Standing tall and enigmatic in the center of Lower Manhattan is an odd 29-story skyscraper that is devoid of windows. It is situated at 33 Thomas Street and goes by the code name Titanpointe. For years, this building has puzzled New Yorkers.1.
Promotion
When the building was first completed in 1974, it was meant to contain essential telecommunications equipment and was built to resist atomic bombs. The architectural company John Carl Warnecke & Associates envisioned it as a communication nerve center that was protected from nuclear threats.
Unlike any other building in the area, this massive gray concrete and granite tower soars 550 feet into the New York skyline. It is completely dark and lacks windows, in contrast to the nearby office and residential buildings. It has an unsettling aura at night, while during the day it creates a massive shadow. Its square vents give off a subtle hum, which is frequently muffled by the sounds of the city.
For many years, New Yorkers have been fascinated with 33 Thomas Street, popularly known as the “Long Lines Building,” since it is one of the most unusual and recognizable skyscrapers in the city. However, the real function of this mysterious building has remained mostly unknown and covered up.
33 Thomas Street’s Secret
33 Thomas Street is a mysterious building with a darker side. It seems that this structure serves as more than just a communications center. Architectural drawings, information from documents leaked by NSA whistleblower Edward Snowden, and interviews with former AT&T workers all point to 33 Thomas Street being an NSA monitoring location known as Titanpointe.
There is more to the NSA’s role than meets the eye. A significant international gateway switch that routes phone calls between the United States and other nations is located inside the structure. It is thought that these calls were intercepted by the NSA from a safe location inside the AT&T headquarters. This clandestine monitoring scheme has targeted several nations, including friends of the United States, in addition to global institutions including the World Bank, the International Monetary Fund, and the United Nations.
Although AT&T has collaborated with the NSA on monitoring, not much is known about the precise function that locations such as 33 Thomas Street play in executing top-secret initiatives. On the other hand, the Snowden documents include hitherto unseen details on the integration of NSA hardware into AT&T’s New York City network. This integration makes clear the tools and techniques the agency uses to extract communications data from the business’s systems.
The NSA’s location inside this famous skyscraper begs the question of where the lines are drawn in terms of contemporary surveillance. “This is yet more proof that our communications service providers have become, whether willingly or unwillingly, an arm of the surveillance state,” notes Elizabeth Goitein, co-director of the Brennan Center for Justice’s liberty and national security program. The idea that this kind of surveillance can be cleanly limited to non-American targets is called into question by the NSA’s extensive integration with the country’s communications infrastructure.
T&T, Security, and Law Enforcement
It is commonly known that AT&T and the NSA worked closely together. Although AT&T and the government have a long history together, it’s unknown if the NSA was utilizing AT&T’s 33 Thomas Street facility or equipment. This uncertainty prompts concerns about the scope of government monitoring inside the structure.2.
In August 2015, the New York Times and ProPublica revealed that AT&T had been praised by the NSA for its “extreme willingness to help” and had a long history of working with the agency. But neither the fresh reports nor the information leaked by Edward Snowden conclusively indicate that AT&T space or equipment was being used by the NSA. As it happens, Verizon owns the remaining portion of the 33 Thomas building, with AT&T Inc. owning the ground but only around 87 percent of the floor area.
There are important ethical and legal concerns about the NSA’s surveillance activities at 33 Thomas Street. The structure might serve as a memorial to the difficulties in maintaining proper supervision in an age of cutting-edge technology and government monitoring, as well as the delicate balance that needs to be struck between privacy and security in our globalized society.
In conclusion, 33 Thomas Street is still a famous and mysterious tower in New York City, encapsulating the secrets of contemporary monitoring as well as the history of telecommunications within its concrete walls. Its actual level of participation in government eavesdropping may never be known, but it represents the fine line that must be drawn in our connected world between security and privacy.
I Received a Panicked Video Message from My Mom — I Was Stunned to Learn What Dad Had Done to Her.
While Annie is having a lazy Saturday, sitting around and scrolling through social media, a video message from her mom pops up. As she hits play, Annie discovers that one of her father’s pranks has left her mother scared and alone. Annie rushes over to her parents’ house, ready to teach her father a lesson.
I didn’t think my dad would ever take one of his dumb jokes this far, but here we are, having lived through it. My phone lit up earlier today with a video message from my mom that made my heart stop for a second.
I wasn’t prepared for what I saw, and now, hours later, I’m still trying to process the whole thing.
Let me back up a second and give you some context on how everything went down. My dad is what you’d call “old school.” He has this grumpy exterior, like he came straight out of the 1970s and never quite adapted to life in the present.
He’s not a bad guy, but he can be ridiculously difficult to get along with. He doesn’t do heart-to-hearts or deep conversations. Instead, he sheds part of his grumpiness off when he’s at home and leans into his pranking nature. They are harmless, annoying little pranks that he thinks are hilarious but leave my mom rolling her eyes and sighing.
Most of the time, Dad does really stupid stuff like hiding Mom’s glasses when she’s looking for them or misplacing her keys right when she’s about to leave. These pranks have always been annoying, but nothing too wild.
Except today.
Today, Dad decided to really outdo himself.
I was in my little apartment about 20 minutes from my parents’ house. I was minding my own business, sipping on a soft drink and scrolling through TikTok, when my phone pinged with a message from my mother.
