Split Spectrum; A Hacker’s Metamorphosis — Chapter 1: The Precursor

The Routine

Ifound myself deep in a captivating dream when a gentle melody began weaving into the scene, gradually lifting me to consciousness. It’s like I’m being pulled upwards — I was on the ground looking at my other self being pulled up. Suddenly I started merging rapidly with the other me, like a warp-speed effect, then bam! Darkness.

God, I love this curtain — it’s that blackout, noise-cancelling curtain I bought from Amazon; it was worth it. The room is pitch-black, with only a slight glimpse of light peeking from the top of this curtain. The soft lullaby had grown louder but still soothed my ears. That’s the Sleepcycle app for you. I set it up that way.

As tempting as it was to let the calming tunes continue, I knew I had to get moving. So, I swiped up my phone screen, which stopped the alarm. The app then prompted me to rate my sleep with three emojis: grumpy, neutral, and happy. I hesitated for a bit, then finally hit mr grumpy. I don’t know; maybe I just wished I could’ve lingered in that dream longer. “Ughh, seriously, what’s the rush?”.

Yeah, “the routine.”

I dragged myself out of my bed’s comfort and began the daily ritual — brushing, brewing, toasting, frying. The strong scent of coffee took over; I had a little sip and felt my juice flowing. A strange news story about a drone-cat showdown pulled a chuckle from me.

The hands on the clock race forward, urging me to remember that navigating the park is part of my daily routine. I pulled on my favourite hoody jacket, hoisted my backpack over my shoulder, and stepped into the brisk morning air — another day, another dollar… I mean another battlefield to conquer.

Now, here’s where I throw geometry to the wind. Instead of taking the shortest route to work, I detour through the park. A park of towering pines, their needles glistening with dew, the sun rays peeking from behind the trees — the scene’s beauty is too perfect. I step into this tranquil haven with my AirPods pumping VNV Nation into my ears. It’s like a peaceful rebellion, adding a soundtrack to the serene journey.

As I leave the park, the calm gives way to the buzz of the streets heading to the office. It’s like stepping from the sanctuary of nature into the jungle of work, a parallel universe — I’m alone with the pines, and the next, I’m in a hive of activity, a warzone, if you may. That’s life.

The calm is behind me for now, and the battlefield lies ahead — game on, world.

Resonating Struggles Within

The piercing cry of a baby girl tore through the still of the pre-dawn apartment, the heartfelt request for help echoing through the stillness. Tom, a man in his mid-thirties with gentle eyes and a disarming smile groaned into his pillow before rolling out from under the blankets. Stumbling towards the source of the cry, he picked up his little girl, rocking her back and forth as he softly cooed a lullaby into the cold morning air.

“Shhh… it’s okay, sweetie,” Tom’s voice, groggy with sleep, filled the small room, offering a warmth that the early morning chill couldn’t suppress. Tom kissed his sweet baby girl on the head. “oo, oo,” said the baby, gazing at her dad’s eyes.

Even with the calming manner of his words, inside Tom’s mind, a hurricane was brewing. His love life was on the rocks, the once cozy apartment now a cold war zone filled with silent treatments and barbed words. The sweet sound of laughter that used to float through the space had been replaced by the bitter quiet, broken only by the innocent cries of his baby girl.

The morning ritual of breakfast was a rushed affair. Tom strapped his little girl into her pink coat; he headed for the door, the weight of the day already pulling at his shoulders. He was to hand off his daughter a quick detour to his parent’s house, just down the block, his tired smile hiding the turmoil underneath.

As he handed off his daughter to his parents, his mom asked Tom how he was doing. “Everything’s alright, Mom,” he reassured his mother, the lie stinging his conscience even as he repeated it for the millionth time.

On his drive to work, Tom often thought about the day ahead. He ensured all the computers and systems worked correctly at the research center — fixed problems when they came up, helped people with their tech issues and ensured updates went smoothly. He was good at this; he knew what to expect and how to solve most problems. Tom felt more in control at his desk, with his computer screens and notes than at home.

The workplace provided an eerie sense of calm despite the imminent difficulties and issues. It was predictable, something he could control. Yet, the constant push and pull between his crumbling home life and demanding work schedule were wearing thin on him. For the first time, cracks were beginning to show in his always-calm exterior.

