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Cory
Doctorow/Little
Brother/
1Little BrotherCory Doctorowdoctorow@craphound.com
READ
THIS
FIRST
This
book is
distributed
under
a Creative
Commons
Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike
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complete
legalese.
INTRODUCTION
I wrote
Little
Brother
in
a white-hot
fury
between
May
7, 2007 and
July
2, 2007: exactly
eight
weeks
from
the
day
I thought
it
upto
the
day
I finished
it
(Alice,
to
whom
this
book is
dedicated,
had
to
put up with
me
clacking
out the
final
chapter
at
5AM
in
our hotel
in
Rome,
where
we
were
celebrating
our anniversary).
I©d
always
dreamed
of having
a book just
materialize,
fully
formed,
and
come
pouring
out of my
fingertips,
no sweat
and
fuss
—
but it
wasn©t
nearly
as
much
fun
as
I©d
thought
it
would
be.
There
were
days
when
I wrote
10,000 words,
hunching
over
my
keyboard
in
airports,
on subways,
in
taxis
—
anywhere
I could
type.
The
book was
trying
to
get
out of my
head,
no matter
what,
and
I missed
so much
sleep
and
so many
meals
that
friends
started
to
ask
if
I was
unwell.
When
my
dad
was
a young university
student
in
the
1960s, he was
one of the
few
“counterculture”
people
who
thought
computers
were
a good thing.
For
most
young people,
computers
represented
the
de-humanization
of society.
University
students
were
reduced
to
numbers
on a punchcard,
each
bearing
the
legend
“DO
NOT
BEND,
SPINDLE,
FOLD
OR
MUTILATE,”
prompting
some
of the
students
to
wear
pins
that
said,
“I
AM
A STUDENT:
DO
NOT
BEND,
SPINDLE,
FOLD
OR
MUTILATE
ME.”
Computers
were
seen
as
a means
to
increase
the
ability
of the
authorities
to
regiment
people
and
bend
them
to
their
will.
When
I was
17, the
world
seemed
like
it
was
just
going
to
get
more
free.
The
Berlin
Wall
was
about
to
come
down.
Computers
—
which
had
been
geeky
and
weird
a few
years
before
—
were
everywhere,
and
the
modem
I©d
used
to
connect
to
local
bulletin
board
systems
was
now connecting
me
to
the
entire
world
through
the
Internet
and
commercial
online
services
like
GEnie.
My lifelong
fascination
with
activist
causes
went
into
overdrive
as
I saw
how the
main
difficulty
in
activism
—
organizing
—
was
getting
easier
by leaps
and
bounds (I
still
remember
the
first
time
I switched
from
mailing
out a newsletter
with
hand-written
addresses
to
using
a database
with
mail-merge).
In
the
Soviet
Union,
communications
tools
were
being
used
to
bring
information
—
and
revolution
—
to
the
farthest-flung
corners
of the
largest
authoritarian
state
the
Earth
had
ever
seen.
But
17 years
later,
things
are
very
different.
The
computers
I love
are
being
co-opted,
used
to
spy on us, control
us, snitch
on us. The
National
Security
Agency
has
illegally
wiretapped
the
entire
USA
and
gotten
away
with
it.
Car
rental
companies
and
mass
transit
and
traffic
authorities
are
watching
where
we
go, sending
us automated
tickets,
finking
us out to
busybodies,
cops
and
bad
guys who
gain
illicit
access
to
their
databases.
The
Transport
Security
Administration
maintains
a “no-fly”
list
of people
who©d
never
been
convicted
of any
crime,
but who
are
nevertheless
considered
too
dangerous
to
fly.
The
list©s
contents
are
secret.
The
rule
that
makes
it
enforceable
is
secret.
The
criteria
for
being
added
to
the
list
are
secret.
It
has
four-year-olds
on it.
And
US
senators.
And
decorated
veterans
—
actual
war
heroes.
The
17 year
olds
I know understand
to
a nicety
just
how dangerous
a computer
can
be.
The
authoritarian
nightmare
of the
1960s has
come
home
for
them.
The
seductive
little
boxes
on their
desks
and
in
their
pockets
watch
their
every
move,
corral
them
in,
systematically
depriving
them
of those
new
freedoms
I had
enjoyed
and
made
such
good use of in
my
young adulthood.
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