As I've said before, being an empath ain't all sexy like I used to
think when watching Counselor Troi on Star Trek. I remember having
these ridiculous romantic notions about it. 

Like the dork that I am, I had visions of someday inventing the next
big thing, becoming a billionaire and earning the love and respect of
my peers. I wanted to be loved like Steve Jobs was loved. Sure, some
people, including myself, hated the guy. His ego was unparalleled,
and he was a total asshole ñ but he was loved and respected
nonetheless. And on my quest to achieve such notoriety, I thought
having an empathic talent would serve me well as I waded through the
shark-infested waters of venture capitalists and my fellow geeks, out
to steal and pervert my ever-so-brilliant ideas. I figured I could
sense their intentions and react accordingly. I was so naive.

Being an empath is not so much having the ability to sense things in
others as it is the compulsion to feel what others are feeling. You
don't just happily stroll up on a depressed fuckwit and say ìoh hey,
that guy is depressedî. No, my friends, it is nothing like that at
all. What happens when you come into the emotional space of said twit
is that you suddenly lose all desire to press on. You are overcome
with dread. Even if two seconds before you were filled with
inspiration and an abundant joy for life, you might drop down on the
ground and pray for it to all be over. This very thing had been
happening to me for years, and I'm certain that I suffered from some
sort of emotional whiplash as a consequence. Alcohol was a blessed
gift and a false crutch through it all. It was the medicine that
drowned out all the noise so I could sleep and shut off. And while I
love AA for giving me the tools to get sober, there was no way I
could sit in those meetings where so many fucked-up emotions were
present and pummeling me from all sides.

For a time, I thought I might be going crazy. Maybe I was just
emotionally unstable or had something chemically wrong in my brain.
When I finally realized the truth of what was happening, I struggled
for years to differentiate my own feelings from the feelings of those
around me. The brain is such a sensitive piece of work in this
regard. Every time I had a sudden knot in my stomach or a pang of
guilt, I had to question what within my own heart could have triggered
the emotion before I could consider if the emotion was external. Did
I get a whiff of lavender, causing me to recall the time in the park
when I poured my heart out to the woman I adored, only to be pitifully
rejected? Did I hear the whistle of a distant train, transporting my
subconscious to the time when my vacation was delayed for days because
of a train-scheduling cock-up?

During those years, I could not attend Defcon, or any of the other
security and hacking conferences I had frequented. For one thing,
there are just too many damned egos requiring stroking at these
events. I was reminded of my own needy ego, and my insatiable desire
to be loved and respected by my peers. When those emotions came
strafing in from all the other egomaniacs, it was just too
overpowering and hurtful. I found myself wanting to medicate with
alcohol and drugs, which were never in short supply at Defcon. It had
always been a huge part of the culture, from my very first conference
back in the late 90's. Defcon was a dangerous cocktail to me for many
years.

Thankfully, today is different. I've spent years getting my own
emotional baggage in some kind of order. Well, the best anyone could
hope for anyway. I've made peace with many of those memories that had
always caused such distress. It's okay that my heart was broken.
It's okay that people screw up at their jobs, causing delays and
hardship for others. This is life, and it's all okay. In fact, it is
absolutely wonderful. This is the stuff that makes life worth living,
actually. I've come to a place where I can appreciate the raw emotion
of those egomaniacs. I can mull it over and inspect it with curiosity
and recognition.

Egomaniacs are certainly not the only types that attend Defcon though,
and it's not fair of me to imply that the conference is overrun by
such types. My focus on them probably comes from my own dark past,
and the pain that I felt knowing I'd spent so much of my life in that
self-centered place. Truth be told, there are some fantastic souls
that converge on this conference every year, and I'm grateful that I'm
able to submerge myself into this flood of emotion. I'm thankful to
have the ability to recognize and be at peace with the darker emotions
that I find in others.

As for the non egomaniacs, take that man over there for instance. I
recognize his emotion as something I'm also feeling right now. I love
this place, and all the people that make this conference possible. I
can tell that he is feeling that same love for what's going on around
him. He is feeling very connected to his peers around him, not
because he is respected or adored by them, but because he is part of
them. He has found his community.

And then there's Mags, standing over there all alone. Which I cannot
believe. She is stunning in appearance and I find myself drawn to
her, in the same way that I think most of the other geeks around here
are. But her physical appearance is only one small piece of that
stunning beauty. I'm even more drawn to her emotional beauty. I find
myself taking a deep breath as my heart rate quickens.

