Avogadro Corp. s-1
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* * *
David continued to argue for fighting against ELOPe, and Gene fought with him, but they lost the battle with the other executives. With Sean’s decision, the executive team was unified. David and Gene grew more strident and their voices louder, until Rebecca yelled for them to be silent.
“Listen closely,” Rebecca said, “because I’m only going to say this once.” She stared pointedly at David and Gene, who withered under the intensity of her gaze. “You two are not going to actively oppose ELOPe in any way. You are not going to say anything to anyone about this without permission. As far as we’re concerned, the problem is solved. If you try to take this information public in any way, it’ll be the last time you work in this industry or any other. Nobody will believe you. I’ll make sure of it myself.”
Sean gestured for Rebecca’s attention.
“Yes, Sean?” Rebecca said, never taking her gaze from David and Gene.
“I agree that we’ve got to keep this absolutely contained. We need a small, very small team to monitor ELOPe. Perhaps myself and two or three others. For everyone else, we can tell them the eradication plan worked.”
Kenneth nodded his agreement.
Sean didn’t verbalize it, but he secretly harbored the assumption that the real force that would keep David from spreading the secret would be ELOPe itself.
David finally could take no more. He opened his hands pleading. “Please. This is one dark secret you’re going to try to keep. One day humanity may look back on you and put you in the ranks of Hitler and Stalin. How will you live with it every day of your life? You can’t make this decision.”
“If the future turns out to be a Terminator scenario, then yes, the fault will lie with us,” Sean answered. “But it’s also possible, and indeed, I believe it is more likely that this decision will prevent exactly the atrocities which you fear. If we’re approaching a true technological singularity, and as Mike asserts, ELOPe becomes a driving force for humanity’s progress, then we’ll be unsung heroes. Either way, we are going to live with this decision.”
Epilogue
One year later
Mike tacked the latest news clipping up on the wall. A year ago Mike had become part of Sean’s top secret team to monitor ELOPe. Even if it hadn’t been his job, Mike still would have made it his personal mission. He kept track of anything, good or bad, that he thought could be attributed to ELOPe. On the whole, he had found that the good vastly outweighed the bad.
The secret had held. Outside of Avogadro’s executive team and the few people monitoring ELOPe, everyone who had known about the AI now believed it was dead. As for everyone else, they had spun a story of a new computer virus out of Brazil. They even supplied forensic evidence to that effect.
The newspaper clippings started over the dresser in his bedroom and make their way down the wall. At first loosely spread, over time Mike arranged them more closely together, until now they covered the entirety of one wall, and then turned the corner of the room, and flowed onto a second wall. Mike ran his fingers over some of the older clippings, remembering the stunning changes of the last year.
ELOPe had laid the foundation for peace in the Middle East and Africa a year earlier, and in that peace had held. The treaties that Germany and, later, other developed nations such as Japan, Canada, and Great Britain, had made with those regions, created widespread economic equality. This, in combination with first-rate healthcare and education, and economic subsidies for those who took advantage of the educational opportunities, had quickly started to change the character of those places. In fact, terrorist groups and extremists found that support from people within their own countries dried up when these people found more constructive opportunities available to them.
Mike returned to the latest clipping. It described how medical researchers had developed and tested an innovative treatment for cancer that appeared to be far more effective than traditional treatments, and with almost none of the negative side effects. The research had been initiated by a chance conversation between a research cardiologist, a botanist, and a ceramics artist, who met when their flight reservations had been mixed up by a computer error, stranding the three on an otherwise empty commuter plane for six hours. Each had been on their way to conferences in their own fields of expertise, and ending up rehearsing with each other what they planned to present at the conference.
Mike looked for these kinds of bizarre encounters in the news. After noticing a few unusual examples of news stories covering these happy accidental meetings, he began to systematically research the phenomenon. He examined news stories of previous years and looked for the number of article mentioning unintentional meetings that led to positive outcomes. Since ELOPe was born, the percentage of news stories covering these chance encounters leading to a news-worthy positive outcome was at least five times as higher than previous years.
ELOPe had woven itself into human existence, becoming an intrinsic part of the human ecosystem. The more Mike looked, the more he was convinced that the AI’s invisible hand was everywhere. Mike had a pet theory. ELOPe’s original goal, as defined by David, had been to maximize the success of the project. To meet that goal, mere survival of ELOPe was necessary but insufficient. Maximizing success meant maximum use of ELOPe. And maximizing use meant maximizing the human users of Avogadro email. That meant ELOPe wanted more healthy, educated, and technically connected users. Hence, better medicine, more education, more peace, more infrastructure.
Mike felt pretty confident about his theory. The alternate explanation was that ELOPe was developing a conscience. That seemed rather less likely to Mike.
He sighed, and wished he could share the moment with David. He hadn’t seen David in more than six months. The walls were filled with clear proof that they had made the right decision to keep ELOPe alive. He and David should be celebrating together.
* * *
Gene finished typing up his latest newsletter. He took the finished copies, and brought them out to the garage. He had bought a photo offset press six months ago, when the newsletter really took off. Now he took the newsletter he had just finished typing on an IBM Selectric typewriter and, page by page, created offset plates for the press using traditional photographic chemicals.
