-----BEGIN PGP SIGNED MESSAGE----- Hash: SHA512 The Lensbreaker's Field Guide by the_lensbreaker This is a work of fiction. PART ONE CHAPTER ONE Tom was shelving when she came in. New titles drop on Tuesdays, and it was Tuesday, so he had an armful of hardcovers when the prettiest girl, sorry, woman, walked into the store, probably in slow motion, Tom couldn’t tell. He was pretty sure he blacked out for a second. He didn’t drop the books though, so. He had that going for him. She had long black hair, worn half pulled back with a few loose strands around her face, the way pretty women in movies always seemed to have some hair that was asking to be brushed behind her ear. Except she was here in real life, at the bookstore, his bookstore, the Provisions and Prose on Main. With her long hair and her sparkling eyes. And she was talking. Fuck. Time snapped back into normal speed. “What?” Tom asked. His voice came out sounding stupid, he was stupid, this was stupid, act like an adult Thomas. “Fliers? For the city council meeting on Tuesday?” She looked at him like he might be beaming in from another planet. Which, to be fair, he basically was. “Cool. Cool. That’s cool. Cool.” Stop saying cool Tom. “So can I…” “She wants to put the signs up, Tom.”  Wade weighed in from the counter. Wade was Tom’s little brother. That he had Down syndrome did not stop him from being the smarter of the two of them, especially right now. Tom had forgotten he was there for a moment, even though he was always there, ready to ring up customers as they came to the counter. Which, to be fair, was happening less and less these days. “Oh! Yeah, for sure. Go ahead. Uh.” Tom looked around him then unceremoniously dumped the books he was holding on the front display table. One fell on the floor. He picked it up and as he did, another slid off. “I’ll take em.” Wade held out his hand. “He gets nervous around pretty girls.” “Women!” Tom practically yelled. Jesus. The woman smiled at Wade warmly, like they shared a joke, and it was the kind of smile that was so perfect it was like a circle, impossible to recreate by human hand. “Do you mind?” “Nah. We can hand them out at the counter, too.” “Oh man, that’d be great!” She beamed at Wade, and not for the first time in his life Tom would have given everything to switch places with his younger brother. “God you’re being so much nicer than the guy at the hardware store.” “What, Gary? He’s a fascist.” Tom couldn’t help himself. Gary was an asshole. The woman turned to him, then and Tom felt her gaze like the warmth of the sun. “You should definitely come to this meeting,” she said. “Will you be there?” Tom asked, then wished he hadn’t. “I’m not a stalker.” Her smile faded. “I think you need to leave before he says anything else stupid,” Wade offered. “Yeah. Uh. Anyway. They’re gonna be taking a vote on the Flock cameras they want to install. So we need—” “Man, fuck Flock cameras,” Tom said, and he meant it. He’d read some articles. They were license plate trackers, but they were also unwarranted search on every American in every city where they were placed. Cops kept using them to stalk ex-girlfriends, and they gave their data to federal agencies even when cities had policies in place that precluded that kind of collaboration. “They’re putting them in Lawndale?” “They already did. They put them up with basically no public awareness, but now the contract is up for renewal. This is a vote that could get them to take them down. So, we need to pack the room with people who get it. People like you.” She tipped her head to Tom. “And yes, I’ll be there, too.” Tom took a flier from Wade. He could do it. Tuesday nights had been slow lately. Even if Susan couldn’t cover the shop, it wouldn’t be a big deal if they just closed for the evening, as long as all the new releases were shelved during the day. “Cool. I’ll be there.” This time when she smiled it wasn’t the bright smile she’d offered a minute before, but it felt realer for that, the way it touched her eyes, the gentle slope of her mouth. Stop looking at her mouth. “Good. See you there--?” she held out her hand. “Tom.” “Maritza.” As she walked Tom did NOT watch her go because he was an adult who respected himself and also women. Instead, he turned to pick up the book that had slid to the floor. It wasn’t even damaged. “You’re an idiot,” Wade offered. Tom didn’t argue. - -- Tom wasn’t just there because Maritza was there. He’d been to city council before. All small business owners have cause to be friendly with the council. Lawndale was a midsized city, and their council meetings were—unless books were being banned— typically pretty chill. But today the meeting was absolutely overrun. A quick glance around at the signs and Tom could tell most of his neighbors were in agreement— get the Flock out of Lawndale. Tom leaned against the back wall. There were still a few open seats, but his father’s voice rang in his mind. Bill Fairbanks would never have sat down when there were women and elderly folks without seats, so Tom