I Own Your Car!

by Slatan

I work the night shift for a major auto company near the motor city in Michigan.

One night all the bosses went home early and left us there alone.  We had learned earlier that day (on the news) that a bunch of us were being laid off and the rest were being transferred or strong-armed into quitting.  The executives didn't even have the decency to tell us first, or in person.  We had to hear it on TV.  So needless to say, no one was in a good mood.

Where I work there is no getting out.  If you quit you have to take 30 days (unemployment) before you can work at another related facility.  The software we use is only used by other related facilities.  Still they wouldn't release us from our contracts.  Most of us had put in years of service and worked overtime to get projects out to match deadlines set by executives who had no idea of the work involved.  Even forsaking our families at times, and for what?  To be walked on and thrown out like yesterday's newspapers, to perfect a vehicle that we will never be able to afford?  No perks at this job, poor pay, no employee discount, no job security, and the night shift makes getting anything done impossible.  Basically, they own us.

After learning of our imminent doom, everyone was sitting around wondering what would become of us.  Three of us - who were as close to model employees as you could get - did our jobs and didn't screw around while other people slacked off and played solitary.  We never took advantage of our jobs.  That is, until that one night.

I was the first who mentioned a scheme, half jokingly and half seriously.  "We should go down into that restricted area and try to get in."  The other two guys agreed we really didn't have anything to lose.  So we decided to go for it.  We knew what was in there because you could see all the experimental cars from the solid glass walls.  The sliding doors were about 10 feet high and 15 feet wide.  The only problem was that they were locked by an executive level passkey card.  We knew they wouldn't let us walk right in - none of us fit the description of an executive type.

We were obvious computer geeks, as our coworkers would say.  So we thought of a plan.  We gathered a bunch of door parts, a frame here, a sealing strip there, got some calculators, sketch pads, pencils, and a few compasses left over from the manual days.  We picked up some heavy blueprints to back up our story and typed up a fake work order.  Our pass cards would let us in most of the way but when we got to the glass wall, we were stuck.

Sliding my card through, it just beeped.  I thought about spraying some salt water in the reader, like what people did in the old days with Coke machines, but that would have been destructive and nonproductive.  Instead, social engineering would be our key.

A voice spoke from the intercom.  "Can I help you?"

I replied, "The reader won't read my card."

The voice came back, "You're not in the computer for this area."

"I have a job that requires my unescorted access to this area."

"I'll be right down," the voice shot back.

We showed him our ID badges that proved we worked there and he asked what we were doing.  We explained that we needed to get in the restricted area to do some last minute changes to the seals in one of the vehicles before this year's auto show, which was only a few weeks away.

Unconvinced, the guard wouldn't let us through.  We unrolled the blueprints and showed him where the trouble was.  Being the senior he was, he couldn't read the blueprints or make heads or tails of it.  "There is an airflow problem throughout the door system, which at high speeds causes wind deviation thus amplifying cabin noise and increasing internal pressure."  We threw in some more technical BS and buzzwords and finally he was convinced after we showed him the phony work order.  He slipped his passkey through the door and opened it for us.  He watched us for about a half hour until he got a buzz from another part of the building and had to go.  We told him this will take us most of the night and we could let ourselves out.  There were push-buttons on this side.  Now the fun would begin.

Most of you won't see the vehicle we were about to play with until 2002.  It's a prototype and there were six of them there.  In the trunk was a fuel cell, holding about 50 gallons of racing fuel.  The tires of the car were kicked out and set out about 6" in the rear, and mostly to the corners of the car.  It was supercharged, none of that cheap turbocharge crap.  Under the hood was, well you wouldn't believe me if I told you.  Needless to say, this wasn't the fuel economizing car that everyone thinks we're all working on to save the environment.  This car was pure evil.

Oh, did I mention that we are one of the most prestigious car companies, that we are the definition of luxury and class?  Most older folks want one of our cars when they retire.  So this car will be a shock when it's released.  And it will be released.

