Amber-a cautionary tale.
The morning alarm sounds with tiny urgency. Another early morning meeting today. Stiffling a yawn, you touch the display on your cell phone to kill the alarm, and so you start your morning routine. Luckily, you've got your cell, which can connect you to the internet, act as a global positioning sensor, and do countless other convienient things for you. Unfortunately, you have me as an adversary.
I know when you will be waking for the next three months, you've saved this data on your cell, and your computer-and those two devices are my very best of friends. Over morning coffee, you casually flip through the news channels on digital cable, settling on a story about commodities futures. I know down to the second how long you've spent on each channel. I know how you lingered a bit longer on the channel with the teen girl. . . . .this information is now available to marketers, and whoever I deem worthy.
Walking out to your car, you use the alarm remote to unlock your car. I've now captured the radio signal, it's a simple digital pattern, and now I have twenty four hour access to your ride. After sitting in the driver's seat, you reach into your tote bag and get your phone's car charger out. As you pull out into the street I see your cell phone negotiate with each cell tower in the area. I know the position of your phone, and you to wthin ten feet at all times as long as it is turned on. If only you left it on at all times, as so many of my mindless, ignorant, and unwitting "clients" do.
You finally make it to the bridge after the usual bout of road rage, and are relieved that you have your toll tag. I am too, because it gives me secondary confirmation of your whereabouts, with your toll tag, and your cell phone in the same location-this is definitley you.
Having parked the car, you card key into the office building, show your badge to the security guard, and walk to your desk. Today I will hear every telephone conversation that you are involved in, read every e-mail that you send or recieve, and monitor every websight that you visit. Because of the security cameras, and my ability to access them-I know how long you spend in the restroom.
Do you remember "Jurassic Park?" Imagine yourself an insect forever trapped in amber. That is how I see you. I can view you from any angle I desire. You are totally known to me. Just as the scientist extract information from a long dead insect, I extract a fountain of information from you. As you move through your day, you unknowingly offer up an ocean of information to me. I know more about you than you know about yourself.
Who employs you is not important. What is important is that I have compiled a complete profile on you. You won't be getting that raise. You will be deemed unfit after I order a subscription of "Guns and Amo" and have it delivered to your home, because of my knowledge of Van Eck radiation, and it's applications-I have your credit card numbers, and use them when I see fit.
Your spouse is upset with you too, as I've accessed phone records, and called your home posing convincingly as an old friend, I ask politely if you can still get that killer California meth that we used to do together. Your friends are pissed too-from your e-mail address I've sent them all the most devistating computer virus yet created. Starting today, your life will never be the same; tonight I will plant incriminating evidence of pedaphillia in your vehicle. Should you live or die-I don't care. You are a walking digital corpse.
Note: This short story was taken by and large from Ted Flynn's"Hope Of The Wicked," and concerns Echelon, NSA's satanic baby. I didn't write it, I modified it.
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