Internet danger you cannot ignore

OK, so you've surfed the net a bit. Perhaps you're a seasoned web
user who understands every aspect of the technology. But I wonder if
even you are familiar with the highly specialised and
planet-threatening discipline of Data Online Research Publishing?

Never heard of it, do I hear you say?

In that case it's time we went behind the scenes of a typical Data
Online Research Publisher, to reveal some secrets of this little known
field, and to issue a warning about the potential threats it poses to .
. . well I'll let you make up your own mind.

A normal day in the life of a Data Online Research Publisher - or DORP
- begins at about 8am. He is probably aged 25 to 40, wears light jeans
and striped shirts, and sports a funky beard. Almost certainly, he
wears dark glasses. This person could be anyone, but for the sake of
argument we'll call him Bonvilz Shelthab, though most of his friends
and colleagues only know him as Ned.

Generally speaking Data Online Research Publishers tend to be quiet,
low profile folk eager to get on with their duties. They prefer to shun
the limelight.

Bonvilz is no exception. Anxious that his whereabouts and daily
schedule are not tracked by reception staff, security personnel or the
Inland Revenue, Ned usually enters his office by a rear window. Once
inside he gets straight down to business.

His first duty each day is to set up a secret transceiver-controller
kind of device in his desk drawer, which he then plugs into a
conveniently sited power socket in the wall behind.This tiny but
powerful instrument keeps him in touch with the outside world, allowing
him to transmit any useful information he gathers to colleagues who are
not in the building. He can also use it to control distant machinery.
Very distant machinery.

On the face of it Ned looks like any other human being who works in the
internet industry. But a closer look reveals subtle differences between
Ned and any other colleagues in the industry. Differences which
few---

Suddenly the phone rings.

"Hello, Ned Jones, Data Online Research Publisher, speaking," he
says.

And there we have the first clue.

Ned's voice has a strange dark metallic texture to it. What's more, he
runs his words together as if he doesn't need to breathe - as indeed he
doesn't.

Equally unusual is the fact that he doesn't pronounce any of his
vowels. The result is an odd guttural rumble that to anyone who speaks
English is quite incomprehensible.

But it doesn't need to be comprehensible. Because Ned is not talking to
one of his English-speaking colleagues, but to a member of his own
species. They talk quickly as if time is against them. In a couple of
minutes large volumes of information are exchanged.

Just then the door opens and Ken Foster, Ned's Finance Manager enters
carrying a piece of paper. Quick as a flash Ned switches to normal
English. His intonation is perfect, with just a hint of a West Lothian
accent.

Ken is concerned about the company's high expenditure on
electricity.

"Nearly four million pounds in three months", says Ken, waving the
piece of paper in his hand. He seems anxious and agitated. There are a
lot of things troubling him about the way Ned is running the company.
He tells Ned he is thinking of calling the police.

"You don't want to do that," says Ned. His voice is slow and relaxing.
"You don't want to do that."

Ken seems to calm down.

"Perhaps I shouldn't," he says and his eyes seem to lose some of their
sparkle.

Ned gets up from his desk and walks round to where Ken is standing. He
places both hands on Ken's forehead and looks directly at Ken. Their
eyes are just millimetres apart, their nostrils are touching.

"Whatever you do, Ken, don't call the police. They could start asking
awkward questions."

"Maybe I should call in the army," says Ken.

Ned takes the electricity bill from Ken and crushes it in his hands.
You can hear his knuckles crunching as he does this. Then he drops it
in the waste basket.

Down,
down,
down . . . it goes. It seems to take forever to drop into the
receptacle.

When it finally lands Ned turns back to Ken and smiles

"You're doing a good job, mate," he says. "Keep it up"

Ken steps out of the office looking less agitated than when he entered.
He won't be calling the police now. He doesn't need to, because what
Ned hasn't noticed is that hidden under Ken's jacket is a tiny police
microphone.

And so the day progresses for the Data Online Research Publisher. His
hours are spent scrolling through portals and peering into database
after database of information. Sometimes he uses his desktop computer,
sometimes you'll find him writing information in longhand on an old
ledger.

Every so often, when his secret transceiver-controller device beeps he
stops to upload more information. It is noticeable that when he does
this the lights flicker and dim across the city.

As he works he takes care not to concentrate too hard, because when he
does this, he tends to morph into a lizard-like creature.

And here's a clue . . . it's a lizard-like creature of the kind found
on the planet Dorp. That's right. Dorp! Fortunately for Ned, on the few
occasions this has happened no one has been in the room.

By the end of his shift Ned is tired and hungry. He's done all he can
for today, so he packs up his transceiver device, climbs out through
the window and heads home. As he does so he passes a small black van
parked inconspicuously in the roadway.

For our Data Online Research Publisher, another day has ended. As one
of the key workers in a billion pound industry he knows that there's
still plenty to do. Who knows what tomorrow might bring.