Lab - Cicada 3301

Posted Apr 2, 2021 Updated Jan 23, 2024

By Grace L

26 min read

[toc]

ref
- Cicada 3301:一只潜伏于互联网深处的“蝉”（一）
- 蝉3301（2012 PUZZLES）:互联网史上最复杂最神秘最可怕的谜团

Cicada 3301

2012年1月4日

将这张图片用记事本打开，在一堆乱码后面，隐藏着一条讯息：
- CLAVDIVS CAESAR says “lxxt> 33m2mqkyv2gsq3q = w] O2ntk”
Caesar cipher
- 暴力破解，也就是穷极搜索（实际上也只不过26种可能），看看是否会出现有价值的组合，
- 在位移4次后我们就得到了一条看似网址链接的信息（实际解谜者运用了编码算出了准确的位移值）：
- 经破译后，得到了一个地址：
- https://i.imgur.com/m9sYK.jpg
- 打开后又是一张图片：
“guess”和“out”，这指向一个名为“Out Guess”的加密软件。
- 下载这个软件后，便可以利用它来继续解谜。。

当用Out Guess打开这张图片后，出现了一个链接，指向Reddit论坛的一个板块，并提示密码与一本书有关。

下面是一长串的数字
最后署名3301

 这是一本书的编号，找到这本书，就能获得更多信息，去这个链接。
 1:20, 2:3, 3:5, 4:20, 5:5, 6:53, 7:1, 8:8, 9:2, 10:4, 11:8, 12:4, 13:13, 14:4, 15:8, 16:4, 17:5, 18:14, 19:7, 20:31, 21:12, 22:36, 23:2, 24:3, 25:5, 26:65, 27:5, 28:1, 29:2, 30:18, 31:32, 32:10, 33:3, 34:25, 35:10, 36:7, 37:20, 38:10, 39:32, 40:4, 41:40, 42:11, 43:9, 44:13, 45:6, 46:3, 47:5, 48:43, 49:17, 50:13, 51:4, 52:2, 53:18, 54:4, 55:6, 56:4, 57:24, 58:64, 59:5, 60:37, 61:60, 62:12, 63:6, 64:8, 65:5, 66:18, 67:45, 68:10, 69:2, 70:17, 71:9, 72:20, 73:2, 74:34, 75:13, 76:21
 好运.
 3301

打开文中提供的链接，进入了一个标题为“a2e7j6ic78h0j7eiejd0120”的Subreddit页面：

转到Reddit论坛的链接后，发现整个板块都充满着一个用户发表的一百多条帖子，论坛的横幅也是一堆奇怪的符号。
发现了两个图片附件，分别名为“Welcome”和“Problems”：
将这两张图片用outguess打开，得到了两个不同的内容，
“Welcome”：
- 用outguess打开“Welcome”得到的内容是蝉3301对游戏规则的申明：
- PGP（Pretty Good Privacy），是一个基于RSA公钥加密体系的邮件加密软件。PGP可以确保邮件保密以防止非授权者阅读，同时还可以在邮件上加上数字签名从而确认邮件发送者是真实有效并且邮件没有被篡改过。

“Problems”：

将“Problems”图片用outguess打开：
玛雅数字

按照玛雅数字对照表，我们将顶部符号代表的数字列出：

 10，2，14，7，19，6，18，12，7，8，17，0，19。
 这时我们发现这串数字与页面标题“a2e7j6ic78h0j7eiejd0120”有着规律的对应，
 上述序列中的数字低于10的在标题字符串中的位置相同，
 交叉比对后，我们可以将页面标题的那串字符串还原为纯数字串，
 顶部符号代表的数字列出后，便得到了Key1:
 Key1：10，2，14，7，19，6，18，12，7，8，17，0，19，7，14，18，14，19，13，0，1，2，0

