Hacking the Naked Princess

by Andy Kaiser

Chapter 0x0D

I followed the instructions P@nic had given me.  I broke apart the 384-digit encryption key into multiple parts, and emailed, SMS'd and FTP'd those parts to the drop-points she told me to use.  It was pure grunt work, and took time, and was irritating.  I felt like an interchangeable brainless monkey.

Minutes after I was done, I got a notification that a large pile of bitcoins had been transferred to my online wallet.  The monkey was happy.

It was a good day's work.  I'd tracked down and identified the missing hacker, helped her out with a problem, and - like a Skyrim-level chorus to my ears - I'd been paid very well for my effort.

...and there was no way I was done with this case.

I still owed Oober results.  Wherever she'd hidden herself, P@nic might still be in trouble.  What kind I didn't know, but I was sure it was linked with the Naked Princess picture, which was stored somewhere in the grand prize booty of the AnonIT hacking competition.

I had to see the picture.  I'd been warned away from it by multiple people - hackers who in this age of instant access to any media imaginable should be blasé and jaded enough to see just about anything without blinking either eye.  But they weren't.  They blinked.  The Naked Princess picture held a mental payload I couldn't understand or imagine.

Given the picture's name, sex might be the topic.  Both Oober and P@nic were underage.  This might have something to do with child abuse.  The title also suggested violence.  I'd find the picture.  If it was something I could help with, I'd do it.  Like track down the abuser who took the photo and send a very clear but anonymous message to the nearest dark-suited, federally-funded enforcement agency.

I needed to get that picture.  Getting my eyes on the Naked Princess would probably give me multiple next steps.

I contacted P@nic again, sending messages via the original IRC channel where I'd last talked with her, as well as the original social media account where I'd first tracked her down.  She responded.

P@nic: hey mate. appreciate the help. but i've got no more to give. I'm empty of advice and coin. Me: I've got plenty of those two. I'm just looking to answer some questions. P@nic: i can guess the topic. Me: Then we're talking about the Naked Princess picture. P@nic: <sigh> <sad-emoticon> <shrug> Me: You have a way with words. P@nic: if by "words" you mean object-oriented web applications, then yeah, you're right.

I sat back from my keyboard and stared for a moment.  I felt out of place because I was supposed to be the snarky, witty one.  I wasn't used to having this role in a conversation.  I had a couple choices: Option One was to go with the flow, and carefully steer the conversation back to where I wanted.  Option Two was that I could let her take control, and hope she'd remember and come back to my preferred topic.

Then I ignored the options and thought about the person.  This was someone who would appreciate honesty.  She hadn't yet killed our chat, and that said she was okay with talking to me.  She might give me information about the Naked Princess photo.  She was still in hiding, so was under stress and would probably appreciate brevity over a rambling conversation.  I hunched back into keyboard-mashing position, as I'd just given myself Option Number Three.

Me: Can I see the Naked Princess picture? P@nic: uploading now.

I sat back again, this time in surprise.

In an octet of seconds, the download prompt appeared.   I clicked and opened the resulting compressed archive.  It contained two files.  I opened the first one.  It was a text file containing what looked like gibberish.

The second file was a JPG.  A picture.  A big one.

In awe, revulsion, and incredulity, I stared at the Naked Princess.

Chapter 0x0E

I couldn't take my eyes away from it.  Even scaled down to fit my screen, the details were clear.  I saw exactly what the Naked Princess was, what it was supposed to be, and what emotions it was supposed to rip out from whoever was unlucky enough to view it.  I began to sweat.

The center of the picture was my focal point, at least at first.  No living creature could ever look like that and stay living, but it did and it was.  As my eye recovered from the initial shock, I took in the parts surrounding the center figure.  My first thought was that they were weapons, but a sick realization told me they were nothing more than devices, tools, all designed to extract, eviscerate, expose, and ultimately destroy.  Then my eyes were pulled back to the center, to the subject, to what I assumed was "the princess."  Despite the monstrous surroundings, the most horrific view was in the eyes.  They echoed back what was happening with full understanding, multiplying my own emotions.  I felt helpless empathy for the terrified, brutalized subject.  Apprehension was there too, as a few seconds of viewing made me realize I was only looking at step one: The picture's design and implied motion screamed that what was about to happen next was even worse.

