Solid State Rhyme: A Novelette (Mandate) (8 page)

Chapter 10

Daniel's dad called from the living room, “Hey, Dan, take a look at this.” Daniel was still sleeping, still disoriented. He had fallen asleep on his bed, still fully clothed. He sat up on the edge of his bed, sleepy-eyed and disheveled. Had someone called his name?

“Dan, you awake yet? Check this out!” Dad must have called his name, waking him. Daniel peered at the clock, still unplugged and forgot about his watch. He stood, fumbled his hair with his hands in his typical morning style, and lumbered out of his bedroom, heading toward the living room. Daniel wasn’t even sure if it was morning yet. The fact that Dad was in the living room was a clear sign it was still night. Dad was sitting on the sofa, his favorite spot.

Daniel sat next to him, still not quite awake, when he heard something come from the TV that caught his attention. “Look,” his dad said, pointing to the news channel.

“ . . . the worst case of publicized computer virus scare in the last two decades. Our correspondent in Washington, D.C. has the details for us. Sue?”

The picture faded from the network affiliate to a scene outside the J. Edgar Hoover building in Washington, D.C. The seal of the FBI, containing the words “Department of Justice, Federal Bureau of Investigation” adorned the top right corner of the video feed.

“Dad, why are we watching American news?”

Alan gave Daniel a funny expression. “I was just flipping. We'll check the BBC in a minute.”

The correspondent who stood in front of the building—FBI headquarters—spoke, “That's essentially correct, Tom. But the scope of this occurrence goes far deeper than any previous attack that we know of. Washington, D.C. has been hit specifically, causing many to suspect Wong Lou Fey, who is alleged to be responsible for the disruption of the Hong Kong stock exchange last year. He has earned the title of “Most wanted digital terrorist,” although many who are familiar with this sort of crime recall when this type of criminal was called a
hacker
.”

Daniel was wide awake at this point. Alan gave him a curious look with raised eyebrows. “What do you think?” Daniel was watching the news broadcast, and didn't even hear his dad's question.

The screen temporarily returned to the network affiliate, no doubt in New York, who asked, “Sue, as far as you know, what is the extent of the attack?”

The screen returned to Sue in Washington, D.C. “The details are sketchy. What we do know is this: the FBI released a statement to the press stating that a malicious virus had attacked and
destroyed
a central FBI network. They also said that this in no way affects the FBI's operational readiness.”

Tom said, “Has the FBI mentioned—” and was cut off in mid-sentence when a roar of noise engulfed the Washington, D.C. correspondent. The camera centered on Sue, who had sidestepped to the right, as the crowd of reporters and journalists jockeyed for position on the steps of the building entrance. Sue spoke over the deafening sound, “An FBI spokesperson has just emerged and is approaching the podium.” The camera operator focused on the entrance to the J. Edgar Hoover building with a wide shot, and slowly zoomed in to the podium.

The unnamed spokesperson said, “The policy of the Federal Bureau of Investigation has not always been one of disclosure with the public, for obvious security reasons, but I believe it is my prerogative as director to inform you of what has taken place in the past twenty-four hours.”

Several reporters yelled, “It's the director!” and chaos ensued. An unintelligible wave of questions were all voiced at once as the director paused, and he held up his hands to indicate he was not yet ready for questions.

When the press quieted down, he continued. “A malicious computer virus has infected several key networks within the bureau. I have been informed of a potential danger. We are investigating the source of the attack, and as yet, no one has claimed responsibility for the hostile action taken against the bureau. However, the danger lies in the past twenty-four hours, the period of time before the virus was detected. As you all know, every police department, every highway patrol station, every cruiser has access to public FBI files.”

The press burst out once again into a roar of confusion. Many were communicating with their offices, asking for confirmation from local law enforcement offices. The director held his hands high, attempting to calm the chaos. He spoke above the din of noise, “That's all I have at this time!” He turned the podium over to one of his assistants, someone from the National Press Office.

Alan gasped out a faint “Blimey,” his eyes glued to the screen, his mouth slightly open.

Daniel watched as the news feed continued.

The assistant pointed to someone off to the right, who immediately asked, “Has the virus been contained?”

The assistant replied, “Not entirely. Numerous law enforcement agencies around the country may be infected. We have isolated the contamination within the bureau. The virus spreads with astonishing speed.” He paused, then pointed to someone in the front.

“What kind of damage was done?”

The assistant whispered to a well-dressed man to his left, covering the microphone. After a few seconds, he replied, “Key systems have been damaged, and require outside assistance to bring back online. Since we do not yet know how long the virus has been dormant, there's a chance that backup systems may be infected as well.”

The well-dressed man turned his head, covering his right ear, as if listening to something. He patted the assistant on the shoulder, and they whispered back and forth as before. Then the assistant spoke again, “I've just been informed of some progress in the case. We may have located the source of the contamination. I'm afraid I can't share any more information, as it may jeopardize the case. Thank you.”

The assistant and those with him left the podium, as the press tried to get him to answer more questions. A moment later, the scene disappeared and the network affiliate returned, informing the TV audience that they would continue to cover the story as the case progressed.

Alan shook his head with his usual sign of narcissism. He always disliked the way people revered computers. To him, they were simple tools, not the center of society that so many worshipped. He believed the fad would pass, as most things did. Therefore when computers “screwed things up,” he expected it, even looked forward to it. Alan hadn't even seen his son turn pale, or seen his eyes grow wide, or see him bolt out of the living room.

