DarknetA Story by AlphaGemini A hacker works on a challenging decryption late at night, within the bowels of the deep web. Darknet The bedroom was dark and dank. There was
the humid odor of unwashed human in the air, ripe and pungent. Garish posters
of scantily clad women and entirely undressed ones plastered the white painted
walls with dusty webs in the corners. In one corner of the room, a single bed
with a cheaply made metal spring base lay with wrinkled sheets and a tossed
duvet. Rubbish littered the floor in the form of empty soda cans and paper fast
food bags that sported various logos and slogans, crumpled, some speckled with mold. Cody sat heavily
in the expensive ergonomic chair facing his glowing computer monitor. It was
leather-backed and curved, shaped like a formula one racing car seat but
supported by a column that had four wheels at the base. He was currently
engrossed in passing a finely bristled brush between the keys of a black
mechanical keyboard that sat upon the desk in front of him. Meticulously he
hunted for crumbs and dust in its miniscule crevices, backlit by white internal
LEDs. He was by no means a handsome young man.
Pimples coated his puffy face like stubble would an older man's. Beady, rat-like
eyes squinted below a singular brow joined above his nose by bristly black
hairs. The hair upon his head was greasy, long and black, hanging loose upon
his shoulders where an oversized black t-shirt sporting a heavy metal bands
title strained across his considerable bulk. He was, in essence, the human
version of the squalor around him. All except for the computer and the desk
before which he sat. A large, thin black-edged twenty-inch
monitor sat glowing softly before him, fed power by a boxy rig lit by bright
blue interior lighting to its right. Its silvery case was glass-fronted,
showing the arrangement of whirring fans within, the complex blocky circuitry
of the motherboard and sinuous, tidily organized collections of colored wiring. Cody finished
cleaning his keyboard and carefully placed the brush into a side drawer that
rolled out from the simple, black finished wooded desk. His right hand reached
up and grasped the black sharp-looking expensive laser guided mouse resting
upon a wide soft pad of material. He gave it an experimental twitch, and the
cursor on the monitor jolted. It hovered over a simple black wallpaper
background, textured with a lattice of hexagons. Various icons showed along the
toolbar running the length of the screen below the wallpaper. A panel to the
side of it showed pulsing lines within boxes, like erratic heartrate monitors.
Each was labelled accordingly to various systems and their percentage of use.
CPU, Memory, Hard Disk Space. Each at that moment were flatlining except for
the occasional twitch as background processes turned over or ran diagnostics or
other subliminal functions. It was silent, the machine poised and prepared, as
if in anticipation. The small digital clock in the bottom right corner read
8.31pm. He was ready. Cody flashed the cursor across the screen
and connected to the network, bringing the machine online. The unseen
connection raced into his computer via fiber-optic modem and less than a
millisecond later he was connected. It was time to begin his rituals. First the
IP scrambler. He had a decent one, the
program capable of hiding and changing his IP address once every twenty
seconds. To an outside observer, he'd be nigh on untraceable as his fluctuating
address placed him at different places around the globe every change. He was
everywhere and nowhere at once. More programs followed. Proxies and
tunnelers. His ghoster that would hide his online presence to all but the most
advanced and skillful hackers that lurked in those realms of the net few dared
venture. Finally, with all his protective software running and the lines of his
various hardware monitors jumping and fluctuating, Cody double clicked another
toolbar icon and brought his custom Web browser online. The icon was of a red
snake eating its own tail, the large capital letters RAGNAROK entitling the
window that opened smoothly, dominated by a single search box in the center and
a list of quick links along the side. He clicked one, and the screen flashed
teal as he was hurled through cyberspace towards his destination. It was time
for mail call. The first email address he accessed was an
official destination for work requests. He was a freelancer, taking work here
and there where he could when he wasn't working his day job. It was an escape
from the everyday tedium, though sometimes the plethora of bug fix requests and
website design jobs became monotonous. Rarely were the work requests
interesting. Simple things that children taking a community college IT course
could do. He considered himself above such things, yet even he couldn't deny
the pay was good. Secretly he yearned for something exciting, something
dangerous like the common plebs believed hackers partook in the movies. The
reality was significantly more boring. Several new unread emails littered his
inbox. Another website bug fix, a couple of communiques from amateur developers
he'd helped on website forums occasionally. A request for a one-off Facebook
hack, probably from a disgruntled ex or prying wife. Cody didn't bother himself
with women. They could be petty and vindictive. His lifestyle and physical
appearance had nothing to do with it. The final email was more promising. A
private security firm, Enertec, needed someone to beta test their new data
security software tailored for them by a contractor. He immediately opened it
up and fired off a quick job reply message, one he'd already typed up to paste
in to potential clients. You couldn't waste time with companies; they paid good
and everyone knew it. Too many people, in his opinion, many of which were of a
severely lower quality of hacker. It was best to reply to these types of
postings as soon as possible. After replying to a few of the other emails in a
similar fashion, he signed off from the account and opened another. The digital
clock read 8.46pm. The screen flashed red this time. His own
personal email account. There was only one new message at the top of his inbox.
