Wargames

by David Bischoff

  It wouldn’t be so bad if they knew they were turkeys. David knew gobble-speak pretty good, he realized that. No, they all thought they were hot shit, were better than he was... better than everybody. Thought they were in control of things, thought they knew the score on everything.

  That was the nice thing about computers. With computers, you got justice. What you put in, you got out. Instant results. All the rest of this world... well, it was as gray as the sky riding above Seattle now.

  The sound of a small motor hummed behind him. David Lightman waited for the Doppler effect when the scooter passed him, but instead the sound stayed steady, pacing him. He turned. There on a green moped was Jennifer Mack, riding along beside him.

  “Hi!” she said.

  “Oh, hi,” returned David.

  David turned away; there was nothing much to say. He tried to turn his tongue-tiedness into something he hoped would pass for Clint Eastwood coolness.

  Jennifer said, “I’m sorry I got you in trouble. I just couldn’t stop laughing.”

  Good grief, she was apologizing for helping him out. He slowed down and looked at her. “No. It’s okay. You were perfect.”

  Jennifer stopped the moped, her face incredulous. “I was?”

  “Uh huh.”

  She was a slim, shapely girl, dressed today in jeans, a green surf-shirt, and a black Windbreaker. A breeze tossed a few strands of her long hair around recklessly. The expression on her face now was really cute. David didn’t know what. to say to her.

  Jennifer was the one to break the awkward silence. “Hey. You want a ride home?” she asked brightly.

  “Sure,” David said automatically.

  “Hop on, then!” she invited.

  “Uh... right.” David carefully sat down on the back of the moped, one hand hooking on the bottom of Jennifer’s seat. “I’m set.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “Not far” He gave her quick instructions.

  “Hang on, here we go!”

  Jennifer Mack proceeded to mix with the Seattle suburban traffic, mostly to David’s chagrin. A Volkswagen beeped at them. David choked on a plume of exhaust. They bounced over a bump, and he felt like he was about to fall off. Cripes, she was going too fast!

  As she made an Evel Knievel turn onto Elm, David’s feet dragged on the asphalt.

  Jennifer turned and shouted over her shoulder, “Hey! Lift those knees.”

  David lifted his knees.

  “And for goodness’ sake, sit closer! I’m not going to bite!”

  David gingerly put his hands on her waist. Her sides were smooth and firm.

  “That’s no good. I don’t want to have to turn around and pick up your pieces,” she said impatiently.

  David swallowed. He slipped his arms all the way around Jennifer; the feeling was indescribable. The wind whipped her hair back into his face. It was silkier than he imagined, and it smelled clean and perfumey.

  You know, he thought. Computers can’t do this.

  On a free stretch of road without many cars, Jennifer said, “Hey! You got an F too, huh?”

  Geez, she was really warm. “Yup,” he said absently.

  “Yeah. I guess we’ll both be stuck in summer school.”

  David had to smile at that. “Not me!”

  “Why not? Aren’t you going to have to make up biology?”

  Not if that password was correct, David thought smugly. “I don’t think so.”

  Jennifer paused, clearly confused. “Why not?”

  “If you’ll come into my house, I’ll show you!”

  “Sure. Why not?”

  David pointed up the road, feeling rather sorry now that this ride couldn’t be longer. “It’s up there.”

  Through the overcast spring day, under green oaks, past hedge-lined residences, the little moped hummed along.

  David indicated the house, and Jennifer pulled up beside it.

  David hopped off as Jennifer turned the moped off and supported it on its kickstand.

  David turned in time to intercept Ralph, who bounded down the slight slope in front of the house to greet the newcomers.

  “Your dog?” Jennifer said.

  “Yeah,” said David, giving the setter a quick roughhouse pet. “Name’s Ralph. This is Jennifer, Ralph. She’s okay.”

  Ralph’s ears pricked up. He pranced over to Jennifer and began to sniff her, then he jumped up on her in an overly familiar fashion.

  Embarrassed, David yelled, “Ralph!”

