[SpaceGoat] what are we going to do about this
[SKa] i don't know
[SpaceGoat] we can't just let them get away with it
Another PM window blinks. SteeZ.
[SteeZ] yo I just saw the site
[SteeZ] what the hell happened
[SKa] something with the web code I never audited
[SteeZ] can we fix it
[SKa] yeah but that's not the point
[SKa] everyone's going to see this
On my other monitor, #main is lighting up. Our community channel on irc.goodmonin2ya.net.
The humiliation is public. Not just between crews, not just operator politics. Our users—the people who come for tutorials, who download our scripts, who trust us—they're seeing this.
[SpaceGoat] we need to hit them back
[SpaceGoat] hard
My terminal shows the server stats. User count: 43. Yesterday it was 68. Three days ago: 89.
I switch to another window. Check the server load.
It's bad.
Another channel window, #mp3 on our server.
Used to be.
On my EFNet connection, a PM window flashes. New message. Username I don't recognize.
[TraceOps] we need to talk
I check /whois TraceOps.
* TraceOps is (IRC Operator)
* on channels:
* on irc via server *.ma.us.efnet.org (EFNet MassOps Server)
* TraceOps is an IRC Operator
[TraceOps] your bots are causing problems across multiple EFNet servers
[TraceOps] excessive connections, network instability
[TraceOps] stop now or you're g-lined
[TraceOps] this is your only warning
I read the message three times.
I switch to #crew on our coordination server.
Ten seconds of silence.
I don't answer. I don't know yet.
I switch back to #main on our server. Need to see how bad it really is.
The user count drops to 25 while I watch.
I open the web server logs. Pages of 404 errors where the tutorials used to be. Then further up: repeated POST requests to the guestbook. Timestamps showing exactly when they got in. I thought that was fixed.
Nothing is completely destroyed. The IRC daemon still runs. The web server responds. The bots still connect—some of them.
But everything is touched.
School network: detected, access cut off.
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Website: defaced, public humiliation.
IRC server: struggling, community noticing.
EFNet access: threatened, one step from permanent ban.
I switch back to #crew.
The channel goes quiet for ten seconds.
On my other monitor, another user disconnects from #main.
SpaceGoat and SteeZ both idle.
The channel takeover was supposed to prove we belonged in the operator world. That we aren't just script kiddies running tutorials and file bots.
But watching our community fall apart in real time—watching users I actually know asking what happened—I'm not sure what we've proven anymore.
The channel keeps bleeding people. The scroll slows. The whole place feels hollow in a way I've never seen since we started it.
Maybe SKriLLa is right. Maybe the smart play is knowing when to stop.
---
I can't sleep.
Monitor's off. First time in months. I couldn't watch another user disconnect.
My ceiling has those textured bumps. Popcorn ceiling, my mom calls it. I've stared at it a thousand nights, running code in my head, planning the next script, the next feature, the next move.
Tonight it's just bumps.
The Northwestern folder sits on my desk. I can see its edge in the streetlight. Friday deadline. Distributed systems research. PhD candidates. College credit.
Downstairs, the TV murmurs. Late news. My parents have no idea the school network is flagged. No idea how close I came.
Server. Community. Tutorials. That's what I built.
Two channels on EFNet. Bragging rights. That's what I won.
The scales don't balance.
SpaceGoat and SteeZ are still idle in #crew. Waiting for me to figure it out. They'll be pissed. They worked just as hard.
But they're not the ones with a school administrator asking questions. They're not the ones with a Northwestern application sitting three feet away.
The folder catches the light again.
Friday deadline.
I could keep fighting. Find new shells. Dodge the G-line. Hope SYN gets bored before we run out of resources.
Or I could stop.
Somewhere around 2 AM, staring at the ceiling, I stop asking which one.

