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[embedyt]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tTLplJ0Irlo[/embedyt]Marquel, TPVs NYTimes Digital Desk Section correspondent, was thinking about his lunch, when he read Symantec .  The security company indicated that a powerful program that could only have been created by a “nation state” has been finding its way into computer systems for six years. Marquel was both scandalized and angry that foreign governments are invading his information, stealing his humour, then publishing it on other websites like the Onion, Berkowitz report, and the president’s NSA morning briefing.

It seems that this program has been subtly invading all sorts of sites under the direction of a large state government. They have even sent out modifications and updates as if it were Word or Quicken. This is more than a professional job. It’s a hyper professional, government sponsored national security project. Plus who knows if they could set off our nuclear arsenal?

Later in the day, Marquel learned the real horror. All the suspicions were correct. The national government, however was not a foreign one. We’ve met the enemy and it’s us! We are controlling this spy code. Now Marquel didn’t know what to feel. If we were reading all the mail of foreign despots, and turning on and off their public utilities, that’s fine. But it turns out they are collecting all of our information. Marquel thought this was already settled but obviously the NSA is multi headed and regenerates itself.

Marquel went down to the NSA as soon as the scandal broke. He got one of the rare appointments of the day. A representative tried to explain the program.

“I can’t give you the details but this is like having Microsoft, Google, and Apple combine forces to discover critical security information. It is unbeatable.” He said.

“But no longer undetectable.” I added.

“Yes, it was only detectable if you discovered a half a dozen independent modules none of which make sense or are detectable on their own. Symantec did that. That’s surprising.” He said.

“What can it do?” I asked.

“Much is classified. If I said it could do anything and everything would you believe me?” He asked.

“Well that depends. Could it turn on a dishwasher?”

“Literally child’s play,” he said, “we could turn on Putin‘s dishwasher and his wife’s hairdryer.”

“And that’s not classified?” I asked.

“Oh no. The classified stuff would have you jumping out of your socks. You can’t imagine.”

I couldn’t. But I asked about the dishwasher again and he leaned forward, speaking low, slow, and carefully. He wanted my address, telephone number and other details. I suddenly had an idea.

“Tell you what. Can’t you find out all that by yourself?” I asked.

“Of course. Look into this lens and let’s get an optical scan.” he said.

He turned around. Then turned around again.

“Done.” I looked puzzled. He continued. “You’re dishwasher is on. I picked the regular cycle. There is also wash in your clothes washer. Want me to start that too?”

“Fine,” I said.

He took me even further aside. “You may have termites or some sort of bug.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked, truly alarmed.

“I can hear them. You can hear the crunching.”

“Couldn’t it be house pets or a neighbor?” I asked, hoping for a yes.

“Afraid not. This program is too sensitive. I told you: you couldn’t imagine. Your upstairs neighbor is fully infested. It sounds like whatever it is is making its way down to your floor.” He said.

I suddenly had a flash. “Listen. I lost the password to my iPad. Do you think you could get it for me?”

“No problem,” he said. He asked for my mother’s maiden name.

In seconds he gave me the password. “Marquel is not a very good password,” he said.

“But it’s easy to remember,” I countered.

“It’s even easier to get a better password. If you can’t remember, you could call us and we could remind you.”

“Would you do that?” I asked.

“I’m doing it aren’t I?” He asked.

“Well, yes. But in the future?” I asked.

“Of course.  Just ask for a press deputy. You know, your MasterCard is almost on zero.”

“I’ll try to take care of that.” I said, “thanks.”

“Well if you have trouble there’s a small account in a Wisconsin bank you haven’t touched in years.” He said.

“You’re kidding! I’d completely forgotten'” l said. “Hey is it possible you could just transfer it right now?”

He punched two buttons, moved his mouse and said, again, “done.”

I thanked him. Wow no more trouble with my passwords. What a relief.

“Hey,” he said, “you’ve got your mother’s maiden name wrong. It’s spelled with a K.” He said.

“You’re kidding. How’d you find it with my misspelling?” I asked.

“Oh I knew it already. It just seemed it would make you feel better if we needed to know something about you. But we already know everything.” He said.

Trying to show a bit of good humor, I said “you really don’t want to know all that.”

“I know. I can see,” he said, “but it looks like fun!”

I said good bye and went home. The dishes were fine and the clothes were ready for the drier. A brave new world. I could even spell my mom’s name correctly. That was a good thing. I think.

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