This Day in History Class is a production of iHeartRadio. Hello and Welcome to This Day in History Class, a show that proves there's more than one way to make history. I'm Gabe Luesier, and in this episode, we're looking at the day when a first of its kind program wormed its way across the early Internet, crashing systems and creating panic along the way. The day was November two, nineteen eighty eight, a Roague computer program was unleashed on the Internet for the first time. The attack took place at about eight thirty that evening, when the program's creator uploaded it to a computer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT. This software, known as a site worm, was designed to spread across networks and copy itself onto every computer it touched. However, due to a flaw in the source code, the worm didn't just send copies of itself to other computers. It also continued replicating itself on each system it infected, filling all available memory and eventually grinding the computer to a halt. Within twenty four hours, the worm had infected and estimated six thousand of the approximately sixty thousand computers that were connected to the Internet in nineteen eighty eight. There were two main factors facilitating the worm spread. The first was the nature of the program. Unlike a virus, which requires a software host in order to propagate, a computer worm is an independent program which can exist and replicate on its own. That means it didn't have to be installed on each system by a human and then spread itself from one program to the next like a virus. Instead, the worm was the program, and it could install itself on any machine connected to a network. The second thing that spurred the worm's advance was the collegial nature of the early Internet. At the time prior to the invention of the World Wide Web, the National Electronic Network was populated almost exclusively by academics and engineers. To them, cybersecurity was barely even a concept, much less a top concern, and so the early Internet operated more or less on the honor system. That made it all the more easy for the worm to transmit itself from one network to the next in a matter of hours. The computers at a number of prestigious colleges, military sites, and research centers were compromised, including those at Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Johns, Hopkins, and NASA, among many others. The worm didn't corrupt or destroy any files. In fact, it didn't even contain a payload or malicious code intended to arm a system. It still did quite a bit of damage, though, thanks to that bug in its own code that I mentioned earlier. Because the worm kept making copies of itself on the same computers, it had the side effect of slowing other functions to a crawl. Emails were delayed by hours or even days, and as a system's resources continued to be drained, the computer would eventually crash altogether. The online community scrambled to find a solution. Some institutions simply wiped their systems and started over. Others disconnected their computers from the network and waited to see what happened. After about twelve hours, a team of programmers at Berkeley found a way to slow the spread of the worm. Then a team at Purdue came up with another method to remove it completely. The tactic was shared as widely as possible, though the information didn't get out as quickly as it could have since so many systems had already crashed or been disconnected. The financial cost of the attack is hard to pin down, but Between all the lost time and the expense of dealing with the worm at each location, it's estimated to have done millions of dollars in damage. What few people knew at the time was that the creator of the worm had actually released an apology letter along with instructions on how to remove the worm, just a few hours after the attack. Unfortunately, and ironically, the message didn't reach most users in time because the program had already wrecked the network. To be clear, the worm's programmer didn't send the message himself. Instead, he asked two friends to relay it anonymously on his behalf. Unbeknownst to him, however, one of those friends also contacted The New York Times and inadvertently revealed the initials of the worm's author. With that as a starting point, Times reporters were soon able to confirm and publicly report that the person behind the attack was a twenty three year old Cornell graduate student named Robert Morris Junior. He had spent all that summer day developing a program that could spread slowly and secretly across the Internet. It was intended as a harmless experiment, just to see if it was possible, and that's why the program contained no malicious code that said Morris was still accessing other people's systems without permission, So to cover his tracks, he hacked into an MIT computer from Cornell and uploaded the worm there. He may not have meant to topple the entire network, but due to a flaw in the program's code, that's exactly what he wound up doing. By the time Morris's identity was revealed, the FBI had already launched an investigation into the incident. Agents interviewed Morris, examined his computer files, and promptly determined that he was indeed the culprit. The only question remaining was whether he had actually broken a law, and it turned out that he had a rather recent one. Two years earlier, Congress had passed the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, making it illegal to access protected computers with a authorization. Morris was the first person to violate the Act, the first to be indicted for it, and the first to be convicted. He didn't serve jail time, but he did have to pay a ten thousand dollars fine and complete four hundred hours of community service. He tried to appeal the sentence, arguing that he hadn't released the worm with malicious intent, but the court deemed that irrelevant as he had still accessed other computers without permission. For all the trouble it caused, the episode did help open the world's eyes to the vulnerabilities of the early Internet, prompting some vital changes. For example, just a few days after the attack, the Department of Defense created the nation's first computer Emergency Response Team to help combat future security breaches. Private developers also began creating software that could detect computer intrusions, providing some much needed cybersecurity to the general public. The flip side, of course, is that the rogue program, now known as the Morris Worm, gave rise to a wave of online assaults that continues to dog our digital lives to this day. Of course, if Morris hadn't released the first worm, someone else would have eventually, and probably not just as an intellectual exercise either. In that light, early Internet users were lucky he was the one to strike first, as it gave them the chance to build their defenses before the truly malicious attacks began. As for Morris, his conviction doesn't seem to have hurt his career. He's currently a tenured professor of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science at MIT, the very school to which he first uploaded his worm all those years ago. Nice to know there are no hard feelings. I'm gay, blues yay, and hopefully you now know a little more about history today than you did yesterday. If you have a second and you're so inclined, consider keeping up with us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instane. You can find us at TDI HC Show, and if you have any comments or suggestions, feel free to pass them along by writing to this day at iHeartMedia dot com. Thanks as always to Chandler Mays for producing the show, and thank you for listening. I'll see you back here again tomorrow for another day in history class.

