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...presents... The 1999 Chaos Communication Camp:
An Eyewitness Account
by Reid Fleming
4/25/2000-#375
__///////\ -cDc- CULT OF THE DEAD COW -cDc- /\\\\\\\__
\\\\\\\/ Everything You Need Since 1984 \///////
___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___ _ _ ___
|___heal_the_sick___raise_the_dead___cleanse_the_lepers___cast_out_demons___|
[Auch fühlen Sie bitte sich frei, mein Fotoalbum durchzulesen.
http://www.newhackcity.net/~rfleming/cccamp1999/pix.html]
In August 1997, I remember seeing news coverage of a hacker conference in
Holland called Hacking In Progress. It was
a hacker con like any other, except for a small twist: the Dutch decided to
hold it outdoors.
Everybody slept in tents. There was a camp-wide LAN to plug into, as well as
an electrical feed. It sounded like the coolest thing, and I wished very
much that I could be there.
I made a mental note to look into attending HIP '98, but the idea was
unlikely. For one thing, I had never been to Europe. I didn't like the idea
of traveling alone, and my high school Spanish would be useless in the
Netherlands. Hell, I didn't even own a passport.
A year and a half passed, and there never was another HIP. But in that time,
a lot had changed for me. I somehow managed to survive two trips to Europe,
even one by myself. I had been to England, Ireland, Germany, France, and the
Netherlands.
In March 1999, I was chatting with Frank Rieger of the Chaos Computer Club.
Frank told me that they were putting together a hacking conference outside
Berlin. The event would be held outdoors in tents, just like HIP.
They were calling it the Chaos Communication Camp, scheduled for August 6-8.
Frank urged me to come, and to bring my cDc brothers and sister. Initially,
my answer was no. We were all busy scrambling to cover the details of our
upcoming Defcon presentation, which was just four months away. BO2K was in
beta, lots of loose threads required tying up, and I still hadn't located a
smoking jacket to wear.
Also, a trip to Germany means luggage, passport, currency exchange,
electrical socket adapters, and 18 hours wasted in planes and airports. And
let's not forget the language barrier. I was in Germany once before, so I
knew basically what to expect. The Germans lull you into a false sense of
security, because they speak fluent English in the airport. Same for your
hotel's front desk, and in nice restaurants. [Ed: That's not my
recollection. The previous year when Reid Fleming and I went to Germany,
almost no one spoke English. When I inquired with the hotel front desk in
Berlin about the nearest Cyber Cafe, I had to explain what the Internet was.
The desk clerk asked me in German, "Do you think Germany has an Internet?" A
year later, apparently Germany has one.]
But at a train station or fast food restaurant or taxicab, the English gets
pretty rare. It's a real struggle because all I have is a cheap German
phrasebook and decades of World War II films and Castle Wolfenstein for the
Apple ][. So basically I can say "HALT! AUSWEISS! HEIL!" but that's really
about it.
But Frank wouldn't accept my answer. On IRC he whittled away at my resolve,
until one day I watched myself order a roundtrip ticket to Berlin. I tried
to convince some other cDc people to join me, but everyone was gonna be
either busy or broke.
By the time Defcon arrived, I had nearly forgotten about the CCC Camp. That
weekend was crazy. All I wanted to do afterwards was spend a few months in an
isolation tank.
Then one day about three weeks after Defcon, I purchased a brand new sleeping
bag, hailed a cab to the airport, and boarded a plane to Berlin.
- x X x - AUGUST 5, THURSDAY - x X x -
I land in Berlin-Tegel in the afternoon. Make it through passport control
and customs without getting searched, which is good because I am carrying
some stuff that the customs officials might have confiscated.
I just don't have the brainpower or energy to deal with the S-Bahn, so I hire
an airport cab to bring me to the Camp. It's been about 12 hours since I
left home. Of course, the first cab driver doesn't speak English. And he
isn't a Berlin cab. He points to a taxi stand where I can grab a Berlin cab.
I approach one driver and ask how much it will cost to get to Paulshof, a
rural town half an hour east of Berlin [Ed: Paulshof is apparently so remote,
they only have a ***">test site***" for the city's web page.]. He speaks
English (luckily) but has no idea where Paulshof is and doesn't have a map.
We dither over this set of problems for a short time before he locates
another driver who has a map. He has never driven there before either, but
he's willing to try. Of course, he doesn't speak English.
About an hour later we reach Paulshof. We have no real idea what to do next,
but then I catch a glimpse of a white sign with a rocket on it and an arrow
pointing left. We follow it to another sign, and then another, and finally
we're heading down a deserted country lane.
