Hacked By A Virus

Five days ago, I was visited by a virus. Not that old-fashioned kind, like viral pneumonia, resistant to antibiotics. Or even a new version like the dreaded bird flu. I’m talking about the more virulent one that infected my laptop which is like an appendage.

It took my computer repair man three days to purge the nasty. I suppose the operative word is hacked. The word itself has been hacked. Seventy years ago, plus or minus, when I was in my prime on the basketball court, I was both the hacker and the hackee. Driving in for a lay-up I got routinely clipped, smacked, slapped, slammed, shoved or axed. Hacked, as in hacksaw. In those half-court games, we weren’t even awarded a foul shot; the offended player merely got to take the ball out-of-bounds.  Those were less punitive times.

Being hacked today leaves no bruises but we are even more battered, thrown into a state of disequilibrium, banished into an analog world of pencil and paper. It is a disabling tragedy remedied only by a visit from grandchildren or to a preschool where any four-year-old worth his lunch money could perform miracle healings to the latest ailing technology, learned umbilically in the third trimester.

Who are these hackers? Cyber-freaks who have no other hobbies? Having fun, are you? Does your mother know what you are doing with your life? Have you considered going back to school like your big sister?

I can’t imagine what you want with me and my data. My bank balance, such as it is, seems undisturbed. I haven’t detected a Tesla charged to my credit cards. Maybe you’ve created another me in the cloud. Any chance I can meet my generic equivalent some day? We could chat over a glass of ouzo or kvass. Since you already have my passwords and pin number you might as well fly me to your local watering hole. It’s about time I learned a second language. 

If my hacker hails from Minsk or Pinsk, we may even be distant cousins. Will that grant me any privilege in the hacking community? No, I didn’t think so. Go ahead and pick my pocket. Just leave me my library card and the punch card from the car wash. I'm close to a freebie.

I’m resigned to living my remaining days/months/ years behind a firewall. I don’t know what a firewall is but I’m sure it’s not for pitching pennies or even for climbing. Then again it may be for tunneling under and planting viruses. In today’s world, whatever one can do, one does.