"There must be something wrong with those two people."
"No poop. Do you want Westin to come in?"
"I'm not sure. Do we have any records of his sister?"
"Nothing. I didn't even know he had one. Did you see what Carl looked like?"
"What's up with him?"
"The kid was sweating. He was almost soaking the carpet. He was our helper."
"Still, we still need to find him. Let's go by his house again. The bag on his shoulder, I've seen it in his room. He's been home since we were there. Find out if his father is covering for him .”
"you are right."
If the Internet is a miracle of modern technology, then free Wi-Fi is a real miracle.
I can't go home. No matter what Matt said, I couldn't risk the police coming to arrest me or running into my dad again. I'm burning bridges here and there, but I really don't care. For the first time since our return, my thoughts were focused and clear. My goal wasn't to find Black and figure out what to do next, but to focus on my mission: getting back to Sierraville.
This doesn't seem any better, but I've already experienced it once. I know this is possible, so it's completely logical to assume it can be repeated. I was following in the footsteps of my best friend. This is the best way I can think of to honor him.
Blake urged us to go to Sierraville Forest that evening. I went with him mainly to humor him. A strange, blue-green light flying around deep in the forest? He saw it from his bedroom window, did no one see it? Sure, why not? I had nothing better to do and this was a nice excuse that forced Matt to leave his house and join us. Of course, that was when I idolized Matt.
Not so much now.
I camped at free hotspots. Fast food restaurants, coffee shops, bookstores, libraries. If I ever need money, I have plenty of it, from my parents' credit cards. I had to use it as much as I could before they turned it off, and keep moving after I was done, if I could help it, and not follow any pattern. As long as it avoids suspicion.
So far, luck seems to be on my side. It was early Saturday morning and there was no trouble for me from the police or anyone else. I slept in the woods, covered with a thick blanket, hiding under a tree with particularly thick roots. Unless someone walked right up to it, they would never spot me.
It reminded me of the weeks Jane and I spent on the run outside Winnanport. Even with all my influence and authority, with my friends at court and my own strength, I remained a fugitive in that city. I broke generations of tradition, and in a particularly bloody way. Generally speaking, long-standing institutions like this really don't like to be closed. We shouldn't come out alive.
Of course, Jen isn't going to let that stop her. She took us, not me, straight into the fields and woods. Still, we were within the city's reach and had to spend our days and nights alone, with a deep distrust of anyone we met. But with my knowledge of the area and Jane's unparalleled ability to keep us hidden and alive, we managed to make our way across the vast area back to friendly territory, where my troops were waiting.
One word from me and the whole city will be razed to the ground.
I may be overreacting, but I stand by my point. The city was filthy.
A signal from my laptop brought me back to reality. I sat in the corner of an all-night restaurant where I spent the first few hours of my day. I ordered a plate of bacon and a large soda to enjoy my favorite things while I still could. The bacon won't taste as good on the other side, and what about the soda? Forget it.
I wiped my hands before opening my laptop. It's recharged and it brings me a whole spiritual peace. My battery had drained quite a bit the night before and being tethered to one place while charging was very disconcerting. If I had to flee, even a few seconds of unplugging could cost me everything—my search would be that much harder if I couldn't access information, especially my servers in the cloud.
This email is from my best contact to date. He's clearly as paranoid as I am and we've been exchanging private messages on a sci-fi/fantasy forum. We quickly evolved to encrypting emails to avoid website server access. I desperately wanted to confirm his words. Some of the details are wrong, but overall he seems to have a reasonable understanding of Serraville. I dared not let my hopes build. Can this person really straddle two worlds like me?
I must know. I wanted to meet him, but he declined any offer of direct contact. Every message I sent seemed to take us a step forward and a few steps back, while he tried to sort out who I was. Caution is key and I am determined to win. If he was some sort of trap, a mole who lured me out into the open to gain leverage, I wouldn't be the first to make a mistake.
His latest email is depressing, to say the least.
Reinsurance:Cyaveil
I think you made this up. You didn't tell me any details. There's nothing inappropriate about this in any second-rate fantasy novel. I won't say another word until I'm sure you're legal. quid pro quo. Give me something real back and we'll talk.
I won't just accept it. I began to explore reality. My little trick really works. I was determined to find out who he was, no matter the cost.
