FRATE PETI
1. Scola · 2. Esplode · 3. Aresta · 4. Prison · 5. Paranoia · 6. Rede X · 7. Spleno-Porco · 8. Paradox · 9. Furgon · 10. Claves · 11. Slogan
12. Conserta · 13. Jornales · 14. Bitnic · 15. Enrolada · 16. Reportor · 17. Tuneli · 18. Juas · 19. Vampires · 20. Tortura · 21. Judi · Epilogo

8. Paradox

Mostra ance la testo orijinal

Me no ia es la sola ci ia es vitimida par la istogrames. On ave multe persones ci ave istorias nonormal de trafica, istorias nonormal de usa. Nonormalia es tan comun ce lo es cuasi normal.

I wasn’t the only one who got screwed up by the histograms. There are lots of people who have abnormal traffic patterns, abnormal usage patterns. Abnormal is so common, it’s practically normal.

Rede X ia es plen de esta racontas, como ance la jornales e la novas televisada. Sposos ia es caturada en engana sua sposas; sposas ia es caturada en engana sua sposos; jovenes ia es caturada en sorti furtiva con xicas e xicos nonlegal de cor. Un adolesente ci no ia informa sua jenitores ce el ave SIDO ia es caturada en vade a la clinica per sua drogas.

The Xnet was full of these stories, and so were the newspapers and the TV news. Husbands were caught cheating on their wives; wives were caught cheating on their husbands, kids were caught sneaking out with illicit girlfriends and boyfriends. A kid who hadn’t told his parents he had AIDS got caught going to the clinic for his drugs.

Estas ia es la persones con cosas per asconde – no persones culpable, ma persones con secretas. On ia ave an plu persones ci tota no ia ave secretas, ma ci ia es ofendeda an tal par es detenida e interogada. Imajina si algun ta clui tu en la retro de un auto de polisia e ta esije ce tu demostra ce tu no es un teroriste.

Those were the people with something to hide – not guilty people, but people with secrets. There were even more people with nothing to hide at all, but who nevertheless resented being picked up, and questioned. Imagine if someone locked you in the back of a police car and demanded that you prove that you’re not a terrorist.

Lo no ia es mera la transporta publica. La plu de motoristes en la Rejion Baia ave un lisensa de BandaPronto fisada a sua visiera de sol. Esta es un “portamone” peti e radiocomunicante cual paia la peaje per los ci traversa la pontes, salvante los de la peste de senta en filo tra oras a la peajerias. On ia trupli ja la custa de usa mone fisical per traversa la ponte (an si on ia es sempre rusosa, disente ce BandaPronto es plu barata, e no ce mone fisical anonim es plu custosa). Cualce mulines ci ia resta a pos ia desapare cuando on ia redui la cuantia de bandas capas de aseta mone fisical asta sola un per ponte, tal ce la filos de mone fisical ia es an plu longa.

It wasn’t just public transit. Most drivers in the Bay Area have a FasTrak pass clipped to their sun-visors. This is a little radio-based “wallet” that pays your tolls for you when you cross the bridges, saving you the hassle of sitting in a line for hours at the toll-plazas. They’d tripled the cost of using cash to get across the bridge (though they always fudged this, saying that FasTrak was cheaper, not that anonymous cash was more expensive). Whatever holdouts were left afterward disappeared after the number of cash-lanes was reduced to just one per bridge-head, so that the cash lines were even longer.

Donce, si on es un local, o si on gida un auto luada de un ajenteria local, on ave un BandaPronto. Ma on trova ce peajerias no es la sola loca do on leje la BandaPronto. Securia Interna ia pone lejadores de BandaPronto tra la urbe intera – cuando on ia viaja pasante los, los ia rejistra la ora e la numero de identia, construinte un imaje sempre plu perfeta de ci vade do, e cuando, en un banco de datos aumentada par “cameras contra rapidia”, “cameras de semafor” e tota la otra cameras lejente placas de veculo cual ia multipli como xampiniones.

So if you’re a local, or if you’re driving a rental car from a local agency, you’ve got a FasTrak. It turns out that toll-plazas aren’t the only place that your FasTrak gets read, though. The DHS had put FasTrak readers all over town – when you drove past them, they logged the time and your ID number, building an ever-more perfect picture of who went where, when, in a database that was augmented by “speeding cameras,” “red light cameras” and all the other license-plate cameras that had popped up like mushrooms.

Nun ia dona multe pensa a lo a ante. E aora, cuando la persones ia atende, tota nos ia comensa nota cosas peti, como la fato ce BandaPronto no ave un boton de descomuta.

No one had given it much thought. And now that people were paying attention, we were all starting to notice little things, like the fact that the FasTrak doesn’t have an off-switch.