This Day in History Class is a production of iHeartRadio. Hello and Welcome to This Day in History Class, a show that proves there's more than one way to make history. I'm Gabe Luesier, and in this episode, we're looking at the day when a first of its kind program wormed its way across the early Internet, crashing systems and creating panic along the way. The day was November two, nineteen eighty eight, a Roague computer program was unleashed on the Internet for the first time. The attack took place at about eight thirty that evening, when the program's creator uploaded it to a computer at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology, or MIT. This software, known as a site worm, was designed to spread across networks and copy itself onto every computer it touched. However, due to a flaw in the source code, the worm didn't just send copies of itself to other computers. It also continued replicating itself on each system it infected, filling all available memory and eventually grinding the computer to a halt. Within twenty four hours, the worm had infected and estimated six thousand of the approximately sixty thousand computers that were connected to the Internet in nineteen eighty eight. There were two main factors facilitating the worm spread. The first was the nature of the program. Unlike a virus, which requires a software host in order to propagate, a computer worm is an independent program which can exist and replicate on its own. That means it didn't have to be installed on each system by a human and then spread itself from one program to the next like a virus. Instead, the worm was the program, and it could install itself on any machine connected to a network. The second thing that spurred the worm's advance was the collegial nature of the early Internet. At the time prior to the invention of the World Wide Web, the National Electronic Network was populated almost exclusively by academics and engineers. To them, cybersecurity was barely even a concept, much less a top concern, and so the early Internet operated more or less on the honor system. That made it all the more easy for the worm to transmit itself from one network to the next in a matter of hours. The computers at a number of prestigious colleges, military sites, and research centers were compromised, including those at Harvard, Princeton, Stanford, Johns, Hopkins, and NASA, among many others. The worm didn't corrupt or destroy any files. In fact, it didn't even contain a payload or malicious code intended to arm a system. It still did quite a bit of damage, though, thanks to that bug in its own code that I mentioned earlier. Because the worm kept making copies of itself on the same computers, it had the side effect of slowing other functions to a crawl. Emails were delayed by hours or even days, and as a system's resources continued to be drained, the computer would eventually crash altogether. The online community scrambled to find a solution. Some institutions simply wiped their systems and started over. Others disconnected their computers from the network and waited to see what happened. After about twelve hours, a team of programmers at Berkeley found a way to slow the spread of the worm. Then a team at Purdue came up with another method to remove it completely. The tactic was shared as widely as possible, though the information didn't get out as quickly as it could have since so many systems had already crashed or been disconnected. The financial cost of the attack is hard to pin down, but Between all the lost time and the expense of dealing with the worm at each location, it's estimated to have done millions of dollars in damage. What few people knew at the time was that the creator of the worm had actually released an apology letter along with instructions on how to remove the worm, just a few hours after the attack. Unfortunately, and ironically, the message didn't reach most users in time because the program had already wrecked the network. To be clear, the worm's programmer didn't send the message himself. Instead, he asked two friends to relay it anonymously on his behalf. Unbeknownst to him, however, one of those friends also contacted The New York Times and inadvertently revealed the initials of the worm's author. With that as a starting point, Times reporters were soon able to confirm and publicly report that the person behind the attack was a twenty three year old Cornell graduate student named Robert Morris Junior. He had spent all that summer day developing a program that could spread slowly and secretly across the Internet. It was intended as a harmless experiment, just to see if it was possible, and that's why the program contained no malicious code that said Morris was still accessing other people's systems without permission, So to cover his tracks, he hacked into an MIT computer from Cornell and uploaded the worm there. He may not have meant to topple the entire network, but due to a flaw in the program's code, that's exactly what he wound up doing. By the time Morris's identity was revealed, the FBI had already launched an investigation into the incident. Agents interviewed Morris, examined his computer files, and promptly determined that he was indeed the culprit. The only question remaining was whether he had actually broken a law, and it turned out that he had a rather recent one. Two years earlier, Congress had passed the Computer Fraud and Abuse Act, making it illegal to access protected computers with a authorization. Morris was the first person to violate the Act, the first to be indicted for it, and the first to be convicted. He didn't serve jail time, but he did have to pay a ten thousand dollars fine and complete four hundred hours of community service. He tried to appeal the sentence, arguing that he hadn't released the worm with malicious intent, but the court deemed that irrelevant as he had still accessed other computers without permission. For all the trouble it caused, the episode did help open the world's eyes to the vulnerabilities of the early Internet, prompting some vital changes. For example, just a few days after the attack, the Department of Defense created the nation's first computer Emergency Response Team to help combat future security breaches. Private developers also began creating software that could detect computer intrusions, providing some much needed cybersecurity to the general public. The flip side, of course, is that the rogue program, now known as the Morris Worm, gave rise to a wave of online assaults that continues to dog our digital lives to this day. Of course, if Morris hadn't released the first worm, someone else would have eventually, and probably not just as an intellectual exercise either. In that light, early Internet users were lucky he was the one to strike first, as it gave them the chance to build their defenses before the truly malicious attacks began. As for Morris, his conviction doesn't seem to have hurt his career. He's currently a tenured professor of Electrical Engineering and Computer Science at MIT, the very school to which he first uploaded his worm all those years ago. Nice to know there are no hard feelings. I'm gay, blues yay, and hopefully you now know a little more about history today than you did yesterday. If you have a second and you're so inclined, consider keeping up with us on Twitter, Facebook, and Instane. You can find us at TDI HC Show, and if you have any comments or suggestions, feel free to pass them along by writing to this day at iHeartMedia dot com. Thanks as always to Chandler Mays for producing the show, and thank you for listening. I'll see you back here again tomorrow for another day in history class.