POST // 007 - Silent Copy

You know how when you're 14 and you really want some new computer software, but you don't exactly have the means to get it, and you can't really justify the ask to your parents?

That's when you decide to put on an eye patch and convince a parrot to sit on your shoulder.

One of the things I had already figured out about Macintosh software was how easy a lot of it was to copy. PC software could install files all over the place, but most Mac applications were much more self-contained. In Finder, the application was just sitting there as an icon. Most of the time, if you copied that application onto a floppy and brought it to another Mac, it just worked.

That made MacDraw particularly tempting.

We'd used MacDraw II in my 8th grade Introduction to Computers class for drawing and sketching things out, and I really liked it. You could draw shapes and lines, add text, move things around, resize things, and generally keep screwing with a drawing until it looked the way you wanted it to. Now that I had my own LC III sitting at home, I wanted MacDraw on it.

The school had a copy.

I had a floppy disk.

There was just one problem.

I couldn't get to the copy of MacDraw from the computers we normally used in the lab.

There were, however, a couple of other Macs in our teacher's office that weren't restricted in the same way. They weren't computers we were normally allowed to wander back and use whenever we wanted, but there were legitimate reasons to use them.

You just needed his permission.

That was my way in.

I needed a reason to use one of those computers that wouldn't seem unusual, and I came up with with a bland enough excuse that I thought would give me enough time to find MacDraw and copy it without giving me so much freedom that he started wondering what I was doing back there.

There was also a fairly obvious flaw in this plan.

His office was back there too.

Getting permission to use the computer didn't do me much good if he was sitting there watching me dig through the hard drive and copy software onto a floppy disk.

I needed Steve.

Steve's job wasn't particularly complicated. Once I was on the computer, he needed to keep our teacher occupied and, more importantly, keep his attention somewhere other than on me.

The part of the plan that required considerably more thought was the floppy disk. I couldn't walk into the office holding it. Whatever reason I was giving him for using the computer didn't involve bringing a floppy with me, and walking in with one in my hand was just inviting questions I didn't want to answer.

A front pocket wasn't going to work either. A 3½-inch floppy was too big and rigid to disappear naturally into a pair of jeans.

The back pocket seemed like an option until I thought about sitting down. I could put it back there, but then I'd either sit directly on it and risk breaking it, or I'd have to sit down, rock up onto one cheek, reach behind myself, and pull it out. At which point I'd just look like I was farting in the teacher's office - which could be detrimental to my reputation.

Everything needed to be fluid. I needed to walk into the office normally, sit down normally, use the computer, get up, and walk back out without doing anything that might make him stop and wonder what the hell I was doing.

The solution was obvious, just stick it in my armpit - and just don't lift my arms.

With my arm down, the floppy was hidden. I could walk normally, sit down without crushing it, and once Steve had our teacher distracted, I could slip it into my hand and put it into the computer.

At least that was the plan.

I walked over to our teacher.

"Can I use one of the computers in your office?"

"What do you need it for?"

I gave him my reason.

He looked at me for a second.

"Okay. But don't take too long."

"Okay."

That should have made me feel better - It didn't.

The excuse I'd given him had gotten me onto the computer, but it had also started a clock. There was only so long I could reasonably sit back there before he'd expect me to be finished.

I walked into his office with a floppy disk tucked under my arm and sat down and now I was freaking out. I took a deep breathe... Just relax. Now I knew how covert agents felt.

Steve started talking to him.

I waited until I was reasonably sure his attention was on Steve and started looking for MacDraw.

That's when I discovered another small problem with my otherwise brilliant plan.

I didn't actually know where it was. I knew MacDraw was on the computer, but I still had to find the application. So now I was opening folders and looking around while listening to Steve talk to our teacher behind me. Every folder that wasn't the one I needed was more time gone.

I had no idea how long Steve could keep him occupied.

I had no idea how long my excuse would hold up before starting to become suspicious.

Folder after folder, I dug through the machine. Making mental notes of things I saw along the way. I was moving through the folder structure. I was sweating. My paranoia was spiking. My internal dialog was just a series of "Oh my god, Oh my god"

Found it!

Once I had found the program I waited until our teacher was focused on Steve, slipped the disk out from underneath my arm, and put it into the drive. Then I started the copy.

I don't remember how long the copy actually took. It probably wasn't very long, but sitting there waiting for a floppy disk while the person you're stealing software from is only a few feet away has a way of changing your perception of time. I could hear the drive working. I could hear Steve talking. I could hear our teacher talking back to him.

Every time there was a pause in the conversation, I wondered if he was about to turn around.

There wasn't anything else I could do. I was committed to this now. I thought about what I'd do if he got up and walked over to me. I couldn't cancel the copy quickly enough to make it disappear. I can't hide it on the screen. My only option would be a full and total mission abort by just flipping the power switch and ripping my disk out of the drive. I'd probably consider biting my cyanide tooth as well.

Just sit there, pretend I was doing exactly what I'd been given permission to do, and wait.

Finally, it finished.

But I still wasn't done.

I couldn't walk out carrying the floppy any more than I could walk in with it.

I waited for another opportunity, ejected the disk, grabbed it, and slipped it back underneath my arm.

Then I went back to doing what I was supposed to be doing, for just a little while. My heart pounded like I had just ran a marathon, trying to catch my breathe, sweat running down my back.

I got up. Walked out.

"All done?"

"Yep."

"Find what you needed?"

"I did, Thanks!"

I walked back into the computer lab with the floppy tucked securely underneath my arm.

Once I was far enough away, I could finally relax.

I had pulled it off.

MacDraw II was going home with me.

All I had to do was put the floppy into my LC III, drag MacDraw onto the hard drive, and just like that, I had my own copy.

No installer. No serial number. No activation. Just MacDraw.

I wish I could say the experience scared me enough that I never tried anything like that again.

It didn't.

Over the course of that quarter, I kept my parrot fed, pulled on my big-boy breeches, and went back a few more times to poach a few more applications. After Dark, MacWrite II, and a handful of random utility applications all eventually made their way home with me.

I'd love to say that's where Steve and I finally hung up our peg legs.

But in another few years, we'd be building boats to bootleg treasure off a T1 line.