Chasm Waxing: A Startup, Cyber-Thriller

by B. Michaels

  “What do you mean?” asked Becca, softly.

  “Even for technically adept people that have programmed computers, deep learning for AI is a leap. In the past, experts in a particular field—domain experts—would create an algorithm to perform a specific task. Let’s say it was identifying heart disease from examining MRIs. Software engineers with healthcare experience would work with heart doctors. The cardiologists would then judge the results and help to refine the model. The algorithm was specifically designed to recognize heart disease. It may have taken months or years to perfect. It was specialized for that one task—only.

  “Deep learning is an entirely different computing paradigm. Once the neural network is trained for a specific task, deep learning algorithms are performing better than the domain experts. How’s that going to impact Cardiologists? Training can be accomplished in hours, days, and weeks.”

  “That’s incredible!” said Becca.

  “Yep. Nobody at Nucleus programmed this car to drive. They programmed it to learn from visual stimuli and then react accordingly. I didn’t program the AI to locate the Ark. Finding the Ark was simply a by-product of teaching the AI to comprehend written language.

  “General Shields didn’t understand the difference between strong AI and programming. I’m sure a lot of people will make that mistake. You and I are facing the unintended consequences of stronger AI—we’re not in control of what the computer learns. That threatens people. It’s going to threaten a lot more people in the AI epoch that’s just dawning. And just think what happens when the AI is as smart as us—and then gets smarter. AI is already better at facial recognition, chess, and Asian board game, “Go,” than humans. And we’re just getting started.”

  “I see what you’re saying. But, it doesn’t excuse Shields from treating us so poorly,” said Becca. Josh shook his head in agreement.

  Becca wrote a note: ‘I think you went overboard on this A-Car. We don’t need all these options. We’re only going to use it until Memphis. Then, the disinformation campaign software kicks in. After we return from Israel, it goes straight to the A-Grid.’

  Josh responded aloud, “Are you kidding? With the revenue this car is going to make on the A-Grid and our cut from the ad revenue, it’ll pay for itself very quickly. I selected the configuration that allows for the most ad space.”

  Within 15 minutes, the couple pulled up to Jared Adler’s estate. Jared hurried out to see the A-Car for himself. “I knew this was going to be a big deal. Autonomous vehicles are going to disrupt entire industries. I can understand why Nucleus shares have doubled in the past year. Just think how much profit the ride-sharing companies are going to make from company-owned cars. There’s no revenue to split. And that’s just one example.

  “Today, cars are parked 95% of the time. Imagine a world in which cars are parked for only 50%. Or 25%. Just like the steam engine, electric grid, and Ford automobile transformed cities; self-driving vehicles are going to radically alter the design of a metropolis. 30% of the land dedicated to parking can be repurposed. There will be much less congestion. Some years ago, I began buying parking garages in many big cities.

  “As this autonomous driving revolution occurs, I can convert the properties into new buildings and high-rises that will be in prime locations. I’m also adding to short positions in stocks that have been hit hard by driver-less vehicles, especially the car rental companies. They’ll be the new Blockbuster, if they don’t fix their business model. Blockbuster could’ve been Netflix. But they aren’t. They’re dead.” Investors shorted stocks when they wanted to make money from a stock’s decline in share price. “The only space I’m invested in more heavily is the Boston biotech scene.”

  “Welcome to the AI future,” said Josh, sardonically. “There’s going to be many winners and many losers—hopefully, more winners.”

  “I wouldn’t want to be a truck driver or delivery man for a living,” said Jared.

  “There are even broader implications than that,” responded Becca. “AI is authoring newspaper articles. Software based neural networks are writing software. What’s that mean for the future of my profession?”

  “I don’t think you need to worry,” answered Josh. “If I had to guess, I’d say AI won’t decrease the need for human written code. I think it will increase the need. In the 90s, when the object-oriented approach to software engineering was taking off, prognosticators said it would be the end of writing software. Everyone would just use pre-assembled objects. While some of that did turn to be prescient, fueling the growth of the open source movement; object-orientation only increased the need for software engineers. Of course, I could be wrong.” Josh smiled hopefully.