*

Daniel ran to his bedroom and flipped on his padd. A few seconds later, he clicked on the icon that was a shortcut to the FBI web site. His browser searched and searched, but could not find it. They were telling the truth, and they had shut down their computers, even the silly web server. But
that
must have been the entry point for the virus. How else?

Daniel docked the padd and started typing away with the full keyboard feverishly. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of his face and clung to his cheek before splashing to his desk. Suddenly the itch in the back of his mind came into focus and he acquired the thought that had eluded him before. He shook his head in despair.

How could I have been so careless?

Daniel recalled the time when the Bot population had dropped to 25 percent, followed by surges, like a sine wave. They had been
leaving—
pouring into the Internet, not being weeded out by his little helper program. If anything, that was interpreted as a threat!

Daniel recalled how the lone Bot had carried the body of its ancient ancestor to a safe place and waited.

Daniel let out a sigh, then turned his gaze to the server that was still the home of the Bots. The interface was still an epitome of chaos, but the home services were maintained. He had no way of knowing what was going on in the machine, but he was not willing to shut it off and destroy the months of developing Bots inside. He imagined a way of saving them all to his padd or to an outside backup system—keep them alive but allow him to reboot the machine. But they were just too dynamic, too fast! In the time it took to copy a single Bot to an off-site location, if he could even do it, a thousand generations would pass. It was impossible.

Daniel held the monitor in his hands, staring at the ripples, lines, and blocks of chaos on the remote terminal. He believed what he was seeing were Bots trying to optimize the GUI without any human operator present to show them what they needed to do. He was watching live Bots, moving around, in real time. If thousands of generations passed every second, was there anything they could not do, given enough time?

Nothing of this magnitude had ever happened during his short fifteen years on Earth. He wasn’t sure how to handle the situation. As a result, he felt obsessive about his creative work. His eyes became intense. That was no
virus
attacking the FBI, it was his Bots! But why would they do something like that, and why the FBI, specifically?

The Bots were alive. There was no doubt in his mind. He may have not planned it quite this way, but they had come alive at some point. They were sentient. If that were true, and he believed with all his heart that it was, then there must be a way to communicate with them. There must be a way to stop them before they infested any other networks and unknowingly placed the blame upon him.

Daniel vowed to preserve them. They were his children . . . his creation. They had evolved beyond his ability to understand their inner workings. The last time he had debugged a Bot had been days ago, maybe weeks ago, he couldn't remember. They were obviously far superior now than they had been before. It was a chilling feeling, knowing that something was really living inside a computer. He felt responsible for them. He couldn't just destroy them. Before he rescued them from the malignant home server, he would have to ensure that they didn't escape again. He disabled the wireless system on the server.

Daniel startled himself with the thought:
They are already out!

Why had the FBI computer network been destroyed? What could they possibly be doing to cause physical damage? Perhaps the FBI was exaggerating? What if the Bots were just
improving
the FBI's network, like they had done to his padd?

Daniel began putting his plans into motion. He copied everything from his padd to a memory card for safekeeping and then wiped the padd clean. The only thing remaining on the padd was the operating system. He created an operating system backup image, and then modified the system startup files to extract the operating system out of the backup image each time the padd was reset. This would restore the OS if the Bots infected the padd again. He still was not sure how they were able to modify the OS
outside
of their emulation layer. But, they had done just that, and he would take no chances. After all, it was for their own good.

Next, he re-created the Experiment folder and copied the original project files from the card he had taken to Mr. Robathan. Daniel then hid the operating system and everything else visible in storage . . . everything but the Experiment folder. This would be the only files visible. Daniel was counting on the fact that the Bots were able to screw up his computer simply by messing with the OS in memory. He honestly didn't believe they were able to break out of emulation. There must be something else going on with that emulation layer. It was as impossible for the Bots to live outside their world, as it was for humans to live in the vacuum of space. Their physical structure demanded that their world reside in emulation. The instruction that allowed them to “live” were meaningless anywhere else. Therefore, Daniel surmised, if he restricts the environment, he should be able to restrain the Bots.

Daniel was taking no chances. He feared a knock on the door any minute from some MI5 chap, upon request of the FBI, and then he would be carried off to Her Majesty's finest. “It wasn't my fault,” he imagined himself pleading. “They did it on their own.”

Right.
No one would believe him. He would be blamed for creating a malicious virus and sentenced accordingly. It was time to bring the Bots home.

*

Daniel sat in his room looking at the terminal screen of the infected server. His padd had a duplicate set of files running on the server, and in fact was even showing the early signs of infestation: screen twitching and general problems with the OS. Daniel closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and . . . pressed the power button to the server, wiping out the Bots.

He felt a sudden twinge of regret over the loss, but then quickly realized that they were even now invading the Internet and his padd as well. He knew how the Bots functioned better than anyone else in the world, so he alone was the most qualified to solve the problem. He swore that he would bring them under control. There was no way he would ever convince anyone that the Bots were, in fact, not viruses. Everyone would blame him for creating an adaptive virus program. In reality, they were small, living creatures that had evolved to their present state of . . .
existence
? But how would he convince the world that they didn’t mean to do any damage? They were just exploring. The Bots may or may not be sentient—he couldn’t be sure—but they were certainly intelligent and adaptable!

Daniel spent several hours thinking about the problem and writing a few test programs. He considered the problem from as many different angles as he could. What if he thought of the situation as a microbiologist? The Internet was an organism, and the bots were . . . an infestation? If that were the case, the organism should have an immune system to fight the invaders. Daniel caught his breath. The Internet had
no
such defense! Something like this was just
bound
to happen eventually. He needed to create an immune system, which would spread throughout the Internet, and keep any virus from ever attacking again, including his Bots.