谜题中作为线索的书籍
- 用凯撒密码字母与数字对应表来进行比对：
  - 这串纯数字转化为了纯字母，这就是Key2：
  - Key2：k, c, o, h, t, g, s, m, h, i, r, a, t, h, o, s, o, t, n, a, b, c, a
- 至此，通过解密图片“Problems”，我们得到了一串纯数字以及一串纯字母密钥，也就是文中提到的解开Subreddit页面中加密文本的钥匙。
  - 其中数字串是凯撒密码的位移Key值，而字母串则用以验证得到的解密文本是否正确。
  - Key1是一组23位数字串，在经过多番尝试后，解谜者发现它是一组巡回使用的凯撒密码位移Key值，对应的字母按其数值分别进行换位。具体到此例，我们用Key1与加密文本从头对齐，“djsl”对应的数字就是10，2，14，7，按照此数值四个字母分别进行位移，则d向前位移10位变为t，j向前位移2位变为h，s向前位移14位后变为e，l向前位移7位后变为e，值得注意的是Key1是反复使用的，如果在比对密文时数字用尽，则要重置Key1。按照这样的方法，我们可以破译出图中两行密文：
- 得到这段破译出的全文，我们可以快速查找到该段文章出自《马比诺吉昂》（英语：Mabinogion）中关于亚瑟王的传说。
- 根据“鸭子”提供的编号来获得更多信息。
- 编号均为两个数字，前一个数字代表行数，后一个数字则对应该行的位数（注意：空格及标点符号也算位数）。例如第一句编号为1:20，1与“King Arthur was at Caerlleon upon Usk; and one day he sat in his”对应，20则对应该行第20位的字母“C”。
- 按照以上方法，我们将“鸭子”提供的所有编码解码，得到了以下这句话：
- Call us at us tele phone numBer two one four three nine oh nine six oh eight
- very good.you have done well.there are three prime numbers associated with the original final.jpg image.3301 is one of them.you will have to find the other two.multiply all three of these numbers together, and add a .com on the end to find the next step.
根据电话中的提示，解谜者找到了所说的两个质数503和509——最初谜题图片的宽和高。经计算后得到了一个网址。
- 将它们相乘后5095033301=845145127，得到一个网址 https://845145127.com
- 打开后映入眼帘的是一只蝉的浮雕风格的身影，以及下面倒计时栏中跳动的数字。

根据破解到的信息，在某一时间打开网页，便出现下面的文字：

请在格林尼治时间：2012年1月9日17点整再次回来查看。

     Found our symbol at the location nearest to you:
216802, 21.018334
85057059876962, 2.406892329454422
85030144151387,2.407538741827011
664196,  -122.313301
637520, -122.346277
622993, -122.312576
5196666666667, 126.995
966808, -117.650488
909098706850486 -89.99312818050384
684702, -80.441289
584069, -158.104211
     - -33.90281, 151.18421
0665472222222, -94.1726416666667
577070, 126.813122

地理坐标，线索就在坐标所对应的位置。14个坐标。幸运的是，不需要找齐所有的也能完成解谜。

波兰，华沙

法国，巴黎

美国，西雅图

韩国，首尔

图片中的二维码指向下一条提示，这条提示又是指向一本书

让我们扫描这些二维码，14个二维码共计只出现了两条不同信息，分别是：

 第一条谜语的谜面为：
 In twenty-nine volumes, knowledge was once contained.
 How many lines of the code remained when the Mabinogion paused?
 Go that far in from the beginning and find my first name.

 在二十九卷中，知识曾经被包含在内。
 当马比诺吉昂停下时，还剩下多少行代码?
 从头开始，找到我的名字。

此时再结合“当马比诺吉昂停下时，还剩下多少行代码？”这句提示，我们知道前文里找到的《马比诺吉昂》亚瑟王传奇并非此书全篇，而是在69行截止。于是在第11版《不列颠百科全书》第6卷能找到“蝉”（cicada）的条目——“从起点6走进，（Cicada）是我的名字”。得到“eq6emgv2eHsrix6t.onion”（解码过程中由于某种原因，行数必须向下移动1行，或者你必须将第一行索引设置为0）。

 第二条谜语的谜面为：
 A poem of fading death, named for a king
 Meant to be read only once and vanish
 Alas, it could not remain unseen.

 一首褪色的死亡诗，以国王命名
 意味着只读一次并消失
 唉，它不能不被发现。

它指向一本名为《Agrippa》（A Book of the Dead）的诗集。之所以如此，是因为这部诗集过于奇特，它存储在一张软盘上，只要被使用一次后就会自行加密（等同于消失）；同时书名《Agrippa》（亚基帕）也是希律王朝最后一位国王的名字，它满足第二条谜语里的所有谜面。
- 关于这本死亡之书，它本身就是一个传奇，无论是他的作者willam gibso（威廉·吉布森），还是它奇特的加密方式。甚至在2012年7月，多伦多大学信息科学系的Quinn DuPont还举办了一场“Cracking the Agrippa Code”的比赛，号召多名黑客来解密Agrippa代码。以下是加密在软盘内，只会在屏幕上滚动一次就消失的威廉·吉布森的一首305行诗歌：

 AGRIPPA

 (A Book of The Dead)

 by William Gibson

 I hesitated

 before untying the bow

 that bound this book together.

 A black book:

 ALBUMS CA. AGRIPPA

 Order Extra Leaves By Letter and Name

 A Kodak album of time-burned

 black construction paper

 The string he tied

 Has been unravelled by years

 and the dry weather of trunks

 Like a lady's shoestring from the First World War

 Its metal ferrules eaten by oxygen

 Until they resemble cigarette-ash

 Inside the cover he inscribed something in soft graphite

 Now lost

 Then his name

 W.F. Gibson Jr.

 and something, comma,

 1924

 Then he glued his Kodak prints down

 And wrote under them

 In chalk-like white pencil:

 "Papa's saw mill, Aug. 1919."