The Firewall of the Mind

Dr. Linda Miller’s office was always a hive of activity in a busy research center. She had striking red hair and wore big glasses. Everywhere you looked, there were notes, sketches on whiteboards, and miniature models of viruses. Dr. Miller was deeply passionate about her work, and it showed.

Late one evening, Jake, her assistant, entered the dimly lit room. The quiet tick-tock of the wall clock was the only sound.

“Dr. Miller, it’s getting late. Maybe it’s time to head home and get some sleep?” Jake suggested a hint of concern in his voice.

Glancing up from her microscope, Dr. Miller replied with a light chuckle, “Sleep? Not while this virus keeps changing and growing. I have to keep going.”

“But we’ve been at this one for ages,” Jake pointed out.

She responded, gesturing to a virus model, “See this? These parts allow it to get into cells. What if we can prevent that?”

After several hours of deep discussion and intense work, looking exhausted, Dr. Miller remarked, “We’ve made some progress, Jake. But there’s so much more to do.”

Jake, noticing the numerous files saved on her desktop, teased, “Dr. Miller, are you still saving everything directly here?”

She laughed softly, “I like having everything at my fingertips. It’s easier for me.”

Dr. Miller’s dedication was always evident. But in these moments, Jake was acutely aware of how much she poured into her work.

As they were wrapping up, Jake inquired, “Any recent revelations about the virus?”

She paused and clicked on a file, pulling up a detailed model. “Look here. It’s not behaving as we’d predicted. These mutations are different.”

Jake leaned in, studying the model intently. “It’s evolving faster than we thought?”

“Exactly,” Dr. Miller replied. “If we can understand why, we might find a way to counteract it.”

Their discussions often flowed seamlessly from one topic to the next, sharing insights and debating possibilities.

Eventually, the weight of the day caught up with Dr. Miller. “Time to call it a night, I think,” she murmured, finally shutting down her computer.

Jake nodded, agreeing, “Rest is crucial, especially when we have such big challenges ahead.”

With a contented sigh, Dr. Miller responded, “Indeed. Tomorrow’s another day.” She took a moment to appreciate the quiet hum of the lab before they both left for the night.

Click, Bait, and Decode

Tom and I were like the backstage crew in our buzzing virology research center, ensuring the show went on without a glitch. As the techie twosome, I am a Junior System Administrator, and Tom is my ever-calm and collected supervisor; our daily menu ranged from last-minute network rescues, aiding those who believed they had somehow “shut down the world wide web,” to salvaging hours of unsaved work from the digital abyss.

“Reboot the world. Alex, reboot the world.” Tom often says jokingly every time I ask for help.

One day, Tom shot me a mischievous glance, his smirk betraying his intent.

“Ready for some fun, Alex? It’s phishing day.”

We’ll see what the heck Tom is talking about. Phishing? or did he mean “fishing”? Well, keep reading on…

Far from being an odd festive occasion, this was Tom’s brainchild to test our colleagues’ cyber smarts — a test to see if they could distinguish between genuine and fake.

Though a genius with microbes, Dr. Linda Miller had a puzzling tendency to bite on our bait. Today’s special for her? A fabricated invite to a groundbreaking scientific summit. We sprinkled it with the kind of jargon she’d find irresistible.

Moments after dispatching it into her inbox, the verdict flashed on my monitor. “Dr. Miller clicked the link.” While this was a point for our little drill, it planted a seed of thought. What might happen if this wasn’t a drill?

I pictured Dr. Miller, her face illuminated by her computer screen, heart racing at the thought of this pioneering conference. But then, if our mock trap was genuine? That single click could release a storm of digital chaos. These invisible invaders might consume years of delicate research, damage our networks, or whisper confidential conversations to malicious listeners in hidden corners of the interwebs, the Dark Web.

Lost in this whirlpool of thoughts, Tom’s voice tugged me back.

“You seem miles away, Alex. What’s up?”

I cleared my throat, “Just a trip down ‘Disaster Lane.”

Tom chuckled, “But that’s the essence, right? By imagining the worst, we prep for the best.”

Like he knew what was playing in my mind.

Our mission was straightforward in this haven of microscopic exploration: Guard our digital defence. And sometimes, entertaining the dark possibilities was the brightest strategy. Yes, you heard that right.

Unheeded Warnings

After our fake phishing test, Tom felt we needed to discuss the results. Across the room, Dr. Miller was engrossed in her research, studying a sample under her microscope. I observed from a distance as Tom gingerly approached her, his expression one of deep concern; besides, she’s part owner of this private centre.

