heather99

Hackers

Local I.T. Millionaire refuses to press charges following assault
Software Supply shop owner Luke Lambert has refused to press charges following a particularly vicious assault on Monday 21st this year at 8.35 p.m. Robbery does not seem to have been the motive. Defending Magistrate Angela Crosbie claims extenuating circumstances on behalf of David John Barber of Laburnum Close, Edgehill.
Barber will appear in court in connection with charges pressed by Burton Police.
There was no application for bail.--------------------------------------------------------------------------

There, it had happened again. Sarah was sure the man had looked at her. I mean looked at her. People said she was paranoid. She had never asked anyone about the men looking. Even at home she felt as if she was being watched. Did everyone feel like this, she wondered. Funny thing was the men weren’t nasty and sleazy looking. They were quite attractive: probably a bit too young for her: smartly dressed office-types, clever looking. In Sainsbury’s just now, such an engrossing place, Sainsbury’s. Sarah’s full attention was focused on the huge range of biscuits: nine types of chocolate chip cookie. After choosing Choc Chip and hazelnut she looked up to find the sign for Tinned Vegetables and found a really nice, quiet looking guy just staring. He had looked quickly away, but not quickly enough. The bright supermarket lighting left her in no doubt. Surely, it must be all in her head. After all, she’d put on three stones, wore her dowdiest clothes, her flattest shoes, no longer wore make-up and stopped colouring her hair. There were just the odd bits of natural blonde towards the ends but she drew the line at making her hair darker. Anyway, it probably wouldn’t work. There were less men looking recently, but she was sure they were still there.

Luke hadn’t wanted to do it at first. It was just an idea the guys down at the bar had come up with. “Lukey, women like to be watched” Pete had said finishing his pint. “Yeah” seconded Chris, shouting to be heard over the music “If they didn’t they’d dress like men, wouldn’t they? They wouldn’t spend thirty quid having their hair done and wear skirts. Same again, mate?” he continued, nodding at Pete. “Luke?” he yelled, waving his empty glass at Luke. “Sure” Luke shouted back, handing over his own empty glass “Yes” Luke had thought to himself “But women won’t want to be watched all the time; in their own homes; without their knowledge”. It was a simple idea. No-one would ever find out. He could just put the web-cam transmitter into the processor box and leave it to transmit. Back in 1994 there weren’t many web-cams about. Not many web-sites either, come to think of it. He’d invented one of the first web-cams but wasn’t quite quick enough to patent it. Eventually he’d had to tell the other computer repairers in the area about the transmitter, someone had to take them out. It was bad for business if he had to replace too many substandard parts. Someone might suspect. He always chose tarty girls, throwaway girls, the kind he wouldn’t take home to meet his mother. She’d been different though, not wildly beautiful, but she spoke to something deep inside. They’d spoken by telephone, she had sounded soft, vulnerable, a little lost. He had decided to put the camera in anyway. He couldn’t stop himself. When they had met to exchange PC and money, and even more when the web-site picked up the signal, he realised he couldn’t resist those dark eyes, the wispy sun-blonde hair. Luke could feel his stomach tightening just thinking of her now. At first she had lived in a bedsit. The PC was near the TV. This gave an excellent view of most of the room. She would watch TV and play computer games at the same time. Why anyone would play so many games for so long he couldn’t understand. Maybe she had a restless spirit. He could tell which games she was playing by the way her head moved. If it was the Microsoft standard, Freecell, she would stop and think every now and then. Minesweeper had her full attention. It looked as though she won pretty often. “I’d love to know what the statistics are?” he thought. When she laughed her whole face came to life. She found a lot of things funny. Once he’d turned on the TV to find out what she was watching. It was 7.40 p.m. one Wednesday evening, there were no comedies on any terrestrial channel. The most likely program was Coronation Street. Luke had never seen it before. She laughed again. All he could see was a fat butcher and a younger thinner butcher talking. “Oh well, no-one’s perfect” he thought. Sometimes she would dance and sing. Sometimes she would do the sort of things women do. He wished he hadn’t seen some of those, they looked painful.

Life slowly began to improve after Sarah’s separation from her husband Phil. “Trial separation” Phil had said. “Trial, my foot” she had thought, but not said. He had called round infrequently in the early days. Heaven only knew why, they always argued. One day he’d hit her. She’d flown across the room and hit her cheek on the corner of the heavy, oak table. It was totally unexpected and very painful. Phil had never done anything like that in the whole of their stormy eight-year marriage. In the morning the bruise had looked awful. “How could she go to work?” she asked herself. Sarah phoned into the office. “I have a terrible cold, flu maybe” she told Mark in H.R. Mark was very sympathetic, “Just go back to bed and don’t worry about a thing” he said kindly. Sarah put the phone down and walked quickly back to the bed-sit with her head down. Why does everyone call a cold flu these days she wondered. It certainly sounded as if she had a cold. She’d cried all night. Once she had started she couldn’t stop. Shock probably, she thought.