 A flat-roofed shack

 Against a mountain ridge

 In the foreground are tumbled boards and offcuts

 He must have smelled the pitch,

 In August

 The sweet hot reek

 Of the electric saw

 Biting into decades

 Next the spaniel Moko

 "Moko 1919"

 Poses on small bench or table

 Before a backyard tree

 His coat is lustrous

 The grass needs cutting

 Beyond the tree,

 In eerie Kodak clarity,

 Are the summer backstairs of Wheeling,

 West Virginia

 Someone's left a wooden stepladder out

 "Aunt Fran and [obscured]"

 Although he isn't, this gent

 He has a "G" belt-buckle

 A lapel-device of Masonic origin

 A patent propelling-pencil

 A fountain-pen

 And the flowers they pose behind so solidly

 Are rooted in an upright length of whitewashed

 concrete sewer-pipe.

 Daddy had a horse named Dixie

 "Ford on Dixie 1917"

 A saddle-blanket marked with a single star

 Corduroy jodhpurs

 A western saddle

 And a cloth cap

 Proud and happy

 As any boy could be

 "Arthur and Ford fishing 1919"

 Shot by an adult

 (Witness the steady hand

 that captures the wildflowers

 the shadows on their broad straw hats

 reflections of a split-rail fence)

 standing opposite them,

 on the far side of the pond,

 amid the snake-doctors and the mud,

 Kodak in hand,

 Ford Sr.?

 And "Moma July, 1919"

 strolls beside the pond,

 in white big city shoes,

 Purse tucked behind her,

 While either Ford or Arthur, still straw-hatted,

 approaches a canvas-topped touring car.

 "Moma and Mrs. Graham at fish hatchery 1919"

 Moma and Mrs. G. sit atop a graceful concrete arch.

 "Arthur>, likewise 1919,

 rather ill at ease. On the roof behind the barn, behind him,

 can be made out this cryptic mark:

 H.V.J.M.[?]

 "Papa's mill 1919", my grandfather most regal amid a wrack of

 cut lumber,

 might as easily be the record

 of some later demolition, and

 His cotton sleeves are rolled

 to but not past the elbow,

 striped, with a white neckband

 for the attachment of a collar.

 Behind him stands a cone of sawdust some thirty feet in height.

 (How that feels to tumble down,

 or smells when it is wet)

 II.

 The mechanism: stamped black tin,

 Leatherette over cardboard, bits of boxwood,

 A lens

 The shutter falls

 Forever

 Dividing that from this.

 Now in high-ceiling bedrooms,

 unoccupied, unvisited,

 in the bottom drawers of veneered bureaus

 in cool chemical darkness curl commemorative

 montages of the country's World War dead,

 just as I myself discovered

 one other summer in an attic trunk,

 and beneath that every boy's best treasure

 of tarnished actual ammunition

 real little bits of war

 but also

 the mechanism

 itself.

 The blued finish of firearms

 is a process, controlled, derived from common

 rust, but there under so rare and uncommon a patina

 that many years untouched

 until I took it up

 and turning, entranced, down the unpainted

 stair, to the hallway where I swear

 I never heard the first shot.

 The copper-jacketed slug recovered

 from the bathroom's cardboard cylinder of

 Morton's Salt was undeformed

 save for the faint bright marks of lands

 and grooves so hot, stilled energy,

 it blistered my hand.

 The gun lay on the dusty carpet.

 Returning in utter awe I took it so carefully up

 That the second shot, equally unintended,

 notched the hardwood bannister

 and brought a strange bright smell of ancient sap to life

 in a beam ofdusty sunlight.

 Absolutely alone

 in awareness of the mechanism.

 Like the first time you put your mouth

 on a woman.

 III.

 "Ice Gorge at Wheeling

 1917"

 Iron bridge in the distance,

 Beyond it a city.

 Hotels where pimps went about their business

 on the sidewalks of a lost world.

 But the foreground is in focus,

 this corner of carpenter's Gothic,

 these backyards running down to the freeze.

 "Steamboat>,

 its smoke foul and dark,

 its year unknown,

 beyond it the far bank

 overgrown with factories.

 "Our Wytheville

 House Sept. 1921"

 They have moved down from Wheeling and my father wears his

 city clothes. Main Street is unpaved and an electric streetlamp is

 slung high in the frame, centered above the tracked dust on a

 slack wire, suggesting the way it might pitch in a strong wind,

 the shadows that might throw.

