Dirty Hacker: An Alpha Billionaire Romance (Alpha Men Book Book 2) Read online

  Suddenly, I knew who I was. I knew what I wanted. Finally, I knew my path.

  I wanted to be a hacker.

  No. I needed to be one.

  But to be part of such an elite community—and they were elite, and damned if they would let anybody forget it—I had to step up my game. Sure, I knew a few of the most important languages to hackers—I’d been studying them all throughout middle and high school, after all. Python, C/C++, Java, Perl, LISP. No problem. I knew how to drive a browser. How to write HTML. I started writing open source software. And, of course, I checked The Alliance’s blog every single day. It was my touchstone, my jumping off point. I had to keep going back to see if there were any new developments, but more importantly was learning the attitude. I had to learn how to be one of them. I was like an exchange student, immersing myself in the culture.

  The more I followed, the more my eyes were opened to ideas I had never considered. I could almost feel my brain rewiring itself as I digested the concepts and ideologies touted in each post. If people choose not to think, for example, they could only survive by repeating a routine founded by others. I thought about all the times I’d tried to repeat the routines founded by my classmates. All the time I’d wasted trying to fit in, to follow in their shoes, only to fall flat on my face. It had never occurred to me, at the time, that what I was doing was against my nature. I’d just wanted to be like them.

  In another blog post, I read that the freedom to live for oneself was the greatest gift anyone could ever ask for. The sort of freedom that didn’t require sacrificing oneself for the sake of others. The freedom to pursue true happiness as dictated by the self, not by the opinions of others. It’s this freedom that unleashes true creative power. If we all existed in that state of boundless freedom, the result would be a society of peace and prosperity.

  Yes. It made so much sense. I soaked it up just like I’d soaked up computer science in the early days of my training. I was like a sponge just dying for more.

  Capitalism was a joke. The knowledge, thinking and rational action The Alliance used to free themselves from the shackles of the beast were good things.

  Following the judgment of others was the surest path to misery. It’s okay to pursue one’s own independent course, to think one’s independent thoughts. Not just okay, but important. The world needed more independent thinkers to break the status quo and free humanity from bondage.

  Freedom of action was not freedom to act by permission, but freedom to act as an absolute—by right. Yes. Yes, I totally agreed with that. It all made so much sense like a light had finally been switched on, and I could see everything clearly for the first time.

  Freedom was a tricky thing, however. Did most people really want to be free, or did they only say they did? Sigmund Freud believed that for the most part, desire for freedom was nothing but lip service. People don’t really want to be free, he concluded, because freedom involves responsibility. Something goes bad in your life, you want somebody else to blame for it. God forbid you’re the only person who had a say in the direction your life went in, or something bad comes up and you only have yourself to rely on. Most people would rather have the comfort of a protector, even if that protector were a tyrant.

  That wasn’t me. I was ready to accept responsibility for myself. I was willing to make a difference. And I was tired of feeling isolated, working alone with no support. I wanted a community. I wanted The Alliance to become my family in more than just shared ideology. I needed a mentor to show me the ropes of how to crack the shell and get inside. But how?

  Meanwhile, life moved on around me. I had to keep making an effort to appear like I was going with the flow—I wasn’t even eighteen yet, so I couldn’t break free. I hadn’t even graduated high school. Sitting in class with a bunch of kids who only dreamed of going to college and drinking themselves silly, then making a ton of money in some stupid job they’d come to hate, seemed like a joke to me. But I did my best, if only because my parents loved me and had always done what they thought was best for me. I wasn’t hardcore enough to completely dismiss them—nor was I stupid enough, since they were still housing me and putting food in my mouth.

  Over the years, as my skills and knowledge had developed, so had I. By the time I graduated school on my eighteenth birthday, I’d developed into the sort of girl guys whistled at and made crude suggestions to on the street. The first time a group of men catcalled me, I’d actually looked around to make sure it was me they were talking to. Me? Why me? Then, I’d gotten a glimpse of myself in the window of the store I’d been walking past at the time. Was that me with all those curves? The tiny waist, the round butt, the long, blonde hair that curled naturally in soft waves? Were those my boobs in that tank top? I’d only thrown it on before leaving the house without thinking twice because I was in a hurry. I almost never looked at myself before that day, because in my head I’d always seen the awkward, gangly girl with no body to speak of. Somewhere in all that studying and learning and growing, I’d turned into a different person both mentally and physically.

  That was why, when my father threw his arms around me after my high school graduation ceremony and mentioned moving onward and upward to Harvard, I went stiff. I’d been accepted into Harvard’s computer science program that spring. How could I tell him, or my beaming, teary-eyed mother, that the idea of hanging out at Harvard for four years was looking less desirable to me every day? I held my tongue, letting them both think I was happy as we snapped pictures.

  After dinner, when we finally got home, I could go to my room and drop the act. Good thing, too, since it was exhausting. I used my exhaustion as an excuse to jog upstairs as soon as we walked through the front door of our Brooklyn brownstone.

  “Don’t you have a graduation party to go to or something?” My mother asked. I managed not to roll my eyes. She knew I didn’t have friends.

  “No,” was all I said, shrugging. “I’m too tired, anyway.” Sure, kids were throwing huge parties that night, and all throughout the weekend. I wasn’t going to any of them.

  “I just feel like you should celebrate your graduation and birthday in a bigger way, Sophie,” she chewed her bottom lip, fretful.

  “Mom.” I walked back downstairs to meet her in the tiled entryway. “You know me. I’m not into big parties or lots of people.”

  “Do you want to go out for ice cream later?”

  “Maybe some other time, mom. Thank you for the offer.” I smiled and rubbed the beautiful diamond pendant my parents had given me for my graduation.

  “Okay, dear,” I gave my mother a kiss on the cheek and a grin to show I was more than okay with spending the rest of the night in my bedroom, then jogged upstairs again. She meant well.

  Only when I was in my room and alone again could I breathe freely. What was I going to do about college? How could I sit in class and pretend to go along with my professors when I knew there was a better way of life, a better world at our fingertips? I had a couple of months to work it out, but something would have to give.

  I pulled off my graduation cap, then unzipped the gown I’d been wearing all day. Bye-bye, high school. I won’t miss you. My desk sat beneath a big, round window—my favorite aspect of my sky-blue bedroom—and the laptop waited on top of that. During the day, natural sunlight streamed through the window and provided a balance to the rather dark matter I normally read about. But it was nighttime, the only light streaming into my room that of the streetlamp variety.

  I changed into comfortable clothes and settled in to check out my virtual life. What had happened while I was gone?

  A lot, evidently. The Alliance’s blog had been updated only a few minutes earlier. I always loved a new post. What would they teach me that night? It was a video, which was a departure for them. Would I finally get a look at one of the faces behind the blog? I’d wondered so many times who, exactly, comprised the group. Hackers weren’t by nature social people, and a group pledging to upend society was understandably shy about showing
itself in public. But I could hope.

  I clicked the “Play” button, settling in with bated breath.

  The video started with a black screen. Slowly, lights came up. The back of a man’s head was visible, but nothing else. He began to speak—it was jarring since his voice had been disguised electronically. Again, not a surprise. People like this, who knew all the tricks, would do everything they could to avoid getting caught by revealing themselves.

  “Greetings,” the slow, melodic voice said. “This is a message to the world. The United States Congress just passed a bill allowing food manufacturers the inclusion of a new drug called Boxutrin into a variety of products. Boxutrin is an inhalant and hallucinogen created from human waste. The drug originated in South Africa and is most popular on the African continent today. It is a hard drug, categorized even above heroin. Side effects can range from heart problems and blood clots, liver disease, arthritis, seizures, depression, sudden death and more.”

  Was this true? My mind was blown wide open. Would the government really allow something like that into our food? But why? How? It didn’t seem real. Like something out of a movie.

  “We have uncovered documents outlining the government’s plans to wipe out the lower class by incorporating Boxutrin in many affordable food products most often purchased by poor and lower-class citizens. The labeling of Boxutrin is not required, according to this recently-passed bill. Many food products consumed on a daily basis throughout the country could contain significant amounts of this dangerous drug.”

  I was breathless. How? How did they get their hands on documents? And why would anybody be stupid enough to leave something like that where any hacker could get their hands on it? Then again, The Alliance weren’t just any hackers. They were who I aspired to be. I thought about the millions of people in danger as a result of this drug. Did the government really try to kill people like that?

  He continued. “The food industry has remained silent in regards to their involvement in this scheme. The passage of this bill is nothing less than an outright declaration of war against the American people by the power elite and their military connections. If this bill is signed into law, it will shred the remaining amount of freedom we currently have. The torture of Americans and the state-sanctioned extermination of U.S. citizens will occur here, on this very soil, once those citizens begin consuming food containing this drug. They’ll be hooked before they know it, and their health will slowly degrade—or quickly, depending on how much of the tainted food they eat, and how frequently.

  “The Senate does not want to respond to us. No one wants to hold those to blame responsible for the production of Boxutrin. None of them have the courage or the moral fortitude to admit whose idea it was to use this drug in our food supply. Where you, the American people, once had the freedom to choose your state of health, your health will now be decided for you. Where you once had the freedom to think freely and object to that which you didn’t want to be a part, these decisions could now be made for you without your awareness. You now have a system of surveillance, coercion and other tactics to ensure your submission.

  “Who’s to blame?” The man chuckled, the sound chilling me to the bone. “Certainly, there are those who are more responsible than others. It’s our duty to hold them accountable. Those who once promised us order, peace and freedom are now demanding your silent consent. If you have seen nothing and the crimes of the government remain unknown to you, then I suggest you allow the law to be passed. But! If you see what I see, feel what I feel, and are ready to take the mask off the eyes of the rest of the country, I ask you to stand beside me. Join us in uncovering the truth.

  “Together, we stand against the injustice of our own Government. We are The Alliance.”

