Cable Theft!

 Hello All:

The world of radio frequency communication is a fascinating landscape built on strict parameters, invisible waves, and unexpected intersections. For decades, the Family Radio Service (FRS) band has served as an open-access sandbox for the public, utilizing a tiny slice of the UHF spectrum around 462 and 467 MHz. Because it requires no FCC licensing and utilizes low-wattage handhelds, it is just as easily occupied by children playing with walkie-talkies as it is by field technicians attempting to coordinate operations on a job site.

When you broadcast out into the open air on these shared frequencies, you never quite know who is listening on the other side. A simple cross-signal can bridge two completely different worlds, turning a routine workday into an impromptu investigation—and leading to discoveries that some people would prefer to keep completely hidden.

Cable Theft!

It was Monday morning as the Cableman sat in the conference room with other cable TV installers, technicians, and office personnel. Staff meetings at the cable company were held bimonthly—every other Monday. And as usual, this meeting was boring.

The Cableman's boss stood at the center of the room. "Just a reminder to those working in the field: make sure you have your safety cones out! OSHA inspectors often drive around and issue fines for workers who do not obey safety regulations."

So boring. The Cableman had more important things he could be doing at the moment. He needed to hurry up and complete his route for the day, and then spend the rest of his afternoon doing absolutely nothing.

But what was this? The boss next reached into a box and removed a yellow handheld radio. "These Motorola TalkAbout radios are being issued to our installers and technicians—anyone working out in the field. Use them in situations when maybe one guy is working in the house, and the other guy is working outside. You can stay in contact with each other. And supposedly, the signal for these radios can cover up to five miles. If needed, you can discuss small project matters with them instead of taking up radio time on our main office channel."

"Cool!" said one of the installers.

"What?" exclaimed another grumpy, old installer. "You're giving me something else to wear on my belt? I'm getting sick of this crap!"

"It's not so bad," reassured the boss. "There's just too much traffic on our main office channel. It needs to be cleared up so the dispatchers can stay in contact with those out in the field."

Soon the radios were passed around, and the Cableman received his.

Throughout the room, people began playing with the radios, saying childish and inappropriate things. But there was no need to fear any fines from the FCC. Motorola TalkAbout handheld radios use the Family Radio Service (FRS) frequency band. This is not the same frequency used in citizens band (CB) or ham radios; there is no licensing or strict regulatory oversight. In fact, standard children's walkie-talkies operate on the very same FRS frequency band.

"Okay!" shouted the boss. "Now that we've all played with our new toys, let's try to use them professionally. I think I'll designate Channel 7 as the main channel for installers and technicians to use. You can change to a different channel if two of you are doing a specific project together."

It was 10:00 in the morning as the Cableman drove off from his first install of the day. His Motorola TalkAbout radio sat in the console of the cable van's dashboard, tuned to Channel 7. Nearing a stop sign, the Cableman picked up the radio and muttered to himself, "Hmm... wonder if there is anything on the other channels."

He clicked up to Channel 8... Channel 9... And just as he was about to go to Channel 10, a faint voice cut through the speaker, buried deep behind a wall of static.

"...bleeding baby... there's blood all over the place... Help!"

It sounded like a genuine emergency. The Cableman keyed his mic and answered, "Hello? Does someone need help?" By now, the Cableman had already stopped at the stop sign and resumed driving down the residential street. "Please repeat! Does someone need help?"

This time, the voice came through louder. It was a young boy, desperately shouting into his radio. "Please help me! Please don't go away! I have a bleeding baby and don't know what to do!"

"Where are you at?" asked the Cableman.

"I don't know!" shouted the boy over the air. "You have to help me! This baby is bleeding all over the place!"

"Do you know your address?" asked the Cableman.

"No!"

"Are you indoors, or are you outside?"

"I'm inside! I'm in a house, but I don't know where it is!" The voice began to fade away as the cable van continued down the road. The transmitted signal from the boy’s walkie-talkie had a limited amount of output power, and if the Cableman kept driving, he would lose the little boy entirely.

The Cableman stopped the van, turned around, and slowly drove in the opposite direction in hopes of maintaining a strong reception.

