Snowman sat spinning slowly in his swivel chair.
On each round he looked down at the ‘enter’ key. His excitement was building. Just one tiny click, that’s all it would take. Just a tiny amount of pressure applied to the black, rectangular button and a torrent of digital chaos would make its way out into cyber-space.
It would just sit there like a spider watching its web. It would crouch there in a dark corner of the vast abyss, just waiting to be brushed against. Waiting for the first of the poor souls to let it in.
Snowman, that was his hacker’s name, had spent months developing this particular virus. It was going to be the best ever. Why was he holding off? He wasn’t sure; maybe just building the tension, savouring the moment that he would only know once.
He looked at all the scribbled papers, accumulated over the time he had spent, making notes and cutting code. He, like a spider, lurked unseen in the dingy basement of his grandmother’s house. Looking after her and running errands was a small price to pay for such anonymity.
He already had a couple of high profile attacks to his unheralded credit, all written on this very keyboard. As far as he could tell, no one had any real idea who he was. He talked occasionally to other hackers, but not very often. They knew the Snowman, but had never been able to trace him. His work, with its signature, was in some ways legendary, but not the person.
What was he? A cyber terrorist? A revolutionary with an axe to grind? Was he out to make money or to steal what wasn’t his? No, not really. He was doing it simply because he could. He needed no further reward than that; the accomplishment of it alone was enough.
He spun again and looked down at the keyboard. The programming was in place. Ready to launch a digital influenza that the world would not forget. The fact was, despite being the Grand Master of the ones and zeros, he really had no idea how powerful this nasty germ really was. This virus would not announce itself. It would be invisible one minute, then go hurtling through countless terminals and servers the next.
He leaned forward slowly. His finger hovered. He pressed…
Several moments passed… then minutes.
It didn’t work…