Prints: A DefCon 28 Short Story

July 04, 2020

Four years ago I wrote a short story for DefCon 24’s short story contest. It was my first time writing creatively in a very long time and I had fun creating a story. Since then, every time DefCon announces a theme, I let my imagination run and see if an idea comes to mind that excites me. Until this year, I never had an idea that I loved, one that could really motivate me to put pen to paper among life’s other responsibilities and interests. But this year, I had one! And we just so happen to be in a pandemic, so I had some time on my hands. Coincidence? I won’t ever know for sure.

Special thanks to my mother-in-law for proof reading and editing, as well as my friends Tony and Josiah for giving my story a test drive and giving some feedback! Additional thanks to the organizers for putting on the contest year after year!

All of this year’s submissions can be read here: https://forum.defcon.org/node/233102

Without further delay, here is my short story for Defcon 28’s short story contest:

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Prints
By: Tyler Rosonke (@ZonkSec)

PJ sits low and huddling in the dark corner of a tiny, rundown, and empty room. Head in hands, he rocks to and fro. Everything around him is a grayscale black and white, like a scene from an old movie. There is a banging at the door.

“This is it. I’m really fucked now.” he whispers.

The pounding drums on, but PJ will not look up, hiding his face. His brown hair is disheveled and his face unshaven, a 5 o’clock shadow on the trembling chin. The pounding persists and increases in intensity. PJ slowly slides upward against the wall to stand. His hair falls in front of his thick framed brown glasses. He would have had to constantly push his hair to the side to keep it out of his face, if he was in the right state of mind to care. He doesn’t. He is afraid.

“Oh God. How did this happen!?”.

The door’s knob twists and turns; the oppressors are desperately determined to enter. PJ’s body pushes and puddles into the corner as his scattered gaze bounces around the room. The banging grows more intense. PJ covers his ears. He then notices a dull printed piece of art on the wall, the only piece of decor in the room. It shakes and rattles against the wall with the pounding at the door. His stance loosens as his eyes fixate. He stares unwaveringly. Dust that once covered the framed print slowly falls to the floor like snow. The dust’s descent is shortly followed by the framed print itself as the unseen barrage continues and thrusts it off the wall. PJ calmly watches the moment as if it was in slow motion. He stares deeply into the printed art as it descends. All the details. He admires the beauty in its construction, the paper and the ink. Before the frame hits the weathered wooden floor, reality resumes at full speed as the door bursts open and shards of fragmented wood explode into the room. The frame and print crash into the floor and shatter. Three black figures move into the room.

Days earlier PJ’s alarm buzzed, the phone’s screen reading 7:00 AM. He silenced the alarm. PJ wasn’t one for snoozing. He immediately popped out of bed, eagerly on his feet. His floor was clear of tripping hazards as he always made sure the laundry made it to the proper receptacle, whether that be a clean drawer or a dirty basket. The furniture was kept equally as tidy. As PJ put on a shirt, his pet cat Worm, named for his fascination with rolling in dry dirt if given the opportunity, bumped open the door with his head and came prancing into the bedroom. Worm hopped up on the bed and meowed impatiently.

“Alright, alright, calm down. Your feast will begin soon, ya dirt dweller.” PJ said as he scratched Worm’s face and headed for the kitchen.

The second story apartment was average sized. Nothing massive, but not cramped either. However, the apartment felt encased due to framed prints covering each wall. Like mother nature’s growth on the forest floor, framed prints filled every space and void on his apartment walls. Some of the prints were personal, friends posing and smiling together on the summit of a mountain after a long hike. Another of Worm stretched out as he leapt in the air grasping for a feathered toy. Others were vintage maps, professional photographs, and works of art, such as the “Mona Lisa” and the famous photo of Einstein sticking out his tongue. Some were music album covers. Some were movie posters like 2001: A Space Odyssey and The Truman Show. Just about any genre of framed print could be found on his walls, each carefully selected and printed by PJ.