Fairbanks wouldn’t either. Dad hadn’t been perfect— the PTSD from Operation Iraqi Freedom didn’t help— but he’d had a kind of dignity that Tom still admired, even all these years after he’d passed. He wondered what Dad would have thought about the government setting up cameras to spy on everyone all the time, and chuckled to himself. He’d have been here right next to Tom. Probably threatening violence, honestly. And there she was. Maritza stood on the far side of the council chambers, too far for Tom to try and go say hi or anything. She was with a group of people, most of whom were carrying anti-Flock signs. He couldn’t hear what she was saying, obviously, but he could see her eyes alight with whatever it was. She was clearly the leader in the group, the way everyone listened to her intently. Stop staring. Council President Jay Reardon gaveled the meeting to order. Tom liked Reardon. He was young, smart. Had the bearing of a teacher’s pet, which wasn’t Tom’s favorite vibe, but fit for small town governance. Had voted for the small business tax breaks for actual small businesses like his own, when Provisions and Prose had really needed it during the pandemic. Tom had written his office a thank you. “I understand we have a lot of commenters today,” Reardon started. “So we’re going to ask all statements to be limited to one minute.” One minute? Tom looked down at his notes. There was no way all his commentary could fit in a single minute. Usually City Council meetings allotted three minutes per speaker. As others clearly came to the same murmuring realization, Reardon gaveled again. “And if anyone is found to be disruptive, they will be removed immediately.” He looked meaningfully at the police officers that dotted the room. “And charged with disturbing a public assembly.” There was more angry buzzing. Instinctively, Tom looked to Maritza, but she didn’t look surprised. She was, however, glaring at Reardon in a way that made Tom resolve to never be on her bad side. There had been some tetchy and tense meetings in Lawndale before. Tom had been to a few of them. When the Moms for Liberty circus had come through town, Tom had been sure there’d be a fistfight after. There wasn’t, despite all the yelling. But there’d never been threats of criminal charges before. Most of the comments were, as Tom predicted, hostile to the new surveillance technology that had been sold to their small city. Gary, the fascist, testified in support of it and Tom had never been less surprised in his whole life. Fucking Gary. When it was Tom’s turn, he did his best, but got flustered and ran out of time. They turned off the mic while he was talking and everything. He yelled something about liberty, and people clapped but he felt pretty stupid. But as he stepped down from the podium, Maritza caught his eye. She flashed him a thumbs up, and Tom felt his ears burn a traitorous red even as his chest inflated with satisfaction. Hours of testimony passed. Some of the council members at least tried to look like they were paying attention. Reardon mostly did. But Councilman Laredo, who represented the rich part of the town in the hills, made none. He ate dinner, had side conversations. Tom decided he hated Laredo. And then Maritza spoke. The entire group she was with deferred their time to her, and by the procedural rules that meant she got to use all of their minutes for her testimony. There was some muttering as the city council tried to block her, but no one was able to mount a real argument against it and so she proceeded. “We appreciate your concern for our safety,” Maritza began. Shoulders back, voice strong. Tom wished he’d looked a bit more like her while he was speaking. “And we want you to know that we reciprocate it. That’s why we gathered here today—” she motioned to the group she was with. “Have decided to form our own private security firm that will monitor you. For your safety. We have purchased a number of Flock cameras and leased private properties near all of your homes—” She held up a piece of paper Tom assumed was a sample lease agreement as she spoke. At this a few of the council members made noises of dissent. Laredo yelled something that was lost in the general buzzing of the room. Some people were laughing, Tom among them. “—to ensure your safe passage, daily. If you would like to access any of the data we collect, we would be happy to share it with you for a fee. This is, of course, all in the name of your safety.” Tom joined the people cheering and missed some of what Maritza said after that. He couldn’t believe it. It was perfect. Reciprocal surveillance. It forced the council to sacrifice their own privacy or be hypocrites. With lawful permission on rightfully established property, owned by a private company that’s open to selling personal data, in the name of dubious “safety.” It was so on the nose. He didn’t know Maritza well, but man, she was something else. But as the trolling had its intended effect on the audience, Tom noticed the police moving. And before he could