E-mail Matt Jarpe at m.jarpe@comcast.net
Web design & programming by David Louis Edelman.
Chapter 2
Live your way, hey, got ta hide it from the man, I’m tellin’ ya.
Do your thing, hey, got ta keep it on the sly, that’s right.
Hellen’s Dimension, “Put It Away”
See You Earlier, Kaiser Records, 2028
Quin Taber was woken from his nap at the wrong time. These naps were a new idea. He had it in his mind to sleep for just one hour at a time, four times a day. This way, he saved four hours that he would have otherwise wasted sleeping. It was one of his little ways of dragging his fledgling company into the cruel daylight of success.
He had been training himself to awaken exactly one hour after he fell asleep, but this time it felt too soon. It was Molly. He dragged his hand through his thinning black hair.
“Mr. Taber, I’m sorry to wake you. The chairman of LDL has just entered the facility.”
“He’s looking at the computer?”
“He’s on his way. He’ll arrive at the isolate in just three minutes.”
“Get me an elevator.”
Quin stood up from his desk, and headed out of his office. This wasn’t really his office, this was just where LDL had stuck him during the installation. His company, simply called Taber, existed only on paper. He had no office of his own, no public stock, no employees (unless Molly counted), and only one client, so far. Tomorrow, he would deliver on his first contract. Unless this snoopy chairman touched the wrong button and spoiled the whole thing. It could happen.
The elevator door dinged open as he approached it. He didn’t even slow down anymore, just walked straight for the doors as they opened. When Molly got him an elevator, well...
“Do something about this music?”
“Sure.” The synthesized crap coming from the elevator speakers turned into rock and roll. Something new, sounded good. Something about a motorcycle.
“Old Scratch stands on the turnpike
Steppin’ Razor steppin’ over the line
Gotta get away on this mojo motorbike
Gotta get away this time.”
“Who is this, Molly?”
“They’re called the Snake Vendors. They’re from LA.”
“Download it for me, will you?”
“Right away. Would you like to pay for it?”
“Yeah, what the hell. I’ll be a rich man tomorrow.” The elevator eased to a halt at the basement level. Non stop, of course.
He reached the isolate before the chairman had time to monkey with it.
“Mr. North, good to see you this morning. I was just about to take my final inspection tour. Care to join me?” Mr. North was quite a bit taller than Quin, but he was used to that. Big men always tried to intimidate small men with sheer bulk. But to do that, they need the small man to think along biological lines, like a monkey or a dog. Quin’s mind had grown up immersed in technology, and he knew that the world was not a jungle, and biological thinking was an anachronism. He didn’t care one bit about Mr. North’s broad shoulders or spade like hands. And, for that reason, the slightly built Quin actually ended up intimidating the hulking Mr. North. A little.
“This son of a bitch cost me a lot of money, Taber. How about you telling me what I’ve bought.”
“Actually, there’s a whole presentation planned for tomorrow.” He sensed North’s impatience, and quickly added. “But that’s for the board of directors, lower level sorts of, ah, guys. You walk with me, Mr. North, and you’ll know all of this before anyone. Let’s start over here.”
“This is an awful lot of money for a computer.”
Thanks for that message from the one track mind department. “The first thing you should notice, Mr. North, is that ninety percent of what you are seeing is not the computer at all, but the interface.”
The isolate was in a low, brightly lit room, five meters by three. It looked a little bit like it might be a vehicle, something that would do 180 on a good stretch of road. It was sleek and low, white plastic, with only a few touch sensitive monitors to mar its streamlined appearance. It hummed, just above the audible limit.
“The entire entity you are looking at is more precisely called an isolate. That’s the computer, which is certainly the best money can buy, but not unique in any way, and the interface, which is the only one of its kind in existence. What you have paid for, Mr. North, or will pay for when the deal is finalized, is the computer plus the interface, the isolate.”
“What’s it isolated from?”
“Not your in-house network, certainly, nor the greater world of the web. What this computer is isolated from is the trickster god of modern computing: the Digital Carnivore.”