Donce, cualcun ci ia gida un auto ia ave un probablia egal de es parada par un auto de polisiores ci vole sabe perce el ia fa resente tan multe visitas a la boteca Home Depot, e perce el ia viaja a Sonoma a medianote en la semana pasada.

So if you drove a car, you were just as likely to be pulled over by an SFPD cruiser that wanted to know why you were taking so many trips to the Home Depot lately, and what was that midnight drive up to Sonoma last week about?

La protestas minor sirca la site en la finisemanas ia crese. Sinco mil persones ia prosegue longo Strada Mercato pos un semana de esta monitori. Me ia rejeta lo. La persones ci ia ocupa mea site no ia es interesada par la desiras de la nativas. Los ia es un armada concistante. Los ia sabe como nos senti sur esta.

The little demonstrations around town on the weekend were growing. Fifty thousand people marched down Market Street after a week of this monitoring. I couldn’t care less. The people who’d occupied my city didn’t care what the natives wanted. They were a conquering army. They knew how we felt about that.

A un matina, me ia desende per come a la bon momento per oia ce Papa dise a Mama ce la du companias la plu grande de taxi va dona un “desconta” a persones ci usa cartas spesial per paia per sua viajas, suposada per aumenta la securia de sua gidores par redui la cuantia de mone cual los porta. Me ia demanda a me cua va aveni a la informa sur ci viaja par cual taxis, e a do.

One morning I came down to breakfast just in time to hear Dad tell Mom that the two biggest taxi companies were going to give a “discount” to people who used special cards to pay their fares, supposedly to make drivers safer by reducing the amount of cash they carried. I wondered what would happen to the information about who took which cabs where.

Me ia comprende como prosima me ia veni a desastre. La cliente nova de rede-nondep ia es distribuida como un refresci automata, esata cuando la situa ia comensa mali, e Jolu ia dise a me ce 80 persentos de la trafica cual el vide a Spleno-Porco es aora sifrida. Rede X ia es cisa salvada, ma apena.

I realized how close I’d come. The new indienet client had been pushed out as an automatic update just as this stuff started to get bad, and Jolu told me that 80 percent of the traffic he saw at Pigspleen was now encrypted. The Xnet just might have been saved.

Papa ia coleri me, an tal.

Dad was driving me nuts, though.

“Tu condui paranoica, Marcus.” – el ia informa me a la come de matina, en cuando me ia informa el sur la xices ci me ia vide rigorosa esaminada en la metro a la dia presedente.

“You’re being paranoid, Marcus,” he told me over breakfast one day as I told him about the guys I’d seen the cops shaking down on BART the day before.

“Papa, lo es riable. Los catura no teroristes, si? Los fa no plu ca asusta la popla.”

“Dad, it’s ridiculous. They’re not catching any terrorists, are they? It’s just making people scared.”

“Cisa los ia catura ancora no teroristes, ma serta los sutrae multe brutas de sur la stradas. Considera la traficores de drogas – on dise ce los ia prisoni deses de aceles pos la comensa de tota esta. Tu recorda como acel manicas ia ruba tu? Si nos no aresta sua traficores, la situa va deveni mera plu mal.” Me ia es rubada en la anio presedente. Los ia condui relativa sivilida. Un xico magra e malodorinte ia dise a me ce el ave un fusil; la otra ia demanda per mea portamone. Los ia permete an ce me reteni mea documentos de identia, ma los ia prende mea carta de debito e Carta Rapida. An tal, la asusta ia xoca profonda me e ia lasa un paranoia par cual me ia regarda supra mea spala tra semanas.

“They may not have caught any terrorists yet, but they’re sure getting a lot of scumbags off the streets. Look at the drug dealers – it says they’ve put dozens of them away since this all started. Remember when those druggies robbed you? If we don’t bust their dealers, it’ll only get worse.” I’d been mugged the year before. They’d been pretty civilized about it. One skinny guy who smelled bad told me he had a gun, the other one asked me for my wallet. They even let me keep my ID, though they got my debit card and Fast Pass. It had still scared me witless and left me paranoid and checking my shoulder for weeks.

“Ma la plu de la persones ci los para fa no cosa criminal, Papa.” – me ia dise. Esta ia comensa ajita me. Mea propre padre! “Lo es loco. Per cada person culpable ci los catura, los debe puni miles de persones inosente. Simple, esta no es bon.”

“But most of the people they hold up aren’t doing anything wrong, Dad,” I said. This was getting to me. My own father! “It’s crazy. For every guilty person they catch, they have to punish thousands of innocent people. That’s just not good.”

“Inosente? Omes ci es nonfidosa a sua sposas? Traficores de drogas? Tu defende los, ma como per tota los ci ia mori? Si on ave no cosa per asconde —”

“Innocent? Guys cheating on their wives? Drug dealers? You’re defending them, but what about all the people who died? If you don’t have anything to hide –”

“Alora, tu no ta es disturbada si los ta para tu?” La istogrames de mea papa ia mostra se como depresante normal asta aora.