While PJ made his way down the hall towards the living room and kitchen, he admiringly perused his prints as he passed by. As he stopped to straighten one that was out of alignment, he contemplated whether the paper’s glossy finish complemented the cold color choice or if he would have been better off with a matte finish. On the next print he wondered if a different style of ink could have better leant itself to that particular print’s aesthetic. PJ pondered many such questions about how he could improve as he kept walking. Worm bolted in front of PJ, nearly tripping him, as he sprinted to a white cabinet where his food was held. PJ entered the clean and organized kitchen. He opened the cabinet and filled a small bowl on the floor. Without the slightest hesitation, Worm chowed down as soon as the first pebble of dried food hit the bowl. PJ laughed at his cat’s insatiable appetite and then opened another cabinet to gather coffee grounds and a filter. He began to meticulously make himself some coffee. Outside of the prints, his apartment was quite normal with each room having the appropriate furniture. TV, couch, end tables in the living room. Table, chairs, and a credenza in the dining area. And so on, and so on. PJ finished filling the coffee machine and powered it on. As the machine started to bubble and steam, he headed for the shower to begin his rigorous morning routine and get ready for work.

PJ walked out of his small red brick apartment building onto a small stoop. There were five units in the building, and he lived on the second floor in apartment #4. The building had an interesting architecture. Each window had a brick arch above it, but between every three windows a slight column of bricks protruded from the normal face of the building, both of which gave the building an elaborate and lovely appearance. PJ was dressed in a blue and yellow plaid buttoned shirt, neatly tucked in his clean dark khaki pants. His hair was trim and styled. PJ carried a green canvas messenger bag. Before he was off the building’s stoop, PJ ran into his female neighbor Corel. Corel wore overalls and had red curly hair.
“Good morning” PJ said, “how are ya?”
“I’m well. How are you?” replied Corel.
“Fine, fine. Just heading into work for another day in paradise!”
They both chuckled as if the sentiment was a joke; however, for PJ it was not, and he merely laughed along to not be awkward. PJ felt his paradise around him each day; he truly loved his job.
“Hey, that reminds me,” Corel said as her smile subsided, “the convention I helped organize is next weekend, did you receive our order? We’d love to have it today, if it’s not too much trouble. Honestly, I’m just excited to see how the design comes out.”

“I did, I did. Just saw it come in the day before last. I’ve got a few jobs in the queue before it, but I promise I will get to it today!”

“Perfect. That sounds great. How else have things…”

PJ checked his Casio wristwatch. 7:55 am. He had to be at work by 8 am.
“Hey, I hate to cut you off, but I gotta jet! The last thing I want to do is be late. I’ll talk to you later!”

“No problem at all. Have a good day and thanks!”

PJ gave Corel a head nod and a smile as he turned to walk down the street. This was not a big city block. Rather it was a small town. PJ’s building was nestled in the small neighborhood just a stone’s throw from the town square. PJ started walking towards the square on a shady sidewalk along a seldom traveled street. The neighborhood lawns and gardens were green and vibrant like something out of a magazine. The birds were chirping on this beautiful spring day. The sky was mostly clear, and a light cool breeze slightly dampened the sun’s warm rays. If the breeze halted, one would quickly be reminded of what heat lay in the summer months ahead. But right now, it was ever so pleasant. PJ reached the perimeter of the town square, bustling with people going about their mornings. A green lawn with a large gazebo in the center anchored the square.

Radiating from the gazebo were four concrete paths, forming an “X” from a bird’s eye view, like spokes on a wheel. Towering on one end of the square was a gray, art-deco style building with a large dome that served as the town’s library and municipal center. Along the other three sides of the square were small shops and businesses that served the townspeople. The square held a bakery, a diner, a corner store, a hardware store, a post office, a laundromat, a bus stop, a boutique, a gas station, and more. PJ walked along one of the spoke paths as he made his way across the green. He approached a shop that had a large “PJ’s Prints” marquee above the door. PJ had designed and printed it himself, a simple red and yellow marquee with an italicized sans-serif font. PJ unlocked the door, went inside, and turned on the lights. He checked his watch, 8am,

“Right on time” he smiled, congratulating himself on his precision.

Just inside the door, he had arranged a small seating area and a counter. Behind the counter was the printing equipment, as well as all the supplies to keep them operating, assortments of various inks and papers, the things that make a printer truly happy. The entire shop was clean and organized. The walls inside the sitting area were as equally covered as his apartment with prints. Their purpose, in this case, was to demo his skills for any potential customers. PJ walked behind the counter and retrieved some files from a drawer below. The files were various order forms and he flipped through them plucking the ones he deemed highest priority, including Corel’s. He then quietly studied the specifications and artwork of the order on top of his stack. A few moments later he switched on a small radio and “Take On Me” by A-ha filled the room. He turned towards the equipment. Grinning, he began to work.

