The two sysadmins who entered were wild-eyed. Felix and Van climbed the stairs slowly, their steps echoing in the deserted shaft. After the frigid air of the cage, the stairwell felt like a sauna. There was a cafeteria on the top floor, with working toilets, water and coffee and vending machine food.
There was an uneasy queue of sysadmins before each. No one met anyone's eye. Felix wondered which one was Will and then he joined the vending machine queue.
He got a couple more energy bars and a gigantic cup of vanilla coffee before running out of change. Van had scored them some table space and Felix set the stuff down before him and got in the toilet line. Slowly the conversation died down.
14 Tháng Giêng Lời tâm sự gây chú ý của Phạm Quỳnh Anh và Thu Thủy gửi tới vợ Dù đã che mặt cô bạn gái bên cạnh nhưng ai cũng nhận ra chàng trai này. Hậu tin đồn đã sinh con, bà xã Trường Giang khoe ảnh bế “con gái“ được fan khen Thứ Ba, ngày 05/02/ PM (GMT+7) Mặc mọi đồn đoán từ dư luận, it giờ trước, Nhã Phương tiếp tục đăng tải ảnh ngọt Lần này, người đẹp tỏ ra rất hào hứng khi trả lời từng bình luận và lời chúc của khán giả trên Instagram.
Thank you all for coming up here. Here's what we know for sure: Visual observation indicates that we're the only building in central Toronto with working power—which should hold out for three more days. There is a bioagent of unknown origin loose beyond our doors. It kills quickly, within hours, and it is aerosolized. You get it from breathing bad air. No one has opened any of the exterior doors to this building since five this morning.
No one will open the doors until I give the go-ahead. The attacks are electronic, biological, nuclear and conventional explosives, and they are very widespread. I'm a security engineer, and where I come from, attacks in this kind of cluster are usually viewed as opportunistic: It's smart.
An Aum Shin Rikyo cell in Seoul gassed the subways there about 2AM Eastern—that's the earliest event we can locate, so it may have been the Archduke that broke the camel's back. We're pretty sure that Aum Shin Rikyo couldn't be behind this kind of mayhem: Basically, they're not smart enough. We're going to staff the racks and keep the networks up. This is critical infrastructure, and it's our job to make sure it's got five nines of uptime. In times of national emergency, our responsibility to do that doubles.
One sysadmin put up his hand. He was very daring in a green Incredible Hulk ring-tee, and he was at the young end of the scale. I'm the one who got everyone up here first and called the meeting. I don't care if someone else wants this job, it's a shitty one. But someone needs to have this job.
Popovich looked down his nose at the kid. He stared out of it intensely. Felix's gaze was drawn to it, and he saw that there were several oily smoke plumes rising up from the city. There are coordinated attacks on every critical piece of infrastructure.
There's only one way that those attacks could be so well coordinated: Even if you buy the thesis that the attacks are all opportunistic, we need to ask how an opportunistic attack could be organized in minutes: Cops and the military are a bunch of technophobic lusers, they hardly rely on the net at all. If we take the Internet down, we'll disproportionately disadvantage the attackers, while only inconveniencing the defenders.
When the time comes, we can rebuild it. That's a problem with people, not logic. The conversation dimmed by one Watt. Popovich yelled again, stamping his foot on the countertop. Finally there was a semblance of order. He was flushed red, his hands in his pockets. One sysadmin was for staying. Another for going. They should hide in the cages. They should inventory their supplies and appoint a quartermaster. They should go outside and find the police, or volunteer at hospitals. They should appoint defenders to keep the front door secure. On behalf of the future, I ask you of the past to leave us alone.
You are not welcome among us. You have no sovereignty where we gather. I declare the global social space we are building to be naturally independent of the tyrannies you seek to impose on us. You have no moral right to rule us nor do you possess any methods of enforcement we have true reason to fear. You have neither solicited nor received ours. We did not invite you.
You do not know us, nor do you know our world. Cyberspace does not lie within your borders. Do not think that you can build it, as though it were a public construction project. You cannot. It is an act of nature and it grows itself through our collective actions. It was written 12 years ago.
I thought it was one of the most beautiful things I'd ever read.
I wanted my kid to grow up in a world where cyberspace was free—and where that freedom infected the real world, so meatspace got freer too. He swallowed hard and scrubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. Van awkwardly patted him on the shoe. Millions more, too. The city is literally in flames. Whole cities have disappeared from the map.
They were trying to recover from last night's worm when disaster struck. We have independent power. We are in charge of the most important organizational and governmental tool the world has ever seen. We are the closest thing to a government the world has right now. Geneva is a crater. The East River is on fire and the UN is evacuated.
We are the custodians of a deathless, monstrous, wonderful machine, one with the potential to rebuild a better world. There were tears in Van's eyes. He wasn't the only one. They didn't applaud him, but they did one better. They maintained respectful, total silence for seconds that stretched to a minute. The newsgroups were filling up fast. They'd announced them in news.
The new group was alt. Bless the wooly alt. The sysadmins came out of the woodwork. The Googleplex was online, with the stalwart Queen Kong bossing a gang of rollerbladed grunts who wheeled through the gigantic data-center swapping out dead boxen and hitting reboot switches. The Internet Archive was offline in the Presidio, but the mirror in Amsterdam was live and they'd redirected the DNS so that you'd hardly know the difference. Amazon was down. Paypal was up. Blogger, Typepad and Livejournal were all up, and filling with millions of posts from scared survivors huddling together for electronic warmth.
The Flickr photostreams were horrific. Felix had to unsubscribe from them after he caught a photo of a woman and a baby, dead in a kitchen, twisted into an agonized heiroglyph by the bioagent. They didn't look like Kelly and 2.