There are some cars parked here, and a card table with somebody taking money
from some backpackers. This must be the place. The cab-fare works out to
around 80 DM, the driver leaves with 100.
I grab my duffel bag and head over to the table. I pay the entry fee and ask
where I can find Frank Rieger.
"You are American?" the guy asks. Yes I am. "Frank said there was an
American coming, and to notify him." Yes, I'm that guy. He says something
into his walkie-talkie.
I receive my wristband and booklet. The guy points out where the
Reengineering camp is on the booklet map. I am directed to walk down the
lane, past the farm house, then turn left at the Art&Beauty tent. Which I
do.
Mostly brown grass everywhere with the consistency of straw. Small clumps of
greenish crabgrass scattered atop the clay field. Lots of tents already up,
some still in process. The ground is hard. I see people struggle to pound
tent stakes into the soil.
The camp is laid out in a radial pattern of sorts, like a wagon wheel. A
small spaceship (called the "Nugget") sits in a wooden corral at the center.
The various camps are arranged around it, as irregular pie wedges. Borders
between camps are defined by lines of standalone fluorescent lamps, arranged
in spokes.
If the layout sounds particularly orderly, it isn't. The edges of one camp
and another are very blurred; there are no signposts and few landmarks.
Turns out I was directed to the wrong place. I check the map again.
Unfortunately, the cartographer decided to use a bright green to indicate the
Reengineering camp and a slightly brighter green to indicate an area of grass
on the other side of camp.
It's going to get hot, and I don't have shorts. Just black denim jeans. Not
good, but at least there's an intermittent wind off the lake. (Let's hope
this continues all weekend.)
After a few minutes of walking around, I finally locate the Reengineering
camp and Frank and I find each other. He shows me the brand-new dome tent
which I will call home for the next 5 days. I throw my stuff in the tent and
slap a cDc sticker on each tent wall so I can find it at night. Then Frank
shows me around the Camp. We take a clockwise path, in order to wind up at
the Cryptography camp.
We come to a portable toilet with a big padlock on it. There are a handful
of ethernet cables emerging from the plastic grill of one of the air vents.
The cables drop to the ground and run across the field toward various tents.
Then I notice the sign. "Datenklo: keine Toilette! no toilet!"
Frank informs me that Datenklo is German for "Datapotty". Actually, he says
the British version ("Dataloo"). In addition to all the standard portable
toilets, the CCC ordered 10 with the waste storage systems omitted. These
are spread out over the Camp, providing shelter to the network backbone
equipment. If you need to plug in a hub, you have to find somebody with a
key to your local Datenklo.
We pass through the Lockpicking camp. They have a large tent set up for
workshops, which is packed with people sitting barefoot on the carpeted
floor. They are diligently poking metal slivers into padlocks.
Next, we walk into the Hackcenter, which is housed in an enormous tent,
easily the largest in the compound. It's big enough to house a couple of
full-court basketball games, were it not clogged with computers and people
and furniture. Temporary wooden flooring. There are dozens of tables
teeming with computer equipment and scores of people tending to their Linux
boxes. There is an information table and your standard cork bulletin boards
with late-breaking announcements. Also, this looks like the best place to
purchase cold beverages, especially after Frank tells me it's open 24 hours.
We emerge through the other side of the Hackcenter and there's the 60-foot
tall portable microwave tower. The tower is attached to a bigass truck. I
am told that Deutsche Telekom agreed to provide the use of their tower,
largely because they had never deployed it for anything but test exercises
and would like to see how it handles a live network. The microwave link
yields a 34 megabit connection.
Frank tells me that they wanted to put up a big CCC flag atop the microwave
tower, but their Aesthetics crew objected. I come to learn that the CCC has
hired people experienced in putting on raves. They handle key elements, such
as decorating and food service.
Then we come to the Art&Beauty camp. The Art&Beauty people are helping to
design new components for the Heart of Gold repair effort. They have a very
cool looking archway whose design was obviously influenced by the
extraterrestrial visitors.
Their tent is filled with graphic design workstations and printers, plus a
piece of equipment which at first glance resembles a plotter but upon closer
inspection reveals itself to be a 3D printer. It's a computer-controlled
machine which assembles solid objects by layering little strips of molten
plastic.
We continue our trip by heading for the lakeshore, which is right in the
heart of the Leisure Lounge camp. Here is the spot to watch the Europeans
strip naked and go for a swim. Or buy a Wagenburger (a vegetarian
hamburger-like product). Or have a drink. Or listen to dance music in the
evening.