We drooled enough.  Now it was time to test out our made-up theory.  There are always keys in these vehicles and full tanks of gas.  No emblems on the car so no one will know what it is if they see it.  Heck, at 2 am who would be out on the roads anyway?  We fired her up and two of us went out, leaving one behind to open the door so we could get back in.  I took the second spin at the wheel and, oh my gosh, talk about power and speed.  I had never driven a supercharger before.  There was no waiting for the turbo to kick in.  You hit the gas and it was pure power.  The tires would squeal as long as you held the gas down.  At 80 mph it seemed like we were crawling and every time I tapped the peddle the tires would squeal.  At 95 mph they would squeal!  I think I got whiplash that day.

At a red light a Corvette pulled up next to us, a new sleek one.  He gunned his engine and when the light changed I floored the gas.  Bad mistake - the car just sat there spinning its wheels like we were on ice.  O.K., I'm a computer geek, not a drag racer.  I came off the entrance ramp to 1-75 at 75 mph.  I was looking for a certain switch that I had heard existed.  I flipped off the headlights and hit the switch.  Night vision.

A camera is mounted in the hood in the symbol.  It displays the image on the window and you can see through fog and rain.  It makes everything white and is very cool.  I like it because I can drive with no headlights on.  The ride was smooth, and steering was tight and effortless even at speeds over 150.  The car also has GPS installed in case you get lost or you lock your keys in it - or if the car is stolen.  If you get in an accident and the airbag goes off, it auto-dials the headquarters and patches you into a 24-hour receptionist who can listen in on your cabin and talk directly to you using cellular towers.

This system and features are commonly referred to as telemetry, another new buzzword that will be popping up later this year.  The home base of this is networked and the receptionist can watch your car's movement on her screen.  She can patch her screen to other receptionists too.  Other features of this system allow you to navigate and even be told histories of the towns that you're driving through.  No per-minute fees, just one yearly fee.  Had I not been having so much fun I would have thought to get the dial-in number to the automated computer.

It was nearing our lunch time so I hit the blue button which connected the car to the 24-hour lady.  She gave us her name and asked how she could help us.  I said we needed the location of a 24-hour restaurant.  She gave us a few of them and then told me to turn right at the next exit and guided me there no problem.  All without even asking my name, or where I was calling from.  I later learned this service will cost about $400 a year but that is unlimited service calling.  Data travels at a slow analog speed of 2400 bps.  This should change soon as more digital towers are put up along the expressways.  Then all vehicles will use spread spectrum.

The lady said she was getting a reading of engine compartment heat and suggested I ensure the radiator was full, even though it appeared full to her.  It might have been due to my driving over 100 mph for so long before I called her.  "I'll check it out," I told her.  Just think what other people could do if this fell into the wrong hands.  This service makes the Pentium III ID feature look like small potatoes.

Hacking in the future will soon find its way into the automobile.  This car itself is one large computer; there are microchips in every part of the car, each controlling components, mirrors, windows, seats, door locks, power brakes, etc.  Viruses will be easily inserted into the car's onboard system via the CD player which will soon be a direct link to the car's CPU.  A hacker could make the horn honk every time the brake pedal is pressed.  Just think what a program like Back Orifice could do on one of these cars.

I see it like this: A voice announces to the irritated driver: "What's wrong - you don't like Rob Zombie?"  "No!" yells back the executive driver.  "Fine, turn it off.  Oh that's right, you can't. I own your car!!!"

Most of the top automakers are secretly making it their goal to turn their luxury cars into a virtual onboard LAN.  And it was highly evident in the car I was driving.  Behind closed doors, execs discuss their future plans.  They want their vehicles to be able to access the Internet. It would have to be wireless and they know what that means.  A high price would have to be paid to the companies that own the rights to the specific radio spectrum which would be required by this system.  They figure they will pass the cost to the consumer and have them pay for the service like we do now for the Internet.  (Mental note, invest in AT&T stock.)

With all the talk of what they want to do, no one is talking about what they're going to do to make it secure.  They are relying on digital spread spectrum to be their firewall saying that will protect them from their signals being intercepted.  In my opinion this is very near-sighted, yet typical.  What they don't realize is that sometimes the demon comes from within.

I've seen the future, and it is sweet.