“So you wouldn’t mind if they pulled you over?” My dad’s histograms had proven to be depressingly normal so far.

“Me ta regarda lo como mea obliga.” – el ia dise. “Me ta es orgulosa. Me ta senti plu secur par lo.”

“I’d consider it my duty,” he said. “I’d be proud. It would make me feel safer.”

Un dise fasil per el.

Easy for him to say.

Vanessa no ia gusta ce me parla sur esta cosas, ma el es tan astuta sur los ce me no ia pote evita longa la tema. Nos ia reuni a multe veses, e ia parla sur la clima e la scola e tal plu, e a pos, en alga modo, me ia reveni sempre a esta tema. Vanessa ia es pasosa cuando esta ia aveni – el no ia fa denova la coleria de Hulk – ma me ia pote vide ce lo turba el.

Vanessa didn’t like me talking about this stuff, but she was too smart about it for me to stay away from the subject for long. We’d get together all the time, and talk about the weather and school and stuff, and then, somehow, I’d be back on this subject. Vanessa was cool when it happened – she didn’t Hulk out on me again – but I could see it upset her.

An tal.

Still.

“Donce mea padre ia dise: ‘Me ta regarda lo como mea obliga.’ Esce tu pote crede lo, de enferno? Me vole dise: txa, alora me ia raconta cuasi a el sur mea prisoni, per demanda esce el opina ce acel es nosa ‘obliga’!”

“So my dad says, ‘I’d consider it my duty.’ Can you freaking believe it? I mean, God! I almost told him then about going to jail, asking him if he thought that was our ‘duty’!”

Nos ia senta en la erba en Parce Dolores pos scola, regardante la canes ci xasa frisbis.

We were sitting in the grass in Dolores Park after school, watching the dogs chase frisbees.

Van ia visita sua casa e ia apone un camiseta vea de un de sua bandes favoreda de tecnobrega brasilera, Carioca Proibidão – “la xice proibida de Rio”. El ia oteni la camisa a un conserta a cual tota nos ia vade a du anios a ante, evadente per un aventura grande a Cow Palace, e pos acel el ia crese cuatro o sinco sentimetres, donce lo ia es abrasante, levante sur sua ventre, mostrante sua peti ombilico plata.

Van had stopped at home and changed into an old t-shirt for one of her favorite Brazilian tecno-brega bands, Carioca Proibidão – the forbidden guy from Rio. She’d gotten the shirt at a live show we’d all gone to two years before, sneaking out for a grand adventure down at the Cow Palace, and she’d sprouted an inch or two since, so it was tight and rode up her tummy, showing her flat little belly button.

El ia reclina su la sol debil con sua oios cluida pos sua oculo de sol, e sua orteos serpente en sua sandaletas. Me ia conose Van de sempre, e cuando me ia pensa a el, usual me ia vide la enfante peti ci me ia conose con sentos de brasaletas tintinante, creada de botes taliada de soda, ci ia jua la piano e ci no ia pote dansa an per salva sua vive. Sentante ala en Parce Dolores, subita me ia vide el como el ia es.

She lay back in the weak sun with her eyes closed behind her shades, her toes wiggling in her flip-flops. I’d known Van since forever, and when I thought of her, I usually saw the little kid I’d known with hundreds of jangly bracelets made out of sliced-up soda cans, who played the piano and couldn’t dance to save her life. Sitting out there in Dolores Park, I suddenly saw her as she was.

El ia es completa 5e5o5a – per dise: sesosa. Lo ia es como regarda acel imaje de un vaso e persepi ce lo es ance du fases. Me ia pote vide ce Van es mera Van, ma me ia pote ance vide ce el es enfernin bela, un cosa cual me ia persepi nunca a ante.

She was totally h4wt – that is to say, hot. It was like looking at that picture of a vase and noticing that it was also two faces. I could see that Van was just Van, but I could also see that she was hella pretty, something I’d never noticed.

Natural, Darryl ia sabe ja sempre esta. E no pensa ce me no ia deveni plu depresada pos esta comprende.

Of course, Darryl had known it all along, and don’t think that I wasn’t bummed out anew when I realized this.

“Tu no pote informa tua papa, sabe.” – el ia dise. “Tu ta perili tota de nos.” Sua oios ia es cluida e sua peto ia es levante e cadente con sua respira, distraente en modo vera embarasante.

“You can’t tell your dad, you know,” she said. “You’d put us all at risk.” Her eyes were closed and her chest was rising up and down with her breath, which was distracting in a really embarrassing way.

“Si.” – me ia dise, sombre. “Ma la problem es ce me sabe ce lo cual el dise es mera la merda de bove. Si on ta para mea papa e ta obliga el a demostra ce el no es un teroriste ci molesta enfantes e trafica drogas, el ta furia. Intera ultra controla. El odia cuando on pone el en filo cuando el telefoni sur sua fatura de carta de credito. Pos es cluida en la retro de un auto e interogada tra un ora, el ta creve un vena.”

