Up Your System (standard:action, 3433 words)
Author: hvysmker	Added: Jul 09 2004	Views/Reads: 3972/2627	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
The hidden world of a Computer Repairman, including an Inside job. Part Documentary

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

crept through empty corridors until I found a metal door labeled 
‘Memory', shaking my head in wonder.  Why did Microfool always leave 
it's doors and ports unlocked?  Their Security was worthless. 

I could hear an argument of some sort in one of the many memory
locations.  Hurrying over, I stood with my back to the open door.  
Peeking around the corner I saw a hulking gangster like figure arguing 
with a blond woman dressed in a dark business suit.  She looked angry. 

“You have no permission to be in here, leave immediately.” 

“Screw you, Lady.  I go where I want.  You screw with me,  and I'll slap
you silly.” 

“You touch me, you big lug, and Microsoft will sue you silly.” 

While I watched the guy raised his hand and made a fist, ready to slap
the Lady down.  I got there before he struck.  Grabbing him by the 
wrist, I flipped him head first into a wall.  Before he could get back 
up, I slammed my open palm into his throat, using an old but still 
deadly 286 stroke.  There were some things good about those old 
processors. 

He sat there choking and holding his throat.  Pulling the thug to his
feet I grabbed him by the collar. 

“The lady doesn't want you here, Jack....” 

“His name's Sammy, Sammy the Louse.  He works for the Mob as a Browser
Hijacker.”  The Lady interjected. 

“And who, may I ask, are you Lady?” 

“I am the Official Microsoft Representative for this site.  That's who I
am.”  She told me stiffly, iron in her eyes.  “Which brings up you.  
What are you doing here?” 

“First, what do you want to do with this lowlife?”  I was still holding
a gasping Sammy. 

She called Microsoft Security, and two old Security Guards escorted
Sammy off the site. 

“Let's go to the cafeteria and talk.”  She suggested, more an order.  
Her job as an Official Representative was new to me, the systems before 
XP didn't have any such on site.  Microfool  just spied on the program 
occasionally, on a random basis.  This was the first time I worked on 
one of the new Xps. 

“I'm here to keep order, and report if the owners try to put the system
on more than one computer at the same time, or don't register.”  She 
told me after I identified myself. 

“And what are all these people doing here?”  I motioned at the half
dozen others sitting around the room.  “Do they work for MicroFo..... I 
mean Microsoft too?” 

“I don't really know.  I sent word to the front office, but they never
returned my messages.” 

“Don't you have any Idea?” 

“Oh, don't get me wrong.  I know what they do, most of them that is.  I
just can't do anything about it.  They work for commercial interests, 
putting up ads and that sort of thing.  When I tell them to leave, they 
just say they have permission from the owner.  Some of them even show 
me contracts.”  She sipped her coffee, obviously bothered that she 
couldn't do anything about it. 

You all know those officious types, they want control and get antsy if
they don't have it.  As the Official Representative, she wanted to be 
in charge. 

“Is it alright with you if I chase them out?”  I asked, obviously
pleasing her by actually requesting permission. 

“I certainly have no objection, if you can do it.”  She was relieved. 

We made small talk until we finished our coffee and sandwiches and
smoked our cigarettes.  So far the Government and Special Interest 
Groups hadn't gotten to banning smoking in c.p.u.s. 

“Thank you, Mr. Smith.  I appreciate your help in this matter, feel free
to call on me for any help I can give you.”  She was again a stuck up 
Official as she walked stiffly out of the room.  I went to the rest 
room briefly, coffee you know, and went to work. 

The first place I hit was the ‘Cookie Room'.  It was, of course, next to
the cafeteria.  I opened the door and found the shelves stacked with 
cookies, some dusty and others vibrating as they sent personal 
information over the Internet. 

“And people wonder why their computers are running slower these days.” 
I muttered, eyeing the cluttered space. “All these things do is take up 
bandwidth, slowing everything down.  They also gather private 
information about the owner and send it all over the world.” 

Sure, some cookies are useful, that was the idea behind them.  You can
make settings at a specific web site once, store it on a cookie, and 
won't have to sign into the site ever again.  But they can also be used 
for other things. 

Cookies can be read by other sites, despite what they tell you
officially.  Your passwords, preferences (even sexual preferences), 
type browser, dates the site was used, and other particular data you 
enter encoded in them. 

Sometimes it is coded and encrypted, sometimes not, you have to trust
the site.  Sometimes the codes and encryptions are common knowledge.  
Sometimes they are sold to mailing lists.  You should strictly regulate 
which cookies you leave on your system.  There are many free programs 
to help in that, including  CookieWall at :  
http://www.analogx.com/welcome.htm . 

I took the time to smash them all, every one.  The owner could start
back from scratch, keeping only the ones he wanted.  It would just mean 
entering the information once more for each one he wanted and really 
needed.  A good part of my job was already finished.  His computer 
would be much faster now.   Closing the door I continued down the 
hallway, looking for more parasites. 