“Dr. Miller,” Tom began with a hint of hesitancy in his voice. “Do you recall the phishing test we conducted earlier today?”

Pulling away from her microscope and adjusting her glasses, she responded with a hint of uncertainty, “Yes, Tom. I recall clicking on a link about a conference. Was there an issue with that?”

Tom exhaled slowly, choosing his words with care. “That email was our test, Dr. Miller. We created it to help staff identify and dodge such deceptive emails. Unfortunately, you clicked on it.”

Dr. Miller’s eyebrows knitted in surprise before relaxing into a light chuckle. “It seemed genuine, Tom. But it was merely a test, correct?”

Tom nodded, “Indeed, it was a test. But a single click could have jeopardized your account and our data if that had been a malicious email. By the way, have you been going through our training emails? The ones we send with guidelines to recognize these dubious links?”

Her face was a canvas of contemplation before she admitted, “Training emails? Those might’ve slipped past me.”

A heavy silence ensued, filled only by the gentle hum of the lab equipment. Tom’s worry lines deepened. “It’s crucial, Dr. Miller. I can’t stress it enough.”

She sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly, “I understand, Tom. I’ll make it a point to prioritize those emails. We all need to be on the same page with this.”

Tom nodded appreciatively, “Thank you, Dr. Miller. We’ll ensure our training is even more accessible and clear for everyone.”

As he left her workspace, I could sense the weight of the conversation on him.

Approaching me, he declared, “Alex, our approach needs reevaluation. We need insights into who’s actively engaging with our training content. Maybe making it interactive with quizzes could help? And after sending those, we should follow up with another email, confirming it’s legit and stressing its importance.”

Tom was spot on. Realizing that Dr. Miller and possibly others needed to be fully up-to-date on our precautionary measures was a wake-up call. It’s not just about shielding from cyber threats but equipping everyone with the knowledge to protect themselves. The road ahead might be steep, but we were prepared for the challenge with Tom by my side.

Interlude: Balancing Acts and Inner Echoes

At our desks, there were times when everything became calm, and the usual rush of work seemed to pause. Tom and I often relaxed during these breaks, enjoying coffee and sharing stories and thoughts.

“One time, when I was just starting to navigate the online world,” Tom began one evening, looking lost in thought, “it felt like a new, exciting place. But every new place has its dangers. Some people get caught up, thinking they can control everything.”

I could feel the seriousness of his words. He wasn’t just talking about online safety or tech stuff. He was talking about life choices and the lasting impact of our actions.

“Alex,” he said more softly, “you’ll find both amazing and scary things on the internet. Your online behaviours, choices, and interactions can reveal aspects of our personalities, beliefs, and values.”

I thought about what he said, realizing our work was about keeping out harmful threats and understanding ourselves and our limits.

As the evening went on, the sounds of keyboards, message alerts, and moments of deep thought filled our workspace. Tom’s words stayed with me, reminding me of the balance we try to keep in our online and offline lives.

Shadows and Resonance

As the sun set, its soft light filled the room with warm amber and tangerine colours. Hypnotized in the warmth of the outside world, a sudden anomaly on my screen jolted me from my daydream. The basic network monitoring tools I’d implemented flashed alerts of irregular traffic. This was different for our small setup.

“Tom,” my voice betraying a hint of nervousness, “Could you come over and see this?.”

With a casual stride, Tom approached. As he glimpsed my screen, the ease in his posture shifted to one of heightened alertness. “That doesn’t look like regular network activity,” he said, a hint of concern lacing his words.

“Possibly a glitch?” My voice quivered with hope.

Tom’s clenched fist between his lips and nose is like he’s in deep thought, delving deeper into the data. “Doubtful. I’ve encountered such patterns before while researching various cybersecurity platforms.” He paused, letting the gravity of his following words sink in. “The controls I’ve put in from those YouTube tutorials seem to pay off, but despite our best efforts, Alex, we’re still vulnerable. Something’s bugging me about this attempt.”

I swallowed hard, “Do we sound the alarm?”

Deep in thought, Tom replied, “Before we jump to conclusions, let’s get opinions from trusted online security forums. See what they make of it.”

