Password

 

Your name written backwards is not advisable. Your date of birth, in whatever configuration, likewise. The name of your first pet is probably widely accessible from overuse and therefore not a good password. Your password should be strong. Not just muscular and gym ready but, where possible, clad in interlocking high-mesh chainmail. A combination of upper and lower case, random numerals, and a flinged string of wingdings, is strong. Strong avoids the obvious, for example, a line of upper and lower letters sequential along the keyboard (i.e. qwerty syndrome), but at the same time it must be memorable. 12345678 is carte blanche for your nemesis hack. Pin your belief in the future. Pin your chances on the secure word of a computer. Given that the average person has over fifty passwords, and even though you are not the average person, using the same password on every account is inadvisable. Fifty different passwords should be a compulsory subject in secondary school. The annual turnover of personal passwords makes the invention of new passwords a weekly occupation over a lifetime. The huge popularity of Tolkien novels is in direct proportion to the rise in passwords. Identification is natural with living characters who cannot do anything or go anywhere without a password, a rebus of runes that unlocks their innumerable underground vaults. English espionage books, fictional, factional, and factual, enjoy unprecedented vogue in a world where it’s needful to invent personal passwords that would drive the wizards of Bletchley Park batty. Nonplussed is another word to describe their state, busy sorting the zeroes and the ones. Despite this spiral of codes, childhood reminds us that the point of a password is that it is private nay secret, individual nay unique, special nay singular. Therefore, if you are weary of the world of passwords, close your laptop, mute the phone, and go on a long holiday. Once arrived at your chosen destination, you will unwind. You can start remembering the days before passwords, the times when your mind was never taken up with remembering passwords, the age of articulation. Strong passwords, weak passwords, piss-weak passwords, appallingly porous passwords, passwords granular with dangerous diacritics and obscure punctuation marks – none of this need concern you anymore. On holidays you can almost be there again, dialling a friend, chatting for hours, sparring with their discomforting talent for puns, all of that! Ordering a simple meal is free of the anxiety of credit card Decline. Turn into your cat, whose one password “Mrkgnao” gets it everything it wants, everywhere anytime. Have your forgotten your password? asks a screen, jolting you back into the present. More precisely, did you ever remember your password? Obviously you do not know your password and the Little Black Book of Passwords is under some pile of papers somewhere. If it isn’t in a buried digital file to which you don’t have the password. Click to enter the future. The random password generator saves you the time of thinking up one yourself, even if it’s not strong; is, in fact, stunningly unmemorable. This is the future. You are turning into an idiolect of indecipherable idiocy, half-demented by your glossary of unknown words, wondering which ones end (or start) with a #