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WebWorld 36



Title: The True Story of the InterNet

The True Story of the InterNet
Part II

WebWorld & the Mythical 'Circle of Eunuchs'

by Arnold

Copyright 1995, 1996, 1997 Pearl Publishing


Cyphernomicon

Cron stood waiting at the entrance to the Council Chambers as the limousine bearing the Cowboy pulled up to the curb. Two veteran members of the Dark Forces elite stood ready to open the rear doors. As the limousine came to a stop, however, the driver's door opened, and the Cowboy stepped out to greet them.
"I hope I'm not late." the Cowboy exclaimed congenially as he bounded up the steps. He stood face to face with the dreaded Cron and added, "I'd hate to keep such an important gentleman as the Shadow waiting."

The Shadow's countenance was blazing with an internal rage as the Cowboy made his entrance, flagged by a half-dozen members of the Dark Forces. Schultz was nowhere to be seen and the Shadow had realized immediately that the Cowboy was here of his own volition.
His face grew even darker as the Cowboy smiled fondly at Bubba, Priscilla, Alexis and Jonathan. Something was dreadfully, dreadfully wrong. The Shadow struggled to maintain his composure as his heart sank.

The mass of people in the back of the Great Hall, who had been rounded up at Bubba's safe house began conversing in quiet tones which rose to become a great murmur, resounding through the hall.
"Quiet!" Gomez screamed, quickly reducing their conversations to near silence.

The Cowboy rose the few steps leading to the podium and stood beside the Shadow, smiling benignly.
"Sorry if I'm a tad late," the Cowboy said, "but Mr. Schultz's directions were a little vague." He stood, waiting, for the Shadow's reply.

"Why don't we all have a drink." the Shadow responded, playing for time while he endeavored to read what this startling train of events portended. He motioned the Cowboy and his small group of friends toward the bar.
They moved, as a group, toward the bar at the back of the hall, with Priscilla, Alexis and Jonathan showing signs of extreme trepidation and unease. The Cowboy and Bubba, however, seemed quite at ease, despite being deep within the Inner Sanctum of the Evil One and the Dark Forces.
The Cowboy stood silent, sipping his drink, obviously waiting for the Shadow to begin the conversation. Gomez realized that it was himself who was in the dark, and conceded his position.

"I presume that you have been engaged in some sort of activity since your release from Nuthouse Number Nine." the Shadow ventured.

"Not at all." came the Cowboy's truthful reply.

The Shadow was wary, but he knew that the Cowboy was not playing games.
"So your situation hasn't changed then, has it?", the Shadow continued, but he instinctively knew that the answer he was about to hear was not one that he desired.

"The situation has changed immensely," the Cowboy replied, nodding to Jonathan, who broke out in an ear-to-ear grin, "and I'm sure that your guests," he nodded toward the masses at the back of the hall, "would appreciate your announcing that the banquet you have prepared is ready for them to sup from."

The Shadow burned inside with a violent fury, but he realized that the Cowboy was, once again, making him 'pay to play.' The Cowboy would not be forthcoming with the information that he wanted unless the Shadow conceded this small concession.
"I could have them shot." the Shadow contended, not willing to concede so easily.

"All the more to confirm the existence of the Magic Circle to those outside this room." the was the Cowboy's unsmiling retort to the Shadow's threat.

"Seat our guests." the Shadow shouted to his minions, waving in the direction of the startled mass of people at the back of the Great Hall, and snapped his fingers at Cron, pointing toward the tables which had been set in preparation for the Dark Forces grand feast following their victory.
Cron rushed to the kitchen to set the staff in motion.

"Thank you." the Cowboy responded graciously, and then turned to Jonathan, who spoke slowly and clearly, despite the fact that he was obviously shaking in his boots.
"Excuse me Mr. …," Jonathan realized he wasn't sure how to address the person to whom he was speaking, "…Sir, but I think that perhaps you should check your recent CyberPosts." He stopped, and receiving no reply, added, "I believe that there is a message of common interest to all of us."

The Shadow placed his thumb upon the Identity Verification module of a nearby GraphiCube and hit the CyberPost update key. The screen leapt to life, and the Shadow found himself confronted with a ghost from the past.

>From - Sun, Jan 19 7:09:00 1997
Return-Path: <[email protected]>
Received from toad.com([140.174.2.1]) by mercury.grill.sk.ca for
<[email protected]>
Received (from majordomo@localhost) by toad.com (8.7.5/8.7.3) id IAA20555;
Message-Id:<[email protected]>

Date: Sun, 19 Jan 1997 08:40:04-800
To: [email protected]
>From "Timothy C. May<[email protected]>
Subject: To Whom It 'May' Concern
Reply-To: "Timothy C. May"<[email protected]>
Sender: [email protected]

"We have met the enemy, and he is us."