We continue our circuit and finally arrive at the Cryptography camp. The
Cypherpunks have organized this area, and they have two tents set up for
their purposes. One is basically a place for them to throw their clothes
and sleeping bags. The other is a well-furnished rec room, complete with a
refrigerator, deejay station and sound system, picnic benches, and inflatable
plastic couches and chairs.
This is the most ostentatious (and loudest) spot in the camp. Accordingly,
it's got the highest concentration of Americans. I feel right at home here.
Operating out of a VW bus in the back of the Cryptography camp are several of
the Hippies from Hell. They're a bunch of Dutch hackers plus a few of their
little kids.
I hang out with Frank until midnight or so. I meet some Cypherpunks, CCC
people, and most of the Hippies from Hell.
When I meet somebody, one of their first questions is usually, "Are you in a
project?" or "Do you have a project?" I tell them no, I'm on vacation. They
always look disappointed.
It seems that everyone Frank introduces to me has an interesting hack behind
him, some clever exploit or famous accomplishment. It's almost intimidating,
the first few times. But after a while I just want to meet more of these
people, their stories are so engrossing.
Instead of stories about friends getting drunk and stealing a golf cart, I
hear about reengineering smartcards and exploring undocumented chip opcodes.
Eventually I learn that for these Europeans, hacking means doing projects,
pure and simple. Lots of them have come here to do exactly that. They bring
exotic specimens of every type: gadgets for dissection, a plethora of
hardware and software tools, rare reference works to consult and share, and
any wild idea they've been kicking around lately.
They carry these things to the Camp because they're hoping to find
collaborators. That way they can finish their current projects and move on
to the next crop of interesting hacks. It's only Thursday night, so there
are just a few hundred people in Camp. But already these hackers have begun
to gather and exchange brainpower.
Anyway, I try to be friendly and sociable. I'm the only cDc member at the
Camp. Hell, I'm the only cDc member on the whole continent. I answer a few
people's questions about Back Orifice 2000, which makes me feel like I'm
actually doing my part to represent the herd.
Eventually, the jetlag overpowers me and I stumble into my tent with a couple
of Spatens.
- x X x - AUGUST 6, FRIDAY - x X x -
4:20am. Awoken from sleep by a rockhard bladder. I can tell it's pretty cold
out there, and I don't want to walk all the way to the porta-potty, but I
must drain the reservoir.
I take out my earplugs in anticipation of the big journey to the
porta-potty... I hear people snoring, and a dog barking. Glad I brought the
earplugs.
After a moment or two, I decide that rather than do the responsible adult
thing I will piss into a double-lined ziplock bag and dispose of the contents
later. (Which works beautifully, I must say.) Back to sleep.
I wake up again at 8am, thirsty. Hungry. I realize that the last food I've
eaten was in Heathrow Airport yesterday morning.
I walk to the Hackcenter to return two empty beer bottles for the deposit (1
DM each) and purchase a bottle of water. Then I walk around camp and take a
few pictures, mindful of the camera rules.
Individual participants are allowed to take pictures and video, if and only
if every person being recorded grants explicit prior permission. Therefore
I'm trying to avoid taking pictures of people, just landscapes and details.
(Taken as a whole, my pictures appear to document a deserted summer camp.)
I run into another photographer in front of the Art&Beauty tent. In his real
life he does security for the UK's largest ISP. He tells me he was at HIP
'97. He says that this event is much smaller than HIP so far. We agree that
most people will arrive tonight and tomorrow afternoon.
I'm up to something like 10 pictures when I encounter a photographer from
Britain. He warns me to be careful. He says he took a panoramic shot inside
the Hackcenter and one of the security personnel nearly confiscated his film.
Sounds like they're serious about the camera rules.
I suspect that the camp organizers are concerned about shutterbugs to protect
their even stricter rules governing professional journalists, who are
specifically disallowed from taking any pictures or videos. To meet the
needs of the news media, the camp organizers have hired a crew to produce
print- and broadcast-quality images.
Ostensibly the reason for pool footage is that the press cannot be expected
to act as responsible visitors. The cameras' presence will cause certain
camp-goers to hide, and thus impede their participation. But there is also
the financial motive. The CCC intends to sell their pool footage to news
outlets. Furthermore, the press are required to pay full admission price to
step foot in the camp (without their cameras).
Frank asked me last night how the cDc managed to get so much press coverage
for Back Orifice 2000. It's actually pretty simple: we're finely-tuned media
whores. Three weeks ago, we did our Defcon presentation. Then we had a
spiel for each of the reporters:
"Hello, Mr. Journalist. Let's set you up for a private interview with
DilDog, Sir Dystic, and anybody else you want. On camera, off camera,
whatever. We can hold it back at the cDc suite. Or we can do it on the
floor of the convention hall. Or if none of that works for you, a few cDc
members are holding a press conference in the official Press Room. Need
pictures? We can arrange it. More interviews later? Fine. Just some goofy
hacker-style pictures for the B-roll? No problem, just drop by the suite.
