normalny

(tekst na ktorym sie wychowalem, ktory na swoj spsoob uksztaltowal moj sposob myslenia i pojmownia swiata... abstrahujac juz od jego tematu glownego, jakim jest h/p/a)

'Mentor's Last Words'

Another one got caught today, it's all over the papers. 'Teenager Arrested in Computer Crime Scandal', 'Hacker Arrested after Bank Tampering'... Damn kids. They're all alike. But did you, in your three-piece psychology and 1950's technobrain, ever take a look behind the eyes of the hacker? Did you ever wonder what made him tick, what forces shaped him, what may have molded him? I am a hacker, enter my world... Mine is a world that begins with school... I'm smarter than most of the other kids, this crap they teach us bores me... Damn underachiever. They're all alike. I'm in junior high or high school. I've listened to teachers explain for the fifteenth time how to reduce a fraction. I understand it. 'No, Ms. Smith, I didn't show my work. I did it in my head...' Damn kid. Probably copied it. They're all alike.

I made a discovery today. I found a computer. Wait a second, this is cool. It does what I want it to. If it makes a mistake, it's because I screwed it up. Not because it doesn't like me... or feels threatened by me... or thinks I'm a smart ass... or doesn't like teaching and shouldn't be here... Damn kid. All he does is play games. They're all alike. And then it happened... a door opened to a world... rushing through the phone line like heroin through an addict's veins, an electronic pulse is sent out, a refuge from the day-to-day incompetencies is sought... a board is found. 'This is it... this is where I belong...' I know everyone here... even if I've never met them, never talked to them, may never hear from them again... I know you all...

Damn kid. Tying up the phone line again. They're all alike... You bet your ass we're all alike... we've been spoon-fed baby food at school when we hungered for steak... the bits of meat that you did let slip through were pre-chewed and tasteless. We've been dominated by sadists, or ignored by the apathetic. The few that had something to teach found us willing pupils, but those few arelike drops of water in the desert.

This is our world now... the world of the electron and the switch, the beauty of the baud. We make use of a service already existing without paying for what could be dirt-cheap if it wasn't run by profiteering gluttons, and you call us criminals.  We explore... and you call us criminals.  We seek after knowledge... and you call us criminals. We exist without skin color, without nationality, without religious bias... and you call us criminals. You build atomic bombs, you wage wars, you murder, cheat, and lie to us and try to make us believe it's for our own good, yet we're the criminals.

Yes, I am a criminal. My crime is that of curiosity. My crime is that of judging people by what they say and think, not what they look like. My crime is that of outsmarting you, something that you will never forgive me for. I am a hacker, and this is my manifesto. You may stop this individual,but you can't stop us all... after all, we're all alike.

The Mentor

'(..) what for? It doesn't have any sense... we're all gonna die anyway... the world slowly decays (..)'

Dlaczego cala ta pierdolona rodzina wymiera na raka i inne badziewia? Teraz w szpitalu 'w wielkich mekach' zdycha czlowiek w ktorego towarzystwie spedzilem znaczna czesc mojego dziecinstwa. Przyzwyczaic sie mozna. Zabije go albo nowotwor albo lekarze. Im szybciej tym lepiej.

Swoja droga - to dosc osobliwa sytuacja. Facet mowi, ze nie chce zadnych gosci. Bez problemu jestem w stanie przewidziec powod. Meska duma. Czlowiek przez naprawde wiele lat budzil postrach wsrod swojego otoczenia a teraz - mieliby go zobaczyc lezacego tam, w agonii? Doskonale go rozumiem.

Ludzie umierajac zaczynaja nagle godzic sie ze wszystkimi, z ktorymi byli zwasnieni. Tego natomiast zrozumiec juz nie jestem w stanie. Ja to widze tak:

a) Czlowiek zdycha i staje sie bardzo slaby psychicznie - jedynym jego marzeniem staje sie cisza i spokoj. Ukaja wiec swoja obolala dusze, godzac sie z tymi, ktorych np. nienawidzi.

b) Czlowiek umierajac, poszerza wlasna swiadomosc i dostrzega swoje bledy popelnione w zyciu. Chce wiec je w trybie 'na szybkensa' - cofnac badz tez naprawic. A tak sie utarlo, ze dobrym czlowiekiem mozna byc jedynie czyniac dobro innym. Wiec umierajacy podswiadomie dazy do tego 'stereotypu'.

c) Czlowiek najzwyczajniej w swiecie zaczyna sie bac roznych irracjonalnych rzeczy. Ze niby umierajac nienawidzac kogos - 'na tamtym swiecie' (?) dozna jakiegos cierpienia etc. Abstrakcyjne bzdury.

Moja matka, gdy dowiedziala sie, ze jej brat wlasnie dogorywa w wielkich meczarniach - zapragnela sie z nim pogodzic, pomimo iz w ostatniej rozmowie - zyczyl jej smierci. Idioci. Obydwoje.

Albo sie cos robi - albo nie. To stosunkowo proste. Jezeli sie za cos zabieram, to robie to od poczatku do konca. Nie przerywam bedac w polowie drogi. To jest jak jazda pociagiem. Nie zatrzymuje sie on miedzy kolejnymi, zaplanowanymi stacjami - o ile ktos nie pociagnie hamulca bezpieczenstwa. Przy czym, najczesciej za takie pociaganie hamulca - potem placi sie kary (zabrzmialo jak wyznanie seksualne).

[24.XII.02']

[w tym miejscu znajduje sie zobrazowany slowami jedyny i prawidlowy sens zycia, jezeli nie jestes w stanie go pojac badz nawet odszukac - oznacza to iz Twoje zycie, bedace wylacznie niezrozumialym dla Ciebie samego snem, stalo sie rzeczywistoscia w ktorej marnie egzystujesz, nie pojmujac zachodzacych wokol procesow]