“We have some very exciting projects on the horizon,” interjected Diego. “You’re going to be amazed. They could really flip things on all three of those points.”
“Uh-huh,” said Anja dubiously, “and what’s the timeframe on these projects?”
Chris gave Diego a stern look. “You know we can’t discuss stuff like that.”
“I thought there was talk of having me join the board?” said Anja.
“Absolutely, there is,” said Chris. “We’re very close to getting consensus, which is a big deal. The vote is coming up at our next meeting.”
“Well, you might as well not waste the board’s time,” she replied. “It’s obvious you haven’t been reading my articles. Besides, I’m going out of the country. Off-grid in Transylvania for five weeks.”
“Honey, please, we need to be able to stay in touch. This is a critical time for us. There must be some cell towers around there.”
“You’re definitely going to want to stay apprised,” said Diego. “The beta testing has already started. Really revolutionary stuff.”
“As I said, I’d need to know the timeframe if you want me to be interested.”
Diego looked pleadingly at Chris.
“Four to five years is probably a realistic estimate,” sighed Chris.
“That’s ridiculous!” exclaimed Anja. “Even if you said four to five months, you’d still be too late. You obviously have no clue what kind of stakes our planet is facing.”
“Honey,” said Chris. “You’ve got to understand. There are a lot of parameters outside of our control. We have to be careful.”
Anja angrily stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind her. If only she could have known that the actual time frame was more like four to five weeks. If only she could have known this was the last time she would ever see her father.
Four
September 8, 2024
Dealu Floreni, Transylvania, Romania
Anja landed her father’s corporate jet at a small aerodrome in Dealu Floreni, Romania. It was the third time she had been to Transylvania in the past two years. Chris didn’t particularly like the way Anja commandeered his jet for weeks at a time, but he tolerated it because he knew how much her psyche was nourished by visits to remote wilderness.
Perhaps it had something to do with making up for the deficit caused by the death of her mother, Matija. Chris had sent Anja to boarding school in the final years of Matija’s battle with pancreatic cancer, even though Anja had pleaded to stay home. Ever since then, he had found it near impossible to say no to any request made by his daughter.
This time, there wasn’t even a request. Anja just took the Bombardier Global 8000 from the hangar at the San Jose airport—security knew better than to intervene—and off she went, flying solo through the night. It was a fifteen-hour flight, but she remained wide awake for the duration.
Anja’s travel to Transylvania had been one of the few things that made sense to her in recent years. Her research at the think tank demanded that she spend long hours evaluating every facet of what, in her view, indicated the certain demise of the human species, as well as most of the other plants and animals. While her publications in scholarly journals were widely praised and often cited, they usually made her feel worse, not better.
If she had had her way, she would have become a botanist, not a renegade computer scientist slash radical economist. But that never would have been acceptable to her father and confrontation was the last thing she had desired in her difficult college years. She had settled for taking lengthy vacations in the most wild terrain she could find.
Before discovering Romania, she tended to visit developing countries with virgin wilderness areas, such as Sossusvlei or Salar de Uyuni. When a friend mentioned to her that over half of Romania was occupied by the rugged Carpathian Mountains and their foothills, she became intrigued. Studying maps, she could see that the Carpathian range ran through the country in a broad counterclockwise swirl. Inside this swirl lay the region called Transylvania.
Perhaps this was the land she needed to explore, she intuited, and certainly not because of its unfortunate association with Dracula. The natural geographic border provided by the Carpathians made it far less touched by modern civilization than most places.
But nothing could prepare her for the experience of actually hiking through the primeval forests, brushing against the unspoiled meadows of vibrant wildflowers, and spying on wild bears, wolves, lynx, red deer, and eagles. It seemed impossible that such a rich biodiversity could still exist in Europe in 2024. The abundance of bees busily producing vast hives of honey almost made her want to retract her dire predictions about the earth’s fate.
Of course, she knew Transylvania was just an aberration, a mini-miracle that had no bearing on the overall direction of the planet. But she craved being there nonetheless. Her desire was so strong that it even quashed the berating inner voice accusing her of accelerating global warming by using her father’s jet. Yes, she was a member of an elite, ultra-privileged few, the 0.1 percent who could engage in such a ridiculously indulgent act. Yet still, she had to proceed—without question or debate.
From the moment she first set foot on the terrain, it was pure joy. She would walk and walk and walk for days on end, with just a small knapsack on her back, barely taking time to rest or sleep, until some kind shepherd would take pity on her and lead her to a room in an alpine hut with a cozy fire, where she would be fed sour tripe soup, brinza cheese and mamaliga.
None of the locals questioned why she was there. Somehow, they inferred from the intensity in her eyes that she belonged, like a long-lost sister. At each encounter, she was shown kindness and understanding without any trace of judgment. “How could this be possible?” she often thought to herself. “How could this be real when the rest of the world feels so lost?”