We'll arrange something." [Ed: In fact, Reid Fleming has written a file for
the journalist new to the computer hacker beat, "The Journalist's Cookbook"]
For their part, the CCC have come to distrust the media. So they have placed
tight controls on the press. Unfortunately, this inevitably means less press
coverage. And the CCC is relying on news pieces to improve camp attendance
figures. (They have yet to break even.)
At 9am I purchase some fruit from one of the vendors and wander back to my
tent. A few minutes later I hear Frank's cell phone ringing softly in his
tent. He has a short conversation, then another couple of minutes later the
phone rings again. This time he has a 15 minute discussion.
Soon Frank emerges from his tent. I split my orange with him and he tells me
he was just doing a live interview with a local radio station. He hopes it
will attract more people.
9:45am local police flyby in a helicopter. Frank waves playfully. Frank
says that they have an unusually good relationship with the local cops.
We decide on hemp waffles. We have the option of "normal" or "space cake".
The space cakes contain THC. We choose normal. There are space cakes
already done, but the normal batter is still being mixed. That's okay, we're
patient.
Waiting for the waffles, Frank gets another phone call. He gets a phone call
every 10 minutes on average, it seems. It's the official camp photographer.
What is Frank's job here? He is one of two spokesmen for the press, and is
also the Pope of the Reengineering camp. His official title is Workshop
Coordinator, but he is also responsible for crisis management. Frank's cell
phone number is listed in the Camp's Internic record in case something bad
happens, like someone hacking a high-profile target from here.
Then someone from the Hippies from Hell contingent sits down at the waffle
stand and strikes up a conversation. Her name is Ine, she's from Amsterdam.
She wants to verify that I'm really in the cDc. Turns out that Ine knows a
couple of friends of mine, including Count Zero.
Everybody finally gets their waffles. We eat and continue to talk. Frank
leaves to attend to camp business, leaving Ine and I to chat. She runs a
website called Women With Beards. It's precisely what the name implies:
pictures of women wearing beards.
Ine has an idea for a hacker documentary, concentrating on the social sphere
rather than technical exploits. She wants to shoot some video. We head back
to the HFH van and Ine grabs her camcorder. Which just so happens to be the
same model as mine (except hers is PAL and mine NTSC). We talk camcorders
for a while, then decide to check out the noon welcome announcements.
She's trying to gather footage for her documentary. Which is about the
society of hackers. Rather than concentrating on the technology, or
luminaries in the scene, she wants to explore the subculture and its history.
12:00 Very brief welcome at noon. No attempts to gather a crowd. Promptly
at 12 it just began. And the announcements ran for perhaps 10 minutes. Then
it ended. No fanfare. Mostly an orientation for anyone who hadn't read the
booklet.
Ine wants to shoot video starting at the Lockpicking camp, then work our way
around the Camp. Fine with me.
Fifty pairs of shoes outside a big tent. A few people sitting on chairs or
benches picking locks of varying difficulty. Big sign in English and German:
"NO SHOES IN TENT. DO NOT PICK AT DOORS OR CARS IN THIS CAMPSITE!!"
Scads of people sitting on the floor, no place to step. Everyone has a basic
pickset. The instructors pass out locks. B eginner locks, they hasten to
point out. The people are told to insert a pick and count the number of
pins.
Behind the instructors, videotapes play silently on a television screen
demonstrating locksmiths in action. At the back of the room is a wall
display of snapshots, including several of people picking underwater in SCUBA
gear.
It's no accident that almost every hacker I have known has at one time owned
a set of lockpicks. Lockpicking is suited to people who are interested in
learning the internal mechanisms -- the hidden details -- of devices.
Particularly when they are designed to resist such scrutiny.
Outside the tent, I meet a couple of guys working on intermediate locks.
They are American emigrees living in Germany. They arrived today at 5am.
One of them brought a smartcard that their university uses for laundry
machines. He wants to reverse engineer it. If you put 20 DM on it there is
a 4pf residue for no apparent reason. His instinct is that it contains a
software bug worth investigating. He asks me a few questions about BO2K,
kinda makes me wish I had brought some cDc merchandise to give away.
At 12:50pm the instructors clear everyone out of the tent and quickly vacuum
the rugs. Time to get ready for the English workshop, beginning in ten
minutes.