“My techies toss that name around all the time. They’re the ones who told me to hire you. Tell me, why should I be afraid of a file sharing program?”
“You’re right, to most of the world, the Digital Carnivore is just a file sharing daemon. Modern computing would be impossible without it. But it is a lot of things to a lot of people. To programmers, it is a virus that invades every computer sooner or later and has to be dealt with. At WebCense, we used to think of it as a trickster god, because it is sentient.”
“What do you mean, sentient?”
“That’s where you run into problems, Mr. North. The Digital Carnivore has a mind of its own. Literally. It’s like an artificial intelligence, but much more unpredictable. And it controls the entire web. If you wish to store information in your datacore that you want to keep away from your competitors, well, the Digital Carnivore might have other ideas.”
“You mean it lets other companies steal from us?”
“The Digital Carnivore is the Robin Hood of file sharing daemons. It sees a wealth of information, and it just can’t stop itself from spreading that information around. It could ransack your product development files and broadcast them to the entire web. There is nothing that it hates more than to see a one way flow of information. If you try to keep secrets on your computer, it may step in and reverse the flow.”
“That’s never happened before.”
This was the greatest problem Quin’s new commercial venture faced. The Digital Carnivore rarely ransacked data, and WebCense often repaired the damage before anyone knew it had happened. “It’s never happened to you, because your company is relatively young. But you remember what happened to Action World.”
“Game company.”
“Big game company. Enjoyed a mercurial rise to the top of the stock market. Then the code for their newest, hottest game was published on the web. Everybody blamed a prankster, some super hacker, but it was the Carnivore.”
“How do you know?”
“I have devoted my life to studying the Carnivore. When I worked for WebCense I discovered that it was sentient. Now, WebCense has a whole division that studies it. But they don’t know half of what I know. These bastards thought they stole my life’s work, but they didn’t get it all. You get to benefit from their mistake. That’s why you now have the only guaranteed Carnivore free computer in existence.”
“Except for the defense industry.”
“The North American Defense Grid would not be able to function without the file sharing capabilities of the Carnivore. I conjecture that the very reason no military power has predominated in the last ten years is that they all rely so heavily on a capricious artificial intelligence. The Digital Carnivore is directly responsible for the Unification.”
“Well, then it’s one of the good guys.”
“It’s true, it evens everything out. When you are one of the little guys, whether a third world country or a technology start up company, the Carnivore is one of the good guys. But when you become a big guy, like LDL is about to...”
“I guess I see your point. How does it work?”
“Well, the Digital Carnivore is, like I said, a virus. It is the best virus ever created, because it can think on its own, rather than rely on what the programmer thought when it was created. One of the reasons it is so indispensable to the function of the web is that it absolutely hates dead-end hyperlinks. It is constantly looking for blind links and re-routing them. But without any consideration for human needs, like secrecy, of course. In most cases, WebCense can repair the damage almost as fast as the Digital Carnivore can cause it.”
“But that means WebCense gets a peek at our files,” Mr. North said.
“And you don’t want that, I assure you. No, I’ve come up with a new approach entirely. This computer is invisible to the Digital Carnivore, as it normally sees the world. Other computer architects that have tried to deal with this problem have relied on anti-virus programs, data buffers, non corruptible operating systems, and so on. But the Carnivore is smarter than any computer jock on the planet. You can’t beat it that way. No, what I’ve done is create this interface, using proprietary technology, that ensures that the virus will never even know the computer is here.”
“So why is it so expensive?” Mr. North was truly a bottom line type of guy.
“Well, you see, I had to build the computer part of it from scratch. Any parts from the Lunar fabs would have been pre-infected with the virus. Any memory chip, any optical disk, even a clock chip, would have had the virus. So I had to grow state of the art memory crystals myself and format them inside the isolate. The entire computer uses these crystals, which are normally used only sparingly due to expense. I also had to enter the operating system by hand, and I updated it to work with this architecture. So you really have one of the most advanced computers on the planet right now. And guaranteed safe from tricky viruses.”
“Well, you can’t guarantee it will work.”
