Real hackers are invisible

Real Hackers are invisible - a confession.

    I acutely became aware of small beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I took another pull from the half empty can of RedBull on my desk, where two empties were already sitting. Drowning Pool poured out of my speakers, but at a hushed volume - my wife was sleeping peacefully downstairs. I should have been beside of her, but instead I was parked in front of a 17” monitor, my cramping hands flying over a clicking keyboard with ease. To my right, an IBM laptop sat glowing in the near darkness, its screen giving me updates on the progress of my port scanning scripts.

    My legs, back, neck, everything was throbbing with a dull pain. I had no idea how long I had been sat there....one hour or six, it never mattered. I was expected to be at work in less than 4 hours, ready to face another day. A tank could not have moved me from my station - I was so close, I just needed a little more time....time was always against me.

    Throughout the week, this scenario would play itself out several nights at a time. I would return home from my corporate network security job, play husband and homeowner for a few hours, then retire upstairs to a new life. Sometimes I could hardly wait. A whole world of opportunities waited, and I could travel this world without ever leaving my chair. Not only could I travel this new world, I had power in it. I was no longer subject to the usual rules and laws, I even had a new name.

    My time away from the keyboard seemed like an annoyance. I was always waiting to get plugged back in and get my fix, to learn something more, to push just a little farther. Sometimes even to the point of cutting interactions with friends and family short. Waiting on me was another, darker family scattered all around the globe that I could better relate to. These were people that also understood the need to go deeper into this artificial and consuming realm. I was becoming consistently late for work, I was missing appointments, and my relationships with friends and family starved – I had all the signs of a heavily addicted drug user.

    Although no chemical ran through my veins, my drug was the feeling of accomplishment, the surging of adrenaline and electricity that shot through my body when I finally got access to a piece of equipment that belonged to somebody else. Thanks to 10 years of training on and off the job, I managed to put my curious fingers inside of Cisco routers, servers, and mainframes all over the world. I considered desktops and email accounts the “small leagues” and would never waste my time on them. My favorite hack of all time was a corporate phone switch running an outdated Unix operating system sitting somewhere in the sweltering heat of Sri Lanka.

    I had no misconceptions or illusions of working for some chaotic good, I am not a vigilante. I knew that what I was doing was illegal, and could have easily put me in jail just like it did Kevin Mitnick, a famous hacker from the 1990s. Mitnick took the full brunt of the confused American legal system. However, in all of my wrongdoing, I developed one ethic which I stubbornly upheld - I never did damage or caused any disruption for business or government. I was there simply for the thrill of crossing the line, not to make a point or some kind of name for myself. I was like a jewel thief that broke into the vault, just to hold the precious stones for a few minute in his hands, and then lay them carefully back on the table and walk out.

    Two things happened in 2002 that changed the game entirely. First, Congress passed the Homeland Security Act which was nothing but bad news. It gave the government practically unlimited power to prosecute people guilty of “electronic crimes”. If something went wrong, rather than a slap on the wrist, a convicted hacker could be labeled a “terrorist”, convicted as a felon, and sent to a proper prison alongside murderers and rapists. Not exactly a good thing to have on your resume. I have seen enough television to know that I wouldn't survive overnight in prison. You would think that with those kinds of risks, I would have quit. It was actually the contrary. The ante had been raised which in turn raised the thrill level. I was still so addicted that rather than get out, I went all in.

    The second thing that happened was the US went to war. When this happened, so did the international hackers. There was an unprecedented increase in the number of attacks on the nation's infrastructure and private networks. The FBI, which handled network security for the US, declared that it did not have the know-how to keep up, and came to the private sector for help. The project was named “Infraguard” and they soon approached IBM, where I was working as a network engineer.

    Through whatever power in the universe, I found myself going through a massive background check and I ended up with the project. I was given a security clearance, basic access to the FBI network for email, and an ID card. I attended meetings every month where I sat across the table from guys that wore guns and carried real titles that began with “Special Agent...” I gained an insight into the madness going on behind the curtains of the internet. Most people still have no idea of the battles being fought across the oceans. Electronic bullets travel at the speed of light in the millions across cables while we sleep, all intended to bring down the systems that we depend on now.

    Mention the word “hacker” and the first thing that pops to mind is Hollywood's rendition of either a nerdy guy who was picked on in school that now has the power to erase your existence or a kid with black fingernails, who wears a trench coat and throws a middle finger to authority at every opportunity. Both are stereotypes, and neither are true. I woke up every morning in American suburbia, donned a dress shirt, kissed my wife goodbye, and fought my way to work in my SUV. As I drank copious amounts of caffeine to keep my weary heart beating throughout the day, no one in my office would have dreamed that I had been looking at an illegal root prompt on a server in Beijing around four o'clock that same morning. I was the least to suspect, and most real hackers are.

    Like surfing or skateboarding, an entire sub-culture has grown up around hacking, mostly thanks to movies and television. They have their own music, fashion, and even language. A majority are people looking to fit in somewhere off the mainstream, they look the part and subscribe wholly to the lifestyle, participate in newsgroups and forums, and can play silly desktop tricks on their friends, but little more. Most of this lot simply download tools written by more knowledgeable professionals and use them for malicious intent.

    All wannabes aside, there is a very small minority, maybe one person in ten, that has the primary element found in the heart of every hacker, no matter what the nationality. Curiosity. An insatiable desire to learn, advance, and evolve beyond just accepting what others have told them is fact. These are people that can shift their paradigms outside of what they have been taught, and dissect the world around them with the energy of a five year old. Knowledge is power, and as history has proven, power is dreadfully addictive.

    After taking two years off of work to backpack around the world, I was able to break the spell that held me bound to my laptop for so many sleepless nights. I turned in my badge so to speak and canceled my FBI InfraNet user login. The curiosity is still there, but I have found more legal ways to feed it. Others out there are still happily running the lines at night, fighting virtual wars, and defending against counterattacks. It could be the secretary sitting quietly behind her terminal, the guy bagging your groceries, or maybe even one of your family members. A husband, wife, or son. Real hackers are invisible.

By Gregory Rodgers