“Yeah,” I said, glumly. “But the problem is that I know he’s just totally full of it. If you pulled my dad over and made him prove he wasn’t a child-molesting, drug-dealing terrorist, he’d go berserk. Totally off-the-rails. He hates being put on hold when he calls about his credit-card bill. Being locked in the back of a car and questioned for an hour would give him an aneurism.”

“Los pote continua tal sola car la normales senti autosasiada en compara con la nonormales. Si cadun ta es parada, on ta ave un desastre. Nun ta ariva a sua destina – tota ta sta en filo per un interoga par la polisia. Un conjesta completa.”

“They only get away with it because the normals feel smug compared to the abnormals. If everyone was getting pulled over, it’d be a disaster. No one would ever get anywhere, they’d all be waiting to get questioned by the cops. Total gridlock.”

Uf.

Woah.

“Van, tu es un jenio asoluta.” – me ia dise.

“Van, you are a total genius,” I said.

“Me sabe ja.” – el ia dise. El ia ave un surie pigra e el ia regarda me tra oios partal cluida, cuasi romantica.

“Tell me about it,” she said. She had a lazy smile and she looked at me through half-lidded eyes, almost romantic.

“Seria. Nos pote fa esta. Nos pote fasil desordina la profiles. On organiza fasil la para de la popla.”

“Seriously. We can do this. We can mess up the profiles easily. Getting people pulled over is easy.”

El ia senta se e ia puia sua capeles de sur sua fas e ia regarda me. Me ia sensa la volta de alga cosa en mea ventre, pensante ce me ia impresa multe el.

She sat up and pushed her hair off her face and looked at me. I felt a little flip in my stomach, thinking that she was really impressed with me.

“Par la clonadores de radioeticeta.” – me ia dise. “Los es multe fasil per crea. On scrive mera la microprogram a un lejador-scrivador comprable de Radio Shack per des dolares, e lo es ja fada. Lo cual nos va fa es sirculi e intercambia acaso la eticetas de persones, suprascrivente sua Cartas Rapida e BandaProntos con la numeros de otra persones. Esta va malclasi cadun como strana e bizara, e va fa ce cadun pare culpable. A pos: un conjesta completa.”

“It’s the arphid cloners,” I said. “They’re totally easy to make. Just flash the firmware on a ten-dollar Radio Shack reader/writer and you’re done. What we do is go around and randomly swap the tags on people, overwriting their Fast Passes and FasTraks with other people’s codes. That’ll make everyone skew all weird and screwy, and make everyone look guilty. Then: total gridlock.”

Van ia rondi sua labios e ia basi sua oculo, e me ia comprende ce el es tan coler ce el no pote parla.

Van pursed her lips and lowered her shades and I realized she was so angry she couldn’t speak.

“Adio, Marcus.” – el ia dise, e ia sta se. Pos un instante, el ia pasea tan rapida a via ce el ia core cuasi.

“Good bye, Marcus,” she said, and got to her feet. Before I knew it, she was walking away so fast she was practically running.

“Van!” – me ia clama, stante e xasante el. “Van! Para!”

“Van!” I called, getting to my feet and chasing after her. “Van! Wait!”

El ia aselera, tan ce me ia debe core per ateni el.

She picked up speed, making me run to catch up with her.

“Van, cua de enferno?” – me ia dise, saisinte sua braso. El ia aranca tan forte lo a via ce me ia colpa mea fas.

“Van, what the hell,” I said, catching her arm. She jerked it away so hard I punched myself in the face.

“Tu es psicosica, Marcus. Tu va pone tota tua amis peti de Rede X en peril de sua vives, e en ajunta a esta, tu va cambia la site intera a suspetadas de terorisme. Esce tu no pote sesa ante dana esta persones?”

“You’re psycho, Marcus. You’re going to put all your little Xnet buddies in danger for their lives, and on top of it, you’re going to turn the whole city into terrorism suspects. Can’t you stop before you hurt these people?”

Me ia abri e clui mea boca a du o tre veses. “Van, me no es la problem – los es. Me no aresta persones, prisoni los, desapare los. La Departe de Securia Interna es los ci fa acel. Me contrataca per fa ce los sesa.”

I opened and closed my mouth a couple times. “Van, I’m not the problem, they are. I’m not arresting people, jailing them, making them disappear. The Department of Homeland Security are the ones doing that. I’m fighting back to make them stop.”

“Como, par mali la situa?”

“How, by making it worse?”