The sound of rapid typing stopped me at one closed memory door.  Opening
it I found an old, not so good, friend.  It was Jennie the Keylogger.  
She didn't see me, being busy typing into her own laptop computer, 
sending personal information to her boss. 

Jennie's job was to keep up with the Owner's typing, repeating it to her
employer whenever she happened to get free bandwidth.  I guess I had 
freed a lot of it by busting cookies.  Whenever you hit a key on your 
keyboard, she records it to send to her boss.  That way her employer 
can analyze your typing for passwords and other personal information.  
It can be used in huge databases, giving your preferences to its 
customers.  Again, it may be for innocuous purposes, but sometimes not. 


Jennie is a nice looking old lady, and looks innocent as her little
white head bobs to the rhythm of her typing.  She has good work habits 
and waits until finished before looking back at me. 

“Darn it.  Hi, Jerry.  When did you get in?”  She was non-violent and
knew she had to leave.  I respected Jennie.  She was a nice woman, 
often giving me a cup of tea when I found her, but I had to do my job 
and she knew it.  It was just so hard for a woman her age to get a good 
paying position. 

“Hello Jennie.  How's little Mary doing?  I haven't had time to come
over lately.  Girls like you keep me too busy to visit.”  Mary was her 
little granddaughter, who I sometimes visited. 

“Same-o Same-o, Jerry.  Can I finish this page before I go?” 

You know me, Jennie.  I can't let you do that.  Just tell your boss I
caught you and go home.” 

She typed in a few words and shut off her portable computer. 

“Well, hope I don't see you at work for a while, Jerry.  Oh, and watch
out, Crystal's here.” 

“Goodbye, I'll come by when I get a chance.” 

Jennie picked up her stuff, computer and knitting kit, and left for an
open port.  Next I went to the I.E. (Internet Explorer) room.  Like 
always it was popular for Hijackers and other miscreants.  I didn't 
know why anyone used the program, it was so full of holes and defects, 
just like the Operating System itself. 

The first thing I saw a pair of legs sticking out of an open Inspection
Hatch.  Grabbing them I found a little nervous man with a black box in 
his hand.  It was a Search Page Hijacking box.  He would install it so 
that whenever you wanted to research something you would go to his 
site.  A sneaky act from a sneaky man. 

Sometimes these guys made it almost impossible to get your own Search or
Home page back.  They even tried to sell you their own program to get 
the first one off, making money from you either way.  People would pay 
their company to get good places on the third rate Search Page. 

“What you doin' Dis' eres' my place.  Go fin' yer' own.”  He looked like
the old actor Peter Lory. 

“Computer Expert,” I showed him my credentials, “and you're gone.”  A
swift kick in the ass and he disappeared through the nearest port. 

“Hey, Hey, how's it going, Brother?”  A cheery salesman type greeted me.
“You the Owner?  Man, have I got the thing for you.”  He slapped me on 
the back, and continued, with a huge grin.  “Hope you don't mind, 
buddy.  I have such  great deals, I plugged some in here.  Know you're 
gonna like them.  Designed just for you, and you alone.  And Oh man 
wait until you meet that gal Crystal.” 

I knew his type on sight.  He followed the ferret out the port.  The fat
bastard hardly made it, took three solid kicks.  Maybe, just maybe, he 
wouldn't be back, but his type always are. 

It took me a half hour to unplug all his ad programs, the ones just for
me.  The trouble is these guys think they're really doing you a favor 
by giving you exactly what you want and need.  They study the data 
others collect.  “Aha, he visited a porno site.  I'll make some money 
by putting my own customer's porno sites on his computer.  Save the 
Computer Owner time and trouble and make a few bucks myself.” That's 
what they're thinking. 

To make sure you see them, they make sure the ads keep popping up to
remind you, and sometimes make them hard to get rid of.  Of course, 
they are helping you in the long run.  Of course they also annoy you 
and slow down your system.  Your spouse and children find them, you 
maybe get divorced or have a big fight, etc.  But the ads keep popping 
up every few minutes. 

The Instant Messenger room was next.  A real nice room, neat and busy. 
Of course there was a lot of spyware there.  It usually comes bundled 
in with the free messenger programs, and  is a big reason why they are 
free.  While you're talking to your buddies, these programs are happily 
sending every word to their own destinations, swiping passwords, names, 
addresses, phone numbers, etc.  Again, it's only to help you in your 
future purchases, targeting ads to your preferences.  My preference is 
to make my own choice. 

If the spyware companies are caught, they can point to where they got
your permission.  And they usually do get your permission.  Not many 
people read the fine print while installing.  It's in those little 
screens with the ‘Next' buttons on the installation programs.  Usually 
near the bottom and written small.  “We reserve to right to gather 
information in order to help you” or words to that effect.  Of course 
you have to trust them.  All they do is sell the information to the 
Salesman type guy I just kicked out. 

