Avogadro Corp

by William Hertling

  Leon hadn’t realized it, but sometime during his speech he had stood up, and walked towards the netboard at the front of the room. “The Mesh network is slower in some ways, and faster in other ways.” He drew on the touch sensitive board with his finger. “It takes about nine hundred hops to get from New York to Los Angeles by Mesh, but only about ten hops by backbone. That’s a seven second delay by mesh, compared to a quarter second by backbone. But the aggregate bandwidth of the mesh in the United States is approximately four hundred times the aggregate bandwidth of the backbone because there are more than twenty million MeshBoxes in the United States. More than a hundred million around the world. The Mesh is bad for phone calls or interactive gaming unless you’re within about two hundred miles, but it’s great for moving files and large data sets around at any distance.”

  He paused for a moment to cross out a stylized computer on the netboard. “One of the benefits of the Mesh is that it’s completely resistant to intrusion or tampering, way more so than the Internet ever was before the Mesh. If any node goes down, it can be routed around. Even if a thousand nodes go down, it’s trivial to route around them. The MeshBoxes themselves are tamperproof - Avogadro manufactured them as a monolithic block of circuitry with algorithms implemented in hardware circuits, rather than software. So no one can maliciously alter the functionality. The traffic between boxes is encrypted. Neighboring MeshBoxes exchange statistics on each other, so if someone tries to insert something into the Mesh trying to mimic a MeshBox, the neighboring MeshBoxes can compare behavior statistics and detect the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Compared to the traditional Internet structure, the Mesh is more reliable and secure.”

  Leon looked up and realized he was standing in front of the class. On the netboard behind him he realized he had drawn topology diagrams of the backbone and mesh. The entire class was staring at him. James made a “what the hell are you doing?” face at him from the back of the room. If he had a time travel machine, he'd go back and warn his earlier self to keep his damn mouth shut.

  The teacher, on the other hand, was glowing, and had a broad smile on his lean face. “Excellent, Leon. So Avogadro was concerned about net neutrality, and created a completely neutral network infrastructure. Why do we care about this today?”

  Leon tried to walk back to his desk.

  “Not so fast, Leon,” the teacher called. “Why exactly is net neutrality so important to us? This isn’t a business class. We’re studying national governments. Why is net neutrality and net access relevant to governments?”

  Leon glowered at a corner of the room and sighed in defeat. “Because in 2011, the Tunisian government was overthrown, largely due to activists who organized on the Internet. Egypt, Syria, and other countries tried to suppress activists by shutting down Internet access to prevent the uncontrolled distribution of information. The Mesh didn’t just disrupt Internet providers, it disrupted national government control over the Internet. Instead of a few dozen or less Internet connections that could be shut down by a centralized government, the Mesh network within any given country has thousands of nodes that span national borders. When governments tried to enforce Wi—Fi dead zones around their borders, Avogadro responded by incorporating satellite modems in the Mesh boxes, so that any box, anywhere on Earth, can access Avogadro satellites when all else fails. Between Mesh boxes and Wikileaks, it’s impossible for governments to restrict the flow of information. Transparency rules the day.”

  “Exactly. Thank you, Leon, you can sit down. Class, let’s talk about transparency and government.”

  Leon slumped back to his desk.

  “Nice going, dorkbot,” James called after class. “What happened to not sticking out?”

  “Look, the Mesh is just cool. It’s the way nature would have evolved electronic communications. Cheap, simple, redundant, no dependency on centralization. I couldn’t help myself.”

  “Yeah, well, have fun in history. Maybe you can give your history class a lecture on Creative Commons.” James’s tone mocked Leon, but when Leon looked up, he saw the corners of James’s mouth edging toward a smile.

  “Yeah, sure,” Leon said, smiling back. James turned and left, headed off to another class.

  Leon headed into his class, and started to settle into his chair, when his phone started a high frequency shrill for an incoming message. Leon pulled his phone out to read the message.

  Leon, this is your Uncle Alex. I hope you remember me - when I was last in New York, I think you were ten. I hear from your parents that you are great computer programmer.

  Leon rolled his eyes, but kept reading.

  I am working on programming project here in Russia, and I could use your help. I have unusual job that your parents don’t know about. I write viruses for group here in Russia. They pay very good money.

  Leon leaned forward, paying very close attention to the email now. Writing viruses for a group in Russia could only be the Russian Mafia and their infamous botnet.

  I run into some problems. Anti-virus software manufacturers put out very good updates to their software. Virus writers and anti-virus writers been engaged in arms race for years. But suddenly anti-virus writers have gotten very, very good. No viruses I write in last few months can defeat anti-virus software.

  You realize now I talking about running botnet. Because of anti-virus software, botnet shrinking in size, and will soon be too small to be effective.

  Unfortunately, although pay is very good, you must realize, men I work for are very dangerous. They are unhappy that

  “Leon. Are. You. Paying. Attention?”