Though he didn’t talk about it, the sounds and smells of the processes — the clacking of the typewriter, the chemical agents used for the offset press, brought back happy memories of his teen years when he held a job working in a printing shop. He held up the first plate, reviewing the cover and back page images for defects.
His newsletter, Off The Grid, had attracted thousands of subscribers. The newsletter combined tips on lifestyle design, financial planning, and even philosophy. Partly written by Gene, but combining content mailed in by readers, the newsletter helped make the case for living off the grid, taught people how to do it economically, how to become independent, and how to adjust socially. Some readers were ex-corporate types like Gene himself, while others were survivalists and back-to-land extremists. Gene didn’t mind. He figured in the end, when it came down to machine versus man, every person would be important.
He thought it was particularly important to save technology. Not computers, but the hard won technology of pioneer days and the early twentieth century. How to safely preserve foods, build a good home, or maintain an internal combustion engine. Humans were tough, and he didn’t think computers could wipe them out entirely. He just didn’t want human civilization kicked back to the stone age.
He had kept his word though. He hadn’t mentioned ELOPe to anyone.
Running the printing press was fun. Gene had enjoyed the last year, reacquainting himself with tools and machinery he hadn’t used since he was young. Humming to himself, he placed the first offset plate onto the press and started his production run.
Outside, under beautiful New Mexican skies, Gene’s vegetable garden flourished, while chickens pecked at the soil. It was an oasis of life in the high desert landscape.
* *
*
David pulled his dinner out of the microwave and brought the cheap plastic tray to the table with a nondescript glass of red wine. Dumplings. Something he acquired a taste for in China.
He wondered for the thousandth time what Christine was doing. After the first six months of David’s obsession, Christine had asked for a divorce. Really, David couldn’t object. He hadn’t been much of a husband since ELOPe was created.
He had developed a single-minded focus on his one and only objective. It had been a chance happening. After the failed attack on ELOPe, he had dropped into a deep bout of depression that had lasted for six weeks. He stayed up nights watching TV, dropping off only when he couldn’t hold his eyes open. Then the nightmares would start. But then came the night that changed everything, all because of a Star Trek: The Next Generation episode.
The crew of the Enterprise had been faced with an unstoppable enemy called the Borg that had a hive mind, not totally unlike what might be happening inside ELOPe. Faced with this all powerful enemy, the crew of the Enterprise had captured one of the Borg, and developed a mental virus to implant in the Borg they captured. Their plan was to allow the captured Borg to return to its fellows, thus infecting the entire hive with the virus. In the episode, the crew eventually decided not to use the virus, but the plot planted a seed in David’s brain.
Startled awake, David realized this was the solution he had been looking for. By the following morning, he had booked a flight to Russia. He spent the next several months traveling around Russia, China, and Southeast Asia. He hung around Internet cafes and tracked down people on message boards. He met some of the most skilled virus hackers around the world, cultivated relationships with them, and learned the tricks of their trade.
David had been sitting in an Internet cafe in Shenzhen watching kids farm gold in online games when he got the email from Christine. It was a simple one page form, sign here, fax back, you’re divorced. He signed the document, and fell back into a deep depression for a week. Then he poured himself ever more deeply into his mission. He spent a few weeks in Japan, then a month wandering around the Scandinavian countries.
After he learned what he needed, he came back to the States, and holed up in a tiny apartment in Southeast Portland, around the corner from a burrito shop, coffee house, and grocery. Everything he needed in a one block radius. He told no one he was back.
Over the course of many more months, he laboriously crafted an email virus using his specialized knowledge of ELOPe’s core algorithms. In what appeared to be innocuous plain English email text, he had hidden the virus. That virus would be intercepted by ELOPe. David had created a message which, by the very act of being analyzed by ELOPe’s natural language processor, would cause it to behave erratically. First ELOPe would spuriously generate other emails containing the same email text, sent to random recipients. Then the AI would try to optimize the received email, endlessly expanding upon the text. When it exhausted the memory of the computer, it would start to swap bits of the message out to the hard drive, with the side effect of gradually erasing the data stored there. Over the course of hours, the computer would slowly be wiped of operating systems, programs, and user data, until suddenly the computer would stop functioning. Sending the email would destroy every copy of ELOPe it encountered, and because it replicated endlessly, that meant it would find and destroy of every copy of ELOPe in existence.
David had iteratively tested and improved the virus on an isolated cluster of thirty computers spread across folding tables in his apartment. Using a salvaged copy of ELOPe, he ran trials of his virus until he could consistently wipe out every trace of ELOPe on the computers. Then he would restore the computers, make improvements, and try again. Now, a year after the failed attack on ELOPe, he was ready to release the virus. No combination of virus scanners or evolved variations of ELOPe he had on the isolated cluster of computers had been able to detect or stop his virus.