  “That’s okay,” Jennifer said. “I have a dog too.” She gently pushed Ralph away, petting him. “Dogs don’t have to take biology.”

  “Uh... yeah,” David said, grabbing Ralph by the chain around his neck. Ralph yelped. “C’mon, pal. Be good. This is a guest, you mutt! Sorry, but you’re gonna have to stay outside.”

  Jennifer laughed and he led her past the ceramic flamingoes into the two-story house. Inside it was deserted, the downstairs still smelling from the bacon his father had burned that morning.

  Looking around, Jenniger suddenly seemed a bit nervous. She paused, and David turned around.

  “Uh... what I have to show you is in my room. And...” He was suddenly aware of the situation he’d put them in. “My... uh... room. It’s upstairs.”

  Jennifer shrugged off her caution and followed him. “Your parents aren’t home?” she asked halfway up the stairs. There was a strange tone in her voice, as though she were a little excited about something.

  David’s heart started to pitter-pat. “They both work.” What did she think he was up to? He just wanted to show her the computer.

  Jennifer followed him, silently. But she laughed at the sign on his door. “‘This is a secure area,’” she read aloud.

  “‘Authorized entry only. No exception.’ What do I need, David, some kind of pass?”

  Taking out a key, David said. “Naw. I’ll turn off the booby traps.” He unlocked the door and motioned her in.

  “It’s pitch black!” she objected, hesitating.

  “Oh. Just a minute.” He leaned through and snapped on the lights. Yikes! The place was a mess. He’d forgotten that.

  Jennifer didn’t seem to notice, though. She breezed past him, astonished at the array of machinery David had set up in his room.

  Still embarrassed, David spotted a pile of dirty underwear and socks. Edging along with Jennifer, he kicked the pile under the unmade bed.

  “Wow. You’re really into computers, huh?”

  “Yeah. That’s what I wanted to show you.”

  “But what’s that got to do with my biology grade, for goodness’ sake?” Jennifer asked, eyes still drifting over the bewildering array of wires and gadgets, as though she were in a flying saucer

  “Here. I’ll show you right now.”

  David slipped past her, settling in the torn swivel chair He turned on the terminal, then warmed up the TV. Now, where the heck was that stupid modem? Ah, there. He reached for the telephone coupler situated by the phone, then stuck the receiver into its cradle.

  He checked a phone book full of scrawls, found the number he was looking for, then punched it out on the push buttons.

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer asked softly.

  “I’m dialing into the central school district’s system, and if we’re lucky... Yep, it’s available.”

  On the monitor a flash of words appeared:

  THIS IS THE GREATER SEATTLE UNIFIED SCHOOL DISTRICT DATANET.

  PLEASE LOG IN WITH USER PASSWORD AND ACCOUNT NUMBER.

  “You see, Jennifer,” David continued. “They change the password every couple of weeks.” He paused for dramatic effect. “But I know where they write it down!”

  David tapped the word pencil onto the keyboard.

  Immediately the screen wiped and displayed a list of subsystems to choose from.

  “Go ahead, Jennifer, just type out the words student transcripts.”

  “No. I don’t...”

  David smiled. “Ah c�
�mon. The computer won’t bite.” He was in his element now, and he felt much more at ease. She stepped forward, found the right keys, and typed.

  STUDENT TRANSCRIPTS appeared on the screen.

  “There we go. Now, I’ll just key in my student ID number... and voilà,” David proclaimed. “Behold my dismal grades.” The screen wiped, and suddenly there, in black and white, were the records for one LIGHTMAN, DAVID A.

  David moved the cursor over to the biology grade, and changed the F to a C.

  “What are you doing?” Jennifer asked, horrified.

  “Just changing my grade... now what’s your ID number?”

  Jennifer muttered some letters, and David typed them out.

  Immediately the transcripts for MACK, JENNIFER D, appeared.

  David peered at it.

  What David was up to finally seemed to register on Jennifer. “Hey... you can’t do this!”

  “Why not? It’s easy.”

  “This is none of your business. What are you doing now?”

  “I’m changing your biology grade.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re going to get me in trouble,” Jennifer protested.