--Tim May

Just say "No" to "Big Brother Inside"
We got computers, we're tapping phone lines, I know that ain't allowed.
---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:
Timothy C. May----------- | Crypto Anarchy: encryption, digital money
[email protected]-------------| anonymous networks, digital pseudonyms, zero
W.A.S.T.E.: Corralitos, CA | knowledge, reputations, information markets
Higher Power: 2^1398269 -| black markets, collapse of governments.
"National borders aren't even speed bumps on the information superhighway.
---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:---------:

The Shadow spun around furiously to face the small group, once again, only to be met by the last thing he had expected to see, after all these years, as Jonathan finished rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.
A slight, but audible, groan came from the depth of Gomez's bowels, rising to a fever-pitched scream that was inaudible, but which showed in every fiber of his being, nonetheless.
The Mark of the Toad.

CypherPunks! The one group of misfits that he had always watched with the utmost concern, deeming their group, if any, to be the one that might harbor the secret lair of the Circle of Eunuchs.
The Shadow had brought all of his agents to bear on this interminably insolent group of anarchists, searching for any sign, for the slightest indication, that they were acting in concert, as a unit, to foil the plans of the Evil One. Every indication had been that they were indeed just a rag-tag band of anarchists, shooting themselves, and each other, in the foot, as they railed ceaselessly against forces that they ill-understood.

"You only had time to send a single post, before you and Alexis fled to the safe house." the Shadow proffered, hoping against hope that he was right. "You and she were monitored the whole time. We only let you proceed in order to let you lead us to the others."
"You sent just a single post." the Shadow reiterated.

"And I'm the fucking Pope." Jonathan shot back, resurrecting a favorite phrase of his late grandfather, knowing that the Shadow would be well versed in the nuances of his grandfather's verbal proclivities.

He couldn't help rubbing it in a bit, saying, "The Anonymous Remailers and the SpamBots are a marriage made in Heaven, even when they're named Lucifer."
Jonathan knew that the Shadow wouldn't miss the significance of the remailer whose historical address was [email protected].

The Shadow shot Jonathan a fiery stare which would melt the soul of most any mortal, and realized that Jonathan was protected from his gaze by the certitude that comes from speaking the truth.
Nevertheless, he instinctively turned to the GraphiCube once again, and drew up the next CyberPost.

To: [email protected]
From: TruthMonger <[email protected]>
X-Mailer: WinSock Remailer Version ALPHA1.3B
X-SpamBot: Full Broadcast
X- SpamHeader: "_fuck_you_morons_"
X-Comments: -
X-Comments: - "They'll take my cryptography when they pry it from
X-Comments: - my cold, dead algorithms."
X-Comments: - Cyphernomicon
X-Comments: -
X-Comments: This message is NOT from <TruthMonger>. It was remailed
X-Comments: by an automated anonymous remailer. Send all complaints and
X-Comments: requests for blocking to <[email protected]>.
X-Comments: -
X-Remailer-Setup: Maximum Message Size - None
X-Remailer-Setup: Maximum Recipients - Infinite
X-Remailer-Setup: PGP messages accepted

Subject: Make Big $$$ Licking Your Own Dick
Sender: [email protected]

_fuck_you_morons_

How would you like to MAKE BIG $$$ while doing what you're already doing every single day-SITTING AT HOME, LICKING YOUR OWN DICK?

Sure, I know what you're thinking. This sounds TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE, right?
Well, friend…

The Shadow had seen enough to realize that the messages had undoubtedly been spread far and wide. Those who failed to recognize the significance of the Tim May post would certainly recognize the work of the Doctors of Spamology--Vulis, Grubor…whoever. While the CypherPunks had been relegated to the status of dusty, villainous legends in the minds of most of humanity, Spamology had never lost its status as a pleasant pastime for the lower primates, and the Evil Doctors, as they were known in their own time, were now regaled as heros who had battled the traitorous CypherPunks.

The Shadow turned to the Cowboy, once again, attempting to hide his discomfiture, and said, blandly, "So what do you propose that we do now, Cowboy?"

"We eat, we drink, and then we all go home." the Cowboy replied, matter-of-factly. "Then we wake up in the morning and we continue the game, as before."

The Shadow stood in silence, contemplating his options, but every way that he figured it, the reality of what the Cowboy said was obvious.
Slaughtering those assembled here would only help to spread rumors on the outside of the true existence of the Circle of Eunuchs as a real, existing force that was joined in battle with the Evil One and his Dark Forces. It would inspire others to join in the battle-unknown others in unknown places, picking up the torches that they deemed to have been dropped by the martyrs that would be created if the Shadow followed his natural inclination to eliminate these troublesome pests.

If he let them return to their dreary, boring lives, then he could counter whatever reports they made to others by engaging the momentous forces of disinformation that he had at his disposal. If everything continued as before, then their wild-eyed claims would be no better received than those of the drunken fool, Bubba Rom Dos. They would be nothing more than additional, unbalanced voices, crying in the wilderness.
And in time, even most of those involved in this whole affair would begin to doubt its reality, themself. It would become just another fuzzy dream as their minds drifted back into the group consiousness around them-a massive gravitational pull that would return them into the passive mind-set desired by the Evil One.

The Shadow turned to the small group awaiting his response, and said, perfunctorily,
"Tomorrow, we begin again."

The Shadow turned and stalked off to his private quarters at the back of the Great Hall, leaving an icy trail of aloofness behind him.


Chapter 36 - Cyphernomicon