“Cisa on nesesa mali lo per boni lo, Van. Esce tu no veni de dise esta? Si cadun ta es parada –”

“Maybe it has to get worse to get better, Van. Isn’t that what you were saying? If everyone was getting pulled over –”

“Me no ia intende acel. Me no ia intende ce tu debe fa ce cadun es arestada. Si tu vole protesta, junta tu a la promove protestante. Ata positiva. Tu ia aprende no cosa de Darryl? No cosa?”

“That’s not what I meant. I didn’t mean you should get everyone arrested. If you want to protest, join the protest movement. Do something positive. Didn’t you learn anything from Darryl? Anything?”

“Ma si, de diablo.” – me ia dise, perdente mea calmia. “Me ia aprende ce on no pote fida los. Ce si on no batalia los, on aida los. Ce los va cambia la pais a un prison si nos permete lo. Cua tu ia aprende, Van? Ce on debe es sempre asustada, cuieta sentante con testa basida, esperante ce on no va vide tu? Tu pensa ce la situa va boni? Si nos fa no cosa, la situa presente ave ja la bonia masima. Lo va deveni sola plu e plu mal de aora. Tu vole aida Darryl? Aida me a vinse los!”

“You’re damned right I did,” I said, losing my cool. “I learned that they can’t be trusted. That if you’re not fighting them, you’re helping them. That they’ll turn the country into a prison if we let them. What did you learn, Van? To be scared all the time, to sit tight and keep your head down and hope you don’t get noticed? You think it’s going to get better? If we don’t do anything, this is as good as it’s going to get. It will only get worse and worse from now on. You want to help Darryl? Help me bring them down!”

E lo ia reapare: mea jura. No ce me va libri Darryl, ma ce me va vinse tota la Departe de Securia Interna. Esta ia es loco, como an me ia sabe. Ma lo ia es lo cual me ia intende fa. Ultra tota duta.

There it was again. My vow. Not to get Darryl free, but to bring down the entire DHS. That was crazy, even I knew it. But it was what I planned to do. No question about it.

Van ia puxa me, forte, con ambos manos. El ia es fortida par atletisme de scola – scrima, lacros, hoci, tota la sportes de un scola de xicas – e me ia fini con mea culo sur la troteria repulsante de San Francisco. El ia parti e me no ia segue.

Van shoved me hard with both hands. She was strong from school athletics – fencing, lacrosse, field hockey, all the girls-school sports – and I ended up on my ass on the disgusting San Francisco sidewalk. She took off and I didn’t follow.

La cosa importante en sistemes de securia no es como los funsiona; lo es como los fali.

The important thing about security systems isn’t how they work, it’s how they fail.

Esta ia es la linia prima de mea blogi prima en Revolta Abrida, mea pajeria de Rede X. Me ia scrive como M1k3y, e me ia es preparada per vade a gera.

That was the first line of my first blog post on Open Revolt, my Xnet site. I was writing as M1k3y, and I was ready to go to war.

Cisa tota la filtri automata es intendeda per catura teroristes. Cisa lo va catura un teroriste, tarda o temprana. La problem es ce lo catura ance NOS, an si nos fa no cosa criminal.

Maybe all the automatic screening is supposed to catch terrorists. Maybe it will catch a terrorist sooner or later. The problem is that it catches *us* too, even though we’re not doing anything wrong.

Plu lo catura persones, plu lo deveni frajil. Si lo catura tro multe persones, lo mori.

The more people it catches, the more brittle it gets. If it catches too many people, it dies.

Tu comprende?

Get the idea?

Me ia copia e coli ance mea fix METODO per construi un clonador de eticeta, e alga conselas sur prosimi sufisinte a persones per leje e scrive sua eticetas. Me ia pone mea propre clonador en la pox de mea jaca de motocros de cuoro negra clasica con poxes durida, e ia parti per scola. Me ia susede clone ses eticetas entre mea casa e Liseo Chavez.

I pasted in my HOWTO for building an arphid cloner, and some tips for getting close enough to people to read and write their tags. I put my own cloner in the pocket of my vintage black leather motocross jacket with the armored pockets and left for school. I managed to clone six tags between home and Chavez High.

Los ia desira un gera. Los va reseta un gera.

It was war they wanted. It was war they’d get.

Si a alga ves on deside fa un cosa tan stupida como construi un detetador automata de terorisme, asi es un leson de matematica cual on debe aprende a ante. Lo es nomida “la paradox de positivas falsa”, e lo es encantante.

If you ever decide to do something as stupid as build an automatic terrorism detector, here’s a math lesson you need to learn first. It’s called “the paradox of the false positive,” and it’s a doozy.

Imajina ce un maladia nova esiste, nomida supra-SIDO. Sola un person en milion developa supra-SIDO. On crea un proba per supra-SIDO cual es esata de 99 persentos. Esta sinifia ce, a 99 persentos de veses, lo dona la resulta coreta – vera si la sujeto es infetada, e falsa si la sujeto es sana. On dona la proba a milion persones.