You know how you feel when you're tasting a fine wine or beer? That
moment when it hits your tongue for the first time, and you roll it
around in your mouth before you swallow it? When you can truly
appreciate a drink beyond the effects of it making you drunk? That
feeling can be euphoric when you allow yourself the freedom to live in
that moment. There's such complexity in a fine drink. This memory is
painful sometimes, since having to choose real life over alcohol. But
I've found a replacement for that rush in the feelings of others.
Mags is standing there, looking calm and composed ñ a little
intimidating, actually. Maybe that's why no one has approached her.
But I can sense far more than calm in her. She is nervous. Excited.
She is in love with life. She is giddy. Her emotions are like a fine
wine to me. In taking on her emotions as my own, I remember this
feeling as something I experienced myself when I fantasized about
speaking at Defcon more than a decade ago, but for me it was never
anything more than fantasy.

I must confess, I really have no right to call her Mags, I should be
calling her Maggie. I only met her last night, and then only because
I was compelled to walk up to her and her boyfriend, Mickey, offering
them drinks and introducing myself. I couldn't stop myself when I saw
them together. Over every other soul in the room, these two stood out
as special. I could tell that I was intruding when I approached them,
but the desire to know them overruled any apprehension or respect for
their privacy. And they were in a public place, after all.
Thankfully they didn't asked me to leave, and welcomed me to sit with
them for a while. I don't recall saying much to them about myself, as
I was primarily interested in drawing out as many of their emotions as
I could. I had this craving to live vicariously through them. Does
that make me any more creepy than someone who isnít empathic but wants
to live vicariously through other peopleís stories and words alone?
Because sometimes I do feel creepy about it.

As it turns out, they are both going to be speakers this year, and
they also live in the same city I do. I was enthralled! Over the
time I spent with this couple last night, I developed a connection.
These two people barely know me at all, and yet I feel like I've
fallen in love with them. They have become dear friends in the course
of a few hours together over drinks (non-alcoholic for me). Part of
me wonders if I had interrupted them just as Mickey was getting ready
to propose. There really was a lot of love there last night. But as I
can't read minds, I'm always left with my interpretations and
fantasies. That love I was sensing could just have easily been a love
of life. They were both getting ready to speak in front of hundreds
of their peers the next day, and all the emotion surrounding that was
all over them.

So, as I walked over to Maggie, I had this strong compulsion to give
her a hug, which I immediately resisted as I reached out my hand to
shake hers in greeting. ìYou are so totally going to kick ass,î I
said with a smile. 

ìThank you,î she offered in return. ìI'm a little nervous, I suppose,
but nothing I can't handle.î 

After a few moments of awkward silence, I asked, ìIs Mickey around to
wish you luck?î 

ìYep,î she said, ìHe's right over there.î

Oh, there's definitely love there. I felt the warmth pass through me
the moment I mentioned Mickey's name. This is the feeling that I
ultimately seek, above all others. In all the chaos out there at this
conference, I have uncovered a real treasure. I want to stay in this
moment for as long as possible. And I know that even as I follow her
gaze over to Mickey, the same feeling is going to be there, so I don't
hesitate to turn in his direction. That's when an entirely different
bundle of emotions floods through me, one I remember well from my
early days in the hacking culture. It hit me so hard I found myself
having to swallow a chunk of my breakfast for the second time. Fuck!
The food was less than agreeable the first time, but it did not
improve the second time around.

It was after I had successfully tricked my way onto a computer in
order to gather information that someone had hired me to gather. It
was the computer of the soon-to-be-ex-wife of a man who wanted to
prove her adulterous behavior in court. It was such an exhilarating
feeling, at first, when I had gained access. Disbelief that I had
actually done it, that I had the guts to lie and get away with it in
such a huge way. I was cocky, but completely unprepared for success
when it happened. The moment I walked out of the building with the
incriminating evidence in hand, I felt like a complete tool. I didn't
know who this woman was. I had no idea what her story was. Who am I
to judge her sexual affairs or actions? In my mind, in the matter of
seconds, I had gone from successful hacker/social engineer to the scum
of the earth. I felt like vomiting back then, too.

