Además he estado preparando una conferencia que daré en mi escuela acerca de los principios básicos de la seguridad informática, la cuál subiré aquí mismo después de darla, con demostraciones en videos, espero que les agraden, sólo necesito un poco de tiempo para acabar bien el semestre.
Debido a mi ausencia decidí compartirles el siguiente documento:
Se le conoce como el "Hacker Manifiesto" o "Consciousness of hacker", fue escrito por The Mentor en 1986, no se que opinen ustedes, pero a mi me parece inspirador, en especial después de relacionarlo con los persistentes ataques hacia Geohot por parte de Sony (link).
Los dejo con esto, y espero estar libre en unas 2 semanas :)
The Hacker Manifesto
by
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986
+++The Mentor+++
Written January 8, 1986
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 are like 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.
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 are like 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.
(link)
Versión traducida por LexLuthor
Lo siguiente, fue escrito poco después de mi arresto....
\/\La Conciencia de un Hacker/\/
by
+++The Mentor+++
Escrito en Enero 08 de 1986.
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
Uno más ha sido capturado hoy,
Está en todos los periódicos.
"Adolescente arrestado por delito informático"
"Hacker arrestado por irrumpir en un sistema bancario".
//-Malditos muchachos. Son todos iguales.//
¿Pero pueden, con su psicología barata y su cerebro de los años cincuenta, siquiera echar un vistazo a lo que hay detrás de los ojos de un hacker? ¿Se han parado alguna vez a pensar qué es lo que le hace comportarse así, qué le ha convertido en lo que es?
Soy un Hacker, entra a mi mundo . . .
El mío es un mundo que comienza en la escuela . . .
Soy más inteligente que la mayoría de los otros muchachos, esa basura que ellos nos enseñan me aburre . . .
//-Malditos subrealizados. Son todos iguales.//
Estoy en la preparatoria.
He escuchado a los profesores explicar por decimoquinta vez como reducir una fracción.
Yo lo entiendo.
"-No, Srta. Smith, no le voy a mostrar mi trabajo, lo hice en mi mente . . ."
//-Maldito muchacho. Probablemente se lo copió. Todos son iguales.//
Hoy hice un descubrimiento.
Encontré una computadora.
Espera un momento, esto es lo máximo. Esto hace lo que yo le pida. Si comete un error es porque yo me equivoqué.
No porque no le gusto . . .
O se siente amenazada por mi . . .
O piensa que soy un engreído . . .
O no le gusta enseñar y no debería estar aquí . . .
//-Maldito muchacho. Todo lo que hace es jugar. Todos son iguales.//
Y entonces ocurrió . . .
una puerta abierta al mundo . . .
Corriendo a través de las líneas telefónicas
como la heroína a través de las venas de un adicto, un pulso electrónico es enviado,
un refugio para las incompetencias del día a día es buscado . . .
una tabla de salvación es encontrada.
"Este es . . . este es el lugar a donde pertenezco . . ."
Los conozco a todos aquí . . .
aunque nunca los hubiera visto, o hablado con ellos, o nunca vuelva a escuchar de ellos otra vez . . Los conozco a todos . . .
//-Malditos muchachos. Enlazando las líneas telefónicas otra vez. Todos son iguales . . .//
Apuesta lo que quieras a que todos somos iguales . . .
Nos han estado dando comida para bebés con cuchara en la escuela, cuando estábamos hambrientos de carne . . .
Las migajas de carne que ustedes dejaron escapar estaban masticadas y sin sabor.
Hemos sido dominados por los sádicos, o ignorados por los apáticos.
Los pocos que tenían algo que enseñarnos encontraron en nosotros alumnos atentos, pero esos pocos son como gotas de agua en el desierto.
Este es nuestro mundo ahora . . .
El mundo del electrón y el switch, la belleza del baudio.
Hacemos uso de un servicio que ya existe sin pagar, por que podría ser ridículamente barato, si no estuviera en manos de glotones hambrientos de ganancias, y ustedes nos llaman criminales.
Nosotros exploramos . . .
y ustedes nos llaman criminales.
Nosotros buscamos detrás del conocimiento . . .
y ustedes nos llaman criminales.
Nosotros existimos sin color, sin nacionalidad, sin prejuicios religiosos . . .
y ustedes nos llaman criminales.
Ustedes construyen bombas atómicas,
ustedes hacen la guerra,
asesinan, engañan y nos mienten
y tratan de hacernos creer que es por nuestro bien,
ahora nosotros somos los criminales.
Si, soy un criminal.
Mi crimen es la curiosidad.
Mi crimen es el juzgar a las personas por lo que dicen y piensan, no por como se ven.
Mi crimen es ser mucho más inteligente que ustedes, algo por lo cual jamás podrán perdonarme.
Soy un Hacker, y este es mi manifiesto.
Pueden detener a este individuo, pero no podrán detenernos a todos… después de todo, todos somos iguales.
(link)
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario