Hello internet wanderers!
I want to tell you a fable about absolute anonymity. The one to which the user so aspires. So it was with me. Now I'm sitting with chrome, drinking pills and trying in no case to open the "TCP / IP protocol" tab.
The beginning
It all started in 2007. I took my first steps in the wonderful world of carding. But the thought of getting caught constantly haunted me. At night, I dreamed of special purpose groups knocking out the doors of my apartment and signs on the whole screen of the monitor with the inscription "YOU GOT A WRONG". Then I wanted to become anonymous, Absolutely Anonymous.
I approached the issue seriously, not at the level of VPN and socks, but much deeper.
The first thing I did was get a SIM card issued for the homeless person Vasily (or Victor) and immediately bought an old mobile phone from my hands. It is worth mentioning that in most cases the phone was turned off with the battery disconnected. If necessary, I turned it on and checked the reports. This was one step towards absolute anonymity.
Then, mercilessly of my stomach, I plowed at a construction site and bought myself a Toshiba Satellite X200 laptop.
This was my black horse, the laptop became my loyal friend and I promised him thorough care.
After a short reasoning, I found out that it was too pale to sit on my internet, and began to work in this direction.
Antenna and hoods
To begin with, I needed a parabolic antenna and an external Wifi adapter, one painstaking evening with a soldering iron and I copulated them posthumously.
example here
Fortunately, I rented an apartment on the top floor, and finding a suitable wep wi-fi network with a moron system administrator did not cause any problems. Another half a day of brutus work and I already had a password for the "spare" wpa2 network.
Even then, I was working under a virtual pc with left proxies and a repaired poppy.
I believed that anonymity is an art and approached with the appropriate understanding. Nobody knew about the location of that very apartment, not even my parents. I showed the hostess a scan of the left passport with my photo. For her, I was Gennady Bely (fanaticism towards the Lord of the Rings affects) as well as for the others. The hood was the main attribute of my wardrobe, I did not go out into the street without it.
So I worked, slowly driving in bourgeois cards, and pennies were dripping onto my wm wallet. When the amount was accumulated. I transferred them to another wallet and already removed from it. The latter changed more often than toilet paper in my closet. And I loved to shit (;
Emery
But fear did not let go. Every time I took money out of my wallet, I was thrown into sweat, I was nervous and looked around. And then the shift began, I wanted Absolute Anonymity and I went to meet her. All my earnings , excluding food and paying for housing, went to this desire. First I bought an emery.
every morning I began to wash my fingers on it, to the point that they did not leave a single trace, before that I constantly wiped the laptop with alcohol, the version with emery seemed more respectable to me.
Since I had to remember a lot of passwords, and I was scared to write them down even in a password-protected archive, I wore a pendant around my neck with an inside. space. It contained a piece of paper with shallow passwords, just in case I replaced the letters of the alphabet by inventing my own. And the translation of the signs was already in a password-protected archive in the bowels of the Windows folder.
It's not scary to think, everything really was like that, and every day I still felt all the wretchedness of my anonymous existence. I saw flaws in everything. I will not describe my software preferences, changes in software, because the text will triple from this.
Omelette
And again I had dreams with riot police grabbing me by the crackling. I quarreled with the employer, as I thought, he wanted to set me up, now I understand he just showed sympathy and wanted to give me the opportunity to earn more. For myself, I realized that I was approaching the bar, once having breakfast I lit a cigarette, opened the large window of my 9th floor and sat down on the windowsill. I sat for about 5-10 minutes, maybe I waited more, I waited for the riot police to kick the door, but time passed, and the lazy special forces were in no hurry to take action, then suddenly the thought flashed in my head that passers-by would call the police and I jumped back and having tightly curtained the windows, he began to observe the situation below from another window. Nobody noticed me.
Further more. In the evenings, I broke into contacts and was content with my anonymity. One such evening, I saw the suddenly appeared inscription "information on the page may not correspond to reality" and did not understand why this inscription scared me, I rushed to my locker and put the pneumatic gun I bought earlier for safety to my temple. I didn't think about the consequences, I just squeezed the trigger right away, believe me, there was not enough gas in the cylinder for a full shot, and after a little glancing at the stars from the floor, I went to fry an omelet. I must say my girlfriend supported me. Yes, Yes, you will not believe, all this time I had a girlfriend. My Anya (name has been changed) Throughout this time, I periodically met with her, she loved me, cried, saw that I was not myself, asked where I live, wanted to come. But I was silent, said goodbye, got on the bus, passed one stop, walked the street and got on my bus. Anonymity, Absolute Anonymity. She also ruined me.
The attack began when I began to ask the hostess for permission to insert the bars on the windows (and at my own expense), by that time I had already inserted the steel door. She decided that I was mad because we need gratings on the 9th floor. Several trail. days passed vaguely, I only remember that I was afraid of windows.
They took me ...
And then on March 23, 2010, they took me. Have taken. What an irony of fate, instead of black masks, I was tied up with white robes. I don't remember what I was doing, but the neighbors called the brigade. And I myself opened the door for them. In Durkee I was diagnosed with Mental Disorder Caused by Persecution Mania. In aftereffect, I became friends with nurse Kolya (name has been changed) As he said, I opened the door for them, wrapped in curtains with a mop in hand. I myself did not expect this. Anya soon found me. I was discharged, and we went to my den, where we live to this day. Everything is working out, I'm drinking pills, sitting with chrome, and I'm afraid to open the "TCP / IP protocol" tab.
Afterword
I don’t know if there is morality in this fable, each of you will see it for himself and only for himself. The writing of this text is absolutely spontaneous as a result of reading this thread. Dedicated to the forbidden fruit of Absolute Anonymity.