That is the emotion I was feeling again, great remorse and regret.
Wishing I could do something, anything, to take it back and start over
again. After a quick visual recon, I asked Maggie ìWho's that with
Mickey?î 

ìOh, the kid? That's Eli. We met him a few weeks back. He's from
Portland, too. He was looking for someone to carpool with. He seemed
like a good kid, so we offered him a ride.î

I don't know what this kid's game was, or what he had been up to, but
I had a strong suspicion it had something to with Mags and Micks.
What the hell? I wonder where those nicknames came from. Next thing
you know, I'll be calling them M&M, delicious little chocolates that
won't melt in your hand. Oh my god, what the hell is wrong with me?
These people would probably file a restraining order against me if
they knew how friendly my subconscious had become with them.

Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I bid Maggie farewell and said
ìGood luck! I'm going to go say hello.î 

ìThanksî, she said as I walked away with Mickey and Eli in my sights. 

Eli was shifting nervously as I approached. Knowing how he was
feeling just made it so much more obvious that he was hiding
something. I reached my hand out to Mickey, saying hello. I don't
reckon the broad smile was on my face anymore. In the time it had
taken me to walk across the hall from M to M, I had devised a plan
to extract some information from Eli, if I could manage it. Somehow
I conveyed to Mickey my desire to be introduced to Eli, and that was
indeed the first thing he did after greeting me. I'm not sure if I
interrupted a conversation or not, but it didn't distract me from my
mission to get to the bottom of the Eli emotion. 

After shaking Eli's hand, I gave Mickey a quick glance, nodding back
toward Maggie, and said, ìHey, I think Maggie needs to be rescued from
some admirers before she's ready to go on stage.î I felt like a
seasoned spy, able to manipulate Mickey with such ease as he walked
away. Though I could only revel in my cleverness for a second before
turning to Eli.

ìEli.î I said curtly. He looked up at me with cautious eyes.

ìYeah?î he said. 

I found myself wondering how old this kid was. Was he old enough to
be here unsupervised? He certainly didn't look 18. But he had to be,
right? Or maybe his parents agreed to let him take this trip with M&M
as his chaperones? I donít' even know if there is an age requirement
to attend Defcon these days.

Time for my gamble. As I've said, I can't read minds, only emotions.
I knew something was up with this kid, and I wanted to know what it
was. So I said his name again, a little more gently this time.

ìEli... I know what you've done,î I lied. I had no clue what he had
done, but he didn't know that.

The response was immediate. My face began to flush red hot almost as
quickly as his did, and I found myself holding back tears as I watched
them well up in his eyes. I swallowed, trying keep from choking up.

ìAre youÖ,î

He paused to swallow.

ìAre you going to tell Mickey and Maggie? Please, you can't tell
them!î 

I shot back with, ìWhat compelling reason could you possibly have to
prevent me from telling them?î

We sat there in silence for a few moments. I knew that what he was
struggling with was huge, and I was content to let him play it all
out in his mind. I let the silence carry on for a while, watching
him intently. 

He couldn't stand to look at me for more than a second before shifting
away in shame. He sniffled as he swiped the back of his hand across
his eyes, wiping away the tears that were now flowing freely.

He finally said ìI haven't made the exchange yet. I could just destroy
the informationî. 

So that's it then, he had stolen some information from his chaperones?
Some information he was going to hand off to, or sell? They both
worked for Intel in Portland. I suppose that being security engineers
and researchers at such a firm would afford them some pretty serious
access to corporate secrets.

ìWhat information are you talking about, Eli?î came Mickey's voice
from behind me.

I hadn't noticed that he had come back across the hall to stand behind
me. That's when the downpour started. The confession and apologies
began to flood out of Eli. I was having a difficult time
understanding what he was saying, he was so upset. But I could tell
he was not going to hold back at this point. The truth was going to
come out, and nothing was going to stop it. Now I felt like an
unwelcome intruder in the exchange. Whatever I had cracked open here
was none of my business and it was time to be on my way.

As I walked away, I was thinking that, no matter how much technology
advanced, no matter how much ìThe Future is Nowî, there will always be
social engineering. There will always be ego. There will
always be a way in, a back door. In one sense, I had found a back
door into Eli's secrets. There apparently is not yet a security
application to conceal your emotions from others. And they can always
give you away. Though, in this case, I believe it was for the best.

I feel like I've done something good for Eli, and for M&M today. And
I can't help but feel a little pride for having intervened. And as I
inspect that feeling of pride, a feeling that is most definitely my
own, I realize that despite all my efforts to let go, my ego is still
alive and well.