  “Relax. No one will find out. Watch!”

  David took the cursor over to the biology grade, where he efficiently transformed an F into a B.

  “You just got a B, Jennifer. Now you don’t have to go to summer school.”

  “Change it back,” Jennifer demanded.

  David was dumbstruck. “Why? I promise you. They can’t possibly trace...”

  “I said, change it back!” Jennifer was clearly extremely upset.

  David said, “Okay! Okay!”

  He punched the F key. “There you go. You now have an F again.”

  Jennifer coolly backed away. “Listen, I guess I better get going.”

  “Sure.” David, stood up, confused. “Thanks again for the ride.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” She backed away, then fled. “’Bye.”

  “Don’t you want me to walk you...?” David said, but Jennifer was already gone. David went to the window and watched her run to her moped. She peddled it to a start, then varoomed down the street.

  “Girls,” David muttered, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Still, Jennifer was a pretty nice one. David guessed that he hadn’t introduced her to the idea of fooling with computers this way slowly enough. She was too locked into social programming that said the authorities made the rules and you can’t fool around with them, even if you’re cleverer than the numbskulls who told you how you were supposed to be.

  The thing was, David didn’t really care about his biology grade. It was just a convenience. What he got the most satisfaction out of was playing around behind those jerk-offs’ backs, thumbing his nose at them, and they didn’t even know it!

  It gave David Lightman an immense amount of pure, unadulterated delight.

  He hopped over to his computer, changed Jennifer’s Biology F back to a B, then quickly bailed out of the datanet before anyone caught his greasy hands in the works.

  In the den, Cathy Lee Crosby, Fran Tarkenton, and John Davidson crooned “That’s Incredible!” from the TV set, which segued into a C. and P. Telephone Company commercial.

  David Lightman slipped a dollop of creamed chipped beef to Ralph, who waited patiently under the dinner table. He wiped his hand on a paper napkin, then returned to the junk mail scattered to his right.

  Ralph, sensing that no more snacks would be coming from David, wagged his way over to Mr. Lightman, who sat meticulously buttering a piece of corn, using a slice of bread to distribute the butter evenly.

  A full plate of food lay cooling before another chair. Mrs. Lightman had gotten a real estate call early in the meal.

  “But you’ve got to see the place,” she was chattering over the phone in the kitchen. “It’s the pride and joy of all my listings. Yes, two bedrooms, a bath and a half, and a huge bonus room.”

  “Ralph!” said Mr. Lightman as Ralph began to drip saliva on his pants leg. “You already ate! Now stay.”

  David sifted through the mail absently. Only real thing of interest here was his new Cool Computer magazine.

  “David, did you put out the trash?” his father asked.

  “Yeah, yeah,” David said wearily. His father had asked him that twice so far this evening.

  His mother cupped her hand over the phone’s mouthpiece, and cried out, “Now honey, put the lid on real tight so Ralph won’t turn it over again.” Then she turned back to her wheeling and dealing.

  “I know, Mom.” Sheesh. If they weren’t ignoring him, they were nagging him. He flipped through Cool Computer casually. As he turned the middlemost pages, an insert fell into his lap.

  Whoa ho! What was this!

  In vivid blues and reds crisscrossed with futuristic-style lettering, the flyer proclaimed: QUANTUM LEAP IN COMPUTER GAMES FROM PROTOVISION THIS SUMMER

  David quickly finished his dinner, washed it down with some milk, and then excused himself.

  Protovision was in California. It was worth a try.

  He hopped toward his room, past his mother.

  “One of these days,” she said, noting the magazine in his hand, “you’re going to electrocute us all!”

  “Yeah,” David said into his phone. “Sunnyvale, California. Protovision. Thanks.” A thought crossed his mind. “Oh, and could you tell me what other prefixes cover that area?”

  He jotted the numbers down on a pad.

  “Thank you!”