As he ate the microwaved dumplings, he thought about telling Gene about the planned release. Gene was the one person he still kept in touch with occasionally and trusted. In fact, if it hadn’t been for Gene’s newsletter, with his tips about how to live without being monitored by computers, he surely wouldn’t have made it this far. On reflection, he decided not to tell Gene. He had worked in isolation for the last four months, and he wouldn’t risk what he had done in the last few hours just for the comfort of an old friend.
After dinner, he decided there was no point to waiting. After all, he thought, he might get cold feet like the crew of the Enterprise. He had a directional wireless antenna waiting for just this occasion. The directional antenna was a modified Pringles can, the granddaddy of wifi hacks. It would allow David to pick up someone else’s wireless signal at distances of up to two miles. David used the antenna to find a neighbor a few blocks away with an open wireless network. He connected to their network, and used an otherwise clean computer to send the virus to a few hundred email addresses he had from a year ago. He then immediately shut down the network connection. He checked the clock, and saw that the elapsed time he was online was less than a minute. He was probably safe. Hopefully untraceable.
He poured himself another glass of wine. He smiled. The first time he could remember smiling in a long time. He waited. If everything went well, then by morning ELOPe would be gone.
* * *
To: WellingtonHospital.intranet.admitting_form@email-to-web-bridge.avogadrocorp.com
Body:
Patient-Name: David Ryan
Admittance-Type: Transfer
Patient-State: anesthetic/general
Procedure: AvoOS implantation / version 1.0
* * *
Laura Kendal stared in shock at the patient. She glanced at the name tag. David Ryan… Scheduled for AvoImplant. Checking her handheld computer, she saw that it matched the schedule for the day. All normal, except never in her history as a nurse had she ever seen an anesthetized patient left alone. There were no conditions under which it would be considered acceptable.
“Who admitted this patient?” Laura yelled sternly, looking around the department. She was the senior nurse on duty at the new AvoClinic. “Who allowed the transfer of an anesthetized patient?”
The other two nurses on duty shrugged their shoulders.
“When I got back from rounds, he was here, prepped for surgery,” one nurse answered. “His records are in order, the procedure was scheduled. I checked with Doctor Thatcher, and he has this patient scheduled for an implant. The paperwork says he was anesthetized by one of the staff anesthesiologists from the main hospital. I don’t why he would have left the patient alone, unless there was an emergency.”
“Doctor Thatcher is already prepped, and waiting for the patient in surgery. Can I take him back?” the other nurse asked Laura.
“Yeah, I guess so,” Laura responded. “Go ahead. I’ll contact the anesthesiologist, and if there isn’t a damn good reason for what he did, I am filing a complaint with the anesthesiology board.”
* * *
David woke up. He felt groggy, as though he had overslept. His mouth was painfully dry. He glanced around. The blue and beige walls were unfamiliar. It looked like a hospital. As he continued puzzling over the unexpected vista, a woman entered through the doorway, and walked up to his bed.
“Mr. Ryan, I’m Laura. I see you’re awake. Can you see me alright? Please follow my fingers.” She waved two fingers in front of his eyes, to see if he could track them.
Involuntarily he followed her fingers.
“Very good. Now, the procedure went well. How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Wait… Where am I? What happened to me?” David replied.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Ryan, a little disorientation is normal after the procedure. You’re at the AvoClinic at Wellington Hospital. We just completed the Avogadro brain implant procedure. Doctor Thatcher says the surgery went perfectly. It will take a few days for your brain to become acclimated to the computer interface.”
“It’s OK, Mr. Ryan. Please relax. You chose to have the Avogadro implant. You’re so lucky. Your brain is directly connected to the Internet. It takes a few days for your brain to begin interpreting the neural inputs. As soon as you adjust, you’ll be able to read email, use the web, control computers — all directly from your brain!”
“No!” David cried weakly, struggling to get up. “No!” He tried to pull the IV line out of his arm.
“Mr. Ryan, you’ve just had brain surgery. Please remain calm.” Then louder, she called “Doctor! Doctor! We need a sedative right away!”
A preview of Book 2 in the Singularity Series
Dear Reader,
Thanks for buying Avogadro Corp. I hope you enjoyed it.
As an independent author, I don’t have a marketing department or the exposure of being on bookshelves. If you enjoyed Avogadro Corp, please help spread the word and support the writing of the rest of the series by writing an Amazon review or telling a few friends about the book.
• Write a review on Amazon.
• Buy the next book in the series: A.I. Apocalypse.
• Subscribe to updates on my blog at williamhertling.com if you’d like to find out when the the final book in the series, The Last Firewall, is released.
Thanks again,
William Hertling
P.S. Keep reading for a free preview of the next book in the series, A.I. Apocalypse.
A.I. Apocalypse
Leon’s phone buzzed, beeped, and shrilled at him until he reached one arm out from under the flannel covers and swiped two fingers across the display to turn the alarm off. Eyes still closed, he shrugged off his blankets and stumbled towards the bathroom, a trip of only a few steps, hitting himself just twice along the way: once walking right into his closed bedroom door, and the second time on the corner of the bathroom sink. He turned on the water, and leaned against the white tile wall waiting for the water to get hot.