Sometimes Ine will say something in German and I wonder if she's talking to
herself. After this happens a few times, I mention it. Apparently she keeps
forgetting that I speak English, not German. I guess both languages are
equivalently foreign to her.
At some point Ine takes off to shoot more video and I head over to the
Cryptography camp for a little relaxation.
This is the camp most unlike the others. It's definitely the most American.
It was organized by, of, and for the Cypherpunks. Their camp caters to their
desires, which is apparently lots of booze, lots of connectivity, inflatable
furniture, and lots of places to sit and smoke and drink and talk.
There I run into Garbage Heap, who arrived last night without a tent. So
he's been trying (unsuccessfully) all night to get some sleep in the
Cypherpunks party tent. I send him off to my tent for a quiet place to lie
down.
I spend an hour dicking around and meeting people. Then at 2:00pm I check
out the Hacking Crypto Export Restrictions session. The session is being
held in one of two huge workshop tents. They each have rigid frames,
temporary wooden flooring, and seating for about 300.
In their informal manner, John Gilmore and Hugh Daniels illustrate the
inconsistency of the U.S. Government's export restrictions, by way of several
examples. They talk about the necessity of crypto for human rights and
commerce. They urge everybody to lobby their government now to affect the
Wassenar vote on intangibles at the end of the year. For my contribution, I
slip a brief mention about BO2K into the Q&A session.
Sometime after the Crypto session, a couple of friends show up. Strick and
Soylent arrive at the Cypherpunk area. We chat briefly, then Lucky Green
hits up each of us for Crypto camp dues.
We each pay the fee (370 DM, or $200) partly because we can afford it, but
mainly because we want refrigerator privileges. If you pay, then you are
free to consume the Cypherpunk consumables: food, candy, liquor, wine, soft
drinks.
Unfortunately, as it happens the Cypherpunk refrigerator is a shitty European
model which can make ice but doesn't chill anything in the main compartment.
(Next time the Cypherpunks vow to bring dry ice. I hope they also include
bottled water instead of just alcohol and Diet Coke.)
At some point, I head over to the Hackcenter. Which is where I run into some
of the guys from ADM, whose recent claim to fame is hacking the Defcon page
last month. They turn out to be very friendly and of course highly
technical. I leave them so they can talk strategy for tomorrow night's main
event, the Linux Deathmatch.
- x X x - WAFFLE ACTION - x X x -
Sometime in the late afternoon I catch up with Soylent. We decide to try the
space waffles. We go to the waffle kitchen, a very short walk from the
Crypto camp.
I order a space waffle with chocolate ice cream. Soylent does the same.
It's 5 DM for the waffle, 50pf extra for the ice cream scoop. Soylent
decides to eat his like a regular waffle, with a fork and plate. I opt to
curl my waffle into an ice cream cone.
I take a bite. It tastes like... waffle batter and pot and chocolate ice
cream. The pot contributes a strong flavor which is not entirely pleasant.
Glad I opted for the ice cream.
After we finish our waffles, we head back to the Crypto camp to wait it out.
We sit and chat, and after 30 minutes pass, Soylent gets a little restless.
Neither of us has felt any effects yet. He wants to double his dosage by
eating another waffle. I figure the THC just hasn't hit the bloodstream yet.
Soylent leaves and has another waffle.
He comes back to the Cypherpunks tent and we chat for a while. By this time
the sun is setting. Gradually I feel the waffle kicking in. So does Soy.
It only takes another 30 or 40 minutes for us to get pretty high, when night
falls and we meet a Bavarian woman calling herself Eva.
Eva talks to us. Evidently she's been drinking. She asks me for a glass of
wine because she didn't pay the Cypherpunk fee. By now I am definitely under
the influence, and simple tasks like getting somebody some wine turn out to be
very complicated. There aren't any open bottles and there aren't any
corkscrews.
At some point I get a corkscrew from a Samaritan and open a new bottle.
About the time I actually hand Eva a cup, somebody walks into the tent and
says that that there is a fire-breathing demonstration going on.
Eva gets excited. She knows where this is happening, because she saw it
earlier tonight. Soy and I follow her, because the camp is large and it's
dark and we don't know where to go and we're high.
Turns out it's going on between the lockpicking camp and the Hackcenter, next
to a parked fire engine. A small gathering of people standing in an arc
around somebody spitting lamp oil into a burning torch. Big flames.
Apparently these are all volunteers from the audience breathing fire. It's
more than just something to watch; it's a workshop.
Eva had been telling us on the way here that she knows how to do this. She
had learned as a teenager and it is easier than people think. She keeps
repeating that there is practically no way to catch yourself on fire.
We get up close and join the standing crowd of perhaps 15 people. A young
woman is trying to execute her spit but for some reason is having difficulty.