even really understand what had happened, two officers flanked Maritza. When one slapped the cuffs on her, there was an outcry. Tom joined with the mass of people who moved to block the exit, heckling the police. For her part, Maritza looked unbothered, but Tom was fucking bothered. “What’re you arresting her for?” he yelled. But none of the cops answered. Instead, they yelled threats at everyone in their way. One pushed Tom back hard, his elbow in Tom’s stomach, and Tom reeled back, winded. “You heard her!” Laredo shouted. “She was threatening public officials!” “But that’s exactly what you’re doing to us!” Tom shouted back. But Laredo only smiled. He’d heard Tom, and he didn’t care. Tom looked to Reardon, but the council president was doing his best to pretend he couldn’t see nor hear everything that was going on. “You can’t arrest us all!” Someone yelled. Reardon kept gaveling but no one was listening. “It’s ok!” Maritza called out. But no one was listening to her, anymore, either. The anger in the room had reached a boiling point. Realizing this, Tom stepped back. She was right. They needed to deescalate. He pulled the guy next to him back, too, as gently as he could. Slowly, others started to follow suit. Eventually, the police left with Maritza in cuffs. Tom was dimly aware that the meeting proceeded but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. What the fuck just happened? He’d never seen anything like it. He caught the eye of the woman who’d shown up with Maritza, and gave her the best “what the fuck do we do?” face. She motioned him over. “Here,” she said. No introductions, no small talk. She pulled out her phone. “Let’s get you in the signal group. We’ll crowd source her bail. We’ve got a little funds, already.” “Yeah for sure.” Tom pulled out his phone and poked around until he was part of the chat. “I mean, you don’t think they’re actually gonna keep her in there, do you?” “I have no idea,” she said. She looked tired. She was older than him, maybe in her forties, and didn’t have the look of someone who’d be an activist so much as she looked like someone who likely owned a minivan or who had a strong Jell-O game. “But we thought this might happen, so. They’re not exactly on the up and up on this one.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. They tried to get this passed without taking a public vote. If we hadn’t caught it, it wouldn’t have even been on the agenda.” “Man, what the fu—” “Exactly. Anyway, you’re in now. They’re gonna renew tonight, but we’ll send out alerts for meetings and next steps. See you there?” “Yeah. Yeah, for sure.” “Great.” She turned away from him then, again, no niceties, just on to the next person. Tom let his eyes wander back to the dais, where Reardon was saying something he could only vaguely hear. But then, as each council member held up their hand, Tom realized what he was seeing. The exact moment the council voted mass surveillance in on his city. The precise moment privacy died. - -- Wade was home, of course. He had a girlfriend, Bea, but he didn’t go see her unless Tom could drive him or Bea’s mom could drive her. So, he was right where Tom had left him. Eating a grilled cheese sandwich off a paper plate in front of the TV. Old Batman cartoons from the aughts glowed blue against his brother’s soft face. No matter how mad Tom was about anything— and he was fucking furious— seeing Wade always had a way of calming him down. “Was the pretty girl there?” Wade asked by way of greeting, without turning. “She got arrested.” “Oh dang.” Wade took a bite of his sandwich. “Get me a Capri Sun?” Tom couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, man.” Tom’s phone buzzed in his pocket. The signal chat was popping off, and so far they’d crowd sourced what felt like plenty to bail Maritza out. Tom had kicked in, obviously, but he still felt powerless. Small. Like there was nothing he could do to make anything right. He loved Lawndale. Sure, it was a little podunk, and yes, they could absolutely do with some better options for restaurants. The “sushi” restaurant on Main was. Well. It was probably singularly responsible for more food poisoning than any other location in the state. But this was his home. He’d grown up here. He liked it in part because it felt like the corruption of the state and federal government didn’t really touch them. But now all of that was coming crashing down around his ears. Tom handed Wade his Capri Sun, straw already in. Wade could do it himself, Tom knew that, but he needed to feel useful so powerfully he’d take whatever he could. “Did she do murder?” Wade asked. “No. She just. She stood up for all of us, and they didn’t like it, I guess.” “That’s not fair.” His voice wasn’t surprised, really, just matter of fact in the way Wade often sounded. He took a long sip from his Capri Sun, and the foil packet crumpled inward. “It’s really not. It’s really fucking awful, actually. I mean, we’re supposed to have a democratic process for this kind of shit, but they didn’t even care. They