The Eyes Behind The Hacker This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   Another one got caught today; it's all over the papers. "Teenage Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal," "Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering" ...

Stupid kids. They're all alike.

But did you, with your three-piece psychology and 1950's technological super-brain, ever bother to look behind the eyes of a hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick; what forces shaped him; what may have molded him, influenced him, or made him the way he is?

I am a Hacker. Enter my world ...

Mine is a world that begins with school ... I'm smarter than most of the kids, this stuff they so-called "teach" bores me. I have better stuff to do.

Stupid underachievers. They're all alike.

I'm in high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to multiply and divide. I understand it. "No, Mrs. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head ..."

Stupid kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed up. Not because it doesn't like me ... or feels threatened by me ... or thinks I'm a moron ... or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here ...

Stupid kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike.

And then it happened ... a door opened to a world ... rushing through the phone lines like heroin through an addict's veins, and electronic pulse sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetence is sought ... and then, a Bulletin Board is found ...

"This is it ... This is where I belong ..."

I know everyone here ... even if I've never met them, probably will never see them, or hear from them again, I know you all ... You're just like me ...

Stupid kids. Tying up the phone lines again. They're all alike.

Of course we're all alike ... We've been looking for a challenge, yet you hold us down. We've been dominated by sadist, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach us found us willing pupils, but those few are like drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now ... The world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud, speed of the hertz, power of the byte. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons out to make money, and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias ... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, create weapons of mass destruction. You start wars. You lie, kill, cheat, and think it's for our own good, and yet we are the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is one of curiosity. My crime is that

of judging people on how they think, not the way they look. My crime

is outsmarting you in every way,

something you will never forgive

us for. c


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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