The first step is to get more details about his connection and access logs. To do this I need SFFHave
more privileges, but I can only get them in one of two ways. Either they promoted me to employee and gave me power on purpose, or I had to squeeze in. In a word, hacker.
I simply didn't have time to convince the admin to give me privileges. Black it is.
Unfortunately, it's not that easy either. The simplest form of attack I've encountered is SQL injection, which requires them to have a security hole in the front-end of the website. What disappoints me is that no matter what software they're running, it does a pretty good job of covering its tracks. All inputs are processed and all backdoors are closed. I need another vector than just brute force entry and steal the database.
If the direct approach doesn't work, I thought, why not imitate it? Anyone in power, whether aristocrats or administrators, doesn't really know everyone in their class. If I can get the server to hand me the data cleanly, I don't need to pull the data.
The rain pattered against the window, and my thoughts changed accordingly. The morning staff at the restaurant occasionally gave me a curious look, but that was about it. I guess they're used to this behavior, a guy sitting in the corner angrily typing away. They probably thought I was studying or doing other class-related things. As long as they had tables available and the traffic wasn't high, I didn't expect to be interrupted.
That means it's time to really get to work.
A quick check of the site's public registration revealed the owner of the domain name—and more importantly, his email address. Due to the provisions of the Internet registration system, this information is relatively guaranteed to be up-to-date. Now, I just hope he's as lazy as other server admins I've encountered.
I grabbed a few databases that my automated server had gobbled up during the last day of scanning and started querying them for matches on email addresses. In the second database I got one match, and in the third database I got another match with one table not saving its password correctly. amateur. Within minutes I had the administrator's password - and with my increasing luck, he was not as security-minded as the people who wrote the forum software. His email password is the same as the account password in the database.
Unfortunately it has to do with SFFHave
The admin account doesn't match, which is my real goal. There are a few steps that need to be taken before I can access my target, and SFFHave
There is no password recovery provided for administrator level. I didn't seem to have a technical choice, but with his email account, I was suddenly a lot more powerful than I was just a few minutes ago.
I opened his email and started searching. with SFFHave
, moderators, logs and users, etc. related to any keywords. I need to find someone else with permission. I could trick him into handing over the keys. After about 15 minutes of digging, I found another administrator who seemed to be gullible. There were multiple instances of quick email exchanges in which a second administrator requested my stolen identity for a quick password reset. They even mailed passwords back and forth in clear text.
I tried the last password just in case, but it didn't work. This didn't stop me. It took me a few minutes to write a message before sending it.
A pw reset is required. I couldn't go in, I was on the road, but someone emailed me saying what was going on. You can log in and set up as cha
geme123?
I hope all lowercase and no punctuation will give a sense of urgency. Emergencies often cause people to ignore proper etiquette, which is exactly what I needed. Luckily, the administrator seemed to be based on the East Coast, so my unfortunate target was already awake and the email came in almost immediately. A few minutes later I received a reply and I bit into a cold piece of crispy bacon.
finished. Password is set to cha
geme123
Thank god for stupid forum moderators. After confirming that it had indeed been reset, I quickly sent a thank you email. I now have access to the entire board and appropriate logs for all members present. It's time to start digging.
＊＊＊
I had a pounding headache in my head. Maybe it was dehydration, or maybe it was just hunger, but either way, it severely impaired my ability to read on my laptop screen.
After the restaurant started to get more crowded, I changed the venue to a public library. After a short car ride in the pouring rain, I sat comfortably in the corner of a pile of books. When I arrived, the library had just opened and the better chairs were available. I gratefully sat in, opened my laptop, and continued my search.
My correspondents' emails and usernames were easy to find, but they were throwaway names that made it nearly impossible to tie them to any existing identity. Instead, I hit the jackpot when I used his most commonly used login IP address. As soon as I looked up location services, my jaw dropped.
It can be traced back to Melbridge, Oregon. The suburb where we lived.
This can't be a coincidence. I wonder if he happened to use an agent that passed through my hometown. IP lookup services cannot be more accurate than 12 miles, but that's more than enough. I have a better idea of where this person is and I can narrow it down further with some painstaking cross-referencing.
This feels like a good sign. I'm on the right track. Of course, anyone with a practical knowledge of Sierraville would live in this area; the Sierraville Park and all the important forests are here.
