My good friend Mark is off on an epic adventure, and I have given him access to this site – his entries will turn up alongside mine. It will probably get a bit cluttered, so I am going to create a page that just has Mark’s stuff on it.
dunxd.com
Arusha | Tokyo | Tower Hamlets
Journey to the West
Crikey – we are now in Houston, Texas visiting Yuki’s folks. Getting in to the country was nowhere near as problematic as I had been led to believe by many people and a number of websites. In fact, the immigration queue for US Citizens was much much longer, and moving more slowly.
The immigration officer didn’t say a single word – just swiped my passport and let me in. I guess were I not a white caucasian married to a US Citizen (who was with me) things might have been trickier. I just don’t know.
Hackers, Crackers, War Drivers and Script Kiddies: The Online Underworld
The internet is a microcosm of the greater world at large, although for some people it is the opposite way round, with the online world being a far more extensive place than that of their physical lives. Almost everything you find in the real world appears in one form or other on the net, to the point where it is possible to take part in almost all activities whilst sitting in front of a computer. Many people who do this are addicted to the continuous stream of information and interactivity that the net makes available. They chat endlessly in IRC chat rooms, share their every thought on weblogs, and play for hours in the many gaming worlds that have appeared over the last few years. Continuously occupied with what looks, from the outside, a harmless waste of time, the majority of net addicts are just getting on with life. It is so compelling and uses so little physical energy that your average net addict can survive on four or five hours sleep, often caught during the day. For some reason the internet comes more alive at night.
It is at night when the darker recesses of the internet are at their most active. The most deeply addicted of the net heads turn their attentions to the internet itself. Fuelled by strong coffee and highly inquisitive minds these people seek to understand the very workings of the world in which they spend so much time. Through greater understanding comes innovation, new and better ways of using the internet. These are the hackers. They are the people responsible for many of the most important developments in recent years, the people who work tirelessly on open source software like Linux, the Apache web server and PHP scripting language. The hackers place themselves at the top of the internet hierarchy. They are more than mere users.
Below the hackers are the crackers, although they, and everyone except “real” hackers, call themselves hackers too. Crackers learn a lot about the internet, and then use it for snooping around. The world looks at hackers/crackers and sees destructive criminals, for cybercrime requires a deep understanding of how the internet works, and no one knows that better than these folk. Crackers break into computer systems connected to the internet. They divide themselves into two camps, the black hats and the white hats. The white hats are just explorers, seeing where they can go, whilst the black hats are looking for valuable information, or systems they can take over or “own” for their own purposes. The activities of both are illegal in many countries, whether motivated by malicious intent or curiosity. Most crackers will swap hats depending on their mood.
The growth in wireless networking around the world (even in Arusha!) has spawned new activities for hackers and crackers. One of these is war-driving. Using a wireless enabled laptop hooked up to a powerful home-made antenna, crackers will drive around a city searching for wireless networks they can access. Depending on the colour of hat they wear that day they will either use the network connection to surf the internet for free from the comfort of their car, or they will try to “own” it. Once a wireless network is discovered a mark will be made on a nearby wall to show other war-drivers that access is possible – a practice known as war-chalking. With at least three ISPs in Arusha using wireless networks to make the internet available, how long will it be before cryptic symbols start appearing around town? How many war-drivers are all ready cracking and getting free internet connections?
At the bottom of the ladder of internet underworld denizens are the script-kiddies. Looked down upon by both hackers and crackers, script kiddies are probably the most destructive of internet users. They are the ones unleashing viruses and other nuisance creatures on the world. The interesting thing is that they often don’t know that much about computers. Virus writing toolkits exist which allow those with a malicious streak to create a virus with a few clicks of the mouse. Script-kiddies play at being hackers and crackers without gaining many skills, being more interested in bragging to each other about which systems they have owned, and which websites they have defaced. Script-kiddies often are children – their behaviour is always juvenile.