Hours past as PJ contentedly worked. Customers came and went asking questions, placing and picking up orders. Around noon, PJ’s stomach began to rumble. He checked his watch and thought now would be a good time for lunch. He walked towards the front of the shop and past the counter.

Before heading out the door, he flipped a sign that said “Lunch. Be back in 30 minutes”.

He walked out and locked the door behind him. The square was still bustling with people and the weather was just as gorgeous as the moment he had gotten to work. His favorite diner was just across the square. Despite the time, PJ had a craving for breakfast food, and luckily for him that was served 24/7 at the diner. As he made his way, he walked through the green square and watched some kids play fetch with a dog. On the other end of the square, a lady sat on a bench reading a book. He was passing the gazebo when he noticed the printed Speedy Metro Bus station sign. It read “SMB: Stop #2”, but the ink was fading and the sign, falling apart. He made a mental note to contact the city and offer his services. Just then a Speedy Metro Bus pulled up to the station right in front of him. A few dozen people hurried off the bus, some looking more tired than others, and PJ wondered how far some of them must have traveled. A man smoking a cigarette stepped off the bus. He was peculiar compared to the other travelers, just ever so slightly different. Dressed in a charcoal suit with a black fedora and dark sunglasses, his movements were rigid, slow, and methodical. PJ slowed his gait as he watched the peculiar man’s head slowly scan the horizon. The peculiar man’s glare slowly swung towards PJ. The man’s sunglasses made it difficult for PJ to tell where his relentless gaze actually fell. PJ wondered what caused this man’s unusual behavior.

“Could he be sick?” While PJ was lost in thought, he accidently and unknowingly locked eyes with the man.

PJ now realized the man’s scan had halted on him. He froze when he registered his awkward predicament. Eventually the man’s gaze moved onward, and PJ resumed walking. On account of the unfortunate locking of eyes, PJ did not want to meet the odd fellow, but they were currently on a collision course. He was nearing the end of a spoked path, and there was no other direction, short of an unfriendly U-turn and detour. But that created more of a scene than PJ was comfortable with, so he decided to soldier on and hope they did not engage. The man had not moved, still slowly scanning the horizon. PJ did not want to repeat his previous mistake by looking at the man, but he also didn’t want to blatantly stare at his own feet. In an attempt of stealth and avoidance, he awkwardly looked at things on either side of the man, a street lamp on his left, a fire hydrant on his right. At that moment, the man stopped his speculative scanning routine and snapped out of whatever reverie he was in. His once peculiar rigid motions were now, conversely. smooth and unnoteworthy. He put out his cigarette, smiled, waved, and began to approach PJ.

“Ah crap.” PJ whispered under his breath. The man drew close to PJ and stuck out his hand for a handshake.

“PJ! Just the man I wanted to see.” the stranger said. PJ sheepishly extended his hand and shook with the man.

“How does he know my name?” PJ thought as he let out a bewildered “Hello. Umm, have we met before?”.

“No no no no no no” he trailed off, “We have not met before. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Cyrus. And you know, I’ve heard so much about you! Just the most wondrous things, I hear you do excellent work!”

PJ didn’t process the compliment, instead he was taken aback, momentarily flustered; this man not only knew his name and appearance, but his business as well.
“Who is this man?” PJ thought again.

“Hmmm. Not much of a talker I see. Well, no bother because, boy, do I have an amazing opportunity for you!” Cyrus rattled a way in the way only a salesman can. “I work for a company that makes the MOST DELUXE printing equipment and I promise it can take your business to the next level!”

PJ uncomfortably replied, “Umm, I’m actually quite content with the equipment I have and…”

“OH NO YOU’RE NOT!” Cyrus interrupted “This is unlike anything you could possibly have. Trust me, these machines are incredible. Half the time and cost to operate, half the amount of labor to run, DOUBLE the quality and resolution of the leading competitor!” Cyrus exclaimed.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not interested. If you’ll excuse me, I’m on my lunch break and am in a bit of a hurry” PJ calmly responded, Cyrus’s pushiness beginning to wear his patience.