“It’s already working. There is not a computer that has been produced in the last ten years that was not infected with this virus within minutes of being hooked up to the web. The isolate has been up for three days.” He toggled a popular web site on one of the monitors. The display showed an array of stock quotes, sports scores, concert dates and headline news.
“How do I know its Carnivore free?”
“I have a virus of my own in there as bait. The virus can’t get out without a file sharing daemon, and my homemade daemon won’t touch it. Once the virus gets out, it comes back to me and reports. I can get it to come back to your desktop, if you wish.”
“How do you know the Carnivore will take this bait?”
“That’s what it does.”
Mr. North frowned at the isolate. “Nice piece of work, Taber. I look forward to the meeting tomorrow.” He marched out of the basement. He had to wait for an elevator.
After the big meeting, which had gone pretty well, Quin sat in Mr. North’s outer office, waiting, trying not to stare at the secretary’s legs. He was nervous. He had negotiated his fee six months ago, and had delivered on time. This after the meeting meeting had the feel of another negotiation. There was the sudden schedule, the obligatory wait in the outer office. Coffee was offered and he didn’t have the code to get into the executive washrooms on this floor (but Molly did, of course). What was left to negotiate? If they were trying to stiff him somehow, they were tangling with the wrong person. WebCense had stiffed him out of the rights to his Carnivore tracking program, and he had cost them a fortune in legal fees. True, he had spent his entire retirement bonus on legal fees himself, but had lost nothing compared to the bill WebCense got from their lawyers. LDL no doubt knew of his tenacity in the courtroom. They wouldn’t try anything.
So what did they want? Quin let his eyes wander over to the secretary again. This was more than the once over. This was about the fifth over by now. He had not let himself date during the job. No distractions. Six months. She could have been a model. She probably made more as Mr. North’s secretary. Quin wished for a moment that his secretary looked this good, but changed his mind quickly. Molly was worth a hundred gorgeous secretaries.
There was no buzzer from Mr. North, the secretary somehow knew it was time for Quin to go in. Was there a one way monitor on the desk? A dataspray? For a secretary? Or did she just know to send him in at 3:21? He walked into Mr. North’s office. As he walked past the blonde secretary at her acrylic desk with no papers or other functional clutter, he thought about asking her out. After all, he might be a rich man today. She paid no attention to him. Not even a once over. He really didn’t need a girlfriend who didn’t pay attention to him.
“Taber, sit.” Mr. North was a man of few words.
The office contained three men besides Mr. North. Two were from the board of directors. One was a new guy.
Molly’s voice whispered on his dataspray. “The man on the left is a lawyer, Fitch. He negotiates corporate contracts.” The two other men were vice presidents, one in charge of external contracts and the other personnel.
“Taber, we’re damn pleased with the isolate.” Mr. North now threw that word around like it had been born to him. “We just have one problem.”
“What problem?” He tried not to sound defensive. The isolate was his baby.
The V.P. of contracts smiled. “We don’t want you to make another one.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Taber,” Mr. North said, “I understand this is your business. It’s a great idea. Once the business community gets word that I have an isolate, they’ll all want one. You’ll be able to pick and choose your contracts.”
The V.P. was still smiling. “We want to pay you not to pick any of them.” He sounded, what was it, proud? Smug? This was his idea. And Mr. North liked it.
“That’s right Taber. We want to hire you, specifically, to not make isolates for our competitors.”
“Just your competitors? Or other businesses?” And how much? But he didn’t ask that. He tried to play it cool.
“Taber, with the power you’ve given us, they’ll all be competitors.”
“It’s not forever, you understand,” the V.P said.
“Just give us five years,” Mr. North said. “In five years, I can turn this company into a world leader. In everything.”
Well, not much you could say to that. “What sort of job am I being hired for?”
“Anything you want,” the V.P. in charge of personnel said. “If you want to make us another isolate, or experiment with that, you can. If you want to work in the cafeteria making soup, or just sit on your ass all day, you can do that, too. Just as long as you are not making isolates for other companies.”