The dark underbelly of the internet is not something to fear, merely something to be aware of. The talent of hackers and crackers is utilised by many companies in developing new products, and increasing the security of existing ones. Wireless networking has developed far more quickly as a direct result of flexibilities exploited by war-drivers and their like – this has
enabled networks like those around Arusha to appear all over the world. Were the underworld a lot smaller than it is critical computer systems would likely be more vulnerable than they presently are. Attacks would be less frequent, but would likely be far more devastating. The presence of destructive and constructive people on its fringes forces the internet to evolve, which is something we all benefit from.
Interesting Web Sites
- www.2600.com – hacker magazine and clubs around the world
- www.wardriving.com – news on this practice
- www.warchalking.org – learn the symbols!
Originally published in Arusha Times 306
Mark leaves Alston
I have now finished my visit to my childhood home in the pennine hills of cumbria, known as Alston. I am know 3 days away from my big flight and I am now fully aware of the vast change ahead of me, bring it on baby!.
Airplane ramble
Sat at the back of the plane like ballast preventing the wealth heavy nose tipping down and the whole vehicle hurtling back into the real world. Shoes off, feet swelling, dotted around a half empty cabin. Picking at the calf length panic tights rescuing us from the risk of deep vein thrombosis. Peeling off a toilet seat cover from the dispenser, trying carefully to separate its tongue from the roof of its mouth so it can be dipped into the bowl. The join goes to the front if you are a man so that your bare glans cannot come into contact with the matte surface below. I am going to do a poo in this loo. Standing over the toilet, waiting that perceivable moment between pressing the flush switch and the sucking which might just provide the delight of watching the seat cover whipped off and down the hole. Wiping out the sink with your paper towel as a courtesy to the next passenger. Staring in the mirror at the gaping pores, pustules swollen from dehydration and the drying air, then illuminated by the close fluorescent bulb. The screens in the back of the chair in front, thin options for you entertainment, drilling into the mind of the person on front, or find out where you are as if it mattered. You weren’t really anywhere as 90,000 pounds of thrust propels you over the surface of the stratosphere. The air beneath the wings as solid as anything else that has ever held you steady, pillars of air all the way to the ground, yet at the bottom hardly feeling the tall strain. Reading lights left absent mindedly on here and there. Trying to get comfortable, whether tilted back all of twenty degrees, or trying to lie prone across three empty seats, folded armrests pushing your widest parts out over the edge of the seat, teetering over a one foot drop, while 35,000 feet above the ground. All the atoms that cling together to form your body, accelerated to almost five hundred miles per hour. Killing ten hours to travel half way around the shrinking world. It’s all so mundane, yet the whole thing teeters on chaos and disaster, we are reminded as we pass through x-rays, searches, questioning, being shown the exits, reminded to keep your seat-belt fastened at all times in case of cataclysmic turbulence. Except you end up exploring the hidden cupboards in the toilets.. The ashtray next to the no-smoking sign. The redundant old-fashioned razor blade disposal slot and cups dispensed for the non-potable water. Back to the seats. Return to seat light is on in the loos. Fasten seat belt. How many people are thinking about how to hijack the plane? How many are thinking about how they would stop it? Even to whisper about either thought is to be bound with plastic ties and stiff interrogation on arrival. Better to sing into a movie, or comedy show, so much funnier at in the thin funny air, cleaned and recycled. Constant noise. Hums and blowing. What does it sound like outside? The wing gleams like a smooth computer graphic effect outside the window, partly unreal. Too much sensation and choice inside to focus for more than a few seconds outside. What is it like up front in first class, after they close curtains sealing off the big chairs, and the big wigs/knobs from the rest of us? Are we right to feel jealous, or is it just nylon free nylon socks we miss out on back here at the ballast? I’ve missed the boat from the fact of my age, and the age we live in, from being show the inside of the flight deck and introduced to the captain to my delight. I’d like to say the plane is coming into land now, tray tables and foot rests must be returned to the upright position. But there are still hours left of the flight. I am just getting too lulled to write on the plane…
Additions
Ok, there are a load of new photos scattered in here. Best bet if you want to find them is to check out the Pics link above.
Oh bloody hell, we are starting job hunts. It is very very worrying…
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