  Leon looked up abruptly. The whole class was looking at him.

  “Can you tell us why the colonies declared independence from Great Britain?”

  Leon just stared at the teacher. The teacher was talking, but the words seemed to be coming from far away. What was he babbling about?

  The teacher went over to his desk. “Mr. Tsarev, will you please pay attention?” It was not a question.

  Leon just nodded dumbly, waited until the teacher turned his back, then went back to the email.

  They are unhappy that botnet is shrinking and give me two weeks to release new virus to expand botnet. Nothing I try has worked. I have one week left, and I am afraid they will

  “Mr. Tsarev.” Leon looked up, to find the teacher looming over him. “Do I need to take your phone away?”

  “But how would I take notes?” Leon asked in his best innocent voice.

  "That might be an issue if you were actually listening, but since you are not, I think taking notes is the least of your worries." The teacher walked back up to the front of the room, keeping an eye on Leon the whole time. In fact, he didn’t glance away from Leon for the entire remainder of the class.

  As soon as Leon could get out of the classroom, he headed over to the corner of the hallway to finish reading the message.

  I have one week left, and I am afraid they will kill me if I don’t deliver new virus. Nephew, your parents go on and on about your computer skills, and I must know if there is truth to their words. If you can assist me, please contact me as soon as possible. I give you much of the necessary background information on how to develop viruses: source code, examples, details on mechanisms that anti-virus software uses. There is not much time left.

  Whatever you do, please do not speak of this to your parents.

  Leon lifted his head up from the tiny screen of his phone, and looked off into the distance. Jesus. He remembered a Christmas when he was young, and his uncle had come to visit from Russia. Leon’s father had cried when his brother came into their tiny apartment, and during the days that followed all through that holiday time, Leon’s parents were as happy as he could remember seeing them. His parents were so serious most of the time, but he vividly remembered them laughing merrily, even as Leon lay in bed at night trying to go to sleep.

  The idea of writing a virus seemed absurd, and the idea that someone would be killed if he didn’t seemed no less
absurd. What could he do?

  He worried about it all through his next class, English. James sat next to him and threw tiny balls of paper at him. Leon just covered his ear, James’s likely target, and pretended to listen to the teacher, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the email. He just couldn’t reconcile the kindly man who had bought him a bicycle for Christmas with the idea of a man who worked for the Mob writing viruses. And if there was one thing that Leon’s parents had hammered into his head, it was that he had to stay out of trouble. His family didn’t have the money to send him to college, which meant that he needed scholarships, and scholarships didn’t go to kids who got into trouble.

  He hated to let his parents’ logic dictate his own thinking, but there it was. And he wanted to become a biologist. That meant going to a great school—he hoped for Caltech or MIT. No, helping his uncle would be a quick path to nowhere good.

  Uncle Alex,

  Of course I remember you! I appreciate your confidence in me, but I really know nothing about writing viruses. Yes, I know something about computers, but it’s mostly about gaming and biology. I don’t think I can help you.

  Leon

  Speaking of biology, it was up next. The thought of his favorite subject brought a smile to his face. He couldn’t say what it was he liked so much about biology, but it was undeniable that it was the one class he looked forward to every day.

  Of everything in school, biology had the most thought provoking ideas. Life could emerge from anywhere. With no direction, life could evolve. Everything people were was happenstance and survival. Life could be tampered with, at the most basic building block level, to create new life forms. The possibilities were limitless and spontaneous.

  * * *

  Today’s class focused on recombinant DNA, the technique of bringing together sequences of DNA from different sources, creating sequences not found in nature. At the end of class, Leon headed for the door deep in thought about canine DNA. Suddenly, Mrs. Gellender blocked the doorway.

  “Do you have a minute, Leon?”

  Leon looked around to see if any of his friends noticed him. It was all clear. He nodded his head yes.

  “I’m starting up a new school team. It’s a computational biology team. There’s a new intramural computational biology league in New York. I think you’d be perfect for the team. We’re going to meet after school.”

  Leon liked Mrs. Gellender. He really did. He loved biology. And part of him was interested, really interested. But man, oh man, how uncool it would be. And staying after school—that would suck.

  Mrs. Gellender must have seen the look on his face, because she said, “You’ve done excellent work in my biology class. The paper you turned in on evolution was absolutely inspired. I loved the way you linked biological evolution to game theory.”

  Leon felt his face growing red. If there was one thing worse than having to stay late to talk to a teacher, it was having them gush over your work. How embarrassing was she going to make this?

  “Just think about it. Please. Being a member of the team would really help you when it came to college scholarships.” Mrs. Gellender held out a shiny paper pamphlet.

  Leon took the pamphlet, and heard the words coming out of his mouth. “OK, I’ll do it.”

  He walked away from the room. College scholarships. If he was going to college, any college, he’d have to get a scholarship. His mother painted nails, and his father was a graphic artist. They weren’t exactly rolling in money.