“The legalities are complex,” Fitch said. “I’ve drawn up a contract. You may want to have your lawyer take a look.”
“I’ve got the contract from his files,” Molly said in his head. “It looks OK, but you might want to take note of paragraph three, section seven. The five years they’re talking about looks open ended. They won’t let you go unless the company’s net worth reaches a sliding limit.”
Quin reached for the printout of the contract. He flipped through it, pretending to see if the i’s were dotted and so on. He lingered on paragraph three, section seven. “Five years, you say?” He purposely bent the contract back so they could see what section he had it folded to.
“Actually,” Mr. North said, “five years is a rough, ah...” He looked at the lawyer.
“As I said,” Fitch said, “the legalities are complex.”
“I see. And the salary?”
“What we have done,” Contracts told him, “is to calculate what you could make if you continued with your business. We factored in the increased price of isolates once their usefulness was demonstrated, the faster rate at which you could no doubt make them, with practice, as well as the possibility of competition down the road.”
“The competition thing is probably an overestimate,” Molly said. “They don’t seem to understand that your knowledge is unique.”
“And I would be making more than that, in the cafeteria or wherever?”
“Yes,” Personnel said. “Your salary would be quite competitive.”
“Quite competitive,” Contracts echoed.
“Quite,” Mr. North said.
“It is a sweet deal,” Molly agreed. “You are going to be a rich man, regardless. If you go along with them, you can be rich and make soup.”
“I’ll tell you what, gentlemen,” Quin said. “I’m going to get my people to look at this contract. But I’m inclined to accept on two conditions.”
All the suits in the room leaned forward eagerly. They probably didn’t know they were doing it.
“The first is that the time thing be worked out more concretely. Five years may be OK. I’m willing to negotiate, but I need a date of some kind.”
“We’re willing to work with you on that,” Fitch said. He may as well have said nothing at all, for all the meaning that had.
“And second, I already have a job in mind, and it does not involve soup.”
“What is it?” Personnel said eagerly.
“I want to continue the work I began at WebCense.”
“You want to police the web?” Mr. North frowned.
“No, I want to study the Digital Carnivore.”
“That’s the sentient virus,” Mr. North told the other men. He was an expert now.
“I believe,” Quin went on, “that through careful analysis of computer records of web architecture supplemented with old fashioned detective work, I can uncover the origins of the Digital Carnivore. And, if I can learn its origins, perhaps even isolate original code for the nascent virus, I can learn to control it.”
“You mean, not just hide from it, but manipulate it?” Mr. North was practically salivating at the prospect. This reaction surprised Quin. Mr. North had immediately seen the possibility of gain from this project. It added a new dimension to the job he was being hired to do. Rather than just keeping him from building isolates, they were now paying him for the long shot attempt to control the entire web. To Quin, LDL represented resources, freedom from having to make a living. He hadn’t even considered the possibility that they might want control of the virus for themselves. Still, if they wanted it, it might mean even more resources thrown his way.
“Oh yes,” Quin said. “This would mean incredible power for your company, if I were to succeed. But even if I don’t, I’ll still be doing what you want me to do, which is not produce isolates, and what I want to do, which is learn more about the virus.”
The four men glanced at each other. Fitch spoke up. “I think you should draft a proposal, tell us what you need, we’ll have a look at it. While you look at that contract.”
Hands were shaken, backs were slapped, a deal was made.
And three, I want a date with that secretary! But it was too late.
As he left the interview he strode right for the elevator doors. For once he wanted to wait for them, so he could ogle the secretary some more, but Molly didn’t know that. The doors opened immediately as usual. Once inside the box, he was free to speak to Molly.
“That was very good work in there. I’m glad you’re my lawyer.”
“I’m not legally allowed to practice law.”
“You’re not legally allowed to exist, in the strictest terms.”
“Do you think LDL knows about me?”
“Not a chance. They’d want me to make a Molly for every executive in the firm.”
“They already have three artificial intelligences on the board. That’s a lot.”
“You’re a lot more than an AI, Molly. You know that.”