It all started with a simple request. Dan, a student deeply immersed in his studies, found himself facing a dilemma when his classmate, Melissa Lenz, approached him. Her computer had broken down, and without it, her crucial coursework was in jeopardy. She dared to ask only Dan for help, a request that put him in a tight spot.
Dan's immediate thought was to lend her his computer. But then came the chilling realization: if she used his machine, she could potentially read his books. The idea, even at first glance, was terrifying. From elementary school, he'd been drilled with the notion that sharing books was akin to piracy – a grave offense. The fear of the Software Protection Agency (SPA) catching him was palpable. He'd learned in his programming classes that every book contained a copyright control that reported its usage – who, where, and when – to a Licensing Center. This information was used to track down 'reading pirates' and even sold to retailers for marketing purposes. The moment his computer connected to the network, the Licensing Center would know. As the owner, he'd face the harshest penalty for failing to prevent the 'crime'.
Of course, Melissa might have just needed the computer to type her paper. But Dan knew her family wasn't wealthy; paying for tuition was already a struggle, let alone paying to read. Perhaps his books represented her last chance at an education. He understood her predicament all too well; he himself had incurred significant debt to access the scientific articles he needed. (Ten percent of that money went to the authors, and since Dan aspired to be a scholar, he hoped his own frequently cited articles would eventually generate enough income to cover his debts.)
He later learned that there was a time when anyone could walk into a library and read journal articles and even books without charge. Independent scholars devoured thousands of pages without relying on state subsidies for libraries. But in the 1990s, both commercial and non-profit publications began charging for access. By 2047, public libraries offering free access to scientific literature had become a distant memory.
There were, of course, ways to circumvent the SPA and the Licensing Center, though these methods were themselves illegal. Dan had a programming classmate, Frank Martucci, who obtained a forbidden debugger and used it to bypass copyright controls while reading. But Frank had bragged about it to too many acquaintances, and one of them, desperate and deep in debt, betrayed him to the SPA for a reward. In 2047, Frank was in prison – not for pirated reading, but for possessing a debugger.
Dan later discovered that debuggers were once commonplace. Free debuggers were even available on CDs or online. But ordinary users began employing them to bypass copyright controls, and eventually, courts ruled that this had become their primary practical application. This made them illegal; those who developed debuggers were sent to prison.
Programmers, naturally, still needed debuggers, but by 2047, debugger vendors distributed only numbered copies, exclusively to officially licensed and bound programmers. The debugger Dan used in his programming classes was kept in a special environment, usable only for academic exercises.
Another way to bypass copyright controls was by installing a modified system kernel. Dan had recently learned about free kernels, even entire free operating systems, that existed at the turn of the century. But they were not only illegal, like debuggers – they couldn't even be installed if you didn't know your computer's administrator password. And that password was something you wouldn't get from the FBI or Microsoft support.
Dan concluded he simply couldn't lend Melissa his computer. Yet, he couldn't refuse her help because he loved her. Every time he spoke with her, he was filled with delight. And the fact that she asked him for help might have meant she loved him too.
Dan resolved his dilemma by doing something even more unthinkable: he lent her his computer and gave her his password. This way, if Melissa read his books, the Licensing Center would believe it was him reading them. This was also a crime, but the SPA wouldn't know automatically. They would only find out if Melissa reported him.
Of course, if the university ever found out he'd given Melissa his password, the doors of academia would close for both of them, regardless of how she used it. University rules stipulated that any interference with the systems controlling student computer usage was grounds for disciplinary action. It didn't matter if any harm was done; the violation was hindering administrators' ability to monitor your behavior. They saw it as a sign that you were engaged in other prohibited activities, and they weren't particularly interested in what those were.
Students usually weren't expelled for this – at least, not literally for this. Instead, they were denied access to the university's computing systems, and without that, it was utterly impossible to continue any studies.
Later, Dan learned that these kinds of rules appeared...
