cat /dev/hdb | grep -a DeCiro

Arthur stared at the steam rising from his coffee, waiting for the night shift to relieve him. His role in Technical Support at Site-19, as exciting as it may sound, mainly comprised of patiently explaining the nuances of the database to confused researchers and sifting through complaints regarding performance. His eyes shifted focus from the steam to the car park beyond the window where he spotted his colleague hunting for a space.

Not long now, he thought.

He rose from his chair and put on his jacket and then, as he reached for his coffee, the phone rang.

"What?" he snapped, picking it up.

"Hey, I'm wondering why port 29750's been blocked," said the voice on the other end.

"29750 has always been blocked from external access."

"I'm on the LAN though."

"What do you need it for?"

"Doesn't matter, goodbye," said the voice, hastily, before hanging up.

Arthur sighed, sat back down, and connected to the VoIP server. He found that the call had originated from a server room in an adjacent building. He briskly walked to the server room where he was met by a rush of cold air and a group of junior researchers, having appropriated high-refresh rate monitors and graphics workstations, attempting to host a game of Quake III on the Local Network.

"What the fuck are you doing?" bellowed Arthur, grabbing their attention.

"W-w-w-w-w-we were setting up a….. rendering cluster!" replied a familiar voice.

"We were trying to LAN Quake III," said a dejected researcher from the corner.

"If you co-operate with me, I won't tell anyone about this little farce, okay?" replied Arthur.

The nervous researcher who had placed the initial call nodded.

"Have you played Quake III on the LAN before?" asked Arthur.

"Y-yeah," replied the nervous researcher.

"When did 27950 first seem to be blocked?"


"Show me how you're trying to connect," said Arthur, suspecting incompetence on their part.

Arthur crouched beside a monitor and observed the nervous researcher. He soon saw that the researcher was connecting to "" rather than an IP in the local block as he had been led to expect.

"That's not the right IP," said Arthur, frustrated.

"Y-yes it is, we can use SSH with it, right guys?"

Arthur's eyes widened upon hearing the positive replies. Without saying a word, he left the room and ran to his PC, from which he remotely shut down all of the Site's routers. Once he was certain that no data would escape the bounds of Site-19, he made his way to the office of the Site Administrator, only to find it vacated. His assistant, however, was still at the door.

"When did he leave?" asked a breathless Arthur.

"Do you have an appointment?" asked the assistant.

"Some junior researchers have just given away the login credentials for the database."

"Run and we might be able to catch him in the car park!" quivered the assistant.

Already exhausted following a long day, Arthur ran off with the assistant in pursuit of the administrator. Rather than combing through the car park, they opted to wait at the exit barrier. Fortunately, the Administrator arrived a mere minute after they did.

"John, what are you doing?" inquired the administrator as her assistant threw himself in front of his car.

"You need to talk to this guy before you go, it's serious," replied John in a grave tone.

"What is it?" asked the administrator, visibly frustrated.

"A group of junior researchers have given their login credentials to an outside address," replied Arthur, panting, "I've had to shut down our network infrastructure for security."

The administrator looked down, shook her head, and beckoned the pair into her Camry.

"My shift was due to end nearly half an hour ago, where are we going?"

The Administrator responded by squeaking the tires on her Toyota Cressida in a rather aggressive u-turn.

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