


      NightHack : A Story about Hackers

      The word HACKER has taken on a new meaning recently. It used to
      mean an avid computer user. But now it has taken to the likes
	(baically) of
      someone who uses his computer to steal, alter, or misuse online
      data that is not theirs.
      Below is a story obtained from a BBS and no author's name was
      given. But it is my inference from reading the story that it was
      written by Montana Wildhack, the Newsweek reporter who gained
      access to a hacking board, and then found himself being harassed
      by hackers all over the country. (WE ARE NOT *POSITIVE* AS TO
      WHO WROTE THIS. ASSUME IT IS ANONYMOUSLY WRITTEN!). The authors
      story...



			    The Night of the Hackers
			    ________________________

      . As you are surveying the dark and misty swamp you come across what
	appears to be a small cave.  You light	a  torch  and  enter.  You
	have  walked  several  hundred feet when you stumble into a bright
	blue portal.  .  .  With a  sudden  burst  of  light  and  a  loud
	explosion you are swept into . . . DRAGONFIRE . . .  Press Any Key
	if You Dare."

     .	You have programmed your personal computer to dial into
	Dragonfire, a computer bulletin board in Gainesville,  Texas.  But
	before you get any information, Dragonfire demands your name, home
	city  and phone number.  So,  for tonight's tour of the electronic
	wilderness you become Montana Wildhack of San Francisco.

     .	Dragonfire, Sherwood Forest (sic), Forbidden Zone,
	Blottoland,  Plovernet,  The Vault, Shadowland, PHBI and scores of
	other computer bulletin boards are hangouts of a new generation of
	vandals. These precocious teenagers use their electronic skills to
	play hide-and-seek with computer and  telephone  security  forces.
	Many  computer	bulletin  boards  are  perfectly legitimate:  they
	resemble electronic  versions  of  the	familiar  cork	boards	in
	supermarkets and school corridors,  listing services and providing
	information someone out there is bound to find	useful.  But  this
	is  a walk on the wild side,  a trip into the world of underground
	bulletin  boards  dedicated  to  encouraging  --  and  making	--
	mischief.

     .	The phone number for these boards are as closely guarded as a
	psychiatrist's home telephone number.  Some numbers are posted  on
	underground  boards;  others  are exchanged over the telephone.  A
	friendly hacker provided Dragonfire's number.  Hook up and you see
	a broad choice of topics offered. For Phone Phreaks -- who delight
	in  stealing  service  from  AT&T  and	other  phone  networks	 .
	Phreakenstein's Lair is a potpourri of phone numbers, access codes
	and  technical information.  For computer hackers -- who dial into
	other people's computers -- Ranger's Lodge is chock-full of  phone
	numbers  and  passwords  for government,  university and corporate
	computers.  Moving through Dragonfire's offerings,  you  can  only
	marvel	at  how conversant these teen-agers are with the technical
	esoterica of today's electronic age.  Obviously they have spent  a
	great  deal  of time studying computers,  though their grammar and
	spelling indicate they haven't been diligent  in  other  subjects.
	You are constantly reminded of how young they are.

     .	"Well it's that time of year again. School is back in session
	so  let's get those high school computer phone numbers rolling in.
	Time to get straight A's,  have perfect  attendance  (except  when
	you've been up all night hacking school passwords), and messing up
	you worst teacher's paycheck."

     .	Forbidden Zone, in Detroit, is offering ammunition for hacker
	civil war -- tips on  crashing	the  most  popular  bulletin-board
	software.  There  also are plans for building black,  red and blue
	boxes to mimic operator tones and get free phone service.  And	he
	re  are  the  details for "the safest and best way to make and use
	nitroglycerine," compliments of Doctor Hex, who says he got it
	"from my chemistry teacher."

     .	Flip through the "pages." You have to wonder if this
	information  is accurate.  Can this really be the phone number and
	password for Taco Bell's computer?  Do these kids really have  the
	dial-up numbers for dozens of university computers? The temptation
	is  too much.  You sign off and have your computer dial the number
	for the Yale computer.	Bingo -- the words Yale University  appear
	on your screen.  You enter the password.  A menu appears. You hang
	up in a sweat. You are now a hacker.

     .	Punch in another number and your modem zips off the touch
	tones. Here comes the tedious side of all of this. Bulletin boards
	are popular. No vacancy in Bates Motel (named for Anthony Perkin's
	creepy motel in the movie "Psycho"); the line is busy.  So are 221
	B.  Baker Street, PHBI, Shadowland and The Vault,  Caesar's Palace
	rings  and  connects.  This is different breed of board.  Caesar's
	Palace is a combination Phreak board and computer store in  Miami.
	This  is  the  place to learn ways to mess up a department store's
	anti-shoplifting system,  or make free calls  on  telephones  with
	locks  on  the	dial.  Pure  capitalism  accompanies such anarchy,
	Caesar's Palace is offering good deals on disc  drives,  software,
	computers  and	all  sorts of hardware.  Orders are placed through
	electronic mail messages.

