Terminal Compromise

The Center for Disease Control reacted with abject terror at the thought of seeing the name of thousands of AIDS victims in the newspaper. Never the less, the CDC refused to comfirm that their files had been penetrated or any of the names on the list.

Useless.

Everyone he called gave him virtually the same story. Above and beyond the official denial to any press; far from the accusatory claims which were universally denied for a wide variety of rea- sons, all of his contacts were, in his opinion, honestly shocked that he even had a hint of their alleged infractions.

Scott Mason began to feel he was part of a conspiracy, one in which everyone he called was a victim. One in which he received the same formatted answer; more surprise than denial.

Scott knew he was onto a story, but he had no idea what it was.

He had in his possession d.a.m.ning data, from an anonymous source, with, thus far, no way to get a confirmation. d.a.m.n. He needed that for the next time he got lawyered.

When he presented his case to his editor, Scott's worst fears were confirmed. Doug McGuire decided that a bigger story was in the making. Therefore, we don't go. Not yet. That's an order.

Keep digging.

"And while you're at it," Doug said with the pleasure of a father teasing his son, "follow this up, will you? I need it by dead- line."

Scott took the AP printout from Doug and read the item.

"No," Scott gasped, "not another virus!" He threw the paper on his desk. "I'm up to my a.s.s in..."

"Viruses," Doug said firmly, but grinning.

"Have a heart, these things are such bulls.h.i.+t."

"Then say so. But say something."

Chapter 7 Thursday, September 17 New York City Times

Christopher Columbus Brings Disease to America By Scott Mason

Here's a story I can't resist, regardless of the absurdity of the headline. In this case the words are borrowed from a story t.i.tle in last week's National Expose, that most revered of journalistic publications which distributes half truths and tortured conclu- sions from publicity seeking n.o.bodies.

The t.i.tle should more appropriately be something like,

"Terror Feared in New Computer Virus Outbreak", or

"Experts See Potential Damage to Computer Systems", or

"Columbus Day Virus: Imaginary Panic?"

According to computer experts, this Columbus Day, October 12, will mark a repeat appearance of the now infamous Columbus Day Virus. As for the last several years, that is the antic.i.p.ated date for a highly viral computer virus to 'explode'. The history behind the headline reads from an Ian Fleming novel.

In late 1988, a group of West German hackers and computer pro- grammers thought it would be great fun to build their own comput- er virus. As my regular readers recall, a computer virus is an unsolicited and unwanted computer program whose sole purpose is to wreak havoc in computers. Either by destroying important files or otherwise damaging the system.

We now know that that these Germans are part of an underground group known as CHAOS, an acronym for Computer Hackers Against Open Systems, whatever the heck that means. They work to promote computer systems disruption worldwide.

In March of 1989, Amsterdam, Holland, hosted an international conference of computer programmers. Are you ready for the name?

Intergalactic Hackers Conference. Some members were aware of the planned virus. As a result of the negative publicity hackers have gotten over the last few years, the Conference issued a statement disavowing the propagation and creation of computer viruses. All very honorable by a group of people whose sole purpose in life is to invade the privacy of others. But, that's what they said.

Somewhere, somehow, something went wrong,

The first outbreak of the Columbus Day Virus occurred in 1989, and caused millions of dollars of down computer time, reconstruc- tion of data banks and system protection.

Again we are warned, that the infection has continued to spread and that some strains of the virus are programmed to detonate over a period of years. The Columbus Day Virus is called by its creators, the "Data Crime Virus", a name befitting its purpose.

When it strikes, it announces itself to the computer user, and by that time, it's too late. Your computer is kaput!

What makes this particular computer virus any more tantalizing than the hundred or so that have preceded it? The publicity the media has given it, each and every year since 1989.

The Data Crime, aka Columbus Day Virus has, for some inescapable reason attracted the attention of CNN, ABC, CBS, NBC and hundreds of newspapers including this one. The a.s.sociated Press and other reputable media have, perhaps due to slow news weeks, focused a great deal of attention on this antic.i.p.ated technological Arma- geddon.