Cyrus wasn’t going to take no for an answer. Cyrus threw his arm around PJ’s shoulder to bring him in close. In the same motion, he swiftly and slyly affixed an ornate metallic green square patch on the back of PJ’s neck. A portion of it momentarily pulsed red before slowly dimming and ultimately stopping. PJ didn’t notice its placement as he was too repulsed by the invasive gesture.

“Listen, listen, listen, listen” he whispered and trailed again. He quietly continued, “I normally don’t do this, but damn it, I like your work and I want to help you. I can offer you 25% off retail price. You would be a fool to not take this deal. It will pay for itself in A MATTER OF DAYS!” Cyrus raised his voice, and it stung PJ’s ear.

PJ had enough. Just before he was about to tell Cyrus off, not like him in the slightest, he was inspired by Cyrus’s scheming and hatched a scheme of his own.

Instead of pulling away from Cyrus’ arm, he leaned in even closer and whispered, “Ya know what, I’ve actually been thinking about upgrading some of my equipment.” Cyrus’s eyes animatedly widened and lit up.

PJ continued, “But I am in a hurry. Let me get lunch and go about my day and I will contact you later!”

“That sounds great!” Cyrus exclaimed, still very close to PJ, the sound grating in his ear yet again.

Cyrus removed his arm from PJ’s shoulder, but the intricate metallic green patch remained on his neck. PJ seemed not to notice. Cyrus walked away and did not look back. PJ was perplexed because he thought surely Cyrus would have tried to give him a business card or offer to visit him in his shop later after that sales pitch; instead, he just abruptly walked away. PJ’s stomach growled and he became acutely aware of his growing hunger. He started walking towards the diner once more. He watched as Cyrus entered the town square and sat on a park bench. Cyrus rigidly sat and stared off into the distance motionless, looking at nothing in particular. PJ went into the diner and sat down at a booth near a window so he could continue to watch Cyrus. He ordered his favorite dish, French toast, to satisfy his breakfast cravings, which not even that bizarre exchange could subdue.

He watched Cyrus sit still and thought, “What a strange way to sell printing equipment…”

Later that day PJ was back in his shop diligently working. The strange encounter with Cyrus had not only made his lunch run a bit long, but its abnormality had thrown him off his cycle, and he was falling behind. He knew he wasn’t going to complete the convention posters for Corel and felt guilty about it. He heard a commotion outside and looked up towards the front windows of his shop. He couldn’t quite see, but he thought he saw someone running. PJ’s initial reaction was to ignore it and continue playing catch up on his work; however, the thought of the guilt he would have if someone was in trouble and he could have helped drove him to reconsider. He stopped working and headed to the front of the shop for a better vantage. It was Cyrus. He was sweaty, visibility terrified, and sprinting across the square. The whole scene read wrong. Cyrus’ hat flew off his head as he ran, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he kept checking over his shoulder and looking behind. While PJ found Cyrus distasteful after their encounter, the fear he saw in Cyrus’ eyes made his gut wrench. He opened his shop door and made his way onto the sidewalk.

“NO NO NO!” Cyrus screamed as he passed the gazebo. “GET AWAY. GET AWAY!”

Two black figures slightly suspended mid-air slowly followed him. They were the size and of similar shape as an above average human. They were immensely black and had no depth or texture; it was as if they were matte. As a printer, PJ was aware of the blackest black ever created, vantablack, and these figures drew a stark resemblance. A disturbing lack, a creepy sensation of just nothing, null. The two figures were trailing Cyrus as he continued to scream. One of the black figures raised some sort of appendage and a small black orb was propelled out of it. The black orb was indistinguishable from the figures outside of its shape. It sped towards Cyrus and hit him. He screamed again, but it was different, for it was not out of fear, but agony. PJ was horrified and wanted to intervene, but the black figures were already on top of Cyrus as he belted a blood chilling scream. One of the figures raised another appendage and slammed it to where Cyrus presumably was. Like a radio switched to mute, it was instantaneously and utterly quiet. The black figures dispersed, and PJ ran to where Cyrus had fallen. There was nothing there. Not a trace, just a space where something had been and now was not.