didn’t care! They just. They just ran this right over all of us, even though basically everyone who was there was against it. What’s the point of elected officials if they ignore you the minute they have power? I mean, this is going to affect all of us. This is our privacy, our safety. And they just sold us right down the river, and for what? So one of our cops can run checks on his ex-wife’s plates? I don’t get how they thought this was ok! It’s not OK! It’s— it’s—” Wade chuckled, and for a moment Tom felt heated until he realized his brother was reacting to Batman. The Joker pranced across the screen. “Why do you like Batman so much?” Tom asked. He wasn’t really expecting an answer. “‘Cause. He fights for what’s right.” “So does Superman.” “Yeah but Superman doesn’t break rules.” Tom sat down next to Wade on the couch. “That’s a really good point, man.” He reached over, and snatched Wade’s sandwich and took a bite. “Yes you can have a bite, Thomas, thank you so much for asking.” But Tom wasn’t really listening anymore. For his whole life, Tom had been a rule follower. It was something that had bothered his father throughout Tom’s childhood. That Tom was soft, that he was obedient. And sometimes, if Tom was honest, it was not something he liked about himself. Sometimes, if he was honest, it was not because Tom was good and honest. It was because Tom had a streak of cowardice that his father had always sensed. And now, that cowardice felt untenable. Unjustifiable. The image of Maritza being led out in cuffs ran through his mind over and over again, the way the council had voted those fucking cameras in, despite the will of the people. The way they used the rules to quash dissent. He couldn’t lie to himself about the way that made him feel. About the way that changed something fundamental, deep inside him. His phone buzzed. The signal chat. “Someone’s gotta do something,” said the newest message. And they were right. Someone did have to do something. - -- THE LENSBREAKER'S FIELD GUIDE by Tom Fairbanks Preface ======= This is a field guide for the patient, precise disabling of the machines conducting warrantless mass surveillance in our communities. This advice is painstakingly thorough. Maybe you can get away with not doing it. But I’m putting it here because I don’t want you to get caught. The will of the people is overwhelmingly clear. We do not want mass surveillance. We do not want our patterns of life harvested for corporate profit. We do not want to be subject to dystopian control. Yet our will is being trampled - our protests repeatedly ignored by countless police departments and politicians working secretively with nefarious for-profit tech companies. When, in the course of human events, it becomes clear that the system designed to secure life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness - that system meant to protect us from unreasonable search and seizure - has been invaded by a foreign pathogen, the people must act as the body politic’s immune system: to identify, isolate, and destroy the infected parts before they spread. Fighting in the day - in city councils and at protests, talking to your neighbors and people you disagree with - is mandatory. But the fight must be taken to the night as well. We strike now, before the right to privacy and ability to be anonymous vanishes altogether. On Anonymity - ------------ Anonymity is the counterbalance to power. It is the failsafe the masses have always possessed when oppressed by the few. But anonymity is now under threat. For the vast span of human history, there was always sanctuary in the crowd. To move through the world without being cataloged, to hold unobserved thoughts, and to associate in private were fundamental sources of dignity and power. It is only in the last fifty years - a blip in our history - that the advent of modern computing has disrupted this balance. Suddenly, our lives can be reduced to records in a dataset and processed by an AI model. With the right mix of data the patterns of our lives are laid bare. Technology has the potential to extinguish anonymity altogether. The tech elite have realized. Having conquered industry and politics, they are closing in on absolute knowledge of every individual. Yet one check against their power remains: the coordinated will of the people. If they oppress too boldly, the people can rebel. Yet rebellion requires secrecy. If those with unlimited resources gain perfect knowledge of every one of us, they can identify and stop dissenters well before they can form into a movement. This is not a side effect; it is their aim. Internet tracking, purchase histories, secret warrants, and hundreds of thousands of privately owned sensors and cameras now record our lives without consent, oversight, or probable cause. They hide behind the lie that this is for our safety. Behind this lie, they seek control. They seek to extinguish our ability to resist. Losing anonymity is a one-way door. Once every step we take is captured, logged, and analyzed, we