     .	'Tele-Trial': Bored by Caesar's Palace, you enter the number
	for Blottoland,  the board operated by one of  the  nation's  most
	notorious computer phreaks -- King Blotto.  This one has been busy
	all night, but it's now pretty late in Cleveland.  The phone rings
	and you connect.  To get past the blank screen, type the secondary
	password "S-L-I-M-E." King Blotto obliges,  listing his rules:  he
	must have your real name,  phone number,  address,  occupation and
	interests. He will call and disclose the primary password, "if you
	belong on this board." If admitted, do not reveal the phone number
	or  the  secondary password,  lest you face "tele-trial," the King
	warns as he dismisses  you  by	hanging  up.  You  expected  heavy
	security,  but this teenager's security is,  as they say, awesome.
	Computers at the Defense Department and hundreds of businesses let
	you know when you've reached them.  Here you need a password  just
	to find out what system answered the phone.  Then King Blotto asks
	questions -- and hangs up.  Professional computer-security experts
	could learn something from this kid.  He knows that ever since the
	414 computer hackers were arrested in August 1982, law-enforcement
	officers  have	been  searching  for  leads  on  computer bulletin
	boards.

     .	"Do you have any ties to or connections with any law
	enforcement  agency  or  any  agency which would inform such a law
	enforcement agency of this bulletin board?"

     .	Such is the welcoming message from Plovernet, a Florida board
	known  for  its great hacker/phreak files.  There amid a string of
	valid VISA and MasterCard numbers are  dozens  of  computer  phone
	numbers  and  passwords.  Here you also learn what Blotto means by
	tele-trial.  "As some of you may or may not know, a session of the
	conference  court was held and the Wizard was found guilty of some
	miscellaneous  charges,  and  sentenced  to  four  months  without
	bulletin  boards."  If  Wizard  calls,  system operators like King
	Blotto disconnect him. Paging through bulletin boards is a test of
	your patience. Each board has different commands.  Few are easy to
	follow,  leaving you to hunt and peck your way around.	So far you
	haven't had the nerve  to  type  "C,"  which  summons  the  system
	operator for a live, computer-to-computer conversation.  The time,
	however,  however  has	come for you to ask a few questions of the
	"sysop." You dial a computer in Boston.  It answers and you  begin
	working your way throughout the menus. You scan a handful of dial-
	up  numbers,  including one for Arpanet,  the Defense Department's
	research computer.  Bravely tap C and in seconds the screen blanks
	and your cursor dances across the screen.

     .	Hello . . . What kind of computer do you have?

     .	Contact. The sysop is here. You exchange amenities and get
	"talking." How much hacking does he do?  Not much, too busy. Is he
	afraid of being busted,  having his computer confiscated like  the
	Los  Angeles  man  facing  criminal  changes  because his computer
	bulletin board contained a  stolen  telephone-credit-card  number?
	"Hmmmm  .  .  .  No,"  he  replies.  Finally,  he asks the dreaded
	question:  "How old are  you?"  "How  old  are  YOU,"  you  reply,
	stalling.  "15,"  he  types.  Once you confess and he knows you're
	old enough to be his father,  the conversation gets very  serious.
	You fear each new question;  he probably thinks you're a cop.  But
	all he wants to know  is  your	choice	for  president.  The  chat
	continues,  until  he  asks,  "What  time  is it there?" Just past
	midnight, you reply. Expletive. "it's 3:08 here," Sysop types.  "I
	must be going to sleep.  I've got  school  tomorrow."  The  cursor
	dances "*********** Thank you for Calling." The screen goes blank.


				    Epilog:

     .	A few weeks after this reporter submitted this article to
	Newsweek,  he found that his credit had been altered, his drivers'
	licence revoked,  and EVEN HIS Social  Security  records  changed!
	Just in case you all might like to construe this as a 'Victimless'
	crime.	The  next  time  a  computer fouls up your billing on some
	matter, and COSTS YOU, think about it!
			_______________________________


     .	This the follow-up to the previous article concerning the
	Newsweek reporter.  It spells out SOME of the REAL dangers to  ALL
		      of us, due to this type of activity!


			_______________________________
			   The REVENGE of the Hackers
			_______________________________

     .	In the mischievous fraternity of computer hackers, few things
	are  prized  more  than  the  veil  of	secrecy.  As  NEWSWEEK San
	Francisco correspondent Richard Sandza found out after	writing  a
	story on the electronic underground's (DISPATCHES,  Nov.  12, 198\
	ability  to  exact  revenge  can  be  unnerving.  Also	severe....
	Sandza's report:

     .	"Conference!" someone yelled as I put the phone to my ear.
	Then came a mind-piercing "beep," and suddenly my  kitchen  seemed
	full  of  hyperactive  15-year-olds.  "You  the  guy who wrote the
	article in NEWSWEEK?" someone shouted from the depths  of  static,
	and  giggles.  "We're  going disconnect your phone," one shrieked.
	"We're going to blow up your house," called another. I hung up.

