Soatok's Side Projects
A Very 13/12 Christmas
In the year 2031, due to years of strategic investment, software to support electronic voting has become ubiquitous. Despite an onslaught of new cryptographic attacks, the US government was poised to adopt one of these implementations--with a price tag of $100 Billion, for use in the midterm elections.
However, a last minute act of sanity spearheaded by Senator Wyden preserved tech companies from overriding the objections of security and cryptography experts. Despite the sunk cost, not all was lost: the tech became a novelty in the United States.
Last week, a few of your local furries decided to use one of these apps to coordinate a Secret Santa gift exchange. You decide to join in, perhaps not really understanding how all of that fancy tech works, but wanting to have a bit of fun.
Today, you get a notification that the enrollment window has ended, and the assignments will happen automatically.
In total, 13 of you elected to join.
You look at your phone after you get out of the shower, to see what the algorithm selected.
The protocol decides you're the Secret Santa for a local fur named Xander.
"Crap."
You haven't talked with them much before outside of the monthly meetups or the occasional meme exchange. How are you going to sus out their interests without making it obvious that you selected them?
You ponder your predicament for a moment.
One of the other participants is... hard to describe. He seems somewhat secretive, only chiming in to help others with technology problems. You're glad you didn't get him, but you do wish it was someone you knew a little more about.
Two of the participants are group admins. They seem somewhat hands-off a lot of the time, but are both somewhat approachable. They might have some clues into something they would like.
If all else fails, some gift art or a plushie of their fursona species might be nice. You've got a little time to figure it out.
The November meet-up for the local furry group began as a small disaster. True to form, despite it being advertised as a potluck event, nobody coordinated who should bring what to the gathering.
Two store-bought pumpkin pies and a cheesecake is hardly enough food for 30 or so young adults. Even worse, some brought their appetites: expecting an abundance of food to be available, they didn't eat any meals that day.
The whispered gripes turned into a low murmur. Despite the intense hunger, no one dared be selfish enough to be first in line for the scarce desserts.
But then, Milo cleared his throat.
"Spencer's back with food!" he announced unexpectedly. "I'll need a few of you to help unload it from the truck." You hastily join a cadre of volunteers and make your way to the blue Dodge Ram that just pulled into Milo and Spencer's driveway.
I guess it wasn't a potluck after all? you ask yourself as you carry a large tray of some strange vegan dish and set it on the table on the back patio.
You see Spencer standing in the kitchen, talking with Milo, and wave to them. Spencer doesn't seem to react, while Milo smiles then turns back to his mate.
Later, you and Xander sit next to Milo and eat voraciously from the feast that was provided.
"Why'd you tell us it was a potluck?" you ask Milo.
He laughs and whispers to you. "This wasn't our idea. Dyne suggested the sleight of hand and paid for it all."
"Dyne?" you pause, remembering the nickname of the quiet guy.
"Yeah, he works for a government contractor," Milo confides in you. "He's a bit shy, but he's generous with his money."
"Is he here?" you ask, looking around. Your eyes briefly meet Xander as you scan the room.
"Nah, he had a work emergency. Food would've been here sooner if he didn't have to bail."
"Must be nice," you hear your neighbor trail off, guiltily.
"Do you suppose Dyne joined the Secret Santa?" you hear another fur wonder aloud.
Later that evening, you pull Milo and Nex aside.
Nex, short for an obnoxiously long dragon name you can't ever remember, is the local admin that organized the Secret Santa. She works as a product manager for a tech company, and is very enthusiastic about their products.
Milo and Spencer have a large home they inherited from Spencer's grandfather, so they usually host the meetups at their place.
"So, what can you tell me about all of the likes/dislikes of folks in the Secret Santa?" you inquire broadly, not wanting to leak your selection.
Milo laughs. "That's a broad subject."
Nex smiles. "Clever." She pauses for a moment, then shares a few ideas for three different furs. None of them are Xander.