  Jared handed his son a note. ‘I talked to El Jefe. The team has dug the excavation shaft. They’re nearly finished with the staging area. By the time you get to Jerusalem, it should be complete. And they should’ve started the main excavation tunnel. They love the robot excavators. Our plan is coming together.’

  After he had read the note, Josh smiled excitedly and handed it off to Becca.

  In reply, Becca wrote: ‘That’s awesome! The Professor arrives at Ben Gurion Airport next Saturday night. On Tuesday, January 5, we fly from Mexico City to Amman.’

  Jared reached to shake Josh’s hand. Then, the Adler men tightly embraced one another.

  “Josh, I’m proud of you. Be careful. I love you.”

  “I love you too, Dad,” said Josh, with a lump in his throat. “Thank you for helping us.”

  Jared then hugged Becca. “You be safe. I’m looking forward to celebrating your wedding in the summer.” He winked at her.

  Josh welcomed the relief of tension. They all giggled.

  Five minutes later, Becca and Josh were on their way to Jerusalem; by way of Memphis, Brownsville, Matamoros, Mexico City, Amman, and Eliat. Hopefully, all of this travel would be accomplished without raising General Shields’ suspicions.

  *

  Eight hours into their journey, Becca gazed at a napping Josh.

  She enjoyed the holidays with Josh. Becca experienced her first Hanukkah. And Josh celebrated his first Christmas. He may be the one, she thought.

  The stress of being in charge of strict operational security for the last three months wore on her. Josh and Jared were both very headstrong, and a challenge to corral. All it took was one slip up, and the plan would be over—before it ever began.

  Josh opened his eyes and looked at Becca with bleary eyes. “Now, that’s the best way to wake up from a siesta,” he said, with a sleepy smile. “Once you get used to not having to steer, it changes everything.” Josh wrote: ‘I was dreaming about the Ark. What do you think it will be like to find it?’

  Becca replied: ‘I’m sure it will be exciting, but I haven’t let myself think about that moment. I think about everything else—hiding from the NSA, crossing into Mexico, the disinformation campaign, flying to Jordan, making it through the border crossing at Eilat, sneaking into Jerusalem, the dig, etc., etc., etc.! But, I haven’t really envisioned finding the Ark.’

  Josh said, “I guess that’s why we’re a good couple. I dream…you do.”

  “Hmm,” replied Becca, precociously. “Is that all? By the way, your Spanish accent is no bueno. It’s ‘SEE-esta,’ not ‘SCI-esta.’”

  Chapter 32 – International Travelers

  6:45 a.m. (EST), Saturday, January 2, 2021 – Memphis, Tennessee

  Elisha Robert’s House

  Zero-day was upon them. Becca and Josh were fleeing the country and executing their detailed cover story. Becca movingly said goodbye to her father. Elisha was surprisingly sturdy. He continued to remain steadfast that God would protect the couple. He also couldn’t stop talking excitedly about the growth in his church attendance. It had nearly tripled. “Hurry up and find that Ark! I need the Professor back here as soon as possible to teach the New Believer’s Sunday School
Class.”

  Earlier in the morning, they took steps to disguise their identities. Over the holiday, Josh had grown a stubbly beard. Today, he shaved his head. Becca went even further.

  “I’ve never pictured you as a blonde. I'm so used to your ponytail; I love the long hair! And you look sooooo good in those skin-tight, workout pants. What a hot Canadian you are, eh?”

  Becca laughed. “Are you saying I don’t look good in denim? I got this outfit so I could run faster than you. NSA police will definitely catch you first, Mr. Clean. Besides, Lululemon’s yoga pants are discount lipo. That’s why women buy them.”

  The couple placed their smartphones in the A-Car’s charging cradles. The plan called for the A-Car to reach L.A. in about six weeks. It was to stop and sight-see a number of times during the trip. The car was programmed to drive to the nearest SuperNight Motel each evening. Becca’s disinformation software made use of the AI’s API to create texts and emails during the journey. The messages would incorporate current events, local weather, and text exchanges to enhance their realism.