can never don anonymity to take our rights back again. We must not tolerate the death of anonymity. We must use it to strike at its attackers while we still can, acting as the immune system humanity desperately needs. We should be allowed to have secrets. That is our one eternal dignity - and no system has the right to take it. Skills ====== The following skills or attributes are useful for lensbreaking, in rough priority order. • Awareness - detecting others at night, keeping strong situational awareness while working. • Planning - methodically laying out your mission, ensuring your tools are ready, prioritizing. • Mindfulness - keeping internally calm, not getting lulled into a false sense of security. • Risk tolerance - getting caught has serious consequences. Being comfortable with this is mandatory. • Backpacking/trekking - laying out your pack such that you know exactly where everything is at all times. • Stealth - being effective in making yourself unnoticed or unseen. Pass without a trace. • Reconnaissance - gathering data about your targets, movement routes in order to build strategies. • Tool dexterity - working with small hand or power tools. Modifying equipment. • Marksmanship - if using projectiles. Allowing you to take out targets confidently from within 100 yards. • Sleeping - ability to make the rest of your life work around 3-4 hours of waking time in the middle of the night. • Patience - being able to call off a strike or an entire mission when conditions are against you. Waiting for the right moments. • Agility / sure-footedness - walking around in the dark with no light. Often in places people normally don’t walk. • Good sense of direction - knowing your territory like the back of your hand, and how to quickly extract yourself. • Technological fluency - ability to transact on the internet anonymously, share information without being tracked. Don’t worry if you don’t have all or many of these. Most are learnable. Glossary ======== Because they are long-standing concepts for describing covert missions, many military terms are used throughout this field guide. Others are invented or slightly modified from their original meaning, and so are included below. baseline: as in, the baseline for the environment in which you’re operating. Includes patterns of sound or light that normally happen where you are. Consciously registering noises and light changes as “part of your baseline” allows for better situational awareness. change site: A hide site used for the purposes of switching between guises, and possibly leaving behind gear while executing subsequent steps of a mission. civilian guise: your true identity. How you would dress normally for a given situation, with no effort to disguise who you are. exfiltration: The withdrawal of personnel from a hostile or dangerous location, often covertly, after a mission is complete. extraction: The removal of personnel from the general area of operations for a mission, typically by a dedicated pre-established mechanism or plan. FFP: Final firing position. The last covered/concealed position before engaging a target. Even though the word firing implies projectiles, "FFP" will be used herein to describe all positions from which we strike. hide site: A concealed, temporary location used for observation, rest, or staging while remaining undetected by enemy forces. infiltration: Covert or stealthy movement of personnel into a hostile or dangerous location, avoiding detection to reach a target area. insertion: The act of moving personnel or assets into the general area of operations for a mission, typically by a dedicated pre-established mechanism or plan. LEO: law enforcement officer. melee strike: disabling a sensor by direct physical damage; destroying the pole or dismounting it from the pole; painting or smashing. ranged strike: disabling a sensor by hitting it with a projectile; typically leaves the damaged hardware in place. stealth guise: aka black bloc. An all black, full body, identity-concealing outfit. Closer to a Halloween costume than a normal outfit with only extremely generic items shared with your normal wardrobe. street guise: clothing, appearance, and mannerisms such that you don’t look out of place moving around and loitering in public on city streets. Different from your typical clothing with only extremely generic items shared with your normal wardrobe. -----BEGIN PGP SIGNATURE----- iQGzBAEBCgAdFiEEsNJn5ehoQ80nDQtSy6rfLCyoCDsFAmrNUEsACgkQy6rfLCyo CDuskQv/evhxVnB8/xUWI9n2jQ9OObz5mJjGAKTawV+96RbROJDZj7TXTFrc18fX 1PuQ0+SaoBlHmvEl/cQWL/IJgbt4doQk/Vc4GU92KgE/wTdwK5VwEyhkQ/74VLdj Ke1Hy0QOyZ4CvCjUCPvn8Bvxvid2/eu4Lzc+gw/lliGCROe7SH7rLa/zAV/Mbw2P AoTeINPsvc3BK5fRgH7bEji/hSxOmSW5nXJSpxykec9mKb+AAPzG10VUWhyJDlvs 2BD8w06F5Lpm11D911EPtog+DP/ZlS48GAa85KbgFmzZUbW/MSe206cFnFhbRzZp Uf1/eG+jUnskpLI33u7SL1vP+tg9Q6IAHTBB0cYW6GA3y0BDEd8pHVznrCq81vpz RkqGTXpg9ZZZB90zB55o6OesmVXLQHRRpBpWD6747pWnmYha9TWjv0arf2aLTVxh VFhCM8nCZqlGY00zfuruf9q+HBTGBOgcNdbicM+owcw4qy4x9ikFkCz7NY7M6vL1 CtzGEmlf =SDp6 -----END PGP SIGNATURE-----