Appears to be second thoughts. Eva takes this opportunity to step up and
accept the challenge.
They give her a mouthful of lamp oil to test her spit technique. That's
worth about 3 practice spits, which are not lit. Presumably for safety.
When the instructor is satisfied that Eva can spit without drooling (or
whatever he's worried about) she takes another mouthful and spits it into the
torch. It burns like a champ. She spits some more times, takes another
mouthful and spits that as well. Not bad.
As Eva disappears out of sight into the left arm of the crowd, another guy
steps up. He generates some particularly impressive flames. The crowd
murmurs its content.
Then Eva gets back to us and tries to rid her mouth of the lamp oil taste.
"Do you think I can light a cigarette?" she asks. We and some innocent
bystander next to us say NO. So she waits a couple of minutes before
bringing an open flame next to her face.
While we're figuring out what to do next, the young woman reappears. She
spits once tentatively, then a few more times with confidence, then once with
gusto. Then the girl has some difficulty and jerks her head back and away.
Too close for comfort evidently. She spits a couple more times to prove to
herself that she can still do it, then steps back into the audience. Nice
applause.
Eva says, "I gave her confidence. She saw me and then she could do it." I
look over at Soylent but I can't tell what he is thinking. Then we wander
over to the nearby lockpicking tent.
Soylent takes off his sandals and says he shouldn't be long. Eva is chatting
up some up some 30ish guy and trying to get him to join us. He's one of the
Hippies from Hell. But he politely declines, claiming a prior commitment.
Soylent returns after his brief survey of the lockpicking activity. He puts
his sandals back on and Eva declares that she wants to purchase each of us a
drink. We go to the Hackcenter and aim for the bar.
Soylent says he doesn't want a drink. Eva asks me if I do, and I decline
too. She gets herself a glass of wine and then we follow her outside the big
tent.
Soylent says he wants to go check out the Cypherpunks area again. Eva says
that's fine, she'll just take me someplace to talk. Soylent leaves, and she
and I take off in a long, accidental ellipse arriving back at the lakeshore.
She wants to know if all Americans own guns. We discuss our positions on
capital punishment. She finishes her wine.
Eva attempts to get more wine from one of the vendors next to the lakeshore.
This time she is denied; they have none. They talk in German and the guy
offers her various liquors but she's not interested.
We walk back toward the Hackcenter, once we figure out where we are. She's
telling me about her psychotic episodes when she gave birth and when her son
was 2 years old. Eva says she was hospitalized and then gets some more wine
from the Hackcenter bar.
We start walking out into Nowhereland again, but I steer us back toward the
Crypto camp. We end up walking through the Hippies from Hell open air chill
out/make out tarp, where we run into Soylent again.
"I was just telling him about my psychotic episodes," she tells Soylent. He
appears surprised for a moment, but just for a moment.
Eva explains that she was a squatter when she gave birth and she started
fainting. Apparently she once fainted while smoking a cigarette on the couch
and caused a fire when she fainted. Then she was institutionalized.
Then she starts talking about some photos she has of herself from the waist
down spitting fire from between her spread legs across a lit candle stuck in
her vagina. She demonstrates the posture on the rug floor. It's one of
those porno/yoga positions.
She talks a bit more before Soylent says he's going back to the Hackcenter.
This time I make it known that I am going back to my tent to write.
Eva looks briefly discouraged, but kisses us on both cheeks and hugs each of
us twice in saying goodnight. Then she says to me, "Goodnight. Or maybe I
will see you later." We wave and walk away.
On our way to the Hackcenter we encounter the Nugget, from the tail of which
smoke is slowly emitting. It's an interesting show, especially when you're
stoned. We look at it for a short while, then get in the tent.
We get some beers and sit down. The projection screen is displaying a cool
screen saver.
Soy mentions how high he is right now. I'm pretty buzzed, but he's pretty
fucking high. I crack a few jokes about the presentation machine when it
freezes. After a few minutes of staring at a bluescreen, he turns to me and
says, "I'm having trouble remembering where I am. I have to think about it,
then I remember."
A couple of minutes later I bid him adieu and retire for the evening. At
some point, gheap shows up in my tent. He declines my offer of a free pair
of earplugs. Silly man.
- x X x - AUGUST 7, SATURDAY - x X x -
Looks like the attendance has peaked at about 1,500. Frank says they need
another 500 people just to break even.
In the afternoon, gheap and I catch a couple of sessions. One is on the
mBone and multicasting, the other is on buffer overflows. The sessions are
fine as far they go, but we're not paying much attention. We're really just
trying to kill time before the Linux Deathmatch.