  Once in L.A., the A-Car was to visit Hollywood landmarks, take in a Rams game, then meander south to San Diego. After San Diego, the getaway algorithm had Becca and Josh taking Pacific Coast Highway up the entire coast of California, through Oregon, and on into Washington.

  Becca’s primary goal for the cover story was to buy time to depart the country without incident. She wanted to delay—for as long as possible—the knowledge that they’d left the States. She hoped that after nearly three months of surveillance, the NSA was growing weary. Hopefully, the analysts were either disinterested or sloppy—or both.

  Based on the timing of the excavation, Becca could adjust the pace of the self-driving car. If the dig indeed took six months, she felt their chances of detection were nearly 100%. No one could predict exactly what General Shields would do if he discovered their escape. Becca planned some bread crumbs she hoped would convince the General that they’d left the country to elope, if he figured out they were gone. She doubted he would buy it.

  Becca said a prayer. Then, she pressed the enter button on her laptop. The Python code deployed in their private cloud executed its main method. The disinformation software launched. Off motored the empty, self-driving A-Car.

  After hailing a cab to take them to downtown Memphis, Josh and Becca arrived at their rendezvous point. Jared had hired a driver for the 14-hour journey to Brownsville. Several times during the trip, Becca checked on the status of the A-Car. A little after 8:00 p.m., she said, “Here’s a moment of truth. The A-Car just dropped us off at the SuperNight Motel in Arkansas. Now it’s going to the A-Station for a charge.”

  Nucleus Corporation had worked a deal to locate A-Car robotic charging and gas stations close to SuperNight Motels. The couple was among the first in America to try a cross-country trip in a fully autonomous, driver-less car.

  “I’d feel like a pioneer headed West—if we were in the car,” said Josh, with a biting smile.

  “Yeah, let’s just hope we’re not like the Donner Party. They tried to get to California in the winter, too.”

  “That’s dark, Becca. You know…I’m pretty hungry.” Josh pretended to nibble on her arm.

  “Gross, that’s nasty. It’s way too soon for Donner Party jokes.” Becca shook her head in mock disgust. “Alright, the program has checked us into the motel and paid for the room. The sensors say that the robotic charging snake is operational, and plugged into the A-Car. Both the happy couple, and their vehicle, are re-charging for the night.”

  “Nice. How are we going to spend the evening?” teased Josh.

  “Sleeping in separate beds—until you put a ring on it.”

  “You’re wearing a ring.”

  “It’s part of the cover story. Just like sleeping with you,” said Becca, with a flash in her eye.

  “Touché,” said Josh, exasperated.

  A-OS turned an A-Car into a mobile Linux server, with a multitude of sensor hardware. It used 5G and Wi-Fi to link to the Internet. A large number of communication and status updates took place between the A-Car and Nucleus. Nucleus monetized much of this information. The company said all the comms were encrypted and private.

  Becca highly doubted this claim. She was pretty sure that, ''''''''' '''''''''''''''' ''''''' '''''''''''' '''''''' '''''''''''''' '''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''' '''''''' ''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''' '''''''' ''' '''''''''' ''''''''''' ''''''''' '''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''' '''''' ''''''''' ''''''''''''' ''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''' '''' '''''''''''' ''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''' ''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''' ''''''' '''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''' ''''' '''''''''''''

  She would connect with the A-Car using her anonymized laptop, communicating through a prepaid, 5G wireless modem. Becca hid a rootkit in the A-OS that allowed her to interact with the A-Car via an encrypted VPN link. She hoped all these anonymity and privacy efforts would mask her direct SIGINT with the A-Car.

  *

  Becca and Josh arrived in Brownsville, Texas just past 9:00 in the evening.

  Christmas decorations still adorned the city. Becca and Josh exited their ride in the unlit parking lot of a Hispanic grocery store. They ascended into the cab of a mid-sized moving truck. Painted on both sides of the van was the logo and tagline for, ‘Boss Storage.’