     .	Some irate readers write letters to the editor. A few call
	their  lawyers.   Hackers,  however,  use  the	computer  and  the
	telephone, and for more than simple comment. Within days, computer
	"bulletin  boards"  around the country were lit up with attacks on
	NEWSWEEK's "Montana Wildhack" (a name I took from a Kurt  Vonnegut
	character),  questioning  everything  from  my manhood to my prose
	style.	"Until we get real good revenge," said  one  message  from
	Unknown  Warrior,  "I  would like to suggest that everyone with an
	auto-l modem call Montana Butthack then hang up when he  answers."
	Since  then  the  hackers  of America have called my home at least
	2000 times.  My harshest  critics  communicate	on  Dragonfire,  a
	Gainesville,  Texas,  bulletin	board  where I am on teletrial,  a
	video-lynching in which a computer user with grievance	dials  the
	board  and  presses  charges  against  the offending party.  Other
	hackers  --  including	the  defendant	--post	 concurrences	or
	rebuttals.  Despite  the  mealtime interruptions,  all this was at
	most a minor nuisance; some was amusing, even fun.

     .	FRAUD: The fun stopped with a call from a man who identified
	himself only as Joe.  "I'm calling to warn you," he said.  When  I
	barked back, he said, "Wait, I'm on your side.  Someone has broken
	into TRW and obtained a list of all your credit-card numbers, your
	home address,  social-security	number	and  wife's  name  and  is
	posting  it  on  bulletin boards around the country." He named the
	charge cards in my wallet.

     .	Credit-card numbers are a very hot commodity among some
	hackers.  To get one from a computer system and  post  it  is  the
	hacker	equivalent  of	making the team.  After hearing from Joe I
	visited the local office of the TRW credit bureau and got  a  copy
	of my credit record.  Sure enough, it showed a Nov.  13 inquiry by
	the Lenox (Mass.) Savings Bank,  an  institution  with	no  reason
	whatever  to  ask  about me.  Clearly some hacker had used Lenox's
	password to the TRW computers to get to my  files  (the  bank  has
	since changed the password).

     .	It wasn't long before I found out what was being done with my
	credit-card numbers,  thanks to another friendly hacker who tipped
	me to Pirate 80,  a bulletin board in Charleston,  W.Va.,  where I
	found  this:  "I'm  sure you guys have heard about Richard Stza or
	Montana Wildhack.  He's the guy who wrote the obscene story  about
	phreaking  in NewsWeek Well,  my friend did a credit card check on
	TRW . . . try this number, it' a VISA . .  .  Please nail this guy
	bad . . . Captain Quieg.

     .	Captain Quieg may himself be nailed. He has violated the
	Credit	Card  Fraud Act of 1984 signed by President Reagan on Oct.
	12.  The law provides a $10,000 fine and up to	a  15-year  prison
	term  for  "trafficking" in illegally obtained credit-card account
	numbers.  He "friend" has committed  a  felony  violation  of  the
	California  computer-crime  law.  TRW  spokeswoman Delia Fernandex
	said that TRW would "be more than  happy  to  prosecute"  both  of
	them.

     .	TRW has good reason for concern. Its computers contain the
	credit	histories  of  120  million people.  Last year TRW sold 50
	million credit	reports  on  their  customers.	But  these  highly
	confidential   personal   records   are  so  poorly  guarded  that
	computerized  teenagers  can  ransack	the   files   and   depart
	undetected. TRW passwords -- unlike many others -- often print out
	when  entered by TRW's customers.  Hackers then look for discarded
	printouts.  A good source:  the  trash	of  banks  and	automobile
	dealerships,  which  routinely do credit checks.  "Everybody hacks
	TRW," says Cleveland hacker King Blotto,  whose bulletin board has
	security  system the Pentagon would envy.  "It's the easiest." For
	her her part,  Fernandez insists that TRW "does everything it  can
	to keep the system secure

     .	In my case, however, that was not enough. My credit limits
	would hardly support big-time fraud,  but victimization takes many
	forms. Another hacker said it was likely that merchandise would be
	ordered in my name and shipped to me -- just to harass me.  I used
	to  use  credit-card  numbers  against someone I didn't like," the
	hacker said.  "I'd call Sears and have a dozen toilets shipped  to
	his house."

     .	Meanwhile, back on Dragonfire, my teletrial was going strong.
	The charges,  as pressed my Unknown Warrior,  include "endangering
	all phreaks and hacks." The judge in this case is  a  hacker  with
	the  apt name of Ax Murderer.  Possible sentences range from exile
	from the entire planet" to "kill the dude." King Blotto has  taken
	up my defense,	using hacker power to make his first pleading:	he
	dialed	up  Dragonfire,   broke  into  its  operating  system  and
	"crashed"  the  bulletin  board,  destroying  all  of its messages
	naming me. The board is back up now, with a retrial in full swing.
	But then,  exile from the electronic underground looks better  all
	the time.
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