PJ’s hands trembled. He looked up to find the figures, and they were gone. Others in the square were deeply distraught and confused by the horrific sequence, as PJ was. So many things were running through PJ’s head.

“What happened to Cyrus? What were those things? Where did they come from? Why did they do that? Where did they go?” Lastly and most concerning to PJ, “Would they come back?” He stared at the spot where Cyrus should have been. Disgusted, upset, and worried, he scratched the back of his neck just missing the ornate metallic green patch. It ominously pulsed red once more.

The next morning, PJ serenely awoke to Worm gently nudging his arm. In those first moments, he had no memory of yesterday’s disturbing events.

“What time is it?” PJ thought as he reached for his phone to check the time. 10:11am. “Oh shit”.

PJ’s body lurched and inhaled as if the wind was knocked out of him as he realized he had uncharacteristically overslept and was late for work. The feeling was extenuated by the backlog of work that was waiting for him.

“This never happens. Did I forget to set my alarm? Did I sleep through it? Did I turn it off or snooze it indefinitely in my sleep?” PJ’s mind raced and rattled while he panicked, rushed out of bed, and sprinted down the hall.

In his haste and partly because he had just woken up, he clumsily crashed into his bathroom doorway as he entered. This bumped several framed prints out of alignment and one nearly fell. On any other day, he would have straightened each one of them, but today was not like any other day. He quickly brushed his teeth, skipped a shave, and then ran back to his bedroom to get dressed. He grabbed his canvas bag and headed to the door, but not before Worm let out some obnoxious, hungry meows. PJ hit the brakes and beelined to the cat food. His unstyled hair flopped around with his jarring and hasty movements. He pushed the hair out of his face and filled Worm’s food bowl. While Worm gorged, PJ jettisoned from the apartment. In the stairwell, he ran into Corel. Corel started to open her mouth to say hello and follow up on her order, but before she had the chance PJ flew past her without even a glance. Corel thought this was strange as PJ was always courteous and friendly, not to mention he seemed a bit unkempt. She couldn’t decide if he was avoiding her or just in an immense hurry. PJ got to the bottom of the stairs, out the door, and jogged out onto the sidewalk in front of his apartment building.

He stopped dead in his tracks. “Which way is the town square?” he thought. He looked down the sidewalk in both directions and a panic overwhelmed him. “Why don’t I know…” he thought. His brainwork was fragmented and out of place.

From inside Corel saw PJ idly standing and was concerned. She popped her head out the door. “Everything alright?” she asked. PJ looked back towards her. She seemed familiar, but he struggled to know who she was. The orante green patch briefly glowed red again.

“Ummm. Yea…I think.” PJ said tentatively as he looked around.

Corel, worried, called “You know…it’s okay to run late from time to time. It’s absolutely a normal thing.”

At that moment a Speedy Metro Bus’ air brakes swooshed and depressurized as it departed the bus stop in the town square. PJ looked that direction and knew where to start walking. He turned and walked backwards as he said “Right. Thanks for that…umm…ahh” he snapped his fingers as he tried to recall Corel’s name “umm…Miss!” Corel was very concerned as PJ turned forward and headed for town square.

As PJ walked he told himself “Get it together man!”. His head started to feel woozy. He stopped to collect himself. His sense of gravity became off-kilter. As he leaned to stay up right, his vision blurred and became kaleidoscopic. His attempts to stay on his feet only induced his spiral. It became too much to bear; he fell to the ground and blacked out.

PJ came to. As he lay there and opened his eyes, he looked upwards. He noticed an overhead tree wasn’t green anymore, nor was the sky blue behind it. He sat up on the sidewalk and looked around. No more green and vibrant gardens or lawns, just bland. It was as if the world was black and white. No more cool breeze or warm sun; the air felt like nothing. PJ stood up and rubbed his head. He thought maybe what he was seeing was the result of some concussion. But it wasn’t. He couldn’t quite remember how he got there and where there even was. He first noticed his apartment building and started to piece things together. He next remembered Corel and looked at the apartment entry door, but Corel wasn’t there. He then remembered Corel’s kind words and that he was in some sort of hurry, “But why?” PJ thought.