Anytime I'm not watching a session I'm usually hanging out at the Cypherpunks
camp, listening to the conversations and trying to stay out of the sun.
The network has been down most of the day. Somebody was flooding the net
with bogus packets. Finally it stopped and everyone can reach the internet
again. We come to find out that it was some script kiddie with a new tool
who didn't realize he was broadcasting all of his packets. When the Camp
staff finally found him, they made him clean out portable toilets as
punishment.
- x X x - LINUX DEATHMATCH - x X x -
In the evening we gather in the Hackcenter to catch the Linux Deathmatch.
Here's the basic idea: keep your Linux system responsive to network requests,
and hack your opponents' systems to death. Which makes it, essentially, a
demolition derby.
As far as the ADM guys understood it, the rules of engagement were fairly
simple:
You build a Linux system that fits on a floppy disk. Just before the
competition, you are given an Intel-compatible clone you've never seen before.
It has a network card and is plugged into a switch. You slam your disk into
the assigned machine, and then hack for five hours.
You must have enabled a bunch of services, including ftp, http, mail. Every
few minutes, the referee machine tries each of these services on your
computer, and awards points when it can successfully retrieve data from your
system. You win by having the most points after five hours. Basically you
are trying to maintain your uptime and ruin everyone else's.
But before you are assigned a machine, you must submit to the system approval
process. That's when the judges inspect your patches for anti-competitive
features. During which, one of the ADM's modifications is ruled illegal: deep
down in the networking code is a rule to ignore all traffic not originating
from a specific MAC address (that of the referee machine).
The ADM guys politely appeal the decision, and receive some points in exchange
for removing the illegal code. After removing the offending kernel mod, they
finally get the referee's blessing. Shortly thereafter, the game begins.
Only three teams are competing. Behind each team are about twenty spectators,
each trying to read the computer monitor. Meanwhile, the team members type,
discuss, argue. A few times, I see one particular competitor yell "Shit!" and
frantically unplug his ethernet cable.
Unfortunately, the ADM guys are struggling with a serious network problem.
The connection is extremely flaky. As they cope with this setback, the other
two teams pull ahead.
On the big projection screen against the tent wall is a bar graph displaying
the live point totals. Two big bars and a smaller one. It's okay, but what
you really want to see is the video feed from each team's monitor. You want
to see what they're typing.
I get pulled away to do an interview for the official Camp video crew, and
when I come back the ADM guys are still working on their network problem. The
ADM crew spends the first 90 minutes just trying to debug their network
problems. Then they realize that the judges supplied them with a defective
ethernet cable. But even with a 90 minute delay, the ADM crew manages to
place second of the three teams.
- x X x - AUGUST 8, SUNDAY - x X x -
At some point I notice the big CCC flag flying atop the microwave tower. I
guess they overruled the Aesthetics people.
Around noontime I'm hanging out with Ine near the center of camp, next to the
Nugget. A car shows up and some humanoid extraterrestrials step out. They
prop up a freestanding booth made out of cardboard which has alien writing all
over it, and some strategically-placed holes.
One of the E.T.s is writing prescriptions on a pad of paper for neck massages,
palm readings, etc. People talk to the strange being and receive a backrub.
How very _Sprockets._
This goes on for about 20 minutes and then it starts raining, at which point
the aliens move their shop into the Hackcenter. Later on, I ask Frank about
the aliens and he tells me that they are actually German performance artists,
hired by the rave people.
In the afternoon we checked out a presentation about Freedom.Net. Freedom.Net
is all about persistent pseudonymity. You can create personas which are not
correlatable with your true identity.
I watch as various audience members attack the technical details. There are
lots of ways a human could compromise his or her identity while using a "nym"
persona, but these mostly amount to pilot error.
Meanwhile, I trust the technology but worry about the larger legal and
political issues. Seems to me that the first time a Freedom.Net user commits
a major computer crime, they will receive a subpoena for all logs, etc. If
they cannot provide them (and presumably they couldn't), what would their
legal liability be? How long before the government makes it a crime to
provide internet access to people without proof of ID?
Later on in the afternoon, the remaining campers gather in the Hackcenter for
the closing session. The main person behind the Camp, Tim Pritlove, thanks
everyone who helped make it such a success.
Then various awards are given for the Art Design and Reengineering contests,
except that the winner of the Reengineering contest wished to remain
anonymous. Presumably because the winning work has something to do with
cracking cell phone encryption, or something like that.
Tim Pritlove asks volunteers to stay an extra day or two to tear down the
Camp. He also points out that there is hardly any trash in the Camp;
everybody has been using the trash cans and keeping their areas clean. I
hadn't noticed it until he said it, but he's right. The place is basically
spotless.
