“He got an offer.”
“What? Here? I didn’t even know they were giving them out yet.”
“They’re not. He just got one. But here’s the kicker. You know he’s in the computer vision group, right? Well, thanks to JENNY, he’s now going to be working in your group,” Kohan said, touching his index finger to Stephen’s chest. “My group,” he continued, poking his own chest. “Our group,” he concluded, twirling his finger as if mixing a drink. “He’s working for Atiq and Jaan.”
Stephen was silent.
“He got an offer in our group. What about us?” Kohan continued. “First Aarti and that whack-job William get an offer, and now Yuri? Come on. There’s no way we’re going to get offers if the positions keep getting filled.”
With that, they entered the cafeteria and split up for a few moments as Kohan went to get a fresh-squeezed pineapple juice and Stephen went straight for the caffeine.
“Wow,” Stephen said when they were both seated. The conversation resumed where it had left off.
“Yeah, I know. And get this, Yuri wasn’t even trying for the offer. Some product manager in his group saw JENNY. This product manager mentioned it to his boss, who apparently asked Yuri for a demo. Atiq found out about it, and that was that. An offer. The worst part about it is that all our ideas are in that thing. We better get some credit.”
“Come on, Kohan, you know that Yuri will share credit. It’s Yuri. You know he will.”
“Well, we’ll see. JENNY is a nice piece of integration work, but there’s nothing revolutionary there. I worked on that stuff for the last two summers. I’m telling you there’s nothing new.”
“Were you an intern here last summer? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“No. I did a couple of internships before this where I worked on something similar.”
“Really? Tracking porn usage on a house-by-house basis? Or was it the spying on unsuspecting women in Gilroy part? You did that before? Is this a pattern of yours?” Stephen said, trying to lighten up the mood. He wasn’t eager to be depressed the rest of the day.
“It wasn’t porn usage, smartass. And it wasn’t at Ubatoo. But pretty much everything else in JENNY has been done.”
“Where were you before this?” Stephen asked, now genuinely interested.
Kohan hesitated a moment before answering. But his resentment toward Yuri overcame any trepidation he might have had. “I did a couple of internships at the NSA. The first thing you do is show people’s data on a map, just like JENNY, right? Who wouldn’t?”
Stephen just looked at him puzzled. “Let me get this straight. You’ve been holding out about doing an internship at the NSA? First of all, why would they hire you? You’re not exactly trustworthy. I know I wouldn’t trust you,” Stephen kidded. “Secondly, the NSA? Really? So you were tapping people’s phones?”
Kohan took the bait and was willing to change topics from Yuri, if only for a few moments. “First, apparently, I am trustworthy. I think working there is proof enough of that. But I think anybody with a nice GPA who comes from the Midwest is a good candidate. They recruit from the heartland, you know.”
Kohan, now getting more tickled with the conversation, continued. “Second, tapping people’s phones? Is that really the best you can come up with?”
“You already admitted you were doing the same stuff we were doing, so you were really spying on people, weren’t you?”
Kohan clicked his tongue in acknowledgment. “Of course we were. You don’t think Ubatoo is the only one who wants this information, do you?”
“You were looking for terrorist types, right? Or just monitoring everything?”
“Obviously we were looking for terrorists. But you know how the world’s Internet and telcos are hooked up—when someone in Canada calls someone in Pakistan or writes him e-mail, it can get routed through the servers or switches on American soil. We naturally had to monitor that traffic as it flowed through America, right? You can figure out the rest yourself.”
“Wouldn’t almost all e-mails and Internet traffic flow through those same switches? So, you were monitoring everything then! See, you’re even worse than we are.”
“I wasn’t,” he said, emphasizing the “I.” “You’d have to talk to someone else to see what the extent was, but then I’m sure we’d monitor you too, of course. Besides, I wouldn’t tell you, not being trustworthy yourself.”
“Touché. So you’ve done this data mining before, and at Ubatoo’s scale, too. Didn’t think that such a thing existed. That’s remarkable, Kohan.”
Kohan tipped his hat at him. “Nothing is done at this scale, Stephen. Besides, when I do it here, it’s all on the up-and-up, it’s not a secret, and we get paid a lot more, at least I would if I got this job. Damn Yuri.”
