Conspiracy Writing contest IV

Just down the road @v4vapid is up to his usual, bringing us another awesome contest where writers can pull out their creativity and muster up some fictitious(or maybe not) scenario in which crypto has created a technological imprisonment that exploits us all, to the benefit of the ruling elite. If you are interested in entering the contest head over to @v4vapid's page and check out his Block-Chains Contest.

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The Virus Within

He was awoken by the sound of his phone vibrating on the desk. Still groggy eyed, he didn't even need to check the display to know who was calling, it was the same person who called at this time, biweekly for the last year. "The operator" as he had become known as, was calling to go over what intel had been gathered and what new assignments, if any, he wanted to be completed.

"When will it be over?"
"When we say it's over," replied the operator.
"I've given you everything you wanted, you told me you would leave me alone if I did as you said."
"You have a very unique skill set that allows you access to highly guarded individuals, once we have extracted all the information we need, you can go on living your secluded life."

The informant had been collecting information on the whereabouts of large Anoncoin ANC, investors for the past 11 months and reporting back to "The Operator" twice a week. It was his punishment for having been nabbed while attempting to hack the Global bank's data center. With a goal of leaking classified material on the backroom deals his government had been making, he triggered an internal alarm and was picked up shortly after by 3 big, scary looking men, wearing tight fitting black suits and driving an all black Cadillac Escalade.

After being blindfolded and dragged out of his apartment, the informant was tied up and brought somewhere dark and dingy to be interrogated. After 36 hours of sleep deprivation, he gave in and told the men what he knew. In order to spare his own life, he made a deal to act as an informant for these Men in Black. He was to continue his daily dealings on the dark web and collect information on the whereabouts of large ANC holders.

Now, almost a year after he had been caught, he had become something he despised. He had started with the goal of exposing mainstream corruption, but now he was forced to report precious information on his fellow crypto kingpins.

"You give us this last piece of information on the ANC holders and we will consider your debt paid off." The Operator had a dry monotone voice, free of human emotion.
"I'm not sure if I can gain access to the information you seek, it is highly guarded and The whole reason ANC was created was to make sure user information was kept anonymous and out of the hands of prying eyes."
"Remember what happens if you don't give us what want."
The operators voice sent a chill down his spine. He could feel a thin layer of perspiration forming in his arm pits, the same feeling he got every time he was contacted by this organization.
"Send the encrypted files to the address we gave you," continued the operator, "we are on the final stretch now, we would hate for things to go awry now."
"I'll send them once I finish our phone call, but I need to stress that if these people find out that I've given you this information, my life is over."
"If what you provide is beneficial to us, we can provide you with a new identity and the location of a safe house where you will have protection."
"I don't want your protection!" he could feel his heartbeat quicken and his cheeks starting to flush with anger.
You people are exactly the reason why I got into crypto, your corruption and exploitation have created the dystopia we live in."
Without a hint of emotion, The Operator calmly replied, "Just send the files."

With that, the line went dead.

The informant put his phone back on the desk and opened up his computer. He stared blankly at the screen for almost a minute, contemplating whether or not to turn his back on his own community. The community that had worked so diligently to expose the misuse of government power. The community that had given him a sense of belonging that he had never felt in his life.

His computer screen came back into focus. The files were ready to be sent, all he needed to do was enter his password. Slowly, methodically, with one finger he typed out the 7 characters, the 7 characters that once had special meaning to them. Now those 7 characters signified betrayal.

v - 4 - v - a - p - i - d

After hitting the enter key he leaned back in his chair with his head slouched forward, this was it, his job was done.

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Once again this fictitious (or maybe not) story was made possible by @v4vapid's conspiracy writing contest. Thanks for helping us pull out our creative writing skills.

Till next time.

@jasonshick