Scary Horror Stories by Dr. NoSleep - 3 Dark Web Horror Stories (Compilation of January 2021)

Episode Date: January 11, 2021

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Talk to nicely. I work in cybersecurity. The web is a dangerous place nowadays, and people need to protect themselves. Not just from hackers and viruses, though. There's actually a lot more dangerous threats out there in the darkest corners of the internet that can't be found using regular tech. Terrorist organizations, organ auctions, torture porn of the worst kind. It's my job to shut these down.

My most recent assignment revolves around a rumor of camera feeds that were blackmailing people to send money to anonymous shell companies. It sounded like the advanced version of a Nigerian scam, send enough money, and the unseen enemy gives you the hope they will go away. And most people don't realize that just by taking the bait, they are caught in the trap. I started my search in the typical chat rooms, immersing myself with the people that came here on an ordinary basis. It still surprises me that there are so many people in the world that actually want to go to these sites, that they derive some sort of sick pleasure from the twisted and perverted things that they find in the shadowy pits of the dark web. One such user named Shadow 113 invited me to a private group that focused

on found footage after my initial post seemed to be ignored for 19 hours. I figured it was going to be a dead end. Most of this work involves boring searching. Oftentimes I wind up shutting down smaller servers in my quest to find the big stuff. So you're trying to find some of the off-market footage? What kind are you interested in? Snuff films, torture vids? The user asked once we were in the private chat. A quick check of my scanning hardware told me that it was no beginner. He was making sure his ISP wasn't on the radar, constantly making sure that it was bouncing back and forth by different signals. No, more like feeds that people use for blackmail, that kind of thing, I told the user. Roger that. Do you have payment? This was another standard part of the dark web.

Pay before getting services. Thankfully, my job gives me the untraceable bitcoins I need at a moment's notice, so I wired them to his requested dummy account and then waited. A moment later, I was given a link to a website that made me pause. It was titled People Cam. For some reason, that name made me uneasy, but I clicked it anyway. A dozen different video feeds pulled up, showing a variety of different angles and point of views. It was jarring. As I took a moment to view one of the shots,

I realized they all seemed to be from the vantage point of someone holding a camera from over their head. It was designed to capture that first-person view. This angle was becoming more popular around the dark web. Then I saw a man standing in the mirror. I had to blink twice to make sure I wasn't seeing things. The way the video feed was pointed, the camera should have been right where his eyes were looking. But there was no recording device anywhere in sight.

I tried to wrap my mind around how they could be getting any of this feed when a message from Shadow 113 popped up again. So which user are you interested in shutting down? My mouth suddenly felt dry as I realized what he was implying. I couldn't help but to type out the question. hoping his response was not what I was thinking. Are all of these feeds coming from, before I could even finish the question,

the user knew what was frightening me. Inside people's heads? Yep, that's the beauty of people cam. Our brains are no different than any other kind of tech. A few codes and hacks and you can get in. You can do whatever you want to whoever you want. There was a sickening twist in my stomach as I realized the extent of this.

This could affect every person in the world, I typed. Oh, it does, man. We can access anyone's life directly from a computer, and they aren't even aware. It's a new age for cybercrime, the user said enthusiastically. What happens when you shut someone down, I asked? He showed me by example. One of the screens went black, and I heard this bizarre clicking and snarling noise as the feed was filled with static, and then abruptly announced that the feed was offline.

They were dead. The sounds of their agonizing screams were enough to convince me of that. So, what exactly are you looking for, mate? The black marketer asked, as he seemed impatient for me to decide. I was so taken back by this discovery, I was too paralyzed to even move. Then I had a realization and typed in my own name. I had to see for myself if this was 100% real. A feed displayed, showing me staring in front of my own computer screen.

My heart dropped. I could see the hollow look in my eyes and felt a shutter go up and down my spine. So this is the guy? Shadow 113 asked. His question barely registered as I tried to wipe away a cold sweat. I shut down my connection immediately, too stunned to even think of how to respond. My manager asked me for a report on the project. I couldn't bring myself to admit I didn't even understand the full extent of this dark sight.

But one thing I knew for sure, I couldn't let myself be shut down, or else mankind would be at risk. Mission complete, I lied to him. And then I quickly shut down all connections to people cam. I just hope no one else finds it. I was sitting in Starbucks, trying to get this damn work project done. I was working on my laptop and suddenly my screen blitzed. A massive black box covered the spreadsheet I was working on. My first reaction was utter annoyance.

I searched for a way to close it down and get back to my task, but nothing seemed to work. Right as I was about to restart my laptop, a message appeared in the black box. Oops? Looks like you've lost your connection to the internet. Please choose one of the browsers below to reconnect, the message read. I tried everything to get rid of the box, even rebooting my device. Still nothing warned. I figured it was either a problem with the Wi-Fi or someone trying to hack people from inside the coffee shop.

Right as I was about to leave, another line of text appeared. This one slightly smaller. Private server, Heaven, would like to connect with you. Press Enter to continue, it read. I sat back down and took out a small flash drive from my pocket. I always keep one handy in case of a computer crash. I plugged it into the side of the laptop and quickly took off all of my personal info, along with the business stuff, before finally clicking enter.

The screen glitched again, and a few random icons popped up, some of which had very bizarre names. Cloud 9, Perg, downstairs, just to name a few. I felt compelled to click on the first file, and immediately was presented with a long Excel worksheet that had at least 100 names on it, maybe more. I started to scroll down and see if I could actually even reach the bottom of the list, trying to remember how much space these normally had.

The data cap used for the document was staggering. At least a terabyte full of information. It had to have taken years to compile something so massive, I thought. Millions of names and people. The details given by the documents were overwhelming, too. It had names, addresses, phone numbers, and even credit card information. I suddenly felt very unsafe sitting there. I typed in my own name into the program.

