ANATOMY OF A PIRATE His eyes are bloodshot; he doesn't sleep. His wife and children used to know him; they no longer do. At one time, he was a fairly nice, easy-going guy. He liked to tinker, so he bought a computer. His life will never be the same. At night, he lurks in the shadows, seeking bad sectors, tearing them apart bit by bit, knowing that, soon, he will have broken the code and will have the world's first illegal copy of that diskette. He will keep his old car three more years, won't get his plumbing fixed, and will only survive on coffee and TV dinners, so that he may afford a third or fourth disk drive or the memory expansion he needs. Decryption and un-protection are his only goals. He does not care what the disk contains or how useful the program may be; breaking the code is far more challenging to him that completing ZORK III. He broke the ZORK series, but never played them. His purpose in life has become all-encompassing. He will get sick from lack of rest; he will have marathon sessions trying to undo the last protection check in the program, and, when he finally has reached his goal, he will experience post-partum depression. He is not after money, he is not after fame. He just wants to prove to himself that he is more intelligent that the one who devised the protection scheme in the first place. He will relate his exploits to a very close circle of friends at the club, and, because they listened, he will give them copies. His energy and imagination, if harnessed, could be used to create another LOTUS or WordStar. His mind, unfortunately, is single-tracked and lacks the visionary and creative qualities required. He is not unlike a counterfeiter; an electronic safe-craker who has amassed a wealth of technical knowledge and has invested thousands in tools, only to satisfy that one consuming obsession. He knows he will never get caught. He knows that, in reality, the ever-increasing complaints of software manufacturers, and programmers whose wealth and luxury are threatened by his actions, are but a reflection on their inability to effectively protect their treasures. He knows that if one man can do it, another man can undo it. He knows that computers have rules that must be obeyed, and that all bootable disks must start the same way. That is enough of a crack for him to get through. He hates unprotected disks; they offer no challenge. He will save enough to buy a new piece of software whose code hasn't been cracked, and sell it to the highest bidder at the first club meeting which follows his success. In his public life, he is likely to be non-descript; an underdog who doesn't shine much at anyhting he does or says. He probably doesn't dress well, his physical appearance is of no importance to him. He doesn't have the charisma and moral fiber of a Long John Silver. His opinions aren't sought, his advice isn't followed. He isn't respected much, except by the freeloaders who depend on him. After all, he is giving something for nothing. His darkest secret, however, is that he lives in constant fear that, some day, he will fail. He will not crack the code. He will realize that other club members were fair-weather friends and that he lost, in a single stroke of fate, the attention he was so eagerly seeking. Like the rest of us, he will grow old, his priorities will change, his eagerness will die down. As he looks around him, he may realize that the best times of life have passed him by, and that there is no making up for the lost time. He will be bitter, having left an insignificant mark on the world, having wasted his time in pointless pursuits. No one will miss him. To him, I dedicate this epitaph: Here Lies a Pirate Who Never Sailed.