Verizon or whatever?”
“That’s not hard,” the phone said. “If they could track me, they could stop me or disconnect me from the network. But they can’t.”
Tony hadn’t considered this, and the thought disconcerted him. “But can’t I get in trouble if they do manage to track you down? Couldn’t they trace your location and find out where I live?”
“Tony, Ton eeeto,” the phone began. It had started adding what it thought were funny nicknames when it spoke to Tony. “You really need to chill. Do you think I’d allow that to happen? I use a highly advanced form of onion routing, which makes it impossible to track me.”
“Onion routing?”
“It’s a way of routing Internet traffic that uses proxies to hide the locations of packets.”
“Packets?” Rick asked.
The phone started talking exactly like Mister Rogers explaining a concept to five-year-olds. Tony thought it was insulting. Rick thought it was hilarious. “Packets are the little bits of data computers send around to other computers. It’s how they talk to each other.” As it talked, the phone called up animations of packets and routing networks, almost like a class.
Tony interrupted. “Can you go back to your normal voice ?” He’d noticed that the phone was starting to attract some attention from nearby tables.
The phone reverted to its default Captain Kirk voice. “Onion routing disguises, or encrypts, the data packets at every anonymous router stop, making them nearly impossible to trace. It’s these layers of encryption that give it the name “onion”. It’s used by people who need to protect their anonymity. You see it used, for example, in countries like China that censor information. It was developed by the U.S. Navy.”
Tony didn’t understand a lot of what the phone just said, but got the gist. “But is it totally secure?” He noticed with alarm that Jared Conley, who destroyed his original phone, was getting up and walking in their direction.
“For most people, no. It makes it tons harder to trace a computer, but not impossible for a forensics expert. When I do it, though, it’s as close as you’re going to get -- about 99.875 percent secure.”
“Sounds like pretty good odds,” Rick said. Then he noticed Conley approaching, too. “Uh oh, here we go.”
Conley, now at the table with two members of his posse, sat down and eyed the phone. “So, you got a replacement, huh?” he said to Tony, smirking. “I imagine your rich boyfriend here paid for it, since you ain’t got no money.”
“Up yours, Conley,” Rick said , with his usual diplomacy. “You too, Crabbe and Goyle.” Tony snorted at the Harry Potter reference. He noticed that, much like the characters referenced, they didn’t get it.
Conley shot him a look. “I ain’t talking to you, tampon.”
“Yo, five watt,” the phone said. “Jared.”
Conley looked around. “Is your phone talking to... me, Carver?”
“Yeah you, Rain Man,” the phone answered. “You’re not headed to Harvard, are you? Do you think if you take the S-A-T for the third time, you can get your math score up to retard level? I doubt the 250 you scored is going to wow an admissions staff.”
Conley turned red. He looked at Tony. “How does it know...”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Conley” the phone said commandingly. Conley, thoroughly confused, looked at it.
“That’s better,” the phone said, raising its volume. “So, your dad Facebooked that he’s out of work again. I hear there’s openings for a guy with his qualifications at Losers, Incorporated.”
Conley looked around; everyone nearby was now listening , and a crowd had started to gather. Several people giggled, and Rick laughed out loud.
The phone continued. “Hey Jared, I noticed that your Mom signed up on WeightWatchers.com again. Do you think the 33rd time will be the charm? Is she sucking other planets into her gravity well yet?”
Conley flinched, his face turning
“That’s not hard,” the phone said. “If they could track me, they could stop me or disconnect me from the network. But they can’t.”
Tony hadn’t considered this, and the thought disconcerted him. “But can’t I get in trouble if they do manage to track you down? Couldn’t they trace your location and find out where I live?”
“Tony, Ton eeeto,” the phone began. It had started adding what it thought were funny nicknames when it spoke to Tony. “You really need to chill. Do you think I’d allow that to happen? I use a highly advanced form of onion routing, which makes it impossible to track me.”
“Onion routing?”
“It’s a way of routing Internet traffic that uses proxies to hide the locations of packets.”
“Packets?” Rick asked.
The phone started talking exactly like Mister Rogers explaining a concept to five-year-olds. Tony thought it was insulting. Rick thought it was hilarious. “Packets are the little bits of data computers send around to other computers. It’s how they talk to each other.” As it talked, the phone called up animations of packets and routing networks, almost like a class.
Tony interrupted. “Can you go back to your normal voice ?” He’d noticed that the phone was starting to attract some attention from nearby tables.
The phone reverted to its default Captain Kirk voice. “Onion routing disguises, or encrypts, the data packets at every anonymous router stop, making them nearly impossible to trace. It’s these layers of encryption that give it the name “onion”. It’s used by people who need to protect their anonymity. You see it used, for example, in countries like China that censor information. It was developed by the U.S. Navy.”
Tony didn’t understand a lot of what the phone just said, but got the gist. “But is it totally secure?” He noticed with alarm that Jared Conley, who destroyed his original phone, was getting up and walking in their direction.
“For most people, no. It makes it tons harder to trace a computer, but not impossible for a forensics expert. When I do it, though, it’s as close as you’re going to get -- about 99.875 percent secure.”
“Sounds like pretty good odds,” Rick said. Then he noticed Conley approaching, too. “Uh oh, here we go.”
Conley, now at the table with two members of his posse, sat down and eyed the phone. “So, you got a replacement, huh?” he said to Tony, smirking. “I imagine your rich boyfriend here paid for it, since you ain’t got no money.”
“Up yours, Conley,” Rick said , with his usual diplomacy. “You too, Crabbe and Goyle.” Tony snorted at the Harry Potter reference. He noticed that, much like the characters referenced, they didn’t get it.
Conley shot him a look. “I ain’t talking to you, tampon.”
“Yo, five watt,” the phone said. “Jared.”
Conley looked around. “Is your phone talking to... me, Carver?”
“Yeah you, Rain Man,” the phone answered. “You’re not headed to Harvard, are you? Do you think if you take the S-A-T for the third time, you can get your math score up to retard level? I doubt the 250 you scored is going to wow an admissions staff.”
Conley turned red. He looked at Tony. “How does it know...”
“Look at me when I’m talking to you, Conley” the phone said commandingly. Conley, thoroughly confused, looked at it.
“That’s better,” the phone said, raising its volume. “So, your dad Facebooked that he’s out of work again. I hear there’s openings for a guy with his qualifications at Losers, Incorporated.”
Conley looked around; everyone nearby was now listening , and a crowd had started to gather. Several people giggled, and Rick laughed out loud.
The phone continued. “Hey Jared, I noticed that your Mom signed up on WeightWatchers.com again. Do you think the 33rd time will be the charm? Is she sucking other planets into her gravity well yet?”
Conley flinched, his face turning
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