"I see, that's good to know," you thank her before another fur interrupts the conversation with a dirty joke.
After you get back home from the meetup, you pause and reflect what you know about Xander.
Their fursona is a snow leopard. They're currently getting screwed on hours at work and can barely afford their bills. They've been in the local group for 3 years. The hour depletion started when they were outed as nonbinary by a coworker they confided in. They like strawberries. Their ex threatened them with a knife, and they're still a bit traumatized over that. They like playing mage classes in video games... probably because bladed weapons aren't compulsory.
You scroll through the 7th page of Etsy for some permutations of the obvious keywords, but nothing really speaks to you.
"Maybe I'll make something instead?"
The weeks come and go. Christmas is a busy time for most folks, especially retail workers like Xander.
Ultimately, you decide to customize a large travel thermos that can be used for coffee, soup, or cold beverages. You choose a durable model.
You're not the most skilled artist, so you ask your friend to paint their fursona holding a strawberry-adorned mage staff on it. It turns out quite nice, and the resin seal over the paint holds without smearing it.
It's a resounding success. You're sure they're going to love it. It's practical, personal, and unique.
The past few Christmases have been a drag for you, but something about this year's event feels different.
As you prepare to head out to the meetup, you double-check the wrapping paper on the gift for Xander. You're sure they're going to love it.
After the usual festivities and the fursuit photo in front of the Christmas tree, it's time for the Secret Santa reveal.
Xander loves the gift. It's toughtful and the art is hecking adorable. They run up to you and offer you a big, heartfelt hug.
Dyne is absent again, but nobody really pays much mind to it. He's like that; comes and goes. He was conscientious enough to provide a gift.
Lucky you! Dyne was your Secret Santa. He got you a portable drawing tablet. Quite an expensive gift, but that's Dyne for you.
You blush deeply. You're not even a great artist, but you can't help but feel a touch of appreciation.
Everyone is murmuring about that when the final gift sits on the table. Dyne's gift.
What could someone who seems to have everything want for Christmas, you wonder.
But then, Spencer reads out the name on the gift: "Xander," he calls out again.
Everyone looks confused.
"Wait, we both got Xander?" Nex expresses confusion when she realizes the commotion. "That's not supposed to be possible."
She hurries off to her laptop. Something about this unsettles her.
"What's going on?" you hear Milo inquire.
"How did someone rig it?" she says in a panic. "This is supposed to be a cryptographically fair shuffle. It's tied to your AWOO accounts." Nex is typing furiously.
This wasn't just supposed to be a fun Christmas for her. It was a demo for the software her company had been working on for the past year, before the government killed the electronic voting initiatives.
A tension fills the air, but then one of the local furries offers a solution:
"It's only fair, if you think about it. Dyne's well-off, while Xander is as poor as we are," he muses.
"Come on, don't be jealous," his friend teases at him.
"Ergh, fuck!" Nex looks genuinely distraught, but people have begun talking about the spirit of Christmas and socialism, so few notice.
You sit next to her, hoping that a friendly presence will provide some comfort.
"What's wrong?" you ask, naively.
"Someone hacked our election," she grits her teeth, feeling humiliated.
"Why would anyone do that?" you ask.
"To spite me! Why else?" she spats back as she chats on Slack with the security team at her company.
"Okay, who would do that?" she shakes her head. "I don't know. Maybe someone that hates Dyne. He can be a dick sometimes, you know."
You take the cue and walk away. She's probably going to be incandescent for the next few meetups over this.
Across the room, you see Xander, staring down at their feet, feeling ashamed of this whole ordeal. You ask if you can sit next to them, to provide some comfort.
"N-no, it's okay," they say, trying to hide their embarrassment. "I just didn't expect to get two gifts. I barely managed to afford one for Maple," she gestures at the deer tail that now adorns a friend across the room.
It's New Years Eve when you get the knock on the door.