Luke had almost cried with her. It looked as if her heart was breaking. He felt helpless. He couldn’t go to her, he couldn’t even confide in anyone. The only people who knew about her were the insensitive voyeurs who had given him the idea in the first place and his assistant, Dave. Luke suspected Dave had looked at his collection of web-cam tapes. It was weeks since the gap had appeared on the shelf where August ’94 should have been. Luke liked his possessions to be tidy and in order. It bordered on obsession. He found the gap very frustrating.

One day in July, 1995, just over a year after she had bought the PC it stopped working. I should phone the nice man who sold it to me, she thought. He had been very kind. He had sounded almost upset when she left the shop. He kept the rambling one-sided conversation going for much longer than normal. Such lovely eyes and so tall, she remembered.
“I have a problem with the PC you sold me in March last year.” said the quiet voice on the phone.
“It’s not under guarantee anymore” Luke replied crossly.
“That’s O.K.” she hesitated, “It’s stopped working completely. I just get a message saying ‘Fatal Error C003 - Hard drive corrupted’” she had replied, obviously reading the message from the screen “Could you have a look at it anyway?”
“Yes certainly, when can you bring it in?”
“I can bring it on Thursday evening. What time do you close?”
“I’m open until 8.00p.m. I look forward to seeing you on Thursday”.
Luke put the phone back down. He knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it. Later that evening he remembered: it was her, Sarah. That would explain why she hadn’t used the computer for days. He prepared for Thursday evening as if he was going on a first date. Showered, hair washed, aftershave or no aftershave, he wondered? He decided against, too obvious, too desperate. Tie or no tie? No tie. Shirt loose, it was a warm summer’s evening, or shirt tucked in? Shirt loose, it would hide the extra weight he had put on. He turned, after unlocking the door and gave the shop a quick visual check too. It was spotlessly clean and tidy. He had been advised to choose pale neutral colours and to add a few pieces of classy modern photographic art. As a contrast to the inanimate hardness of I.T. he had chosen close-ups of plants: the stamens and anthers of a dog rose, dew covered blades of grass captured in what looked like early morning light and the underside of a mushroom. The result was very effective his customers said. Sarah arrived at 6.50p.m. Luke was so engrossed in the problem another customer had presented him with he hadn’t noticed her come in. He felt a certain electric, bristly quality in the air. His other customers had stopped talking. They sat in stunned silence. She looked gorgeous. Not at all tidy: wearing a faded salmon pink gypsy style strappy top with buttons at the front; her hair loosely tied behind her ears with little streaks of creamy-pink emulsion here and there, and slightly sunburnt shoulders and cheekbones. He felt he had stared at her for minutes but she seemed oblivious. He asked her to take a seat and continued with his task. Five minutes later he connected up her PC and confirmed the hard drive had given up. “I can fit another one like this for £60.00” Luke said “but I can put a better one in for £95.00. It’ll take a couple of days though. I have a lot on at the moment. Had you backed up the hard drive recently?” “No” Sarah said “but there wasn’t much on it. Just some letters, my CV and a few short stories. They were just rubbish though, really”. “No hard-copies?” Luke asked sympathetically. “No” she said again “but they really were rubbish, honestly”. “Fancy not backing up the hard-drive” said the next customer after she had left, “Women are just so dizzy”. Yes, thought Luke, dreamily, watching her car pull away and speed off.

He could have taken the web-cam out when he swapped the hard-drive but he left it in. He also added one of the movement sensors he’d just patented. If the sensor worked he might be able to give up work altogether

“He was sweet”, Sarah thought, after she had collected the P.C. at Saturday lunchtime, “I’m sure he likes me”. He looked good in that loose shirt, strong and relaxed. He moved well, totally sure of his surroundings. She loved the way his dark hair flopped down over his eyes when he checked the P.C. She loved his tanned skin and incredibly dark brown eyes. Sarah had always had a weakness for dark brown eyes. Such a shame she was so painfully shy, obviously she could never go to his shop again.

After a couple of years Sarah left the bedsit and moved to a one-bedroomed, first-floor flat. She had a fairly steady job now but was still temping so she couldn’t get a mortgage. One day a recruitment agency phoned her up and offered her a Year 2000 programming contract. After so long she had given up all hope of I.T. work again. The extra money had meant she could get a mortgage and buy a new PC. The old one was worth nothing now. That was what the man in the shop had said. So she gave it to her eldest niece, Emma. Emma had been borrowing it for a while anyway, to do her homework on.