It was from one of his few friends, all of which existed solely online. It was
simply entitled ‘Check this out’.
Cody opened the email. The email itself
was short: There was a hyperlink below the message,
underlined in blue. J. Cody only knew him by that handle, just as all his
acquaintances online knew him by his own. No one dealt in real names here. To
do so was beyond the heights of both stupidity and danger. A puzzle then. A challenge, apparently a
difficult one at that. Cody had known J for a while now, bordering on two years
which was considered a long friendship by his standards. By those same
standards, the mysterious netizen was prolific hacker, his footprint showing up
in some of the more elusive back doors, and the messages they'd exchanged led
Cody to believe he was at least as skilled as he was himself. But he couldn't
crack this puzzle. That alone was worth a look. A rare, wide smile split his
pimpled face. Finally, something interesting. He shot off a quick message to his friend,
a slight taunt along the lines of holding his soon-to-be victory above the
others’ head. J had said it was infamous. Cody had a good feeling he was about
to hit paydirt. He had a few tricks up his sleeve that even his friend knew
nothing about. Backtracking to the email he paused to
prepare himself. Cody triple checked his ghoster was running and increased his
IP scrambler to fluctuate every ten seconds. He prepped several complex
firewalls between his machine and the network connection, then killed off all
other unnecessary background processes. He may need the extra power. Then the blue hyperlink sat there in front
of him, contrasting upon the bright white of the email page. He clicked it.
Nothing happened. Cody frowned. An error message sprung up. He silently
berated himself. Of course, it wasn't a link to a website. It was an address. A
very specific type of address. Cody loaded up his onion browser, another type
of layered engine that separated routing and identification. One of many types
of the same browser class which people like him used to delve into the more
disreputable, darker places online. Like the deep Web, where the address led.
It wasn't accessible through common net browsers like the one he'd been using.
Obviously, this puzzle was some serious s**t, or it wouldn't be buried here. The deep Web, or the Darknet as it used to
be called, was the cyber realm where the darkest, most obscene things and
services could be found. Anything from drug dealing networks to weapons dealers
to hitmen. Worst of all in some sites lurked those who lay in wait for
inexperienced users with weak firewalls or no scrambler software, the
unprotected systems ripe for the hacking. The stalkers, as Cody called them,
would infiltrate the amateurs system, holding their machines or personal
information for ransom, anything from social media passwords to embarrassing
pictures or damming emails. They were no better than vultures, preying on the
weak here. Guarded by his multiple layers of security and his high-rate
scrambler, Cody himself was nigh on untouchable. But it never hurt to be
careful. Once the engine had loaded, he copied in
the address. It catapulted him through cyberspace and he arrived, finally, at
the first stage of the puzzle. It was a black box. A chunk of encryption
a single layer deep. Simple for someone on his level, but he recognized the
sophistication was at such a degree that it would deter the more novice of the
community online in these types of places. He ran a decryption programmed and input
a few distinct parameters he thought would speed up the process. His attention
to detail paid off and a few short minutes later he was through, the results of
the process another simple address, this one to the same site as before, yet
deeper. The time on his digital clock read 9.05pm. It was another black box. Cody frowned. J
had made the puzzle sound mysterious and exciting. Repetition wasn't exciting.
He gave the new encryption a look over. It was slightly more complex than the
first one. This back box was split into four interchanging encrypted parts that
required him to run individual simultaneous decryption on each, adding in his
own modifications as he went, a dance of his fingers across the keyboard and a
flurry of his mouse as he fought to keep each decrypting at the same pace.
Slowly, like keys turning in a complex puzzle lock, each box resolved into its
own piece of yet another address. Cody sat back slightly. He was breathing heavily. On the surface
it'd seemed simple, yet the task of the simultaneous management of each decryption
had been challenging. Far from the flash of boredom he'd felt just minutes
before. The various process monitors to the bottom of his screen had been
pinging all the while. He looked at the clock at was surprised. Not minutes
ago. Nearly half an hour had passed while he'd been engrossed in his task and
he'd lost track of time. The clock read 9.39pm. It was getting late. But the simple
lines of the address beckoned him on the screen like an encoded siren call. One
more. One more for the night. He entered in the new address. Another
black box. Cody flicked his eyes over the new apparition. He'd no doubt as to
why J had gotten stuck. The new encryption was a monster. He ran a few scans
over it to determine its patterns and complexity. Error messages from the
programs littered the screen as they confirmed his fear. It was a geometric
encryption, near impossible to hack. Based on a self-evolving algorithm, it
would continuously change and morph, adapting to the various techniques he used
to solve it and becoming more and more complex. Again, he sat back. This was
serious s**t. He'd never even attempted to hack something like this. No one he
knew would even bother. J was right. Whoever got through, would be made very
famous indeed. And in their circle, that meant the pick of the crop. The cream
of all contracts, maybe even government level. There was no chance he could do
it. But he had to at least try. Cody sat back and rolled his shoulders, stretching.
