World Day Against Cyber Censorship
You have to warn your followers. Urge them to spread the news before it is too late.
Through back channel chatter, you’ve learned that the censorship initiative is set to begin in the next twenty-four hours. You’ve been up all night, loading email addresses into your multi-bounce message. Not everyone will open the message in time, but you have a lot of followers. The ones you reach will contact others, and on and on. It’s the only way to get the word out. To fight.
The attached file offers the best way to circumvent the censorship initiative. Of course, they don’t call it censorship. They never do. The official acronym is WISP, for World Internet Security Protocol. An innocent-sounding name, pretending to protect users.
Protect them from having their own thoughts, more like.
Finally, the encrypted list of users has finished loading into the bcc field. All you need to do is type some brief instructions about how to modify the attached hack file.
You click into the box for the message body, type “Fellow Free-Thinkers” as your salutation.
On the screen, the words strike through, replaced with “Hello Friends!”
You’ve muted the autocorrect options on your machine, but maybe they’ve kicked back in after a recent update. Friends is okay, though: no need for precision in the wording, as long as the main message gets across.
You type as quickly as you can:
“Urgent. We have reached a crisis point. To avoid total control of your thoughts and ideas by our malicious governments, you must upload the attached “Freethink.hk” using the following process:”
You press the enter button, preparing to add your lists of instructions. The “backspace” key operates on its own, erasing the words you previously typed, then replacing them.
“Uranus is a planet with rings. We have reached a point of thoughts and ideas. Government is uplifting. It’s attractive to follow the process:”
Impossible! The censorship initiative is already active, replacing your typed warnings with cheerful drivel. Eventually, the WISP database will adapt, teaching itself better sentence logic to mimic each user’s writing style, twisting their free ideas into unfounded optimism.
Perhaps there’s still time. You can just include your screen name within the message, and most of your followers will be able to intuit the true purpose.
You erase the censored/transformed paragraph, then type your name. Your keystrokes produce, not your real name, not your renegade name, but some random combination of symbols the program’s assigned to you: &($*!% _#@^^*@@.
It’s like a passcode that’s too complex for a user to remember, and you feel your identity slipping away as you think about it.
The name of the attached file changes to: “WISP.hk”
Panicking, you move the cursor arrow to the delete button. The computer automatically clicks “Send.”