After posting our query, the wait was agonizing. As responses began pouring in, a suggestion from a well-regarded expert caught our attention: the potential of an Advanced Persistent Threat (APT). I’ve read about APTs somewhere – it’s like a team of cyber spies funded by a country using high-tech tools to attack networks, sneak into digital spaces, gather intel and execute missions with precision and style.

My pulse quickened. “Tom, maybe it’s time to up our ante. To be ahead, don’t we need to understand the psyche of these hackers?”

Tom’s eyes, sharp and discerning, seemed to penetrate my thoughts. “You mean to delve into the murkier waters of cybersecurity?”. It’s as if he read through my deep thoughts.

I took a deep breath and responded, “Just enough to understand the landscape, not to get mired in it.”

Tom exhaled slowly, visibly conflicted. “It’s a treacherous path, Alex. Tread cautiously. If you’re adamant, start with the MITRE ATT&CK framework. This briefly caught my attention during my research.”

I nodded, absorbing his counsel. “But what if that doesn’t suffice?”.

With an intensity that surprised me, Tom retorted, “In your pursuit, Alex, boundaries can easily fade. Always remember your core values and why we embarked on this mission.”

As night replaced the evening, I began to think deeply.

On a brief visit to the washroom, I unexpectedly paused outside Mr. Roberts’ closet, where he stored his janitorial supplies. The door was slightly ajar, and I heard him softly humming a tune from the gap. Curiosity getting the better of me, I gave a soft knock.

“Ah, Alex,” he greeted, though I hadn’t announced myself. He always seemed to know. Setting down a broom, he leaned against a shelf, his eyes reflecting years of wisdom and stories untold. “Your recent entanglement in the world of cybersecurity reminds me of an old story from my younger days.”

Intrigued, I stepped closer, “Do tell.”

He began, “Many moons ago, a violinist named Elias lived in a quaint town between two mountains. He owned a precious violin crafted by the town’s legendary luthier. One day, a mysterious stranger approached Elias, offering a fortune for his instrument. But Elias declined, for that violin’s music was the town’s heartbeat.”

I sensed where this was going but let him continue.

“One evening, Elias found his home broken into, the violin missing. Heartbroken, he approached the town’s elder, who gave him a peculiar piece of advice: ‘To retrieve what’s stolen, one must first understand the thief.’”

Seeing the glint in Mr. Roberts’ eyes, I asked, “Did he ever find it?”

Mr. Roberts smiled faintly. “Elias spent years searching for his violin and immersing himself in the world of thievery. He learned their methods, their motives, and even their ethics. And in doing so, he eventually crossed paths with the thief who had taken his precious instrument.”

“And?” I urged.

“He found his violin,” Mr. Roberts said, “But he also discovered something more profound. In his quest, Elias realized that understanding the darker aspects of humanity could also illuminate its beauty and resilience.”

He paused, letting the morale sink in. “In your pursuit, Alex, remember Elias. To protect against the shadows, one must not fear delving into them. But one must also not lose sight of the light.”

The weight of Mr. Roberts’ words was still heavy on my mind; I made my way to the exit. The research center was quiet now, its daytime bustle long gone. Just as the door closed behind me, the soft, melodic whistle of Mr. Roberts drifted through the air, a haunting reminder of the story he’d shared. I paused for a moment, letting the sound wash over me, before stepping into the cool embrace of the night.

This chapter is part of a larger series titled “Split Spectrum; A Hacker’s Metamorphosis.” Stay tuned for more chapters as we continue to dive deeper into the world of Alex and his evolving journey. Your engagement keeps the story alive; I’m eager to share more with you. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Originally posted on Medium: https://medium.com/@tekvera/split-spectrum-a-hackers-metamorphosis-chapter-1-origins-of-being-8e9ea4fa35b6

Author’s notes:

Thanks for reading the first chapter of “Split Spectrum: A Hacker’s Metamorphosis.” This is my first attempt at crafting a written story. The plot sequences, narratives, character personalities, and the overall story direction are my own design. AI tools were employed to assist in improving the overall writing and presentation.

Some events were inspired by personal experiences, while others, including the characters, are fictional constructs designed for your entertainment. Although the narrative reflects fragments of my reality, much of it has been imagined for the sheer joy of storytelling.

While some parts of the story may touch on informative content, always remember to do your own research and not take everything at face value. I’m excited to share more chapters with you soon, depending on how this content will be treated here. Your support means a lot to me, and I hope you continue to enjoy the journey!