=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= The following was written shortly after my arrest... \/\The Conscience of a Hacker/\/ by +++The Mentor+++ Written on January 8, 1986 =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. "Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal", "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering"... Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him? I am a hacker, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. "No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head..." Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike. I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me... Or feels threatened by me... Or thinks I'm a smart ass... Or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here... Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike. And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. "This is it... this is where I belong..." I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all... Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike... You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us will- ing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert. This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals. We explore... and you call us criminals. We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals. Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for. I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual, but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike. +++The Mentor+++
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Letter From Anon

This is for you, Anon. The ones that sit at home on the weekends because your friends are off being someone you're not. The one's that surf /b/ for a chance to smile, a chance to laugh, and sometimes a chance to baw. The ones that tear up at the tale of a forgotten kitten, but snicker when a cam ♥♥♥♥♥ is being verbally assulted. The ones who white knight, the ones who call out the white knights, and the ones who need the white knights. The ones who turn to /b/ when their significant others cheat on them with their best friend. The ones who don't have significant others. To the ones that think of witty responses not a heartbeat after reading a post, and to the ones that don't think of them until the thread 404's. The ones that see a mangled body draped over a dead baby that's being raped at the same time, and still take a bite of their sandwich. The ones that choose chubbies over scene girls. the ones who choose scene girls over chubbies. The ones who sage, even though it does nothing. This is to the ones who are the most amazing people i've ever had the privilege of talking to, but still can't find a person to apperciate them like we do. The ones that long to fall asleep holding a certain person's hand but are too shy to even talk to them. The quiet girl who is the sweetest, funniest, cutest girl, but doesn't get a second glance. The misunderstood guy, who always says funny things, but people take them the wrong way, because they're close minded ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥. The ones that read the baw threads then call out everyone posting in them as ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥/♥♥♥♥♥♥♥/etc, but still read every post because they feel emotion. The ones I wish I could give a hug to because I know even though they post the most soulless, cold, disgusting ♥♥♥♥, they still need to feel loved. Well, Anon. I love you. And i would be honoured to fall asleep holding your hand.

Sincerely,
Anonymous