Of course there are other experts who pooh-pooh the entire Virus issue and see it as an over-exploited media event propelled by Virus Busters. Sam Moscovitz of Computer Nook in Dallas, Texas commented, "I have never seen a virus in 20 years. I've heard about them but really think they are a figment of the media's imagination."

Virus Busters are people or firms who specialize in fighting alleged computer viruses by creating and selling so-called anti- dotes. Virus Busting Sean McCullough, President of The Virus Inst.i.tute in San Jose, California thinks that most viruses are harmless and users and companies overreact. "There have been no more that a few dozen viral outbreaks in the last few years.

They spread more by rumor than by infection." When asked how he made his living, he responded, "I sell antidotes to computer viruses." Does he make a good living? "I can't keep up with the demand," he insists.

The Federal Government, though, seems concerned, and maybe for good reason. On October 13, another NASA s.p.a.ce shuttle launch is planned. Friday the 13th is another date that computer virus makers use as the intended date of destruction. According to an official spokesman, NASA has called in computer security experts to make sure that their systems are "...clean and free from infection. It's a purely precautionary move, we are not worried.

The launch will continue as planned."

Viruses. Are they real? Most people believe they are real, and dangerous, but that chances of infection are low. As one highly respected computer specialist put it, "The Columbus Day Virus is a low risk high consequence possibility. I don't recommend any panic." Does he protect his own computer agaist viruses? "Abso- lutely. I can't risk losing my computers."

Can anybody? Until October 12, this is Scott Mason, hoping my computer never needs Tylenol.

Scarsdale, New York.

The Conrail trains were never on time.

Scott Mason regularly tried to make it to the station to ride the 7:23 from the wealthy Westchester town of Scarsdale, New York into Grand Central Station. If he made it. It was a 32 minute ride into the City on good days and over 2 hours when the feder- ally subsidized rail service was under Congressional scrutiny.

The ritual was simple. He fell into his old Porsche 911, an upscale version of a station car, and drove the 2 miles to the Scarsdale train station. He bought a large styrofoam cup full of decent black coffee and 3 morning papers from the blind newsman before boarding the express train. Non-stop to Harlem, and then on to 42nd St. and Park Avenue and wake up time.

Tyrone Duncan followed a similar routine. Except he drove his silver BMW 850i to the station. The FBI provided him with a perfectly good Ford Fairlane with 78,000 miles on it when he needed a car in New York. He was one of the few black commuters from the affluent bedroom community and his size made him more conspicuous than his color.

Scott and Tyrone were train buddies. Train buddies are perhaps unique in the commuterdom of the New York suburbs. Every morning you see the same group of drowsy, hung over executives on their way to the Big Apple. The morning commute is a personal solace for many. Your train buddy knows if you got laid and by whom.

If you tripped over your kids toys in the driveway, your train buddy knew. If work was a b.i.t.c.h, he knew before the wife. Train buddies are buddies to the death or the bar, whichever comes first.

While Scott and Tyrone had been traveling the same the morning route since Scott had joined the paper, they had been friends since their wives introduced them at the Scarsdale Country Club 10 years ago. Maggie Mason and Arlene Duncan were opoosites; Maggie, a giggly, s.p.a.cey and spontaneous girl of 24 and Arlene, the dedicated wife of a civil servant and mother of three daugh- ters who were going to toe the line, by G.o.d. The attachment between the two was not immediately explainable, but it gave both Scott and Ty a buddy with their wives' blessing.

The physical contrast between the two was comical at times.

Duncan was a 240 pound six foot four college linebacker who had let his considerable bulk acc.u.mulate around the middle. Scott, small and wiry was 10 years Ty's junior. On weekends they played on a very amateur local basketball league where minimum age was thirty five, but there, Scott consistently out maneuvered Ty- rone's bulk.

During the week, Tyrone dressed in impeccable Saville Row suits he had made in London while Scott's uniform was jeans, sneakers and T-s.h.i.+rt of choice. His glowing skull, more dark brown than ebony, with fringes of graying short hair emphasized the usually jovial face that was described as a cross between rolly-polly and bulbous. Scott on the other hand, always seemed to need a hair- cut.

Coffee in hand, Tyrone plopped down opposite Scott as the train pulled out of the open air station.

"You must be in some mood," Tyrone said laughing.