In addition to the headache, my eyes hurt. Frequent changes in light levels didn't help either. I try to give my eyes a break every so often, but when I have to spend hours scrolling through long lists of timestamps, bouncing between social networks, trying to narrow down a person in town, there's only so much I can do too much.
I stalked my former potential allies online. The account he used to contact me was a one-time use, but based on my investigation, it was not his only account on the site. I started comparing the login times of users who frequently visited the same forum one by one. It was just a matter of time and I would find my match soon. One of them must be him.
Whenever I find a potential match, I browse through their post history. Any trace of personal information, even the smallest detail, can lead to identification. I will pursue any leads. I dig into search engines and social networks, picking from public directories and records. Anyone I found who didn't live nearby, I filed them away first and focused on those with potential within the city limits.
It's a frustrating, boring job, and so far, completely pointless. But I can't give up. No matter what, I will find this man and he will tell me everything he knows about Sierraville. Then, finally, we go back. We will leave this place forever.
I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes, hoping for some much-needed respite. I really needed some better sleep than I could get in the woods. Thankfully it wasn't raining, but I still didn't feel comfortable outside. I'm not Jane. I don't like Sylph's tree. Do they worship them? I don't know. I think I'll think of a solution when I get back.
I wish I could talk to her. Since we've been back, every meeting has been painful, either a failure or an argument. When I left the day before, the police came and we broke up as friends but with a barrier between us. I couldn't face her anymore, not when my efforts were fruitless. I had to prove her wrong. Prove them all wrong.
It hurt my body to hear Jen take Matt's side. She could have stabbed me in the gut with that arrow, but it wouldn't have hurt that much. Not in the long run, anyway. She clearly belonged in Serraville; why couldn't she understand like I did? She'd adapted faster and more thoroughly than any of us in those seven years. Was it just because Matt insisted on staying that she didn't think so?
At this time my mind was in chaos. I've gone through this same thought process dozens of times since I left. I needed something new before I drove myself crazy. It was painful not having anyone to talk to. Of course, I have a few other friends online, but I'm not sure who I can talk to. If the police were so quick to link Matt to Blake and pull Sillavel from Blake's computer, who's to say they weren't after the other people in our chat room? For the foreseeable future, my friend They are all restricted areas.
I am alone. I hate being alone.
In the past, I was the only one who could handle it. Most of the time, online conversations are enough to feed my brain, and the rest of the time is filled with school. But I haven't lived like this for a long time. I had adapted to the constant connections and interactions of my life in Sierraville, where I had men to boss around, civilians to please, political affairs, courtship, sincere passionate romance, and countless other things to do. deal with. I learned to thrive there, and now that I'm back, my brain is having a hard time adjusting to the pace of life that my old body expected.
I need to talk to someone before I lose control.
Finally I called the only person I could call, the last person I hadn't driven away yet, someone I knew I could still trust.
After a few rings, she answered the phone, her voice sleepy and confused. "……Hello?"
"Hello, Sarah. Please don't hang up," I said quickly.
Sara's voice quickly became shrill. I'm impressed. "Wait, who is this?"
"This is Carl. Jane's... friend. We met the other day."
"Okay," she said, all the sounds of just waking up gone. "Then why did you call me at 7 o'clock in the morning?"
"I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"
"Um...yeah. What happened?"
It dawned on me how pointless this conversation was. Sarah knew nothing. If I couldn't bring up Sierraville, what could I talk to her about? My current experience with being stalked online has been nothing but bizarre and creepy.
Well, yes, in context, it doesn't look much better, but it's all worth it. I didn't hurt anyone. I would get the information I needed and then I would disappear from this world and no one would ever know.
"No, it's nothing, I just-"
"Listen, Jane called last night. She said the police wanted to see you."
Well, I guess Jen has no reservations about chatting with her friends. As usual, she was braver than me. "...Yes. Do you know Blake Swatham?"
"Yes. Jane told me about him." Sara's voice softened, though it was hard to tell. As good as my phone might be, no matter how good the call was, it couldn't quite convey the full range of the voice. Nothing can replace hearing someone else's voice in person, or seeing body language, facial expressions. Sierraville has the magic to make it all come through. This is another reason why the world sucks.
"That's why they want to talk. They're investigating what happened to him."
"Oh." Sarah paused. "Do you need help?"
