded the businessman, encouraging the crowd to as well, but most were too preoccupied with their PCs to notice or care.
The sponsor looked more like he belonged at a CEO’s boardroom meeting than a hackathon. He took centre stage with a swagger which indicated he was comfortable speaking to crowds, and Cypher wondered how much he was being paid to attend a goddamn hackerthon.
“Thank you so much, it’s great to be here in Djibouti for the traditional hackathon! Let’s hear it for Omari and the team!”
As if blind to the previous attempt at rousing any response from the disinterested crowd, he applauded his statement loudly. The only ones who appeared to clap along were the staff, who even then looked like they were being forced to.
“We here at Entity are proud to be the official sponsors of the 2022 Djibouti Hackathon. We’d like to encourage all of you try out of our software, which you can access in the Start menu of all of these machines. Designed to help the older generation understand coding, Entity is an easy to use, easy to manipulate code which we think you’ll all come to appreciate.”
He smiled that fake as fuck smile that bankers kept in their back pocket. The whole thing seemed nonsensical to Cypher. He understood why the software was being used in this situation, since they were on old machines…but as an actual product? Old people coding? Lol, in this guy’s dreams.
“It’s also worth pointing out that this event has attracted some international attention, right over there, than esports pro turned professional wrestler, CYPHER!”
In an instant he felt the eyes of everyone in the room on him. A switch had been flipped, and now there was no way to un-flip it. His back prickled at the uneasy sensation of all the attention being focused on him. Normally he loved the spotlight, but this was different. It was too much, too soon. The sleazy prick on the microphone winked at him, a Cheshire grin plastered on his face. Cypher quickly pulled his hood forward, blocking most of his face from the room, and turned away, back to his PC.
“Annnnnyway, maybe you guys can get an autograph from him later, right now it’s time to start hacking!”
\~\
The first step was always about finding the entry point.
Once you had found that little opening, that one space where perhaps the coder had gotten lazy, or even implemented the second best defence instead of the first, everything else was just performance.
Many musicians say their anxiety peaks right before a performance, but once they’re on stage everything floats away.
For Cypher, all his worries would dissipate once he found his way in. Once he was inside the system, everything in his mind became clearer. Calmer.
From there it was about execution. Exploiting the system to make it work for him without triggering any alarms. The cat and mouse game between the system and its unwelcome occupant.
But he wasn’t renting a second rate instrument to play out his symphony. No, Cypher refused to touch the program Entity had put on the table. As he had promised himself, he would do this on his own, with no help from anyone.
Recently he had felt rusty and uninspired when it came to hacking. These days everyone was so quick to reach for military-grade encryption because they were paranoid about the government being up their ass. And while yes, it encryption could be broken, it was a hell of a lot of time and effort to do it. Time that he hadn’t really had as of late. So the hackathon presented an opportunity to prove that he still had it.
So far?
So good.
Time to make a deposit.
To gift the malware he had so carefully wrapped up to the clueless host, sit back, and watch the magic happen.
Click-clack.
…
ACCESS DENIED
What?
He tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time he was met with an ACCESS DENIED message that shouldn’t have been there. It didn’t make sense. Everything had gone to plan…and yet…
Sweat began to form on his brow. His hands trembled slightly, poised above the gritty Microsoft keyboard as the error message continued to flash on the screen.
Something wasn’t right…
The clock was ticking…
But he was frozen.
And then…
“WE HAVE A WINNER!”
Cypher’s immersion was instantly broken. He turned to see a group celebrating at their station, victorious after hours of hacking.
The staff were there to confirm it, they had reached the goal, and Cypher?
He had failed.
Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Next time, you should try the Entity software…Tyler.”
Cypher whipped around to see the businessman from earlier smirking at him. Smugness oozed out of him, from his slicked back light brown hair and dark red suit right down to his polished loafers and the name-tag which read "Aaron Swartz". He made Cypher feel incredibly uneasy, the way said his name dripped with venom.
Still, he shrugged him off.
“No thanks.”
Cypher quickly grabbed his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and brushed past him.
“We could use a sponsorship from someone like you.”
“Not interested.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
Tired of Aaron's shit, Cypher whipped around.
“Bruh, can u leave me the fuck alone? I don’t want anything to do with u or ur cringe software that ur marketing to boomers, k?”
“As I’ve heard, you still have the tendency to act like a child.”
“Stop acting like u know me, u don’t know shit about me. U found my name through a Google search, just like most losers in my Twitch chat.”
Aaron's expression hardened, and Cypher took great pleasure in having wiped that shit-eating grin off of his face.
Now, time to make his exit, gorge himself on Djibouti (food) and get on the next plane outta here.
He had only taken a few steps when something dawned on him. A little thought that had been in the back of his mind but he was unable to reach finally came to the fore.
“This was never a competition…”
“I’m sorry?”
“It was a demonstration.”
Cypher walked over to the PC used by the winning team. Sticking out of one of the USB ports was a red stick with a large stainless steel E on the middle of it.
“The reason I couldn’t access the final objective…
Cypher ripped the USB stick out of the ancient computer.
“Was because to even access it, we had to be using ur program.”
He held the end of the stick up to his eyes. USB 3.1 Gen 1. Contents likely encrypted.
This was some high-level shit.
Cypher looked up at Aaron, who half-smiled at him, as if to say "I can neither confirm, nor deny".
“Sort of smart, but I think I’m gonna be taking this..."
He turned heel and began walking away, expecting the rep to stop him.
But he didn't.
Instead he let him walk away without another word, allowing him to take the flash drive.
...
Then, once Cypher was out of sight, he quickly took out his phone and hit a number under speed dial.
"Hey, it's Aaron."
...
"Yeah, no commitment to sponsorship but he has taken the bait."
...
"I should know in a few hours."
...
"Ok, bye."
\~\
Veronica Strader.
A name synonymous with Online Championship Wrestling.
Still hoarding that Trans Atlantic Championship after 14 straight victories.
And there’s like three of you? Four of you? Guess OCW has a crazy lady quota to fill…Tuesday Night Equality is evidence of that.
But unlike a lot of other scrubs in this fed, I’m not scared of ur undefeated record. Numbers always look scary on the surface, but let’s be real, it doesn’t how many matches u have won in a row, the most important one is always the next one.
Some might turn their heads at the prospect of the unheralded CYPH3R being the one to break the Strader streak. It’s true I’ve had a rocky start here but after demoralising the cowboy last week, OCW is beginning to feel like home.
Now I stand outside the kingdom of the self-proclaimed Queen of OCW, ready to bust the doors down and make a statement that will shake the OCW landscape.
That their precious queen isn’t as infallible as you have led them to believe.
Not only can I outwrestle my opponents, I can outthink them. Now I don’t want to know what goes on in that peabrain of urs but I can only assume it’s completely inane. So I doubt you’re going to be hard to outthink, I’m going to make the rest of your 14 opponents look like fifth graders when I get in that ring. No one has the combination of striking and wrestling smarts that I possess.
The OCW landscape is populated with plenty of weirdos who have little to no business being in a wrestling ring. I’m here to bring some legitimacy to this place, to redefine what the typical OCW star looks like.
I’ve got support from a few stars that are also looking to create a change in this business. Don’t call it a revolution just yet, but CYPH3R and pals are set to shake this bitch up with some pro gamer moves. Suffice to say, everything u thought u knew about OCW is going to change.
We are the new wave.
Veronica? Ronnie? Whatever the fuck u want to be called?
Ur a relic from an older time, a decrepit leader clutching to a meaningless title like a crown which has long since rusted and faded.
Queen Strader?
It’s time for a revolution.