"Unmarked helicopters, hovering
the Lord is coming soon
here comes the super ‘copter
here comes the noise it makes
the demon was and idea, the demon is awake
well scratch mark left across the surface of your mind
this hour now upon us, the hour has now arrived..."
Soul Coughing . Unmarked Helicopters

January Seventh, 2004
Joliet, Chicago

Closing and locking the door to her apartment, she watched out the peephole as two middle aged men made their way down the hall and out of the building, watched them get into their car and stair at her door, talking. Her heart was on fire, then she saw the car jump to life and slowly back away, turning towards the exit and hauling ass out of the parking lot. The electricity coursing through her nerves subsided, a heavy sweat running down her flushed face. Turning around, her back hard against the cool door, she slid down to the carpeting, her hands resting softly against the coarseness of it.

With her eyes closed, she released a deep sigh and returned upright, heading to her desk, tapping the power-switch on the front of her computer. As the neon-sunburst of the desktop came up, she stepped into the kitchen and fetched a cold can of Mountain Dew, wondering if it was the right idea to quit smoking for her New Years resolution. Pulling out the cheap office chair, she sat down and waited for the computer to finish booting, the thoughts through her head rushing past at an alarming rate, so many and so fast that she couldn’t even grasp one to see what it was. Like the flow of cyberspace. So much from so many different sources, that if you split open the phone line, you could drown in it. A superfluity of knowledge.

Cracking her mind open, she let it escape enough that she could take care of the necessary business at hand. Running her fingers through her black hair, making a point not to brush the stainless hoop through her right eyebrow, she could feel the nodes of through coursing wildly through her mind.

Double-clicking the 'Network' icon in the 'Quick Launch' section of her toolbar, she typed in the access number and clicked dial, listening to the dial tone, the ringing, the carrier signal, and the warm static of connection. She pulled up another screen, an all black with green text, like an old MS-Dos prompt, typing in [LockePik], and her seven character alpha-numeric password. The screen went blank, then came a simple 'hello.' appearing on the first line. She typed 'goodbye./, followed by another second of empty screen. With a flicker, the window came to life, a directory listing of hundreds of forums, all reading like a Dos directory. Simply marvelous. If anyone showed up unexpected, it looked like a simple Dos screen.

"You say goodbye, and I say hello." she sung quietly to herself, a detailed image of a young John Lennon flashing behind her eyes.

Bringing up a messaging file, she typed in the three four handles she could think of - [subliminalsilence], [emptystar], [sl0wm0tionri0t] and [inhealingwaters] and sent them a short, and minimally detailed e-mail.

Standing up and sliding the chair back, she headed back into the kitchen, the can of Mountain Dew chilling her hand, as she searched through the ‘fridge, looking for something to eat. Reaching down to the bottom shelf, she got a container of last-nights Chinese and stuck it into the microwave, putting the timer on an ungodly amount of time before she heard the four, nearly simultaneous pings from the forum, causing her to rush, tripping over her feet, to the computer to read the four messages, plopping back down into the chair, and pulling it into its correct position at the desk.

[sl0wm0tionri0t]: what’s going on?

[emptystar]: what’s up, kiddo?

[inhealingwaters]: you okay?

[subliminalsilence]: yo, what’s going on? bad?

Followed by her mass-response:
[LockePik]: everyone’s here, go to the following - sesil.cht

In under thirty seconds, she had the chat-file created in the forums construct, and the five of them were there, going through their normal greetings, a combination of local slang that the others had only recently picked up on, and other randomness from their minds. They were a close knit group, but all independent from the group. No true allegiance, only a community of friends with a like-minded amateur-profession.

[LockePik]: look kids, this is how it goes down. I just had two ABC’s leave my apartment, and they are asking for my help; if I agree, I (and anyone else involved) gets their slates cleared, if I don’t, it’s a one way ticket on the Joliet Correctional Facility night train.

[subliminalsilence]: what’s the deal, what’re they asking?

[LockePik]: they want me to collapse a foreign gov’t.

[emptystar]: which one?

[Lockepik]: North Korea ... they say that if they don’t have their computer systems anymore, there is no way they could launch their nukes, which the ABC’s is growing ever the nearer.

[emptystar]: and you buy it?

[LockePik]: not entirely, no... but I don’t really have much of an option. this is a win-lose situation. not a win-win, or a lose-lose. this is even, which makes that choosing part easy, but guys - I need your help. Obi-Wan Kenobi’s, you’re my only hope. they’re wanting me to crash an entire nations computer structure, it’s not a job that one person can do alone. I need you guys, no doubt about it, and you’re the only one’s who I trust enough to let in on this info. also, they mentioned heavy monetary compensation.

[sl0wm0tionri0t]: what if we fail, do we get busted?

[LockePik]: from what I understand, no. your involvement will be by handle only; which, unless you’re already on their list, you’re gonna get fucked, but if you’re clear (which I assume you all are, since you’re sitting here today) they’ll make a note of your handles and leave you alone. make sense?

[sl0wm0tionri0t]: a bit, I’m in.

[inhealingwaters]: yeah, so am I.

[LockePik]: glad you joined the conversation. lol

[inhealingwaters]: haha. everything I wanted to know was being taken care of.

[LockePik]: que cera.

[subliminalsilence]: if [IHW]’s in, then I guess I am. not that I wouldn’t have helped. *smile*

[LockePik]: good. star?

[emptystar]: I don’t know, can’t honestly answer you yet.

[sl0wm0tionri0t]: damnit, star... quit being paranoid. when else will you have a chance to get the alphabets, shadows, and gray men off your back for good?

[LockePik]: well, not necessarily for GOOD... the stipulation to that is this, as long as we stay out of their systems.

[sl0wm0tionri0t]: I figured that, it’s a given... but still, star, how could you turn this op down?

[emptystar]: something just isn’t setting right with me, why don’t they do it themselves?

[LockePik]: they can’t. they want to keep their hands clean, y’know?

[emptystar]: I still don’t know. when do you need an answer?

[LockePik]: said they’d be back day after tomorrow. noonish.

[emptystar]: I’ll have your answer then. I do apologize, I just need to think about it. I’ll talk to you later, guys.

He exited the chat, and the rest finished the conversation, getting the rest of the minute details and discussing what [emptystar]’s problem was, which [sl0wm0tionri0t] said that it was an extreme state of paranoia - X-Files style, only worse.