"...Huh? Why do I need help?" I don't want her to get involved in unnecessary things. Jane certainly didn't want her to get into trouble. Besides, if we were to disappear, it would be cruel to keep Sarah closer to us. It was better to have her friend disappear again than to force her to face the truth and danger.
"You have skipped school twice and the police are looking for you." Sarah paused. "It's just a sacrifice."
"No, I'm fine."
"Then why did you call?"
"I don't..." How could I explain that to her without telling her anything? That just didn't work. I just made things worse. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called."
"No, wait. I'm sorry. Just... talk to me?"
What should I say? Nothing comes to mind.
"Are you still there, Carl?"
"Still here," I said.
"Look," she began hesitantly. "I know you're going through a lot of pain right now, and a lot of things that I just can't understand. Remember you still have friends, okay?"
Then again, what on earth did I want to get out of this conversation? It was fruitless—and worse, I felt bad for bringing Sarah into our circle.
"Okay. I have to go. Sorry for waking you up." I hung up before she could interrupt. I put the phone on the table and stared at it as if it betrayed me.
That, I said to myself, was futile and dangerous. You don't know her. Jane trusts her, but can you? Jane has been wrong about the person before. You've seen the results with your own eyes, even though the scars are now gone.
Get back to work. I picked up my laptop again and sat back in my comfy chair. I want to find this person, no matter the cost.
＊＊＊
Quick, quick. I set up some macros to help me accomplish some tasks. Others are too difficult to automate, so I have to run them manually. One identity after another, one person after another. I would read each one if necessary. No one is off limits, no one is out of reach. People all over the world put their personal lives online, and I'd be damned if I didn't abuse it.
Minutes after that disastrous phone call with Sarah, I was on the move again. I wanted to continue but I felt too uncomfortable. Too paranoid. A change of scenery allowed me to refocus. I found myself in a fast food restaurant again, sitting and devouring French fries. Soon, I was once again deep into the database, and suddenly, out of nowhere, I found him.
There he is. This is the closest thing I can get to a match. His login and logout times matched perfectly with the anonymous user I had been communicating with. He even lived on the other side of town, toward Sierraville Park. Daniel Whitman, 22 years old. A student whose social profile shows no particularly active friendships. Everyone said he was quite a loner. His feed was filled with nothing but automated birthday reminders and similar posts.
He looks like the guy I'm looking for, but I don't have any handle on him yet. All of his privacy settings are correct, so I can't get any information from him without a connection. There was no way to get him to give me more details, and no personal information I could use. If I wanted to make him talk, I had to get closer.
I checked his friends list. There's definitely something I could use in one of them. I started adding random people, and quite a few people accepted almost immediately. People who value quantity over quality. I rolled my eyes, but started delving into their posts. It's still not fast enough and I'm getting frustrated with the monotony. I wrote a script and soon, my machine was automatically spinning back their entire online history, chewing through dust-covered abandoned corners of the internet like a vacuum cleaner, sucking up everything.
Once I had everything downloaded, it was much easier to search their past for anything related to Whitman. There, his home was mentioned. Another for his pet. Happy birthday to grandma. More little letters and personal information that I could use.
I went back to Whitman's profile and tried to log in. It doesn't surprise me that his password didn't work, but I now have another method. I clicked on his security question, praying one would match the information I had.
The world was finally on my side again. I smiled as soon as I saw the first question - the name of his first pet. The rest is also very simple.
Within seconds, I was logged in as Whitman.
Within seconds, I found his home address. his phone number. everything.
I leaned back against the hard plastic bench, breathing heavily. I felt like I had run a marathon, even though I had been sitting motionless for over an hour.
What should I do next?
I hadn't even thought about what to do with Whitman's information once I had it. I knew who he was and where he was, but how could I take advantage of that?
Should I blackmail?
Worthless. Even with all his personal information, there was nothing that was truly blackmail material. I have no evidence and no leverage. He'd been discreet so far, but I doubted just mentioning his name in our conversation would do much. No matter what, he looks like a normal college student living alone.
The compulsion to hide behind a screen doesn’t work. I needed something more direct.
I had pieced together a plan in my head, even as the idea first formed. I know where he lives. That was enough for me to take action. Before I went in, I needed something, a more thorough understanding of his life. I had to cover everything just in case. I have to be ready for everything.
Quo pro quo, Daniel Whitman? You'll regret it.
I think back on his story, on his life, a man he didn't know suddenly became the most important person in the world.