After that I needed another cup of coffee.  I was near the cafeteria so
I went back in, I wasn't in a huge hurry since I was paid by the hour. 

“Hey Jerry, come on in, man.”  It was an old friend Mr. Jones, an F.B.I.
operative.  He was stationed on PCs to look for child porn or, 
recently, terrorist activity.  Jonesy was sitting with Mrs. Murphy.  
She also looked for child pornography or anything that could corrupt 
children. 

“Hi, Jonesy.  I haven't found anything to interest you yet.  You got
anything for me?  Wait a minute, I'll be back.”  I went over and 
deposited some coins, getting coffee and a doughnut. 

“Where were we?  How're the kids, Mabel?  Oh, yeah.  I found a lot of
assholes, excuse me Mabel, already.  Just about done though.” 

“You know, don't you, Crystal's here.”  Jerry rolled his eyes. 

“You seen those loud teenagers yet, Jerry?”  Mabel asked. “They've been
running around playing jokes on people, even trashed my office the 
other day.” 

“Why doesn't Jonesy here, take care of them?”  I looked at Agent Jones
who was trying to act nonchalant. 

“He says they're local, I have to ask Patricia the Rep and she has to
have her boss Microsoft ask the local police to go through channels and 
ask the F.B.I.” 

“Aw come on, Jonesy.  Let's just go get them and kick the bast.... two
out.  Off the record, I mean.” 

It took some talking and a free doughnut, but he joined me in looking
for the vandals. 

We found the two back at the lead to the power supply.  They were trying
to cut out the power switch to get at its wiring, to freeze the 
computer.   I recognized them through the Marijuana smoke.  Their 
pictures were on the wall of my office.  The two were named Jimmy and 
Tammy, and they were wanted by the Feebies after all. 

“These are yours, Jonesy,” I whispered to him, “your office wants them,
I got the posters at home.”  His face brightened, sensing a notation in 
his personnel file. 

“Hold it, F.B.I., hands up.”  He commanded, making a splendid figure,
i.e. Eliot Ness, as he confronted the teenagers with drawn pistol. 

He soon had two, now frightened, teenagers spread against the wall and
searched.  We found a bag of pot which I pocketed, some funny colored 
pills, small cans of spray paint half used, and other vandalizing 
equipment.  They also had a check from a Dialer company, so they 
weren't here on their own. 

A Dialer only works if you have a dial-up connection.  It usually signs
you on in the middle of the night and calls a distant location to 
download spy programs and ads.  You end up with not only unwanted ads, 
but also a large phone bill. 

“Thanks, Jerry.”  Jonesy thanked me as he was leaving with his charges,
“Watch out for Crystal.”  He warned me. 

Trying to put off the meeting, I took my time finishing the job. 
Crystal always made me nervous.  She was a beautiful redhead, one that 
knew how to pull my strings.  An ex-girlfriend whom I still cared 
about, a lot.  After we broke up, she got a job distributing porn 
pop-ups.  I think it was just to spite me. 

As I figured, she was in the cafeteria when I got finished, even sitting
with Mrs. Murphy.  I didn't even know the two knew each other, and here 
they were, glaring at me in unison. 

“You finished, Jerry.  I was just talking to Crystal, here.”  Mabel
greeted me.  “Come on, you have to face it sometime, maybe I can help.” 
I could see Crystal grinning, as I sat down with them. 

“Crystal was just telling me about how you abused her.  How you beat her
and keep making her lose her job.”  Mabel chided me.  “Why can't you 
leave the poor girl alone?  I'm ashamed of you, Jerry.”  She looked 
like me like I was a cuss word on a Peter Rabbit Site. 

“See, look at his face, Mrs. Murphy.  You can see all those bad thoughts
in his eyes.”  Crystal sobbed. 

“Now girls.  Take it easy Mabel, she's just conning you.  She wants to
put porn pop-ups on.  That's the kind of job I make her lose.” 

“See, I told you, he always comes around just to pick on me.”  She threw
angrily at Mabel.  “I just put nice wholesome sites on.  Ones everybody 
should go to.  Some of them are even good teaching sites.  People learn 
all kinds of things they never knew before. And with great scenery 
yet.” 

“For Gods sake, they're all hardco....” 

“Now you leave the girl alone, and never, never, take the Lord's name in
vain around me.”  Damn, now they were both mad at me.  I just backed 
out of the room, knowing I couldn't win arguing with two angry women.  
Crystal's shit eating grin followed me out. 

Let her keep her pop-ups for now.  I would still get the last laugh by
removing them from the outside.  Using the programs I recommended here. 
 I remembered the first time I ran Spy-Bot.  It found over forty spy 
and adware programs on my computer, and speeded it way up. 

My job was over for the day.  I could collect my money and go home. 
Home to an empty and lonely apartment without Crystal, to dream of 
different times.  Times when things were,,,different.


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