She rarely had to ask anyone for assistance. Whatever she needed, whether it be food, lodging, or directions to a trailhead, the villagers cheerfully provided. She crossed one resplendent mountain pass after another, descended into one magical valley after another. As she drifted aimlessly, soaking in the pure vibration of the land, she found herself visiting dozens of rustic farms and small villages, with no particular objective other than to be present.
Initially, she had considered conducting scientific research, perhaps to monitor the impact of global warming in the region or to measure the inroads being made by technology. But it soon became clear that this was not to be her function. Her goal in Transylvania was something far more important, even if unnamed and unspecified.
This time, when she landed at Dealu Floreni, she disembarked from the jet without even her knapsack and smartphone. If she knew how, she would have left behind her thoughts too. There was nothing she wanted to analyze or evaluate or assess. She most definitely was not going to be checking in with her father.
Anja pushed away all consideration of the mess the earth was in—or more precisely, the mess that humans had made of the earth. She had crunched the numbers a million different ways, analyzed a million different scenarios, factored in a million different assumptions, and they all led to the same conclusion.
Forget it, she decided. She was simply going to live, breathe, exist. What more could she do?
Five
September 10, 2024
AI Laboratory, 5s2, Menlo Park, California
Not a single cloud dotted the azure sky as the core team entered the AI Lab for a 10 a.m. status meeting. All nine members had been summoned to the top-floor conference room. Chris was there to preside.
Two sentences into Chris’s opening remarks, a photo memory of a family outing flickered across Diego’s glasses. The image reminded Diego that his son was performing in a school play. His wife had told him the night before, but he had forgotten to add it to his calendar.
“It’s a kid thing,” he explained, rushing out of the room. “Go on without me, I’ll be back in an hour.”
Diego was halfway to t
he Walter Hays Elementary School in Palo Alto when the AI Lab was approached by a swarm of 324 drones. Security guards managed to take down twenty-six of them before they entered the building. The remaining 298 drones divided into four squadrons, one for each side of the building.
The lab automatically went into high-alert lockdown mode, but the drones were only deterred for a matter of milliseconds. Using state-of-the-art laser drills, they punctured the photovoltaic glass on the top-floor. Then, with surgical precision, they fired cyanide-laced bullets at everyone in the conference room.
Chris and the other eight team members were instantly killed. The drones raided the lab for all available intelligence. Then they flew off to an unknown destination.
It was yet another massacre to add to the sad saga of biological human beings.
Seated next to his wife in the Walter Hays auditorium, Diego felt a pulse from his watch. His son had just spoken his first line in the play. He flicked his wrist and a text message appeared: “Stay where you are! Chris and the others have been murdered. SWAT team will escort you and your family to safety.”
Diego thought it must be some kind of prank, but then the play came to a sudden halt. He looked to his right and saw six police officers approaching from the aisle. More officers descended from the stage, still more from behind him and from the aisle to the left.
“Everyone remain calm,” a voice said from the PA system. “There is a state of emergency at 5s2 headquarters. Diego, Rebecca, Paul… we’re taking you to a secure location.” He, his wife and his son were ushered out of the auditorium and into a SWAT vehicle.
His wife, Rebecca, began sobbing. His son, Paul, shouted, “Stop! Make it stop! I want to finish the play!”
“This must be some kind of mistake,” said Diego, in stunned disbelief.
Of course, it wasn’t a mistake. Rebecca and Paul were brought to a safe house. Diego was taken to the local coroner’s office to identify the bodies.
From the moment Diego saw the carnage, he was forever changed. Chris had been his best friend, his mentor, the person he was closest to and most admired in the entire world. The other team members had been like family. They had gone through everything together. Diego had never dreamed he would be so lucky to work with such people—and now they were all dead.
He didn’t have clarity yet, but he had resolve. 5s2 had a war chest of over three trillion dollars in cash. Things were going to change, he would make sure of it. A line had been crossed, not just for himself, but for all of humanity. He didn’t care what it took, he didn’t care what he had to do. The madness was going to come to an end, once and for all.
Six
September 11, 2024
5s2 Board Room, Menlo Park, California
The following day, an emergency board meeting took place at 5s2 headquarters. The president of the United States dispatched Army Special Forces equipped with anti-aircraft weaponry to ensure there were no further attacks on the campus. Sixteen hundred National Guard troops provided additional security.
Prior to Chris’s death, there had been eight members of the 5s2 board of directors. As CEO, Chris had been the only employee of 5s2. The other seven board members were highly successful leaders of various large corporations.
All of them had tear-filled eyes as the chairman of the board, Ed Samali, called the meeting to order. “This is not the kind of gathering anyone ever hopes to attend,” he said somberly. “I was fortunate enough to have Chris as one of my dearest friends, and I can assure you he will be missed beyond measure, as will all the individuals senselessly killed in this cowardly act of terrorism.
“The perpetrators will be brought to justice, of that I have no doubt,” he continued. “In the meantime, we have a duty to maintain order at 5s2 and guide this great enterprise as best we can. It is with this objective in mind that I nominate Diego Ripall to serve as interim CEO of 5s2.”