  Hauling out a small plastic file-box, David Lightman flipped through a number of black, sleeved disks the size of 45 rpm records. These were his floppies—floppy disks, magnetic storage units for programs. And to think that years ago, when he first started, he was using a cassette deck and tape. These things were faster to boot up, easier to save programs on, easier to load. This particular box was filled with programs of his own devising. Another box on the other side of the room held “backups”—exact copies. The only problem with floppies was that sometimes, if the computer crashed, or there was a power surge, or you bent the damned thing, you could forget what you had stored on it.

  He pulled out one labeled

  MODEM TONE SCAN

  COPYRIGHT BY DAVID LIGHTMAN

  UNAUTHORIZED USE OR DUPLICATION

  OF THIS PROGRAM IS STRICTLY

  PROHIBITED.

  David had gotten his modem almost a year ago. The first month he had used it, he had racked up a truly incredible phone bill. So after that, David Lightman had gotten real interested in the workings of the telephone company. His friend Jim Sting had helped him out on that one. Old Sting hated the phone company too. Sting had a pile of information. In his heydey the computer expert had been a Phone Phreak—a prankster who used his knowledge of computers to get toll free phone calls.

  Yeah, Sting had even helped him on this program.

  He’d done this before, finding the telephone number for computers, raiding them. It was fun. All he had to do was to get in contact with the Protovision computer, use his other special software to get past any safeguard, call up these new games, and copy them onto a couple of floppies.

  He’d have them before anybody else!

  In goes the phone, into the modem...

  A tap of the keyboard’s return key...

  TO SCAN FOR MODEM TONES, PLEASE LIST DESIRED AREA CODE AND PREFIX.

  David typed in: 311-399, 311-437, 311-767, 311-936

  Automatically the computer dialed the first number. From the receiver David could hear a faint ring. An irate voice answered, “Hello.”

  No go. The computer was searching for the tones used by another modem to answer calls. Immediately the computer disconnected the call.

  It rang the next number

  From previous experience David knew that the process could take hours. These computer folks weren’t dumb. They didn’t exactly hand out their special modem numbers on a silver platter. With a nation full of hackers, that would be tantamount t
o suicide.

  The monitor screen began to fill up with numbers. Good job, David thought. Good job.

  After turning down the monitor speaker, he grabbed a new science fiction paperback he’d shoplifted—a novel called Day of the Dragonstar—and began to read.

  Chapter Four

  David Lightman dodged Speedy, faked out Pinky, then rounded the corner and headed straight for the power dot.

  Gulp.

  The ghosts turned blue. David grinned. He’d maneuvered them perfectly. Zap, zap, zap, zap, he ate them all up with Pac-Man. He took the moment’s respite to reach over for his slice.

  Jennifer Mack stood by the table, sipping at a Tab. “Hi.”

  “Oh, hi.”

  David turned back to the machine, eating more dots. The ghosts were on the move again, and the buggers were fast now.

  “You’re gonna spoil your dinner,” Jennifer said.

  “This is my dinner “

  “Listen, I thought it over last night.”

  “What?” Yikes, they were closing in, and only one power dot left on this screen.

  “That thing with my grade. Can you still change it?”

  David lost his concentration, made the wrong move in this pattern. Clyde eagerly grabbed him. Pac-Man faded away with a despairing whine.

  “I can’t believe I was so stupid. I should have just let you do it.” She looked at the game. “Hey, you’re really good. I didn’t know that Pac-Man went that high., I can’t break thirty thousand.”

  Pac-Man was on the move again, and David steered him expertly. He gobbled up a fruit and the machine made a silly noise.

  “Anyway,” Jennifer continued doggedly. “I wanted to ask you if you could still do it.”

  Cripes, thought David Lightman. Women. His mom was like that sometimes, changing her mind right in the middle of a sentence. David dodged Inky and escaped through one side, reemerging on the other.

  “Uh, I don’t know. It might be kinda rough.”

  “Why?”

  “Uh, I don’t know. They might have changed the password.”

  Jennifer was sweet but insistent. “But maybe they didn’t. Could we at least try and see?”

  He visualized her back in his bedroom, and suddenly Pinky caroomed down a maze corridor and grabbed him.