DDos: Cypherpunk Stories

By Steve Wire

Computer forensics expert Lucy McCart is called to investigate a high-profile murder and discovers that the elusive killer was paid by thousands of anonymous donors across the dark web. Her efforts are thwarted by untraceable digital currency and uncrackable encrypted communications.

 

Meanwhile, more online assassination markets appear, crowdfunding the murders of crooked politicians, corporate fat cats, and rude movie stars... providing society with the ultimate in "distributed denial of service."

 

As the body count rises, Lucy's father wins reelection to the Senate and is implicated in a horrifying scandal. The public is outraged and he is quickly targeted for death. Can Lucy stop the assassination markets in time to save her father's life?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Steve Wire
• Release date: Oct 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393837411

Steve Wire

Steve Wire writes science fiction about the battle between government and technology, authority and innovation. Read on for smart rebels and cool hacks.

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DDoS | a Cypherpunk Story | by Steve Wire

DDoS

a Cypherpunk Story

by Steve Wire

SPECULATION ABOUT THE murder was all over the internet. The police had no leads, so when they called me to the precinct, I dared to hope that they would make me an offer. I took sidestreets around the chaos downtown, but there were more protesters than anyone expected and I got caught in traffic. A siren would be nice, but since I'm irregular, I don't get a squad car. I looked just like any pregnant woman in her husband's pickup.

I rolled down the window as I crawled through an intersection and glimpsed dozens of black masks marching up a sidesteet, past flaming trash cans. A flying brick bounced off a storefront window that shivered and sprouted a white spider's web of cracks. I could hear a teenager's voice through a bullhorn, harsh and distorted. Were they protesting the war in Yemen again? Or the murder of the woman last week?

Twenty minutes later I found a spot to park and walked – waddled, frankly – to the building's entrance. The guard smiled and wanded me through, looking embarrassed by the procedure. He knew a familiar face posed no threat, and a woman in my condition was especially above suspicion.

On the eleventh floor, in Criminal Investigations, I asked for Assistant Chief Tom Murphy. His secretary led me into his office immediately.

Tom stood and shook my hand. Great to see you, Lucy. He gestured to a seat, and I eased myself into it. The office décor said business not cop, with framed degrees and commendations on the wall and verdant potted ivy growing down the shelf in the corner. Tom's kids smiled at him from a picture on his desk.

How is the little munchkin? he asked.

I rested a hand on my belly. Two months to go.

We appreciate you coming in. Maybe the little one will be solving crimes for us someday, like mom does.

I liked how Tom had avoided saying him or her. Smooth. What have you got for me, Tom?

He paused. It's the Simmons murder.

Yes! I didn't hide my glee. Murder is murder, but if you are hired for a case, why not hope for a high-profile one?

I'm glad you're pleased, he said flatly.

Don't be like that, I replied. You must have had a breakthrough. Something for me.

Rain Simmons had been a professional organizer and firebrand, the head of half a dozen political organizations, on the board of