Teen Hacker Packs Feminist Punch

[InfoSec News <isn () c4i org>]

http://www.techtv.com/news/security/story/0,24195,3382211,00.html

By Rick Lockridge, Tech Live New York bureau chief
April 24, 2002 

MECHLIN, Belgium -- She can kick your butt and wipe your hard drive
cleaner than a dog's dinner plate. So when the young kickboxer and
virus writer known as "Gigabyte" tells you she doesn't want her face
on TV, well, you play along. Tonight's "Tech Live" tells her story.

"I'll just shoot you from behind," I say, carrying my TV camera across
the large mat that covers the health club's gymnasium floor. It's
almost time for the 6 p.m. kickboxing class, and Gigabyte is the only
woman there.

Of course, she's used to that. In the male-dominated world of virus
writers, she stands out. And not only because of her gender. She is
also something of a virus-writing prodigy, having started programming
at age six.

"I figured out how to write a few lines of code on my uncle's
Commodore 64," says Gigabyte, who just recently celebrated her 18th
birthday. "Later, I wanted to learn more about programming, so I went
to the store and asked for books. The salespeople were surprised. It
was like: 'Why do you want a book? Why don't you just buy a game and
go play?' But games are not very interesting to me. I wanted to learn
how to write real executable programs."

So she did.

'Sharpei' attacks

At age 14, she wrote her first computer worm, which took over the
shutdown screens of infected users.

Two years later, she wrote a powerful virus that mangles MP3 files.  
And recently, she became only the second person to write a virus in C#
(pronounced "C sharp"), the language of Microsoft's new .Net platform.

Her so-called "Sharpei" worm, which comes in an email attachment,
claims to be a Microsoft software update that can result in a "50
percent speed increase." Instead, it is a computer worm that spreads
via Microsoft's Outlook email program and infects certain files in
computers where the .Net framework is present.

"I think I must have really pissed [Microsoft] off," she says, "but I
don't know, because they didn't react." (Microsoft will not comment on
"Sharpei," but says the security of its .Net platform, which is built
to enable the security of online applications, has not been
compromised).

"That's because I didn't release 'Sharp' [her name for the virus] in
the wild," Gigabyte says. "I wish I had finished it before .Net
released. I would have liked to see the virus get out before the
software even came out. That would have been funny."

Keeping it out of the wild

Gigabyte is quick to remind visitors that she never releases her
viruses into the wild. Instead, she sends them to antivirus companies,
hoping for the kind of affirmation that only comes with a "high-risk"  
designation.

But she also has posted her viruses on her homepage -- meaning anyone
else could release them.

"That's not my problem," she says. "When people make guns, can you
blame them when somebody else kills [somebody] with them? I only write
them; I don't release them."

School days

The morning after kickboxing class, I arrive at Gigabyte's house at
6:30. She's having tea with her grandmother in the kitchen of a tiny,
immaculate cottage. She has lived with her grandparents most of her
life, for reasons she declines to discuss. We catch the public bus
downtown to her school. Although the bus is packed with other
teenagers, she speaks to no one.

We walk a few blocks to her school, a religious school which "no
longer makes any effort to teach religion," she says. "But they have
good computer classes, which is why I go here."

Tina Hauquier, who teaches Gigabyte's Friday morning computer class,
says, "She is a good young programmer. But I do not approve of her
virus writing. I know she says she is not causing any harm, and it is
true that she does not intentionally spread these viruses, but I do
not think it is appropriate, and viruses can cause a lot of damage."

Nevertheless, teacher and student are cordial to each other throughout
the long morning class.

Dispelling the feminist myth

Later that afternoon, Gigabyte walks around the computer room her
grandparents have set aside for her (no small sacrifice in such a tiny
home), flicking on no fewer than four Windows machines. (There's a
fifth in the corner of the living room.) She's comfortable here, and
full of opinions.

On being some sort of feminist icon: "That's bullsh**," she says. "I'm
a virus writer. If I wanted to make a [feminist] statement, don't you
think it would be part of the viruses I've written?

"I mean, yeah, I do want to admit I'm female because there is nothing
to hide about it. The world should know there are female virus writers
out there. But it's certainly not my motivation for virus writing. I
do this for myself, not for the whole world. Other females don't need
me to stand up for them, they can do it for themselves."

'Ugly' Gates and stupid people

On Bill Gates and Microsoft: "I wouldn't want to be him. Too ugly. I
think I have more of a thing against Microsoft and Bill Gates'
attitudes than I do against their products. If they would just admit
there are mistakes and admit there are security problems, that would
make [their products] work a whole lot better."

On attacking Microsoft's highly touted .Net platform: "Microsoft said
.Net and C# were safer, and yes, there's really no specific flaw in
it. But they are just not as sharp as they claim. You can write a
virus in C# just like you can in any language."

On the ethics of writing viruses: "I'm not responsible for stupid
people who open email attachments that erase their files."

"But what about newbies who don't know any better?" I ask.

"Sh** happens," she responds.

I ask her why her viruses tend to be mischievous or humorous rather
than all-out destructive. "I think," she says, "that it's better to be
infected with something funny than something destructive."

"But your viruses can also be destructive," I remind her. "What about
your Scrambler virus?" (Scrambler attacks all the MP3s on a computer
hard drive and scrambles the music into an unintelligible mess.)

She shrugs and says, "Some viruses reformat your hard drive after a
few weeks. Scrambler is not that bad."

Likely pet

"Hey, she says, "let's go outside. I want to show you something."

I'm led out into the backyard garden, which, of course, is beautifully
groomed -- people in Belgium really take care of their yards. There
are painted gnomes, and a small pond, and then, suddenly, there is a
ferret: Gigabyte's pet ferret, out for a little afternoon walk. How
right they are for each other, I think, looking at the ferret and the
virus writer. Both are cunning, quick, and you wouldn't want either of
them to bite you.

"Virus writing is so aggressive, and most reasonable people consider
it an act of vandalism, or at least potential vandalism," I say.  
"Would you spray paint graffiti on somebody's wall?"

"We are not coming inside anyone's walls," she said. "The users are
running the virus. They are the ones clicking on it."

"So you think the people who execute these programs are responsible
for the damage that your viruses do?" I ask.

"Actually," she says, "I think stupid people should have to have some
sort of license to get on the Internet."

There's a pause in the conversation. The ferret is turning somersaults
in the grass at our feet.

What's next?

"Do you think of what you do as art?" I ask.

"I want to do something original, that not everyone does," she says.  
"If you write something that's new or funny or special in a way, then
I think it is a form of art, yes."

I ask her if she wants to work with computers for a living. When she
grows up, I mean.

"Yes. But not with an antivirus company," she says. "I will never do
antivirus."

That would run counter to her code.



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