I called the head office on the 47th floor here at Media Underground looking for our demented leader. I’m in the subbasement below the diesel fueled generators and there’s a constant metallic whine in the background. I’m not sure who picked up the phone. Years ago Mortimer gave me his encrypted satellite number and it’s supposed to be a direct line but this sounded like a woman’s voice. At first I thought it was MorphVOX but we only have that for outside calls. I’m screaming into the phone, “Mortimer is that you? The generator is on again and I can’t hear shit. Why the fuck did you put me in the subbasement? We need to talk. I can’t find our webpage!”
At first I thought it was on my end. I had just installed Windows Vista and I knew Gates was doing something screwy with IE7. We could be on a list of banned sites. I kept clicking refresh. Did I have the cable plugged in? I’ve been up for two days. My head felt like a petrified wooden fertility dong. I have a small framed picture on the wall of a white sandy beach in Costa Maya off the Yucatan peninsula. I’m looking at this thinking of my vacation when I hear a woman’s voice through the groan of the generator, “Look we’ve just been hacked again. There’s been another breach in security. We think it’s NSA. We’ll need you in Las Vegas at the Defcon hacker convention. Look for a guy named Lobstaish. This will be another covert operation so wear civilian clothes. Keep your mouth shut. Remember you don’t work for us. We don’t know who you are and you never heard what I just said.”
I scream back into my satellite phone, “This is total bullshit! Send Anas K. or that headphone wearing guy whatever his name is. They’re in Vulnerability Management. I don’t know fuck about Protocol Anomaly Detection. I have a vague working knowledge on porn downloads. I can steal music and software. Why me? Send Adams. He’s a goddam human−alien hybrid. Look at the size of his head compared to his body. He’ll fit right in.”
There’s a long pause. I can here Mortimer in the background, “Find that SQL database. I have a backup on the hard drive in my safe.” There’s a bit of static on the line, I hear the sound of breaking glass and then the word.
“Ask James if he has a toilet plunger I can use?”
My eyes roll back in my head, “No! This is insane. I know my post hypnotic word. He is not going to pull this crap on me again. First off it’s a stupid word and I have no idea why I get plunger as my secret command. I know what it means. I know what he’s trying to do. It doesn’t work anymore and I wasn’t really hypnotized at the time when he tried to pull this shit!”
“Plunger”
“No. I need a vacation. Send me to Salt Lake City and I’ll infiltrate the Mormon Tabernacle. I’m not flying to Las Vegas.”
“Plunger”
“Oh! Plunger, plunger, plunger! What was that again? Plunger? No I don’t know what you’re saying.”
I can hear a small scuffle. There’s another glass thrown across the room.
“Melanie give me that goddam phone! Look Inman, this is Mortimer. Do it for fuck sake. You owe me. Remember when you called at four in the morning because you thought your X-Box got hacked? Let me tell you something. No one is going to hack into your X-Box and change the settings on your controller. You are a paranoid freak and virtually computer illiterate. That’s why I need you on this mission. No one really cares what you’re doing online at trannysurprise.com. You see into things too much and have no skills whatsoever. You'll slip under their radar. I just want an autographed 8x10 of this Lobstaish guy for signature analysis. Jot down a few notes and come back in one piece. And don't forget to use a plunger if you see a toilet bowl overflow.”
“This must be serious. I'll get right on it. I can take his shield down with my Plasma Pistol and waste him with a BR shot to the head."
“Plasma Pistols are not real James. That’s Halo you idiot. Just get a signature.”
"I'll probably need a first class round trip ticket and a $2000 stipend.”
“Look you psychotic midget you’ll be on standby with my old Raytheon badge to Little Rock. Find a car and drive the rest of the way.”
“Oh for the love of fuck! What’s my safe word? Mortimer is an ass? Fuck you Mortimer? No way. I’ll need at least $1000 for incidentals.”
oO James Inman is a fuckhole - Hacked by mOrTiMeR Oo
“I’ll look into our budget. I might be able to wire you a couple hundred pounds. Just get out there. We’ll call you on the satellite phone and you can update us on the Blackberry. I don’t have time for this. Hold on Mitnick is on the other line, ‘Yeah. I know… Mm-hmm… Yeah… disk / dev / hdb 240 heads, 63 sectors, 2654 cylinders... units equals cylinders of 15120 with 512 bytes… mount Ok right.’ Look Inman I don’t need this right now. We could have some funds moving in shortly. I might be able to get you out of that office below the generator. You want a promotion right? Anas K. has been fucking off. I might be able to give you his spot.”
“Fine whatever. This diesel generator is making me nauseous. I want my X-Box Live privileges back and you better get me out of this goddam subbasement!"
**James Inman is a NoobTard - Hacked by K. MITnicK**
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