"Little boy!" called out the Cableman. "Do you have a telephone?"

"No! There is no telephone here!"

It was all up to the Cableman. He needed to find the exact location of the little boy and save the infant who was apparently badly hurt. Fortunately, the Cableman considered himself a radio frequency expert. Within five minutes, he utilized his vehicle's signal leakage detector—normally used to find RF signals escaping from faulty cable lines—and connected a directional antenna configuration to home in on the handheld FRS transmission. While tracking the signal strength meter, he maintained a steady conversation with the boy.

"Little boy, do you have an adult nearby who can help you?"

"No!" shouted the boy. "They left me home alone with my baby brother! Now the baby is bleeding all over the place. It's all over the floor, and I'm afraid I'm going to slip and fall in it and drown!"

"Good heavens," the Cableman muttered to himself. Then he keyed up and answered, "Okay, try to stay calm. Help will be there soon."

Watching the signal meter peak, the Cableman cruised slowly down the neighborhood street.

"Help!" cried the little boy. "I think I'm going to puke! All this blood is making me sick. I'm probably going to puke up in all the blood!"

"Take it easy, little boy," answered the Cableman. "You'll be okay. Just keep talking on the radio."

"Oh, I'm feeling so sick! I'm going to puke!"

The kid cut himself off with a wet, explosive retch, followed by a series of dramatic, dry gags over the airwaves. He choked for a second, then exclaimed, "Eww! Gross! I just puked in the blood!"

By now, the Cableman had pinpointed the exact section of the street where the signal was strongest. But he still needed to determine the specific house. "Little boy, can you look out one of the windows and wave to me?"

"No!" answered the boy. "I can't do that!"

"Why?" asked the Cableman.

"Because!"

"Well, I can't find your house unless you help me," explained the Cableman. "Just look out one of the windows so I can see you."

"Help!" cried the little boy. "I just cut myself with a knife, and now all of my blood is running all over the floor with the baby's blood! This is a bloody mess! You better get here fast! I think I'm going to die!"

Just then, the Cableman spotted a child holding a walkie-talkie through a front window, visibly shouting into the device. That was the house.

The Cableman pulled straight into the driveway and activated the yellow flashing strobe light on his cable van. Wearing his dark utility sunglasses, with his heavy tool belt still strapped to his waist, the Cableman jumped out of the van and marched up to the front door in his steel-toed boots.

"Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock!" The Cableman pounded on the door. Then he called out, "This is the Cableman! Open up!" He knocked again, harder this time. "Open up! Let me in!"

But there was no answer—only dead silence from inside.

"What the heck?"

Left with no choice, the Cableman planted his weight, brought up his steel-toed utility boot, and delivered a heavy kick straight to the lock. BAM! BAM! BAM! The wood trim and hardware started to splinter and fall apart. BAM! BAM! BAM! With one final kick, the door finally swung wide open.

Inside, a boy ran away into the depths of the house, letting out bloodcurdling screams. "No! No! No!" He cried hysterically as he dashed out of sight. In the distance down the hall, a baby could indeed be heard crying.

The Cableman ran toward the sound of the crying infant until finally reaching the bedroom. But as he looked around, he stopped cold. Despite what the little boy had reported on the radio, there was no sign of blood anywhere.

"What the heck?" corporate reflexes kicking in.

Just then, the older boy entered the room, sobbing. For the first time, the Cableman could see that he looked to be about ten years old. "Please leave!" begged the boy. "Just go! My mom is going to be so mad!"

The Cableman was completely indignant. "What's this all about? You radioed for help and said that your baby brother was bleeding, but it was just a lie?"

"Yes!" answered the boy, wiping his tears. "I'm sorry!"

"Why did you do that?"

"I was mad because no one would talk to me on the radio," the boy sniffled. "So I had to say something that would get people scared enough to answer me."

The Cableman let out a long sigh. "Little boy, what you did was a very bad thing. People use radios for real emergencies. Someone—like me—actually took you seriously and tracked you down to help you. Now look what happened. Your front door is smashed in, and I look like a stupid fool."