It was at this moment that PJ realized how wholly quiet his world had become. No birds. No people. No cars. No buses. He was alone. Whatever had happened brought back some clarity, and he remembered Corel’s late print order. On one hand, it seemed strange to be concerned with such a matter amidst his current predicament; however, uncertain of what else to do, he headed for the town square. When he got there, it too was desolate and in grayscale. Not a soul to be found. PJ walked to his shop, put his key in the door, and turned. It wouldn’t turn. His store was locked, and he couldn’t get in. He looked inside at the prints hanging inside the shop; they, like everything else, were in black and white. He shook his head as if that might make the color come back. It did not. The bleakness of the square made PJ wonder how much time had passed.

“Could it be in the middle of the night? That could explain why everyone is gone” he pondered.

He checked his watch, 11:02am, and ruled out his previous theory. As desperately as he tried, he could not rationalize the world in which he found himself in. He walked to the bakery next door. Its door was also locked, and no one was inside.

“What the hell?” PJ thought “Where is everyone?”

Just then he heard movement across the square. He turned to look and saw three of the black figures, empty dark voids. He ducked and hid behind a large mailbox nearby, peering around to track their movements. The figures didn’t walk, no appendages moved as they propelled forward down the sidewalk on the opposite side of the square.

“What the hell are those? They look like they are on patrol. Could they be looking for something?” PJ thought to himself nervously. “Could they be looking for me?” just the thought of that reality nearly made PJ sick.

When the figures passed behind the gazebo, PJ took advantage of the cover and darted into a nearby ally to hide behind a bigger trash can. Again, he watched. The figures reached the end of the block and turned right, leaving the town square. PJ sighed with relief. With the shop locked, PJ decided the best thing to do was just go home and try to sort things out there, or at the very least hide there. An additional benefit of that plan was it took PJ the opposite direction of the black figures he had seen. The farther away the figures were, the better he felt. He stayed low and headed for home the same way he had just come. He tried each shop door as he passed. All were locked, no lights on, and nobody inside. An overwhelming feeling of isolation filled PJ’s being. PJ was beginning to not even notice the world had lost its color; he had bigger fears at the moment. As he rounded the corner at the end of the block that would lead him home, he saw two more figures nearing his apartment.

“Shit!” PJ thought as he scurried back to safety. “Are those the same ones? Or different ones?”. It was impossible to tell as they had no obvious unique features and PJ wasn’t about to stick around and study them any closer. A puzzle was piecing together as PJ considered more and more that they likely were looking for him. The sick feeling from before returned and in greater magnitude. However, it was accompanied by a sense of determination that he could overcome whatever this was.

He stayed crouched and went back the way he just came, passing his shop and heading for the municipal building. He was scared, but vigilant, checking over his shoulder every so often and keeping an eye out. He was nearly halfway down the block when he saw them round the corner where he spotted them earlier. They undoubtedly saw him.

“Fuck.” PJ stood up and started sprinting towards the municipal building. He looked back as one of them raised an appendage. He knew what was coming next. A black orb propelled out of the appendage. PJ was certain he couldn’t outrun it, so he stopped and looked around. He quickly ripped a lid from a nearby trash can and wielded it with no time to spare. As soon as PJ got the makeshift shield in front of him, the orb crashed into the lid and knocked PJ to the ground. The orb ricocheted in a nearby shop’s front window, shattering it. PJ scrambled to his feet and kept running. PJ decided he wasn’t going to be able to escape them or their orb out in the open like this; he had to get inside. He dashed toward the grayed-out municipal building.

As he sped toward the municipal building’s nearest door, PJ pessimistically thought “Why would it be unlocked? Everything else isn’t.” But he had nothing to lose and tried it anyways. He gripped the door handle and to his disbelief it turned fully and uninhibitedly; it was unlocked, so he cast the door open.

As he lunged inside, a fleeting glance revealed the figures were pursuing. The building served both as a municipal building and a library, one half being dedicated to each, dividing it was a grand stone staircase supporting the building’s dome at the top. PJ had entered on the municipal side. The main hallway, which ran the distance of the building, was deserted. As he ran down the hallway, his shoes squeaked and echoed on the polished stone floor like that of a high desert canyon. As he ran by, he looked left and right into all the uninhabited municipal department offices that lined the hallway hoping to find anyone. He slid and screeched to a stop when he saw someone still working. It was an immediate relief, a comfort, to see someone else, but before he could shout, the two figures entered the building behind him, and he rocketed off once more. As he reached the center grand staircase, another figure entered from the library side of the building. Trapped.