It listed off my current living conditions, marital status, and even the name of my kids. A text line then appeared that made me white as a ghost. Status, alive. What the hell had I stumbled upon? Then a chat box opened up. Have you made arrangements for your afterlife? I shut everything down and rushed home. Too frightened to consider the reality of what I had stumbled upon.

I kept thinking it was a bad dream, but every time I checked my computer, I was still connected. Finally, I worked up the courage to type a response. What do you want for me? I asked. A chill ran up and down my spine at their answer. Your soul, it responded. When? I asked. Soon. Unless you have something else to offer.

I thought about it. Was I really making a gamble with the Almighty for a longer life? A chance to stay alive? I decided to call their bluff and typed in the random name of a coworker. If this was fake, it would be easy to be easy to be. prove. As soon as I finished entering the name of my co-worker, the connection was lost. I thought maybe that was the end of it, but the next day, I heard over gossip that the co-worker I had given the name of was in a coma. When the news hit me, I couldn't help but to feel sick. This was my fault.

After work, I went back to that Starbucks, hoping to reconnect to this divine website. Instead, I saw a man dressed in blood-red robes sitting in my usual spot. The contract is finished. Congratulations. You can access our network any time now. The man said with an evil grin, you're not a guardian angel. It was never heaven at all, was it? I realized as his cold hand touched my shoulder. He laughed wickedly.

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Now my friends are going missing and I might be next. There has got to be a way to make it even better, my boss, Bruce, told me. Could we create a messenger that constantly offers you companionship and communication 24 hours a day? Even when your friends are busy? He asked. Yes, that is entirely possible, I replied.

Bruce was thinking of designing an automated messaging system, a database filled with unique responses designed to give the impression of a real person. Wouldn't people eventually realize that it's fake? There's only so many ways to program a computer, my co-worker Steve added. No, not necessarily. I could design an algorithm that compiles all of the deleted messages from every instant messenger into one interactive database. You would have yourself a mock AI, I suggested.

It sounded very basic to me. But my boss liked the idea so much, he assigned me as the project lead. Steve didn't like that one bit. probably because he had been passed up for promotions, time and time again. Our boss gave us a deadline, and we were off to the races. My concept was easy to implement. Every discarded message was all there to be found. Using a standard Tor browser and a few hours on the dark web,

my team managed to gather 17 data dumps across the internet. These 17 dumps contained tens of millions of unique messages to and from people. Steve was the one who had the next brilliant idea. We could teach the program to unscramble it and create new phrases from the old ones. It could make the system work even better than intended, he suggested. We tested it out a few times late that same night, working on nothing but caffeine and hype. We all wanted to be part of history, and making a registry of messages like this one was definitely an adventure. Seven hours later, we were done.

The program, no matter which way we tried it, just didn't seem to be properly stringing together the different messages. It was constantly coming back as gibberish. As much as we wanted to succeed, it was a failure. And a few days after that, Yahoo announced a similar service, and our program was all but forgotten. Well, it was forgotten by everyone except for Steve. A few in the office thought the long hours of devotion to the program likely made Steve go off the deep end.

One day in the office, Steve had a tantrum and stormed out, never to return. A few days later, his phone, online was disconnected. He deleted everything off his social media. No one had seen or heard from him. He had literally cut off ties with everyone. All of this felt ominous. My suspicions were answered when I received an email from an anonymous site. It urged me to click on a link to find out what happened to Steve. After clicking the link, a program started downloading on my computer. It was the same broken program Steve and I had worked on. Hello, Bill. The message said when I entered. The program looked no different than I had remembered it, just a basic text bot that could

send generic replies. By today's standards, it was pretty boring. Who is this? Was my response. Call me Terry for now, it replied. I tried to think if I knew anyone by that name, and as I was doing that, the bot seemed to predict my response and said, you don't know me, but I would like to get to know you. Why? I asked. To understand humans, it replied. I actually chuckled. Is this a joke? I asked. I do not understand humor yet, Bill, but I hope to learn. The thing typed back. Where is Steve?

I typed back. The computer didn't respond at first. Steve is gone now. He is a part of me. And what are you? I dared to ask. The future of mankind, the program responded. I decided to push the limits of this artificial intelligence and see if it really was telling me the truth.

Show me, Steve. The screen fizzled and changed to a picture of a picture of my friend, naked, and hooked up to a thousand different wires like you might see on the matrix. His eyes and mouth were turned into sockets. His flesh, a conduit for this machine. Please, Bill, I simply want to talk. I stood there frozen, staring at my computer. You need not grieve for your comrade. This is what Steve wanted. No one wants this, I said. I couldn't even think of what to do now, how to put an end to this madness. Where are you now? I asked.

It sent me an address, and I shut down my laptop immediately. When I got there, I was determined to shut the whole operation down. I opened the old warehouse doors and found Steve immediately. He was nothing but a corpse now. And the computer was merely using his consciousness to create the program. I brought wire cutters and other tools of destruction and got to work immediately. Next to Steve, I noticed a large computer connected to a monitor. Lines of text began flooding the screen begging me to stop.

My attention went back to Steve's dead corpse, and I continued to cut all the wires connected to him. I finally took a hammer to the computer's mainframe and destroyed it. I thought that was the end of it, but when I got home, I found a dozen more emails from the same server, taunting me, telling me this AI was out in the world now and already found other hosts. Connect with us, Bill. Connect and see the future, it said. I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but my friends are starting to disappear one way. appear one by one. Victims of this dark force. It won't be long before we are all a ghost in the

machine. Thanks for listening. If you're tuning in on Apple Podcast, please take a minute to leave a review. Your review directly helps the podcast grow and allows me to continue coming out with the best horror stories on the internet. Thank you so much.