He flexed his fingers before reapplying them to the keyboard. This would take a
while. But if he was successful it'd likely be one of the most defining hacks
of his career. His fingers danced. He dove in. Code and long segments of numbers scrolled
across the screen. The process monitors on the bottom of the screen leapt to
near full capacity. No less than six decryption programs cluttered his screen
as Cody fought to make sense of the erratic jumble of the Blackbox before him.
It moved, seethed like writhing snakes before his eyes. He applied all that he
knew, geometric analysis, fractured algorithm decoding, even binary in some
parts. Slowly, agonizingly, the flowing script in front of him began to make
sense. Began to resolve into a solvable format. Where the previous mechanism
had seemed like a quadruple puzzle lock, this was more akin to a safe with six
combination wheels, each spinning simultaneously, trying to ascertain the
correct order to open their hidden tumblers. As though that wasn't enough, the
entire arrangement was moving, the turning locks themselves mounted on a
rotating board like a turntable, constantly jumbling and trying to force him to
lose his place. Despite its best efforts, the locks were prying open. He was close,
so close. Each of the locks were in their final stages, the last of their
electronic tumblers about to fall open. The algorithm, the encryption mutated. It
split, each of the locks dividing and scrambling, becoming each another hexagon
of turning, spinning locks, geometrically becoming more complex and convoluted.
Cody froze where he was. Impossible. No human being could possibly solve the
task before him. He’d need a supercomputer dedicated for specifically this type
of algorithm. He watched in silence as the separate complex locks whirled and
spun through cyberspace, taunting him. Rather than defeat he felt angrier than
anything. This was purely an exercise in futility, no amount of cracking or
hacking short of government military grade soft and hardware would be able to
break through something like this. Annoyed, he punched in more commands. Then
more still. Though he knew inevitably he'd have to concede, Cody kept working,
systematically attacking each of the fractured locks in turn as they continued
their infuriating dance. Below on his screen, the digital time
readout whirred forth. Ten o’clock rolled past, then eleven and twelve.
Unaware, he worked deep into the night and into the morning, resolving at each
solution to stop after the next lock. Then the next, and the next after that.
He worked as though possessed, feverishly slamming down keys faster and faster
as his frustration grew, slapping the expensive mouse around to direct
different decryption programs. It started so slowly he didn't notice it.
The locks began to stabilize and reform. He was so engrossed in the work, so
distracted by his anger at the futility of the puzzle that he didn't see the
final lock turn until the entire problem coalesced before his eyes. The codes
froze, complete and unfractured, whole. Cody raised his head in disbelief,
sweating and panting despite the oddly frigid tinge to the air. His arms fell
slack at his sides, exhausted. He'd done it. It wasn't possible, yet there in
front of him on the monitor the black box twisted and became a double line of
underlined text. Congratulations,
it read. Then beneath that a blue hyperlink. Shaking, Cody raised up his right hand and
dragged the mouse over the command. The gravity of what he'd just done hadn't
sunk in yet. He'd be famous for this. Rich. But he had eyes only for the simple
little link on the page. He clicked it. A window opened, center screen. It showed
a dark, messy bedroom, an overview angle from a far corner. Across the room a
young man, scruffily dressed with greasy, disheveled long hair sat in front of
a glowing computer monitor, displaying a window in the center. Across the room
there was an unmade bed with tossed blankets. His bed. Cody’s blood ran cold as he recognized
his own room. He spun around in his chair, eyes clawing the opposite corner of
the ceiling, frantically searching for a camera. There was none. The simple
white plaster there was plain and unblemished. Slowly, he turned back to the
screen. The same window still showed. He raised an arm and waved it
experimentally. On the monitor, he watched himself wave back without a split-second
delay. He started to panic, breathing heavily. He stood up. Then sat back down.
They knew where he lived. Obviously, they knew who he was, either they couldn't
have set up the elaborate trap. J. It must have been him. But how? Cody had
been so careful… he gave the corner another searching look. Still nothing. He
span back to the computer, to the screen monitoring him. In the center of the room, just behind him
stood a huge black figure. Cody lurched around in his seat, expecting
attack at any moment. It never came. There was nothing there, just empty space.
He was the only one in his room. Quivering, he turned back yet again to the
monitor. The figure had moved. Now it stood just to
his right, so close he would be able to turn slightly, reach out and grab it.
