22
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
their accounts, just did it to see if I could do it. My tarbaby had been
sitting in their system for about three weeks now and nothing was stuck
to it, so apparently they’d never noticed it. Rayno thought it would be
real poetic to use one bank mainframe to penetrate the secures on
another bank mainframe.
While he was making with the fine-tuning and last-minute dinks to
the cracker, I heard walking nearby and took a closer look. It was just
some old brown underclasser looking for a warm and quiet place to
sleep. Rayno was finished linking the cracker to OurNet by the time I
got back. “Okay kids,” he said, smiling cocky, “it’s showtime!” He
looked around to make sure we were all watching him, then held up the
Nova and punched the ENTER key.
That was it. I stared hard at the display, waiting to see what the else
part of our if/then program was gonna be. Rayno figured it’d take about
ninety seconds.
The Big One, y’see, was all Rayno’s idea. He’d heard about some
kids in Sherman Oaks who almost got away with a five million dollar
electronic fund transfer; they’d created an imaginary company, cut a
bank-to-bank wire draft, and hadn’t hit a major hangup moving the five
mil around until they tried to dump it into a personal savings account
with a 40-dollar balance. That’s when all the flags went up.
Rayno’s subtle; Rayno’s smart. We weren’t going to be greedy, we
were just going to EFT fifty K. And it wasn’t going to look real strange,
‘cause it got strained through some legitimate accounts before we split it
out to twenty dummies.
If it worked.
The display blanked, flickered, and showed: TRANSACTION
COMPLETED. HAVE A NICE DAY. I started to shout, but
remembered I was in a library. Georgie looked less terrified. Lisa looked
like she was going to tear Rayno’s pants off right then and there.
Rayno just cracked his little half smile, and started exiting.
“Funtime’s over, kids.”
“I didn’t get a turn,” Georgie mumbled.
Cyberpunk 1.0 23
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
Rayno was out of all the nets and powering down. He turned, slow,
and looked at Georgie through those eyebrows of his. “ You are still on
The List.”
Georgie swallowed it ‘cause there was nothing else he could do.
Rayno folded up the computer and tucked it back inside his jacket.
We got a smartcab from the queue outside the library and went off
to some taco place Lisa picked for lunch. Georgie got this idea about
chip-switching the smartcab’s brain so the next customer would have a
real state fair ride, but Rayno wouldn’t let him do it. Rayno wouldn’t
talk to him, either, so Georgie opaqued his videoshades, jacked into the
cab’s broadcast television receiver, and tuned us out for a good sulk.
Cyberpunk 1.0 24
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
Chapter 0/ 3
After lunch Lisa wanted to go hang out at the mall, but I talked them
into heading over to Martin’s Micros instead. It’s is a grubbish little
shop in a crummy part of UpperEast, deep in the heart of whitest
Butthole Skinhead territory, but it’s also one of my favorite places to
hang out. Martin is the only Older I know who can really work a
computer without blowing out his headchips, and he never talks down to
me, and he never tells me to keep my hands off anything. In fact,
Martin’s been real happy to see all of us, ever since Rayno bought that
$3000 animation package for Lisa the month she thought she wanted to
be a DynaBook novelist if she ever grew up.
Rayno faxed ahead from the smartcab that we were coming, so we
had to stand out on the sidewalk for only a few seconds before the
outside lock buzzed. We stepped into the security entryway. The outside
door clanged shut, the power lock snicked home, and the safety scanner
gave us a quick sweep. It must have been programmed to recognize
cool, ‘cause then the inside door slid open with a starship squeak and we
were allowed
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
their accounts, just did it to see if I could do it. My tarbaby had been
sitting in their system for about three weeks now and nothing was stuck
to it, so apparently they’d never noticed it. Rayno thought it would be
real poetic to use one bank mainframe to penetrate the secures on
another bank mainframe.
While he was making with the fine-tuning and last-minute dinks to
the cracker, I heard walking nearby and took a closer look. It was just
some old brown underclasser looking for a warm and quiet place to
sleep. Rayno was finished linking the cracker to OurNet by the time I
got back. “Okay kids,” he said, smiling cocky, “it’s showtime!” He
looked around to make sure we were all watching him, then held up the
Nova and punched the ENTER key.
That was it. I stared hard at the display, waiting to see what the else
part of our if/then program was gonna be. Rayno figured it’d take about
ninety seconds.
The Big One, y’see, was all Rayno’s idea. He’d heard about some
kids in Sherman Oaks who almost got away with a five million dollar
electronic fund transfer; they’d created an imaginary company, cut a
bank-to-bank wire draft, and hadn’t hit a major hangup moving the five
mil around until they tried to dump it into a personal savings account
with a 40-dollar balance. That’s when all the flags went up.
Rayno’s subtle; Rayno’s smart. We weren’t going to be greedy, we
were just going to EFT fifty K. And it wasn’t going to look real strange,
‘cause it got strained through some legitimate accounts before we split it
out to twenty dummies.
If it worked.
The display blanked, flickered, and showed: TRANSACTION
COMPLETED. HAVE A NICE DAY. I started to shout, but
remembered I was in a library. Georgie looked less terrified. Lisa looked
like she was going to tear Rayno’s pants off right then and there.
Rayno just cracked his little half smile, and started exiting.
“Funtime’s over, kids.”
“I didn’t get a turn,” Georgie mumbled.
Cyberpunk 1.0 23
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
Rayno was out of all the nets and powering down. He turned, slow,
and looked at Georgie through those eyebrows of his. “ You are still on
The List.”
Georgie swallowed it ‘cause there was nothing else he could do.
Rayno folded up the computer and tucked it back inside his jacket.
We got a smartcab from the queue outside the library and went off
to some taco place Lisa picked for lunch. Georgie got this idea about
chip-switching the smartcab’s brain so the next customer would have a
real state fair ride, but Rayno wouldn’t let him do it. Rayno wouldn’t
talk to him, either, so Georgie opaqued his videoshades, jacked into the
cab’s broadcast television receiver, and tuned us out for a good sulk.
Cyberpunk 1.0 24
©1982, 1998 Bruce Bethke
Chapter 0/ 3
After lunch Lisa wanted to go hang out at the mall, but I talked them
into heading over to Martin’s Micros instead. It’s is a grubbish little
shop in a crummy part of UpperEast, deep in the heart of whitest
Butthole Skinhead territory, but it’s also one of my favorite places to
hang out. Martin is the only Older I know who can really work a
computer without blowing out his headchips, and he never talks down to
me, and he never tells me to keep my hands off anything. In fact,
Martin’s been real happy to see all of us, ever since Rayno bought that
$3000 animation package for Lisa the month she thought she wanted to
be a DynaBook novelist if she ever grew up.
Rayno faxed ahead from the smartcab that we were coming, so we
had to stand out on the sidewalk for only a few seconds before the
outside lock buzzed. We stepped into the security entryway. The outside
door clanged shut, the power lock snicked home, and the safety scanner
gave us a quick sweep. It must have been programmed to recognize
cool, ‘cause then the inside door slid open with a starship squeak and we
were allowed
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