(c) duck
I want to tell you a fable about absolute anonymity. The one to which the user so aspires. So it was with me. Now I'm sitting with chrome, drinking pills and trying in no case to open the "TCP / IP protocol" tab.
The beginning
It all started in 2007. I took my first steps in the wonderful world of carding. But the thought of getting caught constantly haunted me. At night, I dreamed of special purpose groups knocking out the doors of my apartment and signs on the whole screen of the monitor with the inscription "YOU GOT A WRONG". Then I wanted to become anonymous, Absolutely Anonymous.
I approached the issue seriously, not at the level of VPN and socks, but much deeper.
The first thing I did was get a SIM card issued for the homeless person Vasily (or Victor) and immediately bought an old mobile phone from my hands. It is worth mentioning that in most cases the phone was turned off with the battery disconnected. If necessary, I turned it on and checked the reports. This was one step towards absolute anonymity.
Then, mercilessly of my stomach, I plowed at a construction site and bought myself a Toshiba Satellite X200 laptop.
This was my black horse, the laptop became my loyal friend and I promised him thorough care.
After a short reasoning, I found out that it was too pale to sit on my internet, and began to work in this direction.
Antenna and hoods
To begin with, I needed a parabolic antenna and an external Wifi adapter, one painstaking evening with a soldering iron and I copulated them posthumously.
example here
Fortunately, I rented an apartment on the top floor, and finding a suitable wep wi-fi network with a moron system administrator did not cause any problems. Another half a day of brutus work and I already had a password for the "spare" wpa2 network.
Even then, I was working under a virtual pc with left proxies and a repaired poppy.
I believed that anonymity is an art and approached with the appropriate understanding. Nobody knew about the location of that very apartment, not even my parents. I showed the hostess a scan of the left passport with my photo. For her, I was Gennady Bely (fanaticism towards the Lord of the Rings affects) as well as for the others. The hood was the main attribute of my wardrobe, I did not go out into the street without it.
So I worked, slowly driving in bourgeois cards, and pennies were dripping onto my wm wallet. When the amount was accumulated. I transferred them to another wallet and already removed from it. The latter changed more often than toilet paper in my closet. And I loved to shit (;
Emery
But fear did not let go. Every time I took money out of my wallet, I was thrown into sweat, I was nervous and looked around. And then the shift began, I wanted Absolute Anonymity and I went to meet her. All my earnings , excluding food and paying for housing, went to this desire. First I bought an emery.
every morning I began to wash my fingers on it, to the point that they did not leave a single trace, before that I constantly wiped the laptop with alcohol, the version with emery seemed more respectable to me.
Since I had to remember a lot of passwords, and I was scared to write them down even in a password-protected archive, I wore a pendant around my neck with an inside. space. It contained a piece of paper with shallow passwords, just in case I replaced the letters of the alphabet by inventing my own. And the translation of the signs was already in a password-protected archive in the bowels of the Windows folder.
It's not scary to think, everything really was like that, and every day I still felt all the wretchedness of my anonymous existence. I saw flaws in everything. I will not describe my software preferences, changes in software, because the text will triple from this.
Omelette
And again I had dreams with riot police grabbing me by the crackling. I quarreled with the employer, as I thought, he wanted to set me up, now I understand he just showed sympathy and wanted to give me the opportunity to earn more. For myself, I realized that I was approaching the bar, once having breakfast I lit a cigarette, opened the large window of my 9th floor and sat down on the windowsill. I sat for about 5-10 minutes, maybe I waited more, I waited for the riot police to kick the door, but time passed, and the lazy special forces were in no hurry to take action, then suddenly the thought flashed in my head that passers-by would call the police and I jumped back and having tightly curtained the windows, he began to observe the situation below from another window. Nobody noticed me.
Further more. In the evenings, I broke into contacts and was content with my anonymity. One such evening, I saw the suddenly appeared inscription "information on the page may not correspond to reality" and did not understand why this inscription scared me, I rushed to my locker and put the pneumatic gun I bought earlier for safety to my temple. I didn't think about the consequences, I just squeezed the trigger right away, believe me, there was not enough gas in the cylinder for a full shot, and after a little glancing at the stars from the floor, I went to fry an omelet. I must say my girlfriend supported me. Yes, Yes, you will not believe, all this time I had a girlfriend. My Anya (name has been changed) Throughout this time, I periodically met with her, she loved me, cried, saw that I was not myself, asked where I live, wanted to come. But I was silent, said goodbye, got on the bus, passed one stop, walked the street and got on my bus. Anonymity, Absolute Anonymity. She also ruined me.
The attack began when I began to ask the hostess for permission to insert the bars on the windows (and at my own expense), by that time I had already inserted the steel door. She decided that I was mad because we need gratings on the 9th floor. Several trail. days passed vaguely, I only remember that I was afraid of windows.
They took me ...
And then on March 23, 2010, they took me. Have taken. What an irony of fate, instead of black masks, I was tied up with white robes. I don't remember what I was doing, but the neighbors called the brigade. And I myself opened the door for them. In Durkee I was diagnosed with Mental Disorder Caused by Persecution Mania. In aftereffect, I became friends with nurse Kolya (name has been changed) As he said, I opened the door for them, wrapped in curtains with a mop in hand. I myself did not expect this. Anya soon found me. I was discharged, and we went to my den, where we live to this day. Everything is working out, I'm drinking pills, sitting with chrome, and I'm afraid to open the "TCP / IP protocol" tab.
Afterword
I don’t know if there is morality in this fable, each of you will see it for himself and only for himself. The writing of this text is absolutely spontaneous as a result of reading this thread. Dedicated to the forbidden fruit of Absolute Anonymity.
(c) duck