PJ took the only option remaining, upward. He ran up the stairs fast and faster. He recalled the creamy, marble color the stone used to have, but now it was just gray. They were getting closer. PJ watched the crystal and bronze chandelier appear lower and lower as he climbed higher and higher. He reached the dome and looked over the rails. They were coming. He was at the top and there was nowhere else to climb. He expeditiously surveyed the room and found a single door on this floor and ran to it. He opened it. It was a tiny, rundown, and empty room. He entered and slammed the door shut behind him, locking it. Panicked, he studied the room for an exit. There was no way out. An overwhelming terror ripped through his body. He broke down. He slammed backwards against a corner and slid downwards until he spilled onto the floor. He laid for a few moments and then sat up into the dark corner and put his head into hands and began to rock to and fro. “This is it. I’m really fucked now.” he whispers. There is a pounding at the door…

—————————————————————–

A man sat at an airport behind a laptop that was covered with computer security stickers: “Defcon 22”, “Got OWASP?”, “Hacking is not a crime!”, “Electronic Frontier Foundation”, and more. His face flushed with frustration. He just finished up a design using CorelDRAW, a computer graphics editor, for a Defcon poster and was attempting to print it on a portable printer. It wasn’t working.

“Why won’t this damn thing print? I swear printers are the bane of IT existence!” he exclaimed under his breath. He kept working at it. A pop-up arose from the bottom right of his screen:

[!] **POTENTIAL SMB EXPLOIT/VIRUS DETECTED**

“Woah woah woah. What?!” the man thought, “No no no, this is terrible timing”. SMB, Server Message Block Protocol, was a common network protocol used for interprocess communication, file sharing, and more. Its wide use made it a common attack vector and it had just been used to exploit the man’s laptop.

He began searching his computer for potential payloads that may have been dropped by the virus. He found one very quickly in his “%temp%” directory, a system folder used for temporary storage, a common spot for viruses to end up. He deleted it. He was worried the virus might have infected something else and he began monitoring the behavior of his system, but there was just too much noise to make any sense of it. He decided the best strategy was to boot into “safe mode”. This would put the system into a diagnostic mode where only essentially components function, while everything else is locked out. This would help him have a more controlled approach when monitoring the system. His laptop restarted and went into safe mode. He began monitoring again.

[*] SEARCHING… SEARCHING… SEARCHING…
[+] ANOMALY DETECTED: PRINT DRIVER PJ4 MISBEHAVIOR

“Ugh. Well that explains why my print job went wacko, my damn print driver got infected by the SMB virus.” the man realized.

He clicked around and worked the problem. A commercial airplane roared in the background. While still in safe mode, he found the print driver and temporarily disabled it. This would stop any further problems until he could restore it. He detected no other anomalies and rebooted the machine back to normal. Having lost trust in the network he was on, he turned on a Virtual Private Network (VPN) that allowed his laptop to join his home network via an encrypted tunnel. That way any attackers on the airport network, which now was apparent, wouldn’t be able to target him or his traffic. He then browsed the web to find an unmodified print driver from the manufacturer to restore his infected one. He found what he was looking for.

“Oh sweet! Looks like I had an outdated driver and the new version has some new features. At least that’s something positive” the man thought. He downloaded the new print driver, installed it, and restarted his computer to enable it. Moments later, his printer was humming and his fresh design rolled out.

—————————————————————–

The town square was bright and sunny. The center lawn was lushly green, and the garden flowers were vibrant. Townspeople buzzed around the square and the air was alive with the sound of people. A Speedy Metro Bus just left its station. PJ was inside his shop and “It’s A Beautiful Morning” by the Rascals played on his little shop radio. He was bobbing side to side with rhythm as he held up Corel’s Defcon poster that he freshly printed on his brand new, featureful printing equipment. Abruptly a commotion spilled out of the Post Office. PJ looked up as a self-proclaimed and adequately dressed “Nigerian Prince” popped out and was begging for a small advance of some money. He claimed he would return the advance 10 fold once the country’s energy project was completed and profitable. PJ watched, laughed, and smiled. He was just happy to be back to work.

 

 

Thanks for reading my story! I enjoyed writing it.