The chairman enumerated Diego’s many achievements as senior vice president of Software Engineering. He then put the nomination to a vote. The other six board members readily affirmed it.
Diego was ushered into the meeting flanked by two Special Forces officers. Four additional security guards stood inside the boardroom.
“Thank you,” he said with a wavering voice. “Thank you to everyone for your confidence. I do greatly appreciate it. And I do have a great desire to continue to serve 5s2 to the best of my ability.”
He paused to dry his eyes with a handkerchief. “As you might imagine, I’ve been shaken to my core by recent events. My entire world was turned upside down yesterday. In one horrible moment, my closest friends were all taken from me. This is not something one can easily accept or process. Not in a day, not in a year, not in a lifetime.
“Fortunately, I haven’t been alone in facing this grief and sorrow. I’ve spent the past twenty-four hours with the spouses, children, friends and relatives of my dearly departed colleagues. We’ve tried our best to console one other. But there are so many questions—why, how, who? And needless to say, we have a major security breach on our hands here. So before I speak further, I’d like to confirm that this room is indeed secure and free of listening devices.”
“Both our internal security teams and Special Forces have given their assurances in that regard,” said Ed.
“In that case, I need to kindly ask that all security staff depart the room. Just board members, please.”
The chairman nodded in assent and the security officers exited the room. Diego then proceeded to explain Nikita’s discovery in detail. He also pointed out that he was the only member of the AI team who remained alive.
“Are you suggesting that the attack was related to this discovery?” asked the chairman.
“Yes,” said Diego. “It’s the only explanation that fits. I don’t think any of our team members, or any of our employees, are responsible. Rather, as much as I hate to admit it, I believe our lab must have been hacked.”
“Any idea who might be responsible?”
“I can only speculate—perhaps a competitor, perhaps China or Russia. These past twenty-four hours, I’ve played out countless revenge scenarios in my mind, but I don’t find any of them compelling. At this point, I don’t think it even matters who’s responsible.”
“What do you think matters?”
“I believe we must dig deep within ourselves to reach for the highest good. It’s not a time for vengeance or greed or war or selfishness. None of those things have ever led us anywhere worthwhile. For the sake of not letting these terrible deaths be in vain, I believe it’s time for us to reach for a whole new vision of humanity—one where all benefit equally from society’s riches.”
“And you feel you could accomplish this as interim CEO?”
“I do, yes, with your support. But I should warn you, I cannot and will not take the safe path. I cannot and will not act for what is in our shareholders’ best interests, unless I’m sure in every fiber of my being that it’s also the best option not only for our customers, but for every human on this earth.”
The other board members sat in silence, struggling to digest his words.
At last the chairman spoke. “Without question,” he said, “all of us here have nothing but respect for the commitment you express. But I must confess, I’m puzzled. Perhaps if you could tell us more concretely what it is you envision for 5s2 going forward?”
The others murmured in agreement.
“Of course,” replied Diego. He paused to stare at the confused faces before him. The truth was, he had no concrete plan of action.
Taking a deep breath, he found himself thinking about Anja. He had already called her, emailed her and texted her repeatedly, but so far she had not replied. As much as he dreaded breaking the news to her, he felt even worse that she still did not know. Ever since she was a little girl, he had sensed she carried a special spark—one which he yearned to carry himself.
Anja’s most recent journal article had outlined in painstaking detail each of the steps
required to combat Silicon Valley’s role in undermining democracy, advancing global warming and increasing income inequality. He agreed with all her points wholeheartedly, though he’d said nothing to Chris about them. But his days of passivity were over. “Never again,” he said softly to himself.
“Diego?” interrupted Ed. “Are you still with us?”
“Yes, yes, I’m here.” Suddenly, it was so clear he could hardly believe it.
“Please continue, Diego.”
“What I envision,” he asserted, “is that we give away our discovery for free to anyone who wants it. We have no way of knowing what our aggressors plan to do with the code they stole from our lab. We cannot rule out the possibility that they might be able to reverse engineer an approximation of Nikita’s algorithm. However, what we do know is that it will be valueless to them if we beat them to the punch, if we promptly give away all our knowledge and more.”
“Give away all our knowledge?” asked Ed.
“Yes,” he replied, “I’ve already confirmed that we still have access to Nikita’s research, the algorithm and all its support applications. Chris and Nikita were the only two individuals who knew the location of his testing rooms, but Nikita very cleverly left us backdoor access via a password that he provided to his wife. Therefore, all the work our team has done remains very much at our disposal.”
The board members looked at one another nervously.
“If we act swiftly,” continued Diego, “we have an opportunity to ensure that this work does not go in vain, that it does not get exploited by those with malevolent intentions. But we need to be brave enough to move beyond our comfort zones, to stretch further than we might think possible, to embrace a destiny that is greater—with more freedom, joy and abundance—than any of us might have ever imagined.”
Zero Percenters Page 2
