While working in the lobby yet, celebrating a minority in the “hall”: the Congress Centrum Hamburg, during the 30c3 We value our waiting time at the bar in about fifteen minutes. “I think we need to escalate a bit here,” says my neighbor. He is wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, three-day beard and a confidence-inspiring hairstyle that has prompted me to try to talk with him. When we begin to bring out glasses behind the bar and stack into a pyramid someone says in line behind us, we should let the dear, that was not a functioning system. “But you’re outvoted,” I say. “We are only three of us, this is not a functioning democracy.”
from the ceiling of the “Hall” in the Chaos Communication Congress hanging about five feet long red flags, printed with zeros and ones. In the middle is a car covered with graffiti, the window hangs a sign: “Yesterday, the future was better.” Smoke rises. “I think we need to de-escalate the situation,” says my neighbor and begins the glasses zurückzuräumen. The bartender does not notice us.
dancing with Pacman
Later, when we got our drinks, I ask him how long he’s been a member of the Chaos Computer Club. He thinks I act like a reporter. “You’re definitely a reporter, right?” His friends smiling and looking at their phones. Before the party I have published three tweets themselves, one was liked. I prefer the term reporter, he recalls the roving reporter Tim from Tintin, to the best times of journalism. I leave the group with a gracious gesture.
Before the dance floor is an old water cannon of police, the doors are open. I climb into the driver’s seat which vibrates from the bass of the music. The few board instruments appear huge and completely clear. Move behind the milky pane people the upper body to the music, on their backs, the monsters are projected from the computer game Pacman. A man with Shamanenstab, balding and a John Lennon glasses goes through the crowd, then a woman with a red sweater and a stormtrooper helmet from the Star Wars universe. Smoke rises.
a parallel world in the parallel world
I stand on a tool cart, at a silk flag of the National Security Agency dangles. Here Blackjack is played to vodka instead of money. “Can you count to twenty-one,” asks a man. “At least something. Do not worry, you’ll get definitely a vodka, regardless of whether you win or lose. “Three more people to play with, the bank loses. Raises funds the National Security Agency in a green plastic watering can, and they assured me that they would only invest in vodka.
It is about two clock at night, but outside in the lobby is still more going on here than in the “hall”. There, the people sitting in the neon light, flashing before computers, they program or look at the record of the annual review of the have given the two CCC spokesman, Constanze Kurz and Frank Rieger, about an hour before. The party in the “hall” seems like a parallel world in the parallel world.
I look at my Twitter account: two new followers, a new Tweet has liked this. I’m looking in the hall by my neighbor at the bar, but can not find him. But I discover an old, analog military phone. “Handset hang up! Otherwise eavesdropping risk, “is on it. On the side of a crank is attached. I put the phone to your ear, and listen kurbele. A cracking, nothing else.
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