Chapter 2: Hacking Contest
ABS Television Network
In the US, as a commercial break was about to end, famous talk show host Doug Rando suddenly threw out a question:
"Did you ShowMe today?"
What is ShowMe?
What is the age of social media?
Doug shook his signature big belly and used a witty tone to briefly introduce the internet product. The broadcast caused a significant stir.
In front of the TV, Luke sipped his coffee, but his heart was bleeding—twenty thousand for ten seconds, it was highway robbery.
"Charlie, what's the market feedback like?"
"It's already broken into the top 100 on the nationwide search rankings and is still climbing. We estimate it'll stabilize around seventy."
"That's too low."
"Tell Philly (ABS's Director of Program Planning) that for next week's talk show, I want a one-minute ad slot."
"We don't have that much budget."
"How much money does the company have left?"
Charlie forced out, "Only five hundred and ten thousand remaining. Subtracting daily expenses, we don't even have enough for this month's salaries. I suggest we postpone the ad."
"No need."
Luke rubbed his teacup and said calmly, "Prepare a three hundred thousand advertising budget. Contact Philly next Thursday. He won't refuse."
"But..."
"Charlie!" Luke cut him off. "Trust me, the capital chain will be fine."
"Alright, boss."
Charlie nodded, dropping the topic.
"What else is on the schedule for today?"
"A board meeting at 10 AM, attending the opening ceremony at Times Square at 1 PM, and the internal R&D meeting at 3 PM."
"Call Solank. I won't be able to make the opening ceremony. Postpone the R&D and board meetings until tomorrow."
Charlie hesitated, "Then, today..."
"Get the things ready. You're coming with me to see a few people."
A Meeting in Queens
At ten o'clock in the morning, in a basement somewhere in the Queens borough of Metropolis.
Luke stood with his arms crossed, sizing up the young white man in front of him. The youth was about twenty-three or twenty-four, wearing a baseball cap, with deep-set eyes and a pale complexion—a clear sign of frequent all-nighters.
"Zacks Borg?"
"Who are you guys?"
The young man watched the group that had barged in with wariness. Crime rates in Queens had always been poor, and criminal cases like burglaries and robberies were common.
"Relax, we're not a gang, and we're not a biker crew."
Luke found a chair and sat down, opening a folder.
"Zacks Borg, a computer genius. At the age of 17, you deliberately invaded the Federal Bank's central system to find security vulnerabilities. In the following months, you stealthily stole four hundred thousand in bank principal with your superb hacking skills, and then were caught by the FBI due to a slip of the tongue while drunk..."
Luke closed the file.
"Wasting two years in prison just for four hundred thousand, was it worth it?"
The young man's face darkened.
"Who exactly are you?"
"Luke Shaw, the founder of ShowMe."
"ShowMe?"
Zacks looked doubtful. As a top hacker, he naturally knew about the popular social software that was trending, but he couldn't believe this kid in front of him had founded it. How old was he? Seventeen?
Luke pointed to the computer on the desk.
"My photo is on the official website. Check for yourself."
Zacks clicked on ShowMe's official website. Luke's photo was prominently displayed on the homepage.
"It really is you!"
"What do you want with me?"
Luke waved his hand. "Bring the stuff over."
Charlie and another employee placed two laptop computers on the table. The computers were dark purple-black, with a race car design, and bore a transistor trademark on the front: Black Crystal Generation 3 - Tempest.
"This... what does this mean?"
"I hear you're a computer genius, and coincidentally, so am I. Let's have a match. If you win, the Black Crystal computers are yours. If I win, you report to my company tomorrow to be the Technical Director of ShowMe."
"Are you kidding me?!"
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Zacks was a little stunned. After a while, he asked uncertainly,
"You... you're not serious, are you?"
"What? Don't want a job? Don't want to make money? Or do you lack confidence in your skills?"
"Of course I have confidence."
When it came to hacking skills, Zacks had never backed down from anyone. "Tell me, how do we compete?"
"Pick what you're best at."
Zacks chuckled in exasperation. "Fine. Invade the FBI's external materials network and retrieve the secret code. Do you dare?"
Luke looked at him strangely. "Aren't you afraid the FBI will come after you?"
Zacks said proudly, "I won't leave a trace."
"Good. Let's do it your way."
The Contest
Plugging in the power and connecting the network cables, the two sat down at their computers, and the competition began.
Zacks expertly opened the VB language and began writing an invasion program. Luke sat opposite him, yawning boredly, and made no move even as the first subroutine was completed. Zacks couldn't help but frown.
"Are you giving up?"
"I'm giving you ten minutes."
Zacks scoffed coldly, his face full of disdain.
Soon, ten minutes passed.
Luke took off his jacket, casually tossed it into Charlie's arms, and his expression became incredibly focused, as if he were a completely different person. His ten fingers flew across the keyboard, the clattering sound almost becoming a single, continuous line.
Zacks glanced over in his spare time and was too shocked to speak. It was too fast. He had never seen such rapid coding speed; the fingers moved so quickly they were almost a blur.
This guy is a master!
He felt a chill and dared not be careless any longer.
The FBI Head Quarters
In the FBI headquarters building, an employee in charge of cybersecurity rushed into the Director's office.
"Director, we're under attack."
He opened his laptop and projected the signal onto the large screen. A panoramic world map appeared, covered in dense, flashing red dots.
"There are a total of 185 invasion signals, coming from Oslo, Stockholm, Cape Town, Mumbai, New Delhi, London, Gotham, Metropolis, Brasília, Seoul, Tokyo, Modu (Shanghai), Munich, Paris, and many others."
Roger Consius loosened his tie and said coldly, "Are we at war with the world?"
The employee, not bothering to wipe his sweat, quickly replied,
"Falsifying IP addresses is a common technique used by top hackers. We can discern the authentic ones by checking them one by one."
"How long will that take?"
More and more beads of sweat appeared on the employee's forehead, and his voice became hoarse.
"Thir... thirty minutes."
Roger took a deep breath, unable to tolerate these idiotic subordinates.
"Ten minutes. In ten minutes, I want all the information on that bastard—his family, address, job, education... I want to know everything."
The employee nodded vigorously and turned to leave.
A contest between the FBI and the top hackers began. It didn't last long, only a few dozen seconds, before the red dots on the big screen disappeared. The employee who had just left ran back excitedly.
"We won! We won!"
Roger quickly stood up. "Who is he?"
"We didn't find any personal information, but we tracked the IP address. Here..." The employee placed the paper with the geographic coordinates on the desk.
38∘ 53′ 52" N, 77∘ 02′ 11" W!
Roger's ice-cold face immediately turned bluish-purple after just one look. He suppressed his anger and hissed,
"Do you know where this is?"
The employee shook his head blankly.
"You bunch of idiots! Can't you see this is the White House? Are you telling me that people in the White House are invading the FBI?! Are you pigs?!"
Taking a deep breath, he roared,
"Find that bastard at all costs! This is your last chance. If you don't find him, don't bother showing up for work tomorrow!"
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