Finally, Tim passes on a message from the crew of the Heart of Gold.
Evidently their repairs are now completed and they wish to express their
gratitude to all of us.
Later on, I find a PCMCIA Xircom combo card lying in the grass. I give it to
Frank for Lost and Found, and it turns out to be John Gilmore's. At some
point I'm hanging out with the ADM guys, who express a distinct interest in
going to town for a meal containing meat. I decide to tag along when the
consensus is McDonald's. Besides, I need to visit an ATM (Geldautomat).
It's me, them, and a guy from Poland named Greg. The five of us pile into a
car and head into Altlandsberg, about 20 minutes away. Only when we arrive at
the Geldautomat do I realize that I have left my wallet in the tent. I am a
fucking idiot.
We go to McDonald's. Luckily I still have about 20 DM, and the meal only
costs about 8.50 DM.
During dinner, Greg tells us his story. He says he was checking out the CCC
website last week and read about the Camp. He decided to come, but he had no
money. So he hitchhiked to Germany. By the time he got to Berlin and found
the bus to Paulshof, he was completely broke. He told the bus driver that he
had no money, and the driver let him ride for free (!!).
The CCC agreed to give Greg food and board, and allow him to stay at the Camp
in return for helping to set up. The CCC is going to give him 400 DM if he
stays the next two days and helps tear down.
When we ask him why he would come all this way to Germany on a whim, he says
Poland is really, really boring.
- x X x - AUGUST 9, MONDAY - x X x
I sleep in until something like 8:30 or 9:00. Walk around camp taking pictures
pictures. Camp is largely deserted but there are still tents and people
sleeping in them. I take lots of pictures and then head over to the Cypherpunks
camp.
I'm feeling very lazy so I toy with the idea of not showering for an hour or
so. After all, I will be in a hotel room in a few hours. Eventually common
sense gets the better of me and I take a shower. Then I come back to my tent
and pack. Then I try to do anything except tear down the tent because I am
still feeling lazy. But I do it finally and then head over to the Crypto
village to find Soylent and Strick.
I expect them to be all packed and waiting for me since they have a schedule
to keep and I don't. But it's another 60-90 minutes before we finally get
out. We get a ride into town from some Dutch guy and catch the bus to the
S-Bahn station. 45 minutes later we're in Berlin.
At the Berlin Zoo train station, I finally insert tab "ATM card" into slot
"Geldautomat" and luckily it works...
- x X x - BACK IN THE USA - x X x
It's taken me months to sit down and rewrite my notes. Longer than it should
have, and much longer than I kept telling Frank. (By the way, Frank wanted me
to mention that, thanks to some of their sponsors, the Camp managed to break
even.)
Looking back on the Camp, it was more relaxing and interesting than any hacker
con I've seen. You were encouraged to meet people, have a good time, and work
on projects. I saw no violence, no thefts, no visits by the police, no nosy
reporters. Instead I saw people teaching, learning, doing projects, and just
hanging out.
The crucial thing is the entire event was held away from civilization,
outdoors, in a horse pasture next to a lake. I have now realized that this
was the essential ingredient in the Camp's success. Because of its physical
isolation, this was no mere conference; it was a colony. If you are drawn to
hacking, then that place was a true haven.
Thanks to: Frank Rieger for hounding me until I finally agreed to show up, and
for being a remarkable host; Ine for being a good sport; all the people I met,
chatted with, and generally bothered; the ADM guys; my friends Soylent,
Strick, and Garbage Heap for being themselves.
My deepest gratitude goes to the CCC for holding the Chaos Communication Camp
in the first place. If the CCC ever holds another one, I will be there.
[Editor: the cDc ("Wer? Kult der Tote Kuh?") would also like to thank the
CCC -- especially Wau -- for the hospitality they extended Reid Fleming and
Omega when they visited Berlin during the summer of 1998.]
Official Camp Website
http://www.ccc.de/camp/
Hacking in Progress
http://www.hip.nl/
Women With Beards
http://www.dds.nl/~beards/
Official Castle Smurfenstein Home Page
http://evlweb.eecs.uic.edu/aej/smurf.html
Reid Fleming's pics
http://www.newhackcity.net/~rfleming/cccamp1999/
.-. _ _ .-.
/ \ .-. ((___)) .-. / \
/.ooM \ / \ .-. [ x x ] .-. / \ /.ooM \
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/lucky 13\ / \ / `-(' ')-' \ / \ /lucky 13\
\ / `-' (U) `-' \ /
`-' the original e-zine `-' _
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