The Maltese bank had no choice but to gamble. Once the virus had seized control of the FAT, there was no possible way of retrieving it other than by coming up with a jackpot, and the odds against that were three to one. The computer operators pressed their keys, losing two games to every one they won and having to rebuild the system and restore the damaged files on two thirds of their infected computers. They also had to track down and destroy the virus, which became known as Casino, on all of their machines, a process that required the help of a computer security expert from Britain.
From the spelling and the use of American expressions such as asshole, it was thought that the author of Casino was American, or perhaps a Maltese who had previously lived in the States. But, as in so many cases, his identity was never discovered.
Casino epitomized many of the characteristics of the new breed of viruses: it was vicious, destructive, and its payload was curiously spiteful. To date, the virus hasn't spread from its island home, though that doesn't mean that it won't travel in the future.
It is estimated that a virus that is going to travel will reach its peak propagation within eighteen months. (Casino is thought to have been written just a few weeks before it hit the bank.) About half of the viruses ever written are less than six months old: they are, in a manner of speaking, now waiting for their travel documents, for that odd confluence of luck and circumstance that will unleash them throughout the world.
As the world population of computer viruses grows exponentially, so does the potential for real disaster. Viruses will affect computer users first, but then, indirectly, many people who have never even touched a computer will be affected. A virus let loose in a hospital computer could harm vital records and might result in patients receiving the wrong dosages of medicine; workers could suffer job losses in virus-ravaged businesses; dangerous emissions could be released from nuclear power plants if the controlling computers were compromised; and so on. Even military operations could be affected. Already, during the 1991 Gulf conflict, Allied forces had to contend with at least two separate virus assaults affecting over seven thousand computers. One of the incidents was caused by the ubiquitous Jerusalem bug, the other by a "fun" virus from New Zealand called Stoned, which displayed the message YOUR PC IS NOW STONED on the screen. The two outbreaks were enough to cause computer shutdowns and the loss of data. The consequences for the military, now utterly dependent on computers, of an attack by one of the newer, more destructive viruses--perhaps one unleashed by the enemy--could be catastrophic.
In truth, there has been no major disaster, no loss of life or jobs due to a virus. The only losses to date have been financial. But hospitals have already found viruses lurking in their systems; the military has been affected; and a Russian nuclear power plant's central computer was once shut down because of a virus. None of the bugs were destructive, but it is probably only a matter of time before there is a real catastrophe.
It is now believed by many that the real threat from computer viruses will escalate in the mid-nineties when a new generation of bugs begins to spread throughout the industrialized countries of the West. The new viruses will attack from every corner of the world, but the biggest threat will come from one country--Bulgaria.
The first call came in to the Help Desk of a California magazme publisher just after five P.M. on Thursday, June 27, 1991.3 The company has 1,500 interlinked computers spread around three buildings. The Help Desk, part of the technical-support department, works as a sort of troubleshooter for the entire networked system, dealing with routine problems and helping the less com- puter-literate staff with their hassles.
"My computer has started making a noise," said the caller.
In the normal run of events, noises, apart from the standard beep when starting up or the low-pitched whir of the machine's cooling system, are not part of a computer's standard repertoire. A noise usually suggests a problem--a high-pitched whine can be a warning that the computer's monitor is faulty; a loud hum can signal a difficulty with the hard disk.
"What sort of noise?" asked the girl at the Help Desk.
"I don't know, it's just a noise. I've switched it off. Can someone come over?"