Just then, the boy's mother scampered through the broken front door in a total panic. She had only stepped out for half an hour to pick up a few groceries, entrusting her ten-year-old son to watch the baby. Upon returning, she found a cable van flashing its lights in her driveway and her front door kicked off the frame. A sudden dread seized her. Did they find out about her? Did the cable company learn that she was stealing cable?

"What's going on?" she asked nervously, rushing into the nursery. At the sound of her voice, the baby began to cry even louder.

"Good morning, ma'am," greeted the Cableman as the woman rushed over to the crib to scoop the baby into her arms. "I'm the Cableman, the lead technician for the cable company. I was driving past your neighborhood and heard a desperate cry for help over the radio."

She interrupted him, glaring fiercely at her older son. "Billy! You didn't! I told you not to play with that thing!"

"Oh, so apparently he's done this before?" asked the Cableman.

"Yes!"

This was the Cableman's perfect chance to establish some firm authority and prevent himself from looking like an idiot for destroying a resident's front door. "You see, Billy, being that I'm the Cableman, I'm an expert on radio communications. You broke an entire list of federal FCC rules and regulations this morning. You could be fined thousands of dollars, and even go to federal prison." These were complete lies, of course, but the Cableman simply wanted to scare little Billy into absolute silence.

Billy began to bawl. "I'm sorry!"

"Well, I hope you've learned your lesson. I'm not going to say anything else about it." The Cableman looked over to the trembling mother and nodded. "Good day, ma'am."

With that, he turned and walked away. He paced down the hallway, but as he crossed through the family room, he stopped dead in his tracks.

"What's this?" the Cableman muttered.

He walked over to the television set to study a black plastic unit resting on the shelf. It looked exactly like an illegal un-scrambled cable converter box. "This isn't the hardware that we issue to our customers."

By now, the mother had followed him into the family room, her hand pressed flat over her agape mouth. It was all over. They had found her out, and she was going to be busted.

The Cableman flipped on the TV and confirmed that a crisp, clear picture was feeding directly through the unauthorized converter box. He flipped through a few channels, noticing that the box even bypassed the security filters to receive premium stations like HBO and Cinemax.

"Who gave this box to you?" asked the Cableman, shifting into full bureaucratic authority. "Where did you get it?"

The woman trembled, doing her best to mask her terror. "When we moved in, the box was already plugged into the outlet. I just assumed that it was an antenna for the TV!"

"Do you have an active account with us? Did a technician ever come out and hook you up?"

"Well... no. We never ordered cable."

The Cableman's tone snapped shut like a vice. "At the very minimum, ma'am, you are guilty of passive cable theft. Passive cable theft occurs when someone moves into a residence and discovers the company neglected to physically disconnect the line at the tap. I'm sure one of our lazy field techs forgot to pull the barrel when the previous tenant moved out. But I’m afraid this illegal converter box upgrades the offense to active cable theft. The hardware demonstrates that you took deliberate, additional steps to pirate premium stations."

"Oh my gosh!" the frantic mother cried, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm so sorry! I didn't know!"

"Ignorance is no excuse under the law," the Cableman snapped. He unclipped the Motorola TalkAbout radio from his waist and flipped the dial back to Channel 7. "Cableman to Boss."

A static-laced voice answered immediately. "Go ahead, Cableman."

"We've got active cable theft in progress at this location. Unregistered user is connected directly to the street tap and utilizing an illegal unauthorized converter box to bypass premium encryption. Send the fleet."

Within five minutes, four local police cruisers and a full squad of yellow cable company utility trucks were lined up along the curb, their emergency strobes and flashing yellow lights illuminating the neighborhood. Neighbors stepped out onto their porches, whispering and wondering what the massive commotion was about.

"I heard she steals cable..." whispered one neighbor.

"Serves her right," muttered another.

Inside the house, the Cableman's boss walked up and gave his lead technician a heavy pat on the back. "Incredible job, Cableman! Way to protect the company's bottom line!"

The Cableman adjusted his utility sunglasses, maintaining a perfectly humble expression. "Oh, it's nothing, Boss. Just all in a day’s work."

The End!