Say you have a new disease, called Super-AIDS. Only one in a million people gets Super-AIDS. You develop a test for Super-AIDS that’s 99 percent accurate. I mean, 99 percent of the time, it gives the correct result – true if the subject is infected, and false if the subject is healthy. You give the test to a million people.

Un person en milion ave supra-SIDO. Un person en sento probada va jenera un “positiva falsa” – la proba va dise ce el ave supra-SIDO an si el no ave lo. Esta es la sinifia de “esata de 99 persentos”: erante a un persento de veses.

One in a million people have Super-AIDS. One in a hundred people that you test will generate a “false positive” – the test will say he has Super-AIDS even though he doesn’t. That’s what “99 percent accurate” means: one percent wrong.

Cua es un persento de milion?

What’s one percent of one million?

1 000 000 / 100 = 10 000

1,000,000/100 = 10,000

Un person en milion ave supra-SIDO. Si on proba milion persones acaso, on va trova probable sola un caso vera de supra-SIDO. Ma la proba no va identifia un person como un caso de supra-SIDO. Lo va identifia 10 000 persones como casos de lo.

One in a million people has Super-AIDS. If you test a million random people, you’ll probably only find one case of real Super-AIDS. But your test won’t identify one person as having Super-AIDS. It will identify 10,000 people as having it.

La proba esata de 99 persentos va opera con nonesatia de 99,99 persentos.

Your 99 percent accurate test will perform with 99.99 percent inaccuracy.

Esta es la paradox de positivas falsa. Cuando on atenta trova un cosa multe rara, la esatia de la proba debe es egal a la raria de lo cual on xerca. Si on atenta indica un sola pixel sur un scermo, un lapis agu es un bon util: la punto de la lapis es multe plu peti (plu esata) ca la pixeles. Ma un punto de lapis no conveni per indica un sola atom en la scermo. Per esta, on nesesa un util – un proba – con largia de un atom o min a sua punto.

That’s the paradox of the false positive. When you try to find something really rare, your test’s accuracy has to match the rarity of the thing you’re looking for. If you’re trying to point at a single pixel on your screen, a sharp pencil is a good pointer: the pencil-tip is a lot smaller (more accurate) than the pixels. But a pencil-tip is no good at pointing at a single atom in your screen. For that, you need a pointer – a test – that’s one atom wide or less at the tip.

Esta es la paradox de positivas falsa, e asi es como lo aplica se a terorisme:

This is the paradox of the false positive, and here’s how it applies to terrorism:

Teroristes es vera rara. En un site de dudes milion persones, como York Nova, on ave cisa un o du teroristes. Cisa des de los, masima. 10 / 20 000 000 = 0,00005 persentos. Un dudes-mili de un persento.

Terrorists are really rare. In a city of twenty million like New York, there might be one or two terrorists. Maybe ten of them at the outside. 10/20,000,000 = 0.00005 percent. One twenty-thousandth of a percent.

Serta, acel es vera rara. Bon, imajina ce on ave alga program capas de esplora tota la rejistras de banco, o rejistras de peaje, o rejistras de transporta publica, o rejistras de telefoni en la site, e de catura teroristes a 99 persentos de veses.

That’s pretty rare all right. Now, say you’ve got some software that can sift through all the bank-records, or toll-pass records, or public transit records, or phone-call records in the city and catch terrorists 99 percent of the time.

En un colie de dudes milion persones, un proba esata de 99 persentos va identifia dusento mil persones como teroristes. Ma sola des de los es teroristes. Per catura des viles, on debe aresta e investiga dusento mil persones inosente.

In a pool of twenty million people, a 99 percent accurate test will identify two hundred thousand people as being terrorists. But only ten of them are terrorists. To catch ten bad guys, you have to haul in and investigate two hundred thousand innocent people.

Tu divina ja lo? Probas de terorisme es an no prosima a la esatia de 99 persentos. Plu simil a 60 persentos. An esata de 40 persentos, a veses.

Guess what? Terrorism tests aren’t anywhere close to 99 percent accurate. More like 60 percent accurate. Even 40 percent accurate, sometimes.

La sinifia de tota esta ia es ce la Departe de Securia Interna ia inisia se per un fali grande. Los ia atenta deteta avenis noncredable rara – ce un person es un teroriste – par sistemes nonesata.

What this all meant was that the Department of Homeland Security had set itself up to fail badly. They were trying to spot incredibly rare events – a person is a terrorist – with inaccurate systems.

Esce lo es stonante ce nos ia pote crea un caos tan grande?

Is it any wonder we were able to make such a mess?

Me ia sorti tra la porte xef, sibilante, a la matina de un martedi a un semana pos la comensa de Opera Positivas Falsa. Me ia es saboreante alga musica nova cual me ia descarga de Rede X a la sera pasada – multe persones ia envia peti donadas dijital a M1k3y en grasia per la dona de espera.

