I was working on the Intercontinental project. I was looking into one of the lesser-known aspects of security in electronic commerce. When a person accesses a page on the Web for electronic commerce, they are frequently asked to provide some personal information including a credit card number and home address in order to make a purchase. That information is then stored on their computer in a file called a 'cookie' so that they do not have to provide that information each time that they visit the site. Next time they visit the site the cookie is retrieved and the online vendor knows who they are. Not only was this convenient, but it provided better security. The information provided by the customer was encrypted and stored in the cookie. With the next order, the encrypted information was sent eliminating any problems associated with sending personal information over the Internet.
I was looking into a potential security hole in this system. If a hacker could retrieve a cookie from another person's computer and decrypt it, they could potentially breach the security of the whole system. They could leave the credit card number intact, change the mailing address to a post office box, reencrypt the file, and order a large number of items from the site that owns the cookie. The goods would be sent to the post office box, which would be abandoned long before the credit card bill arrived. My job was to see how easy or difficult it might be to steal cookies off somebody else's machine, decrypt and modify them, and order goods using the victim's credit card number.
My concentration was shattered as Patience came in with little ceremony. She dropped her backpack heavily on the floor and set her coke on the computer desk. Then she opened the top drawer of my desk, took the bottle of extra strength ibuprofen, and shook four tablets into her hand. She tossed them into her mouth and washed them down with coke. I often wondered how she could drink coke so early in the morning, but I decided now was not the time to bring it up. Instead, I looked over the list of commercial web sites that we were going to try to hack for the Intercontinental project.
Much to my relief, Sherry showed up a few minutes later. But my relief was short lived. I was going to give her a list of sites and have her order some products from each site so we would get their cookies on the workstation.
But before she even said good morning, she asked, "Do you have any Ibuprofen?"
"Its in the top drawer," I said, gesturing at the drawer that Patience had not completely closed.
She took a couple of tables and went out to get some water from the water cooler. When she returned, she announced "I need to check my email."
The implication was that I was in her seat. It was really my seat and my computer, but that seemed to be a subtlety unworthy of mention at this point.
"I'll be done in just a minute," I said.
I looked at my computer screen trying hard to think of something I needed from the library, when Angel showed up at the door again. She spotted the bottle of Ibuprofen that Sherry had left on the desk, shook a few out and washed them down with a gulp of Patience's coke. Patience did not seem to notice. Instead she was busy glaring at the computer screen.
"Have you talked to Professor Haggerty yet?" she asked in a clipped tone.
"No," I said, seeing the perfect solution to a tense situation. "I'll go talk to him now."
I got up and gestured for Sherry to take the chair. I ignored Patience and slipped past Angel into the hallway with the theme from The Great Escape running through my mind.
In the hallway I ran into Paul Prasad, a friend and colleague, and, at the moment, a welcome relief.
"I think we have a meeting of The Association planned for Thursday night. You going to be there?" I asked.
"Wouldn't miss it," he said ever the crowd pleaser.
Paul Prasad was a second generation American of Indian extraction. He was a Professor of Human Behavior in Organizations, specializing in large group dynamics. Like most social psychologists he was quick with a smile, handshake, and pat on the back, yet slow with a critical or substantive opinion. He was wearing boat shoes with no socks, chinos, and a golf shirt with some sort of trendy emblem stitched on it. Culturally, Prasad was thirty something of the Pepsi generation. He revered the big names in golf, tennis and baseball even more than the founders of social psychology.
Paul and Angel avoided each other like the matching poles of two magnets. Angel thought Paul was a complete sell out to everything decadent and meaningless that the West had to offer. Her traditional side viewed him as unrefined and uneducated while her hip western side viewed him as shallow and trendy. Paul thought Angel was strictly 'old country', believing in out dated concepts and traditions, unable to adjust to the realities of modern life. He viewed her as dark, morose and overly serious, carrying burdens that existed only in her mind. I scrupulously avoided getting between them.
I glanced back into my office to see if Angel was watching. All I saw was Patience who probably didn't give a damn either way and Sherry who was very busy with a chipped nail.
"I'm on my way to see Frank right now, so I'll remind him about The Association meeting on Thursday" I said, slightly over my shoulder.
The Association was really a fiction that the three of us shared. Soon I would find out that it wasn't the only fiction.