  He finally walked down the now empty hallways of the school towards the main entrance. As he passed through the doors, he was assaulted from both sides. “HAIYAA” came the startling kung-fu style cry, and Leon jumped back.

  James and Vito stood laughing. Heart pounding, he said, “You idiots, you’re gonna give me a heart attack.”

  “You want a heart attack, look at this.”

  James reached into his coat pocket and pulled out an ebony slab. It was the darkest, most perfect slab of matte black electronics Leon had ever seen. When he touched it, it felt slightly warm, like a piece of wood that had been sitting in the sun. Leon turned it over and over in his hands. There was not a seam or mark anywhere on the case. It was the most perfect surface he had ever seen.

  “The Gibson,” Leon muttered in awe.

  James nodded proudly. “I got the delivery notification, and skipped class to run home and get it.”

  Leon couldn't stop marveling at the device, turning it over and over in his hands, feeling the dense weight of it. The Gibson had the first carbon graphene processor. Two hundred processing cores at the lowest power consumption ever manufactured. Full motion sensitive display. It had taken Hitachi-Sony seven years to perfect the technology.

  “OK, give it back already.”

  As James took back the phone, it came to life in his hands. Each inch of the case was a display, and patterns rolled over it as James swiped at it. “Come on, let’s go back to your place and play Mech War. I want to see how this puppy does.”

  Leon just nodded, his six month old Chinese copy of Hitachi-Sony’s Stross phone feeling ancient.

  Late that night, Leon cleaned the mess of plates and glasses out of his bedroom, and brought them back to the kitchen as quietly as possible to avoid waking his parents. James and Vito had stayed right up until dinner time finishing out a Mech War mission together. James’s new Gibson phone blew them out of the water. It rendered such incredible detail that time after time Leon and Vito would ignore their own screens to watch James.

  But when his mother announced that dinner was cabbage soup, it had sent James and Vito scrambling for their own homes, suddenly remembering that they were expected by their parents.

  Three hours later, his parents were finally asleep and Leon had time to look at the message he was trying so hard to ignore. So why was he cleaning his bedroom? Anything to avoid that message.

  He gave up, and slumped down on his bed. With a flick on his phone, he plunged the room into darkness so he could see the city lights out his sliver of a window. He brought the phone back up.

  Leon, I think you do know thing or two about programming. I saw your school grades, your assessment test scores, and remarks from your teachers. I think you can help me, but perhaps out of moral quandary you refuse to. Well consider this, I will likely be dead in few days if you do not help me.

  So if you must consider what is right and what is wrong, think how your father would feel if he knew you could help me but didn’t.

  Leon felt sick to his stomach reading the message. His father would not want him to do something wrong. But his father also wouldn’t want anything to happen to his brother. He thought again of the memory of Uncle Alex’s visit and his father laughing and smiling. What the hell was he supposed to do? If he told his parents, which his uncle had said not to do, they would be worried sick about it.

  I wanted to keep your name out of this, but they have read my emails to you, and know you could help. They may come to visit you. Be very careful.

  Crap - how could this get any worse? He didn’t want to be any part of this! He almost threw his phone down, but instead pulled the hunk of silicon close and cradled it instead.

  Author’s Note

  Avogadro Corp arose from a lunch conversation about a realistic way that an artificial intelligence might emerge. Almost everything in this book is possible with the technology available in 2011.

  It’s possible that brilliant computer scientists will find some clever way to approximate human level intelligence in computers soon. However, even if we don’t, because of the exponential growth in computing power, in the next twenty years computers will become powerful enough to directly simulate the human brain at the level of individual neurons. This brute force approach to artificial intelligence will make it easy for every computer programmer to play around with creating artificial intelligences in their spare time. Artificial intelligence, or AI, is a genie that won’t stay in its bottle for much longer.

  For more
information on what happens when computers become smarter than humans, read The Singularity Is Near by Ray Kurzweil. For a fictional account, I recommend Accelerando by Charles Stross.

  William Hertling

  Acknowledgements

  This book could not have been written without the help, inspiration, feedback and support of many people including but not limited to: Mike Whitmarsh, Maddie Whitmarsh, Gene Kim, Grace Ribaudo, Erin Gately, Eileen Gately, Maureen Gately, Bob Gately, Brooke Gilbert, Gifford Pinchot, Barbara Koneval, Merridawn Duckler, Mary Elizabeth Summer, Debbie Steere, Jill Ahlstrand, Jonathan Stone, Pete Hwang, Nathaniel Rutman, Jean MacDonald, Leona Grieve, Garen Thatcher, John Wilger, Maja Carrel, Rachel Reynolds, and the fine folks at Extracto Coffee in Portland, Oregon. A special thank you to Maureen Gately for page layout, the first edition cover design, and the answers to countless publishing questions.