A video message.
The thumbnail was black, and all I could hear was her voice, which was muffled and kind of shaky. Like she was afraid of something.
That’s when I got a bit panicked. Mom wasn’t the type to send video messages. To be honest, I didn’t think she knew how to do it. Immediately, I knew that something was off.
I tapped play, and there she was. The camera was all shaky, and she was crouched in a corner, whispering like she was about to be caught by someone or something.
“Annie,” she breathed into the phone. “Sweetheart, your dad… he locked me in the basement. Can you come help me? He thinks this is funny. All because he wanted to eat in peace. I think there are rats or mice in the basement, Annie. Come quickly.”
What. The. Hell.
I was so shocked, I nearly dropped my phone onto the floor. Locked in the basement? He locked her in the basement? And it was supposed to be funny?
My dad, in all his “wisdom,” had apparently decided that the best way to enjoy his dinner in peace was to lock my mother in the basement. Just so that she wouldn’t remind him to eat his veggies during a precious football game? He truly didn’t care about his cholesterol.
I called her back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail.
“Pick up, pick up, pick up!” I muttered.
My brain went straight into overdrive. My mom never asked for help unless things were way beyond something she could do for herself. She was a woman who could handle herself. I mean, she’s lived with my father for years, so that had to count for something. But she was also a woman who was deeply afraid of the dark and confined places.
So now, she was locked in the basement and not answering her phone. Dad had really crossed a line with this one.
I texted her, but there was no response.
“Maybe her phone died, Annie,” I told myself. “She must be so afraid… and livid.”
I knew I had to get to her as soon as possible.
I grabbed my keys and bolted out of my apartment. I live about twenty minutes away from my parents, but I swear, I made it in twelve.
The entire drive, I was fuming, and I already knew how this was going to end. My dad thought he was clever, but if there’s one thing I inherited from him, other than his eye color, it’s the ability to come up with a solid revenge plan.
“I can’t believe the nerve of this man,” I said to myself as I turned into our street.
When I got to the house, I didn’t even bother knocking. I had my spare key, so I let myself in. As soon as I stepped inside, I could hear the muffled sound of the TV blaring from the living room.
Classic Dad.
He was probably sitting there, stuffing his face with steak. It was a home routine—Saturdays meant steak for dinner. Little did he know, I was about to teach him a lesson, too.
I headed straight for the basement. Sure enough, the door was locked, but the key hung from the hook next to the door.
I knocked softly, and Mom’s relieved voice came through the wood.
“Honey, is that you?” she whispered.
“Yeah, it’s me, Mom,” I said. “Hang tight, we’re getting you out of there.”
I unlocked the door, and when my mother stepped out, she didn’t even look mad. She just looked tired. But there was a glint in her eye, like she wanted to get revenge on my father, too.
“Dad’s still in the living room,” I said. “He didn’t even hear me come in.”
“Oh? He’s still enjoying his victory, then?”
“Yeah, well, that’s going to be short-lived, Mom,” I said.
There’s one thing about my father: he loves his “throne.” It’s a ridiculous electric recliner that he spent way too much money on a few years ago. He loves it more than any person in the world, which is sad and pathetic, but true.
The chair has heated seats, a massage feature, and even USB ports. He treats it like it’s something sacred in our home.
Naturally, I aimed my revenge at it.
I told my mom the plan, and she laughed nervously. We crept toward the living room where Dad was zoned out, still glued to his game, digging into his dinner.
I quietly unplugged his precious chair from the wall. And the best part? This man didn’t even notice a thing. Then, with my mom watching, I pulled a little tube of super glue that I had taken from the kitchen.
I smeared it over the chair’s buttons, still absolutely perplexed that my father didn’t register that I was in the room, right next to him.
After that, Mom and I went back to the kitchen. We sat on the bar stools in silence as Mom opened a tub of cookies for us to nibble on.
Ten minutes later, the game went to half-time. We could hear Dad shift in his chair and he tried to press the recline button. Nothing happened. He frowned and pressed it again, harder this time.
Still nothing.
“What the heck?” he grumbled, fiddling with the controls. Then, I saw it. The moment when the realization hit him.
He started pulling at the armrests, trying to get up, but his hands were stuck. His face turned from confusion to full-on panic.
“What’s wrong, Frank?” Mom asked, strolling into the living room.
“The darn chair is broken!” he complained.
“Oh, really? Maybe because you overuse it. But wasn’t it fine before you locked me in the basement?” Mom asked.
My father’s eyes widened.
“You didn’t… Wait! How did you get out?” he asked.
“Annie,” Mom said simply.
I stepped out from my spot in the kitchen, where I had been recording their conversation.
“Smile for the camera, Dad,” I said. “This is going in the family group chat!”
“You wouldn’t dare, Annie!” he barked at me, tugging helplessly at his stuck hands.
“Oh, but I would,” I said.
I pressed send, and the replies started rolling in soon. If there was one thing my father hated, it was being seen beyond his usual façade. He didn’t want people to see the real him. And this was him, an ugly person.
“I’m taking Mom home with me for the rest of the weekend,” I said. “You can figure out how to get yourself off your throne.”
Mom went upstairs to pack herself an overnight bag. I didn’t want to leave her with Dad. But I doubt he’ll be locking anyone in the basement anytime soon.
What would you have done?
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