I was wincing.  My hands were clenched in fists.  My heart rate had jumped to rhythms normally reserved for caffeine addicts, and yet I felt cold.

One part of me was nauseated but elated: In the big puzzle this case was turning out to be, I'd just been handed a very large piece that went right in the middle of the board.

Another part of me was confused.

The Naked Princess was a nasty piece of work, no doubt.  It would send children crying to their state-sponsored caregivers. It would frighten those not used to the darker, trashier side of the Internet, the murky, dangerous places where even Google spiders dare not go.

And yet... and still... despite it all...

I'd seen worse.

I wasn't bragging.  I just didn't understand why this was the Naked Princess, how this particular picture was able to strike fear into anyone who'd seen it, enough to make them not want to even bring it up.  It was nasty and evil and freaky, no doubt, but anyone with Internet access and a bad mood could find similarly disturbing images.

I tried to think non-emotionally, and studied the central figure, the too-wide open eyes of the "princess."  It wasn't familiar.

There were others who'd seen the Naked Princess.  Others might be able to interpret the picture, or give me more information as to why it was supposedly more terrible than anything else.  Tell me what I was missing, and why I was supposed to be terrified, disgusted, saddened, more than I'd ever been in my life, or explain to me whatever revulsion I was supposed to feel when I saw this.

I had one of those people virtually in front of me.

Me: Thanks. Sort of. That's a terrible picture. P@nic: you don't have to tell me that. i know already. it's what it made. Me: ... What? P@nic: you're eloquent. Me: Just trying to understand. You sent me this... why? P@nic: like i told you before. because I trust you. because you asked. because because i need someone to talk to. I'm sick of running. of hiding this. it needs to be shut down. Me: I can help. FBI? Wikileaks? Anonymous torrent flag to your favorite news network? P@nic: chillax. you're thinking too small. this isn't something to report. Me: Then what? P@nic: this is something to contain.

In a slow realization, I remembered the other file P@nic had sent me, the file I'd glanced at so briefly before giving my attention to the picture.  It was tiny - just a few hundred kilobytes - and contained what looked like thousands of pages of gibberish.  Even outside of presidential debates, I'd seen this kind of gibberish before.  Unless the file was completely corrupted, something else was happening.

Encryption.

The file could be an encrypted version of something else.  Something that needed to be kept hidden.  Something more dangerous or more disturbing than what I'd just looked at.  P@nic had said "it needs to be shut down."  Hardly the language I'd use if I were trying to delete a file of a picture.

Me: What exactly did you give me? The picture isn't the important thing here, is it? The other file... P@nic: mister information technology private eye, it's about time. you're getting it now, aren't you! the naked princess isn't a picture. it never was. the picture is output. it's designed. i created it. i need to stop it. the naked princess is a program.

I was stunned at the revelation.  The "naked princess" picture I thought I'd been tracking all this time had been just a hint at the true source of the problem.  I felt idiotic that I hadn't realized, that I hadn't been able to get to this conclusion earlier.  I felt stupid and ashamed at my own incompetence.  Ten seconds later, I felt even worse.

P@nic: i have to go. help me. help. Me: Wait! Just wait. More questions! P@nic: i can't do this. too many tears on the keyboard.

P@nic killed the connection.  I stared at the disconnect status indicator for a moment, thinking hard.

If the Naked Princess picture was just output, it meant that the program itself was the cause.  Why the picture itself affected some people differently than others wasn't as important now.  I'd get to that later.  Or even better, maybe what I was about to do would lead to more answers.  I reopened the encrypted file, what I now realized was the true "Naked Princess."  It was a program that somehow was able to generate some truly terrible images.  The how and why I had to have answers for, and given what was in front of me, I'd get my answers.

I had to figure out how this program worked.  I had to run it, and learn it.

Then I would kill the Naked Princess.