The local police want to ask you a few questions. You're not in trouble, but there's a man in a suit with him that doesn't show his badge.
"FBI, Special Agent Chris Conway," he introduces himself.
"What's this about?" you ask nervously, closing the door behind you.
He asks a few softball questions about the Christmas party, the Secret Santa project.
"Yeah, I don't know how it happened, but two people drew the same name and one of the names wasn't chosen by anyone," you admit honestly.
"Are you aware that the value of your gift exceeds the sum of everyone else's gift?" the agent asks, pointedly.
"Err, no," you admit, not knowing much about graphic arts. He's staring intently at your reaction, then finally breaks eye contact to scribble down some notes.
"Thank you for being candid with me," he says, before clearing his throat.
"Do you have a special relationship with Dyne?" he asks bluntly.
You shake your head. "No, I've barely talked to the guy."
"Are you aware of his occupation?" he inquires.
"Not really," you begin, "Something about government contracting, is all I heard."
"Thank you," he again scribbles some incoherent notes onto his notepad.
A silence fills the air.
"Are any of us in trouble?" you finally ask.
He smiles and says, warmly "It's our job to investigate. If you've been truthful with us, and no crime has been committed, then you have nothing to worry about."
He looks at you again with those piercing, aquamarine eyes.
"Do you have something to hide?"
You feel a chill run up your spine. You keep your eyes locked with his. For a moment, time feels like it stands still.
"Uh, not really," you say, confused.
"Alright," he says as he gets up and excuses himself.
The group chat goes quiet for a day, but the private whispers start flying around between group chat members.
"Whoever hacked the Secret Santa election is in big trouble!" is the group sentiment.
"Why does anyone even care?" you wonder to Spencer. "We're just a local furry group."
He starts typing, stops, then says, "Nex cares. It's kind of a sore subject with her."
"Why?" you reply. "She works for the company, yes, but she didn't do the hard engineering work, did she?"
"It's complicated," he replies. "I wouldn't bring it up with her for a while. Especially since she's certainly the one that called the authorities."
Everyone agreed on that.
A few months go by. Nex doesn't talk much about the incident. In fact, she's become a little distant and guarded.
For the Spring meetup, you all decide to have a picnic at the local park. The weather's supposed to be perfect for fursuiting.
Dyne arrives early, with several platters of sandwiches and other treats. The group has reached 40 members, and everyone is having a great time.
This is the first time you've had a chance to talk with him since before the Christmas party.
"Hey Dyne," you say hastily as you approach him.
He looks up and smiles, looking a little tired. "Oh, how'd you like the tablet?" he blurts out without a second thought.
"Great, thank you! I'm learning to draw on it, but it's slow going," you say mildly clumsily.
After a brief pause, you add, "Sorry nobody got you anything,"
He smiles, knowingly, and then shakes his head. "S'all good," and then changes the subject.
The following Tuesday, you see a familiar face on the evening news.
Dyne, whose legal name you didn't know, has been arrested by the FBI for his connection to a computer intrusion into the electronic voting software used by EraTech.
Nex immediately motions to ban him from the group chat, feeling betrayed.
"Wait," Xander is the first to pipe up. "Dyne hacked the voting software to prevent himself from being chosen as the Secret Santa?"
Nex starts typing, before another technical furry co-opts her. "No, he didn't hack anything."
This confuses everyone. Nex finally says, "I can't comment on this, due to my confidentiality agreements. We know how he did it, we know why he did it, and it sucks."
The admins agree to ban public discussion about this topic, in case the feds are listening. After all, some of the new furries could be informants.
Feeling guilty, you send Nex a private message.
"Look, I know you can't tell me anything," you begin. "But I feel really guilty about this whole ordeal. Is there anyone I can talk to to learn what happened?"
Nex's reply is a bit blunt:
"No. Ask Dyne if you're so curious. He should have no problem posting bail. Rich motherfucker."