“Do you know,” said Emma one day while Sarah buttered the bread for tea “I keep thinking people are watching me. You know, men”. “They’re bound to” Sarah replied, surprised. “Look at you. You’re a size 8, and blonde and gorgeous. Of course they are going to look”. Later this had puzzled Sarah, but she had put it out of her head, dismissing it as more paranoia. Emma’s boyfriend, Paul, was very good with computers. He spent a lot of his spare time taking them to bits and putting them back together. He hoped one day to make a career out of it and make a lot of money. Paul also spent some time surfing the internet. Not as much time as his friend, Ben. Sometimes they would guess website names. This could lead to all sorts of interesting stuff. Some of it sleazy filth they had to admit, but every now and then they came across really phenomenal things. A lot of sites were password protected. Guessing the passwords was half the fun. Many were girls names or boys names. “Louise” suggested Paul. “Nope” replied Ben. “Felicity, Penny, Josh, Sarah” were Paul’s next suggestions. “Bingo, we’re in. Wow this is good” exclaimed Ben. “This site is real class. Pity there is only one choice though, Sarah.” Ben hit the enter key. They saw an attractive teenage girl: blonde, tall and slim in a bedroom full of soft toys, books and clothes on hangers. The quality of the picture wasn’t excellent but the girl looked familiar somehow. Paul picked up his mobile phone and dialled 1. There was no sound on the screen but the girl bent down and picked something up from the bed. “Hi, Em” said Paul “you doing much?” “Just a bit of dancing” came the embarrassed reply. “I’ll come over then, if that’s OK?” said Paul as he walked out of the door giving Ben a brief wave Goodbye. Ben continued to admire the graphics for a while then fifteen minutes later watched Paul walk into the bedroom and bend down. He made a rude sign to the web-cam, took out his screwdriver and started taking the PC to pieces. Emma couldn’t believe her eyes. She watched as he disconnected the camera and put it in her hands. It was obvious from her expression that she didn’t know what it was. “Sit down” Paul said, “I’ll explain”.

Dave, Emma’s father, flopped down in his favourite armchair. He’d had a bad day. One of his lorry drivers had threatened to hit a customer. If that wasn’t bad enough, she was a woman. He could understand how Paddy felt, he had felt like that many, many times, but how could he have been so stupid. The police had wasted over two hours of his precious time. He picked up his huge mug of tea and glanced around the room. Emma was still in tears, sitting on the sofa hugging her knees. “What’s happened now?” growled Dave. Emma knew how her father would react so she just said “Nothing important”. Just then Paul walked in. “Nothing important!” he blazed. Emma held her breath while Paul told her father what had happened. They all knew who Sarah had bought the PC from. “ And where does this man live?” asked Dave, putting down his tea. “High Street”, Paul replied “the shop is in High Street on the way out of town”. Emma winced as her father walked out of the door. He opened the up and over garage door, picked up his claw hammer, got into his car and drove off.

It was dark by now, the perfect time. Dave banged on the door. When it opened, recognising Luke from local press photographs, he burst through the door. He punched Luke to the floor. Luke felt the safety shoe connect with his stomach with a sickening thud. He had never been in a fight in his life and didn’t have a clue what to do. “Why?” he managed to yelp. Dave kicked him again “Does the name Sarah mean anything to you?” Dave stood over him. He took out the hammer. They both heard the police car sirens “They’ll soon be gone” said Dave just before the two constables ran through the still open door. They wrestled the hammer out of Dave’s grasp and dragged him out to the police car. P.C. Renforth helped Luke to his feet. “It’s a damn good job you have that video link to the station, sir” he said to Luke. “That man’s a nasty piece of work. We’ve been trying to catch him out for years. I don’t know what sort of fancy equipment you’ve got here but that alarm has saved you from a very unpleasant experience. How are you feeling now, sir? Sit down for a few minutes then I’ll drive you to the hospital. They can give you a quick check then we’d better get down to the station and you can make your statement”. “No. No statement” Luke interrupted.

K-Wise

Hmm the ending kinda left me hanging. I expected a little more. Loved the attention to detail though. This was pretty long. Read the whole thing though.

Asta!!

__________________
"I love music and it's my parents fault (closing statement)." - Me..quoting myself...from when I said that...On TFP..thats here...Tilted Forum Project

It ain't goodbye, it's see ya later! I'll miss you guys! - Asta!!

heather99

Thanks for the input. At first I thought "Managed to read to the end! That's good?". But I agree the end was abrupt. I think I knew that but I didn't know where to go with it. I've now thought of another paragraph which completes the story, I think.(Luke puts things right and recalls alll the pcs-faulty parts). I will be putting another story on here shortly. I would appreciate your comments. Cheers!

K-Wise

You betcha!

Asta!!

__________________
"I love music and it's my parents fault (closing statement)." - Me..quoting myself...from when I said that...On TFP..thats here...Tilted Forum Project

It ain't goodbye, it's see ya later! I'll miss you guys! - Asta!!