I stepped out the front door whistling on a Tuesday morning one week into the Operation False Positive. I was rockin’ out to some new music I’d downloaded from the Xnet the night before – lots of people sent M1k3y little digital gifts to say thank you for giving them hope.

Me ia turna a sur Strada 23 e ia segue atendente la grados streta de petra, taliada en la inclina de la colina. Desendente, me ia pasa Sr Tecel Truple. Me no sabe la nom vera de Sr Tecel Truple, ma me vide el a cuasi cada dia, paseante sua tre teceles forte respirante sur la scalera asta la parce peti a supra. Pasa tota los sur la scalera streta es cuasi nonposible, e me fini sempre maraniada en un corea, puxada a en la jardin fronte de algun, o perxida sur la paracolpa de un de la autos parcida a la borda de la strada.

I turned onto 23d Street and carefully took the narrow stone steps cut into the side of the hill. As I descended, I passed Mr Wiener Dog. I don’t know Mr Wiener Dog’s real name, but I see him nearly every day, walking his three panting wiener dogs up the staircase to the little parkette. Squeezing past them all on the stairs is pretty much impossible and I always end up tangled in a leash, knocked into someone’s front garden, or perched on the bumper of one of the cars parked next to the curb.

Sr Tecel Truple es clar Algun Importante, car el ave un orolojeta ostentosa e porta sempre un bon veston. Me ia suposa privata ce el labora a su en la distrito finansial.

Mr Wiener Dog is clearly Someone Important, because he has a fancy watch and always wears a nice suit. I had mentally assumed that he worked down in the financial district.

Oji, en tanje el, me ia opera mea clonador de eticeta, cual ia es ja poneda en la pox de mea jaca de cuoro. La clonador ia suca la numeros de sua cartas de credito e sua claves de auto, sua pasaporto e la biletas de sento dolares en sua portamone.

Today as I brushed up against him, I triggered my arphid cloner, which was already loaded in the pocket of my leather jacket. The cloner sucked down the numbers off his credit-cards and his car-keys, his passport and the hundred-dollar bills in his wallet.

An en cuando el ia fa esta, lo ia rescrive alga de los con numeros nova, prendeda de otra persones ci me ia tanje. Lo ia es simil a intercambia la placas de un grupo de autos, ma nonvidable e instante. Me ia surie repentinte a Sr Tecel Truple e ia continua desende la scalera. Me ia para a tre de la autos tra tempo sufisinte per intercambia sua eticetas de BandaPronto con numeros prendeda de tota la autos cual me ia pasa en la dia presedente.

Even as it was doing that, it was flashing some of them with new numbers, taken from other people I’d brushed against. It was like switching the license-plates on a bunch of cars, but invisible and instantaneous. I smiled apologetically at Mr Wiener Dog and continued down the stairs. I stopped at three of the cars long enough to swap their FasTrak tags with numbers taken off of all the cars I’d gone past the day before.

Cisa tu opina ce tal me ia condui pico agresiva, ma me ia es cauta e restrinjeda en compara con multe de la usores de Rede X. Du xicas en la curso de Injenia Cimical a la Universia de California en Berkeley ia descovre un modo de cambia produidas cosinal a un sustantia nonosiva cual ta alarma un detetador de esplodentes. Con diverti joiosa, los ia sperde lo sur la portafolios e jacas de sua profesores, ante asconde se per oserva como la mesma profesores atenta entra a la salones e bibliotecas de la compleso ma esperia sola tacles tufante par la ecipos nova de securiores cual ia apare en tota partes.

You might think I was being a little aggro here, but I was cautious and conservative compared to a lot of the Xnetters. A couple girls in the Chemical Engineering program at UC Berkeley had figured out how to make a harmless substance out of kitchen products that would trip an explosive sniffer. They’d had a merry time sprinkling it on their profs’ briefcases and jackets, then hiding out and watching the same profs try to get into the auditoriums and libraries on campus, only to get flying-tackled by the new security squads that had sprung up everywhere.

Otra persones ia vole trova un modo de covre envelopas con polvos cual on ta deteta como antrax, ma tota la otras ia opina ce los es completa loco. Fortunosa, lo no ia pare probable ce los va susede trova lo.

Other people wanted to figure out how to dust envelopes with substances that would test positive for anthrax, but everyone else thought they were out of their minds. Luckily, it didn’t seem like they’d be able to figure it out.

Me ia pasa la Ospital Jeneral de San Francisco e ia balansa sasiada mea testa en vide la filos enorme a la portes xef. Los ia ave ance un punto de controla polisial, natural, e la cuantia de usores de Rede X ci ia labora ala como stajiores o en la caferias o simil ia sufisi per misca e intercambia ja la insinias de tota persones. Me ia leje ce la controlas de securia ia ajunta un ora a la dia de labora per cadun, e la sindicatos ia menasa greve si la ospital no ta solve esta.

