Flash Monitor, Cyberdetective
Flash Monitor, Cyberdetective
Lately business in the cyberdetection game has been slower than a dial-up modem circa 1990. Since then, a megaton of traffic has traveled the Information Superhighway, but the online universe hasn’t gotten much safer. Not only that, websurfers and twitterers don’t give a fig about their privacy.At least, not enough to hire the likes of me.
Now and again a job popping up on my screen means a handful of bitcoins to keep a couple of PPV sites streaming. But what I really need is a blockbuster case so I can finally afford an ink cartridge. The well’s so dry my printing queue’s hasn’t moved an inch since the Bush II Administration.
The other day I thought I found the answer to my prayers. When I logged on a “live one” (so to speak) was already waiting for me on my screen. She was one smokin’ cookie, all right, vamping across my screen while vaping up a puff of virtual smoke. Forgive me, #metooers, but I gotta believe there’s not a hacker between here and the depths of the dark web who wouldn’t want to take a byte out of her bits.
“What can I do for you, Toots?” I typed. “Align your algorithms? Sweep for viruses or – excuse the expression – Trojans? “
The screen slightly rocked from side to side. “No, nothing like that, Mr. Monitor,” she tapped.
“Call me ‘Flash. Or just ‘f’.”
“Upper case or lower case?“
“Either one. So, uh, tell me what cha got. Connection problems? Incompatibility? Does Windows 10 pop a message up every time you want to open your word processing program?”*
“It’s not as bad as that. But I’m being hacked! Overloading my website with threads that have nothing to do with my dedicated content! What make’s it worse, every posting’s cluttered with cornball emojis!!! The animated kind that’ll give you a convulsion if you don’t avert your gaze!!!”
Talk about your “user friendly.” I was one hundred per cent sure this chick had a passionate nature. I could tell from the number of exclamation points she used.
“Hmmph!” (Try typing that without summoning Spell-Check. I dare ya!)“From what you’re telling me, it’s coming from the outside. These are bad actors. They could be across the globe or across the street.”
“Who do you think it is, F? Russian hackers? Nigerian princes?”
“Nah. This is the work of some kind of manufactured entity. Hook me up to your devices, and let’s take a look.”
Next thing I knew, a tablet, a laptop, and a pink smartphone with a cracked screen materialized in my workspace. I shut ‘em all down, waited 30 secs or so, and then rebooted the lot.
Then – boom!
Holy Kaspersky! Hundreds-- nay thousands --of little insect-like creatures scampered all over the place. They looked like tiny Minions from the movies, except they weren’t yellow. And they slithered around like they’d OD’d on a shot of mercury.
“Turn off the lights! Maybe that’s attracting them,” I furiously typed. “Your problem is bots, Lady! You got ‘em, and you got ‘em bad!”
At first I didn’t know how to handle the situation. But then I spotted an army of ‘em heading straight for my entertainment center. Oh, no, not the DVR! Not when I still had half a season of Legion left to binge-watch]**
After scanning the premises for some 3-D hardware, I grabbed what I hoped would be an appropriate weapon. Then I hurled it at the little buggers like Syndergaard lettin’ loose with a fast ball.
Got ‘em!
“Looks like your little problem is history, Miss.”
“Oh, F,” she typed. “I can’t thank you enough! By the way, what was that big red thing you threw?”
“That? Oh, it’s just a leftover from the last century. They called it Webster’s Third Dictionary. After all these decades, it was actually good for something.”
*
It's true!
**
That's true, too!