You ponder this, but decide against it.
Asking someone pending a criminal trial for the details of their alleged crime is a bit too socially awkward even by your standards.
Dyne was removed from the local group, by Nex's insistence.
Against what many would consider legal common sense, Dyne doesn't waive his right to a speedy trial.
This pisses the judge, prosecutor, and his own defense attorney off.
The local news tries to live stream it, but the US government shoots this down, citing national security concerns.
Excerpts from the trial trickle out throughout the day, but most of the details are redacted. State secrecy privileges.
What the public does learn, however, is quite complicated.
Dyne never illegally accessed the servers of EraTech. What he's accused of is using his classified knowledge of computer security to exploit a mathematical loophole in their protocols.
This loophole, the government argued, could have undermined the security of US elections if electronic voting was adopted, and this secret fell into the hands of enemy nations.
Dyne's defense was simple: All he did was simple mathematics.
The details of Dyne's exploit are never revealed outside the courtroom.
His defense attorney, ill prepared for the case, advised him to take a plea deal before trial. He refused.
The government's case against him was never shared publicly.
After getting the latest highlights on the last day of the trial, you tune into the group chat, where discussion of the incident is now permitted again.
You read through the backlog. Nex has been asked to step down as an admin for the local group.
You're not sure why.
Maybe it's because she became toxic after her ego was bruised.
The latest message in the chat comes from a new furry you don't recognize.
"Dyne did nothing wrong, and he didn't hurt national security. Nex shouldn't have called the cops on him."
Nex replies, "The knowledge he possessed was dangerous. We were in talks with several countries to rollout our software for their elections. It nearly cost us billions!"
The other furry replied with simply, "ACAB". (All Cops Are Bastards.)
His trial ends with a simple verdict: not guilty on all counts .
Though the government's evidence that he exploited their protocol was strong, he didn't violate the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, so that conviction didn't stick.
Furthermore, he discovered the vulnerability by himself, in his free time.
He reportedly only looked at the code because some local friends wanted to use the now-rejected EraTech software to organize a gift exchange for the Holidays. The reporters make no mention of furries.
The news headline reads: "Math prodigy not guilty of hacking foreign elections."
"Should we let Dyne back in?" Milo asks, shortly before the Halloween party.
"Should we vote on it?" quips Spencer.
"If we do, don't use EraTech," says another member.
Nex leaves the group after that remark.
Dyne doesn't show back up. Not immediately.
It's Christmas again. You're staring down the new year, wondering what went wrong.
The local group attendance has dwindled, though the group chat is more active than ever. The conversations are somehow less fun, though.
Nex, for all her flaws, brought an enthusiasm to the group that can't be replaced.
Dyne, for his alleged crimes, had been retroactively elevated to the status of a local hero.
He didn't know Nex worked for EraTech, he just wanted to gracefully excuse himself from receiving anything. He was that kind of guy.
So he found a way to manipulate the election protocol to count a vote for him as a vote for another random furry. He couldn't choose who; just make it not for him. So he did, on his own device.
Dyne hasn't stepped back up to his previous role of funding the group's activities.
"Still unemployed," he admits when someone finally asks. "Even though I was found not guilty, I'm having to break into a new industry."
He's been head's down on that.
He's slumped over, staring into his eggnog, when you walk up to him and press Send.
His phone vibrates. He looks at the message you just sent.
scroll, scroll, scroll
He finally looks up at you. "I didn't expect you to draw my fursona so much," he smiles.
You laugh nervously as he scrolls past the #FreeDyne art you made a week after he was arrested.
"I'm still not very good," you mutter sheepishly.
He closes his messaging app and looks up at you, looking a bit more rested than usual.
"No, but you're better than last year. Merry Christmas," and raises his glass.
The End.
This short story was originally posted to my Fediverse account. I'm reposting it here, with minor editorial tweaks, so it's easier for folks to find.