He studied the screen intently, watching for telltale signs of video
interference or manipulation. Slowly, a skeletal black hand rose up from the
folds of the looming figure, and almost gingerly, gently placed itself on his
right shoulder. Something touched his arm. Cody toppled to the left, scrambling.
Falling out of his chair gave him the momentum to crash into the door across
the room. He wrenched it open wide and vaulted through. Back into his own room. He
stared in disbelief around himself but there was no mistaking it. He'd exited
his room into what should have been the external corridor beyond his apartment.
He'd wound up in a room identical to his own, down to the fallen desk chair and
the way the blankets upon the bed were mussed. A feeling of dread, beyond fear
filled his stomach as he turned. Wide open, the door showed his room still on
the other side, where he’d left it. Cody made forward to the portal and looked
through in disbelief. He stepped through, glancing behind him as he did so as
if to make sure the copy was still there. Striding back into the middle of his
bedroom he cast his eyes back once again to the computer. The window on the
monitor showing his room had vanished, leaving a blank white page. He looked
back towards the door to make sure it still stood ajar. Though it was deathly
still and silent in the room a faint noise came. He strained his ears, trying
to pinpoint the origin of the noise when it came again. Pat. Silence. Pat pat.
Then, nothing. Troubled he looked back to the brightly lit monitor. Black, thick viscous liquid dribbled from
the edges of the screen, out along its rim and to fall messily in sporadic
drips onto the desk below with soft Pats.
Something about it repulsed him deeply though he couldn't place what. He took a
shaking step backwards towards the door and turned to lean through the frame
and into the other, identical room. The monitor he spied there was clean and
shining brightly, devoid of the sickening fluid. There was a noise behind him
and he spun. The towering black figure, clad in black
shadows lurched towards him, rotting skeletal hands and wrists extending from
within once more. With a yell Cody fell backwards, tripping through the frame
of the doorway. He landed heavily, and frantically kicked the door shut behind
him. Alone in the room once more, he stared at
the closed door. Cody’s mind raced in panic. None of it made sense. None of it
seemed real. What the hell was happening to him? The camera in his room, the
dripping black liquid from his monitor. The horrific black robed monster. He
was breathing hard. Shaking. It was a few long moments before he realized
something else was wrong. He looked down. White painted plaster extended under and
around him. A few feet away a light fitting protruded from the ground, pointing
directly up into the air. He looked up. Codys room hung suspended from the
ceiling, the bed and desk seemingly affixed to the carpeted surface. The images
and posters of the bare, unclothed women looked up at him, upside-down. But
that was wrong. His perspective changed, and his breath caught. He was the one
inverted. The entire room had been flipped, he sprawled, panicking upon what
should have been the ceiling, and yet gravity affixed him there as surely as he
would have been planted on the ground. The contents of the room above him sat
perfectly immobile and unchanged, as if they too followed their own normal laws
of gravity. The monitor still shone blank and white. Cody opened his mouth to scream. Skeletal black hands, bony and dripping
rotted flesh wrapped around both sides of his face, covering his mouth. The
scream came out strangled and muted as he fought the hold, but the creature’s
grip was iron-strong. His frantic eyes searched around, wild and staring. Black viscous liquid, bubbling and rank
guttered up and around where he struggled upon the ceiling, quickly forming a
wide, deep pool before meeting the sides of the walls. It surged up and around
his kicking ankles, spraying messily in thick globules as fear overwhelmed him.
Where it met his flesh, more grasping hands swarmed from the inky depths, clutching
at his legs and clothes. But the sticky liquid had stopped rising. Slowly, agonizingly, feebly thrashing
against the hands securing him, Cody sank. The surface rose up over his legs, past his
elbows where his arms were fixed to the floor by the gripping hands. It rose
over his chest, cold and inevitable. It crept up his face, over his chin. Over
his nose, cutting off his airflow even as he surged against the swarming hands
that dragged him down, down into the black depths. The last thing he saw was
his room impossibly still inverted as the liquid covered his eyes and filled
his ears. With a sluggish plop, the surface rose
above his head. Moments later air bubbles broke the black
expanse, but bore no sound from the scream that had birthed them. The bedroom was quiet once more. Still.
Undisturbed. Almost a tranquil peace had descended upon it, devoid of all life
and motion. The monitor, still glowing bright
displayed the personal email of one Cody Anderson. There were no unopened
emails, no new messages lay in the inbox. The police officers who'd breach the
room months later would find it running still, the inbox still vacant. The time read 8.46pm. © 2018 AlphaGeminiReviews
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1 Review  Last Updated on July 10, 2018 Author
AlphaGeminiDunedin, Otago, New ZealandAboutShort stories, Novellas, and everything in between. Sci-fi, fantasy, horror, anything to vent some creativity. more..Writing
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