  Their new driver gave Becca the creeps. His leering eyes also seemed pleased with Becca’s blonde hair and tight yoga pants. A scar ran down the entire left side of his face. It looked like it was from a knife fight. Tattoos of dragons, scantily clad women, and Jesus covered the driver’s arms and neck. Becca drew no solace from the Jesus tattoo.

  Minutes later, the moving truck arrived at Boss Storage. After entering the access code, the driver meandered around a large number of outdoor storage units. There were tons of units; the facility was a massive maze.

  If anything happens, no one will ever find us, thought Becca. Josh looked just as uneasy.

  The disfigured driver stopped at Unit L. He backed the truck into a position, such that the van’s rear was very close to the storage unit’s entry. Everyone left the cab. The driver unhitched the moving truck’s rolling vertical gate. A two man team exited the truck, unlocked the storage unit, and lifted its retractable door. Then, they turned on the lights.

  The men were just as sketchy as the driver. Becca’s heart raced. The space was 30 feet, by 30 feet. Boxes and junk filled the room from floor to ceiling. There was a small path down the center of the unit. The driver told the couple to walk down the middle of the aisle.

  Becca and Josh anxiously looked at one another. “Rapido,” ordered the driver. The couple did as told. As they walked down the partition, the driver followed. Becca felt like their nightmarish chauffeur could put a bullet in the back of their heads at any second. Maybe this storage unit was nothing more than a mausoleum. The couple reached the end.

  Josh turned around and bravely said, “There’s a box in our way. And then a cinder-block wall.”

  “Move it,” commanded the driver. Josh pushed the corrugated box aside, revealing a closed, wooden hatch. “Open it.”

  Josh complied. The couple could see could see a long ladder, descending into a dark hole.

  “That’s deep,” Becca gasped.

  “Climb down the ladder. When you reach the fifth rung, you’ll find another light switch.” Josh began descending and turned on the light. Becca followed.

  The dim bulb revealed more of the shaft, but the floor was still shrouded in shadows. “Hold on tight. It’s a long way to the bottom,” said the driver, looking down at both of them. He sealed the wooden hatch. Becca was excited just to get some distance—any distance from him. “Thank You, God,” she said, with a soft voice.

  The climb was nerve-wracking, but not as stressful as the last 40 minutes. Becca estimated
that the ladder was about 100 feet long.

  “I don’t think this ladder would pass inspection by OSHA,” said Becca.

  Josh answered, “I’ll let you call them.”

  When they finally reached the dirt floor, there was another light switch. With a flick, numerous fluorescent tubes sputtered to life. They ran the length of the tunnel. Concrete completely encased the passageway. It was like walking through a storm drain. Air ducts hung from the ceiling, pumping in fresh air. Becca and Josh began their subterranean walk towards Mexico. Not only were they under the earth, but they were walking directly beneath the Rio Grande River.

  The couple hiked for about a mile and a half. After that, the concrete lining of the tunnel ceased. The next portion of the tunnel was hewn from the Mexican earth. Wooden beams, at intervals of every ten feet, reinforced the sides of the dirt tunnel. Water slowly dripped at many places along the way.

  Finally, another ladder appeared. It was much shorter than the first. Josh climbed the ladder and raised a stone enclosure. “Wow,” yelled Josh. “This is so awesome!” Becca scurried after him. The couple had climbed into a plush hotel room. Well, it was plush for Matamoros.

  “Buenas noches, Mr. Benjamin and Ms. Boucher. Welcome,” said a maid. “If this is acceptable, this will be your room for the night. I was just making sure everything was ready for you. Your driver will take you to Mexico City in the morning.”

  *

  The travels in Mexico went smoothly. Customs at the Mexico City International Airport barely even examined their fake Canadian passports. Amman agents were a bit more diligent, but not by much.

  Now, they were embarking on the most dangerous phase of their trip, moving from Jordan into Israel—through the Rabin crossing point. A salty breeze blew from the direction of the Gulf of Aqaba. Becca and Josh wore broad smiles, aided by the cotton balls stuffed in their cheeks. Before they got to the crossing point, Becca applied makeup to both of them. It distorted the contours of their faces. She had ditched all her electronics; there was plenty stashed on the other side.