 The house is heavy, unattractive, sheathed in stucco, not native

 to the region. My grandfather, who sold supplies to contractors,

 was prone to modern materials, which he used with

 wholesaler's enthusiasm. In 1921 he replaced the section of brick

 sidewalk in front of his house with the broad smooth slab of poured

 concrete, signing this improvement with a flourish, "W.F.

 Gibson 1921". He believed in concrete and plywood

 particularly. Seventy years later his signature remains, the slab

 floating perfectly level and charmless between mossy stretches of

 sweet uneven brick that knew the iron shoes of Yankee horses.

 "Mama Jan. 1922" has come out to sweep the concrete with a

 broom. Her boots are fastened with buttons requiring a special instrument.

 Ice gorge again, the Ohio, 1917. The mechanism closes. A

 torn clipping offers a 1957 DeSOTO FIREDOME, 4-door Sedan,

 torqueflite radio, heather and power steering and brakes, new

 w.s.w. premium tires. One owner. $1,595.

 IV.

 He made it to the age of torqueflite radio

 but not much past that, and never in that town.

 That was mine to know, Main Street lined with

 Rocket Eighty-eights,

 the dimestore floored with wooden planks

 pies under plastic in the Soda Shop,

 and the mystery untold, the other thing,

 sensed in the creaking of a sign after midnight

 when nobody else was there.

 In the talc-fine dust beneath the platform of the

 Norfolk & Western lay indian-head pennies undisturbed since

 the dawn of man.

 In the banks and courthouse, a fossil time

 prevailed, limestone centuries.

 When I went up to Toronto

 in the draft, my Local Board was there>,

 above a store that bought and sold pistols.

 I'd once traded that man a derringer for a

 Walther P-38. The pistols were in the window

 behind an amber roller-blind

 like sunglasses. I was seventeen or so but basically I guess

 you just had to be a white boy.

 I'd hike out to a shale pit and run

 ten dollars worth of 9mm

 through it, so worn you hardly

 had to pull the trigger.

 Bored, tried shooting

 down into a distant stream but

 one of them came back at me

 off a round of river rock

 clipping walnut twigs from a branch

 two feet above my head.

 So that I remembered the mechanism.

 V.

 In the all night bus station

 they sold scrambled eggs to state troopers

 the long skinny clasp-knives called fruit knives

 which were pearl handled watermelon-slicers

 and hillbilly novelties in brown varnished wood

 which were made in Japan.

 First I'd be sent there at night only

 if Mom's carton of Camels ran out,

 but gradually I came to value

 the submarine light, the alien reek

 of the long human haul, the strangers

 straight down from Port Authority

 headed for Nashville, Memphis, Miami.

 Sometimes the Sheriff watched them get off

 making sure they got back on.

 When the colored restroom

 was no longer required

 they knocked open the cinderblock

 and extended the magazine rack

 to new dimensions,

 a cool fluorescent cave of dreams

 smelling faintly and forever of disinfectant,

 perhaps as well of the travelled fears

 of those dark uncounted others who,

 moving as though contours of hot iron,

 were made thus to dance

 or not to dance

 as the law saw fit.

 There it was that I was marked out as a writer,

 having discovered in that alcove

 copies of certain magazines

 esoteric and precious, and, yes,

 I knew then, knew utterly,

 the deal done in my heart forever,

 though how I knew not,

 nor ever have.

 Walking home

 through all the streets unmoving

 so quiet I could hear the timers of the traffic lights a block away:

 the mechanism. Nobody else, just the silence

 spreading out to where the long trucks groaned

 on the highway their vast brute souls in want.

 VI.

 There must have been a true last time

 I saw the station but I don't remember

 I remember the stiff black horsehide coat

 gift in Tucson of a kid named Natkin

 I remember the cold

 I remember the Army duffle

 that was lost and the black man in Buffalo

 trying to sell me a fine diamond ring,

 and in the coffee shop in Washington

 I'd eavesdropped on a man wearing a black tie

 embroidered with red roses

 that I have looked for ever since.

 They must have asked me something

 at the border

 I was admitted

 somehow

 and behind me swung the stamped tin shutter

 across the very sky

 and I went free

 to find myself

 mazed in Victorian brick

 amid sweet tea with milk

 and smoke from a cigarette called a Black Cat

 and every unknown brand of chocolate

 and girls with blunt-cut bangs

 not even Americans

 looking down from high narrow windows

 on the melting snow

 of the city undreamed

 and on the revealed grace

 of the mechanism,

 no round trip.

 They tore down the bus station

 there's chainlink there

 no buses stop at all

 and I'm walking through Chiyoda-ku

 in a typhoon

 the fine rain horizontal

 umbrella everted in the storm's Pacific breath

 tonight red lanterns are battered.

 laughing,

 in the mechanism.