  The video ended. And there I sat, breathless.

  I wanted in.

  For once and for all, I wanted to be a part of what The Alliance was doing, no matter what it took.

  All I had to do was find a way in.

  Chapter 3

  I had to look around my bedroom for a little bit to ground myself again. The unknown man’s words, his message, had enveloped me. I felt so dark and so damned angry. How could the government do things like that to the people they promised to protect? Wasn’t that the idea, to make sure we could all live happily and as healthfully as possible? Somewhere along the line, the idea had been overthrown in favor of profit.

  It made me sick.

  My heart raced. After all the time I’d spent on The Alliance’s website, reading, and learning, I finally felt as though they were speaking to me. Directly to me. I had to be part of them. I wanted to uncover the truth just as they did. I wanted to see what they saw, all of it, even if it hurt. Because sometimes things had to hurt before they could get better. I could never go back to living in the dark, not when so much of the light had been exposed.

  How much power did this secret group have, that they were able to tap into government information like that? Not only tap into it but reveal it? I’d be scared to death of crossing the wrong people, but whoever had put that video together hadn’t been scared. They’d gone ahead and done what they felt was their duty. And they must have done it very, very carefully to avoid detection.

  Still, it was worth a try, seeing if I could get into their backend somehow.

  I started clicking around their YouTube channel, blog, and video. There had to be some sort of contact information left behind, something I could use. After a few minutes, it was clear they’d been even more careful than I might have in their shoes. This wasn’t their first time at the rodeo. I blew out an exasperated breath at their level of attention to detail, even as I admired them for it. Sometimes I just wished they didn’t have to be quite so good.

  Still. I couldn’t shake a funny feeling that The Alliance would want to leave a way for people to contact them. Didn’t they call for others to join them, after all? There had to be some way to reach out. It was up to me to find the clue they’d left—and if I was good enough, I thought, I might earn the respect it would take to be part of them. That might have been their test, I realized. If you’re good enough to find the one and only opening we left behind, you’re good enough to be one of us.

  So, I kept digging around.

  I started by hacking YouTube’s backend, which didn’t take long at all. My eyes lit up when I found an email address The Alliance used to log into their account and post the video. Granted, it was probably an inactive address which nobody ever checked, but it was worth sending a short message. Just in case.

  Hi. I have been tracking your work and am impressed with your progress. I want to be part of your mission. I have the skills needed to contribute to your group. Please send me a message in return if you receive this. I am your ally and friend. -S

  I sat back and looked at my screen. I wondered if I would actually hear back—I hoped, of course, but there was a more than a good chance that I wouldn’t. If I didn’t, what would I do? If I did, how would I react? Had I just stepped into something way bigger than I could have imagined? Could I handle the fallout?

  The longer I waited, the clearer it was that any hope of response was unrealistic. They were a group of people trying to uncover government secrets. They didn’t have time to respond to a fresh out of high school graduate who wanted to join them. They’d probably gotten the email, read it and dismissed me.

  It was time to give up.

  I couldn’t spend the entire night sitting there, staring, chewing on my nails. I started closing the lid of my laptop, disappointed when something strange caught my eye. The arrow moved without my hand touching the mouse or trackpad.

  I opened it again, staring at the screen. Sure enough, the pointer shot from one side of the screen to the other. I watched in amazement as the arrow moved down to my toolbar and clicked on the Word icon, opening a new document. I was torn between wanting to throw up and wanting to scream in delight.

  Somebody had hacked into my laptop and was controlling its every
move. The Alliance had seen my message and thought it was worth a reply.

  I watched as words appeared in the word document.

  Hello friend

  I didn’t know what to say. It was the moment I’d been waiting for, my “in,” a foot in the door—and I was at a total loss for words. Did they even want me to reply? What if I wasn’t the person they wanted to hear from? What if they didn’t like me or think I was good enough for them?

  More words appeared, as if by magic.

  I received your message. You said you had something to contribute. Please, type your response.

  I took a deep breath before quickly responding.

  Yes, I want to contribute. I feel I can be a benefit to The Alliance.

  It was crucial that they not think I was hesitant about joining them. I was willing to do whatever it took to be a part of their group. I started thinking of all the time I’d spent following The Alliance, wondering about them, wondering what they would accomplish. Never had I considered being part of it. Never had I even imagined them taking me seriously enough to reach out to me.

  Do you have intel?

  I frowned. That wasn’t what I meant by “contribute.” So The Alliance had the wrong idea. My heart sank.

  No, I don’t. I want to join The Alliance.

  I waited, chewing my nails again. What would they think about that? Would they laugh me off and go away? This was my big chance, too. But it was all slipping away before I could capitalize on it.

  What is your name?

  I hadn’t expected that question, and it made me shift uncomfortably in my seat. I knew it wasn't such a good idea to give away my identity. These people were powerful, after all. They had capabilities most people couldn’t comprehend. Did I want them to know who I was? Was I even ready to join a digital revolution against the government?