I passed by San Francisco General Hospital and nodded with satisfaction as I saw the huge lines at the front doors. They had a police checkpoint too, of course, and there were enough Xnetters working as interns and cafeteria workers and whatnot there that everyone’s badges had been snarled up and swapped around. I’d read the security checks had tacked an hour onto everyone’s work day, and the unions were threatening to walk out unless the hospital did something about it.

Pos un pico de blocos, me ia vide un filo an plu longa per la metro. Polisiores ia pasea longo la filo, indicante persones e clamante los a lado per interogas, esaminas de sacos, e xercas par palpa. Los ia es constante litigada pos fa esta, ma lo no ia pare lenti los.

A few blocks later, I saw an even longer line for the BART. Cops were walking up and down the line pointing people out and calling them aside for questioning, bag-searches and pat-downs. They kept getting sued for doing this, but it didn’t seem to be slowing them down.

Me ia ariva pico temprana a scola, e ia deside pasea plu asta Strada 22 per prende un cafe – e me ia pasa un punto de controla do polisiores ia es parante autos per un esamina de grado du.

I got to school a little ahead of time and decided to walk down to 22nd Street to get a coffee – and I passed a police checkpoint where they were pulling over cars for secondary inspection.

La scola ia es no min fol – la securiores con la detetadores de metal ia scane ance nosa cartas de scola, e ia estrae e interoga studiantes ci ia rejistra moves strana. On no nesesa dise ce tota nos ia rejistra moves alga strana. On no nesesa dise ce la lesones ia comensa tarda par un ora o plu.

School was no less wild – the security guards on the metal detectors were also wanding our school IDs and pulling out students with odd movements for questioning. Needless to say, we all had pretty weird movements. Needless to say, classes were starting an hour or more later.

La lesones ia es loco. Me pensa ce nun ia pote consentra. Me ia oia acaso du enseniores parlante sur la multe tempo cual los ia spende en viaja de labora a sua casas en la dia presedente, e sur sua intende de evade temprana oji.

Classes were crazy. I don’t think anyone was able to concentrate. I overheard two teachers talking about how long it had taken them to get home from work the day before, and planning to sneak out early that day.

Me ia pote apena preveni me de rie. La paradox de la positivas falsa aveni denova!

It was all I could do to keep from laughing. The paradox of the false positive strikes again!

E sin surprende, on ia permete un fini temprana de la lesones e me ia segue la via longa a casa, deviante tra la Mision per vide la caos. Filos longa de autos. Stasiones de metro con filos sirca la bloco. Persones blasfemante a automatas de banco cual refusa furni sua mone car on ia suspende sua contas par causa de ativia suspetable – esta es la peril de lia direta sua conta xef a sua BandaPronto e Carta Rapida!

Sure enough, they let us out of class early and I headed home the long way, circling through the Mission to see the havoc. Long lines of cars. BART stations lined up around the blocks. People swearing at ATMs that wouldn’t dispense their money because they’d had their accounts frozen for suspicious activity (that’s the danger of wiring your checking account straight into your FasTrak and Fast Pass!).

Me ia reveni a casa, ia prepara per me un sanduitx, e ia entra a Rede X. Lo ia es un bon dia. Persones de la urbe intera ia vanta sur sua susedes. Nos ia para completa la site San Francisco. La reportas de novas ia confirma lo – on ia dise ce la Departe de Securia Interna malfunsiona, e per tota on ia culpa la “securia” falsa cual ia debe proteje nos de terorisme. La parte finansial de la jornal Cronolojia de San Francisco ia dedica tota sua paje fronte a un estima de la costa economial de la securia par la Departe, considerante la perde de oras de labora, consentas, e tal plu. Longo la economiste de la jornal, un semana de esta caca va costa plu a la site ca la bombi de la Ponte Baia.

I got home and made myself a sandwich and logged into the Xnet. It had been a good day. People from all over town were crowing about their successes. We’d brought the city of San Francisco to a standstill. The news-reports confirmed it – they were calling it the DHS gone haywire, blaming it all on the fake-ass “security” that was supposed to be protecting us from terrorism. The Business section of the San Francisco Chronicle gave its whole front page to an estimate of the economic cost of the DHS security resulting from missed work hours, meetings and so on. According to the Chronicle’s economist, a week of this crap would cost the city more than the Bay Bridge bombing had.

Muu-ha-ha-ha.

Mwa-ha-ha-ha.

La parte la plu bon: Papa ia reveni tarda a casa en acel sera. Tarda par tre oras. Perce? Car el ia es parada, esaminada, interogada. A pos, lo ia aveni denova. A du veses.

The best part: Dad got home that night late. Very late. Three hours late. Why? Because he’d been pulled over, searched, questioned. Then it happened again. Twice.

Du veses!

Twice!