Cappy Jack ©2007
The pilot watched in amazement when the pirate software
disabled the cockpit controls. He toggled the auto switch, a breach of protocol,
forced by his survival instinct. The plane flew normally but had just veered off
course. There was no warning when the screens went blank. He tested the yoke, the
throttle, nothing worked, he said, “Try your side”, to the co-pilot. “Negative”,
was the reply. It was entirely possible to disconnect all human input from the control
of the airplane and this hack did just that. All the possibilities of a complex
system were programmable even the absurd one of no human intervention, after all,
it was software and this was a glitch like no other. The devious code that took
control also interrupted all communication. Back feeding current to the electrical
ground was absurd as well, but done now to prevent any real feedback other than
active radar tracking. The course was New York.
“Reset does not respond.” The last alternative, switching
off the main breaker was absurd and not a choice. If you were high enough and had
enough time for the on board computer to do its fast check, than maybe you could
restart the engines and pull out, but they were below the minimum altitude to try
it.
“I’m going back in the cabin to check for interference.”
The Captain’s firm words didn’t match his nervous body movement, he was gone without
closing the door. The co-pilot heard his voice clearly the first time, “Turn off
any electronic devices, please”, the repetition was lower but more insistent as
he made his way down the aisle. He asked the crew to check everyone as he made his
way back, closing the cockpit door this time.
“Any Luck?” This came out of their mouths simultaneously
and only a glance at each others face told the truth. They couldn’t control the aircraft. It was flying on
its own.
The control tower conversation, text messaging, and
voice calls were not canned. They came from a source that could imitate the person’s
voice and respond to words in an appropriate manner for someone under stress, someone
reporting a high jacking, something happening too fast to generate a response other
than watch in bewilderment. The passengers and crew could only watch out the windows.
The watchers on the ground, fed lies about terrorists feared more for the planes
than the hapless inhabitants of each of the aircraft that day. The pirate software
taking four planes to their destiny on 9/11 picked their end with a precision no
human could match, blaming simple young men who had not the strength or the skill
to use box cutters to butcher people, or fly precisely where the most dramatic end
would be seen by the world.
The floor of the world trade center to fly into, like
all other parameters, had been chosen to drop the buildings. The airspeed was a
tested variable but both planes dumped their flaming fuel into the chimney of the
elevators as they disintegrated on impact. The fire was designed to soften the structure
so it would collapse when the top dropped. All four crashes had elements too perfect
for humans or bad luck to explain.