Cover art by: @ricodz

ICARUS

“Thank you for taking the time to come to Aether Dynamics…”

“Thank you for coming in today…”

“Unfortunately, we’ve decided to…”

“We regret to inform you…”

300 applications. 300 rejections.

Statistically speaking, I was either the most unemployable cadet within the entire planet or the whole corporate system was rigged.

I sat by my window to watch the rain fall. The rhytmic tapping on the glass was soothing to listen to.

After graduating from the academy, I’d spent the last three months relentlessly applying to every space agency in the country. Every single one had rejected me without exception, cornering me at last against the two remaining giants in the field: Olympus and MINOS. The organizations I’d been avoiding. MINOS had been the first to contact me, but Dad had this closetted vendetta against them. As for Olympus? Well, that was out of the question.

After the stream of rejections, the thought of running back into his arms made me want to die a little on the inside.

“So, I’m stuck with MINOS, huh?” I mumbled to myself. But without a signature, my admission was as good as void.

Suddenly, there was a spark of inspiration.

“Hey, Ouroboros, can you explain how digital certificates are signed?” I asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

The holographic snake on my desk came alive, slithering over to me. After a series of information dumps, it was clear that I had to re-clarify my request. I needed a way to forge the signature, not just understand it.

“No that’s not it. I’m trying to figure out how the certs are signed and if you can find a way to replicate them”, I said in an attempt to stop the AI from rattling on with irrelevant information.

Ouroboros stared blankly at me as if she had trouble computing what I had just asked. Then her shape transformed into that of an older woman with a familiar face and softly spoke.

“I see what you’re planning my sweet Nova, and no, I wouldn’t recommend hacking a digital certification.”

“Mum-, no, Ouroboros. I told you to not use that form!” I reminded her while flinching at the transformation. She was to mimic my mother’s character, not her appearance.

She went and sat silently next to me.

“I know, but this is the way she designed me, remember?” she consoled me and went for a digital embrace.

“And also, as an AI hyper-language model, I’ve been programmed with subroutines that don’t allow me to assist with anything illegal”, she reasoned.

Her stern tone reminded me eerily of mum’s lectures. I was taken aback, but I pushed on, pressing her for information.

“Ouroboros, it’s the only way. Nobody else wants me. Olympus is definitely out of the question. MINOS is my only chance, but without a signature, it’s hopeless.” My voice cracked at the end, the desperation seeping in. “Please, tell me, theoretically, how do digital certificates work and can I forge them?”

She sighed audibly, seemingly torn between her ethical programming and the desperation in my voice.

After what felt like an eternity, she began slowly explaining.

“Digital signatures are, at their core, encrypted entities,” she began.

“When your father signs a digital document or dispatches an email, he’s essentially employing a ‘private key’, a unique code known solely to him, to affix his signature onto it. Others can then utilise his publicly shared ‘public key’, linked to his private key, to authenticate his signature - to verify it truly is him who signed the document.”

“If you’re contemplating forging the signature, well, theoretically, you could attempt to pilfer the private key or impersonate the Certificate Authority to issue a counterfeit certificate. But be warned - the cryptographic algorithms safeguarding the keys are really tough. It’d take centuries to bypass them. You’ll have an easier time finding a needle in a haystack, blind-folded” she reasoned.

“Any form of tampering with these certificates is risky to the extreme. Any half-assed attempts will show up like a bright red flag to the Olympian CyberSec team” she finished.

I paused for a moment to think.

“So, the only real solution is - I just have to nab the private key, right?” I ventured.

She laughed at my audacity. “That’s your take-away?”

“Well, it’s not something I’d endorse. But since all this is purely theoretical, here’s what you could do,” she continued.

“Stealing someone’s private key is tantamount to stealing their most personal, closely guarded secret. It’s typically kept in a secure, frequently encrypted, locale on their device or on a fortified server. Therefore, to steal it, one would typically have to rely on illicit methods.” she finished explaining.

“Malware? Ouroboros, you know that’s outside my area of expertise.” I complained.

“It needn’t be software. Besides, I seriously doubt we could come up with a malicious program sophisticated enough to infiltrate Olympus systems.” she jokingly reasoned.

“We?” I interjected smugly.

“Ahem, you.” she backtracked.

“Still, I’m just saying, cyber security wasn’t at the top of my grade list,” I pointed out.

“Think simpler, kiddo,” she remarked before going on to provide an alternative strategy that seemed surprisingly viable.

It was risky, of course, but simple enough it might just work. Given my dire straits, it was the best shot I had. Heck, it was the only shot I had.

I surveyed the notes before me, feeling a resurgence of resolve. I was going to pull this off, with a bit of assistance from Ouroboros and a measure of good luck.

With this, MINOS was just a keystroke away.