“Forget Yuri, Kohan. Internships here and at the NSA—that’s really impressive.”
Kohan did manage to forget Yuri again for a few moments, and replied a bit more contemplatively. “After you get a taste of what you can do there, this is the only other place that compares. But it’s really better here. Ubatoo has the computational horsepower to put any other place to shame. And, besides, everybody just hands us their data. Think anybody would just hand their e-mails over to the NSA? I don’t think so. Here, we give people a shiny new phone to use, offer them free phone calls and a half-off coupon for pizza, and there you go. All of a sudden, everyone hands over their information happily. You remember what we talked about the first week we were here?”
“About diet pills, you mean?”
“Yeah, and about how we should put everyone’s medical records online so they can search them? We’ll get them integrated before the NSA does. You ask me, the NSA and all these agencies just plain did it wrong. They shouldn’t have taken any information. They should have just made it enticing enough for people to give it to them—offered a free appetizer at Applebee’s or a 10-percent-off coupon on your grocery bill every month. It wouldn’t take much.”
“At least we don’t do anything horrible with it. Just show you some ads,” Stephen rationalized.
“True. We don’t,” Kohan said, putting a huge emphasis on the “we.” “Though, I guess, now Yuri does.” Thus triggering another lengthy rant featuring Yuri.
“I thought you had forgotten about me,” Yuri said as Stephen entered his cubicle.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, Yuri. I was tied up this morning. Want to walk outside to talk?”
A few minutes into the walk, Yuri told him the same story Kohan had earlier. After spending the morning commiserating with Kohan, Stephen could barely muster the perfunctory congratulations that were due.
“I am not sure that I want the offer,” Yuri confided.
If Stephen could have thrown his arms up in exasperation, he would have. Stephen was positive that hiring in the Touchpoints group was a zero-sum game: When someone wins, someone else has to lose. If Yuri received an offer, someone else wouldn’t. Convincing Yuri to accept the offer was not a task Stephen wanted. In the long silence that followed while Stephen thought about what to say, Yuri waited patiently.
Finally, it was Yuri who broke the silence. “I can see you are not happy with all of this either. It was the same with Kohan. I do not know why. You all will get offers, too. I am certain of it.”
“Maybe. Maybe we’ll get offers. Maybe we won’t. But, Yuri, I can’t understand your not taking it. This is the place you want to be once you get your Ph.D., right? And they’re offering you the opportunity even before you get it.”
There were so many reasons not to push Yuri to take the offer. It would mean a higher chance of Stephen getting one himself. Yuri was less than a year away from completing his degree, and Stephen had himself made this exact same mistake before—leaving his graduate program to join a company. How had Stephen taken on the role of convincing Yuri to make the same mistake he had? And so it continued, more of the same words back and forth, with Stephen playing the part of any good Ubatoo devotee.
As they
walked back to Building 11, Yuri tried his best to cheer up Stephen. “I’m meeting with Atiq today. I’ll put in a good word for you, too,” Yuri offered, trying to reassure him.
But it didn’t reassure him. In fact, it stung just as much as anything else today. Needing Yuri to put in a good word for him wasn’t where he expected to be right now. “Thanks, Yuri,” Stephen mumbled without looking at him. Yuri was just trying to do the right thing. “Make sure to mention Kohan and Andrew, too. We all contributed to JENNY.”
They parted at Building 11. Nothing had been accomplished today, and nothing would be. Yuri left the conversation without any of the advice he had hoped for, and Stephen departed more lost and desperate than any time since he had left SteelXchange.
-APPLE PIE-
July 21, 2009.
“Thanks so much for meeting me. It’s been a long time since we’ve met in person,” Sebastin said to Stephen as they sat down at the “Pieces of Pi” restaurant in San Mateo, a half hour from the Ubatoo grounds. He hadn’t seen him since the party, which seemed years ago. The bandage on Sebastin’s forehead covered the stitches. He just hoped it didn’t start leaking again. Even then, he thought to himself, it would be entertaining to see how Stephen handled the blood.
“It’s great to see you again,” Stephen stated automatically. Although he had agreed to the meeting on the phone, he had only given it a 50 percent probability of actually occurring. If he had his druthers, he would prefer all business communication first through e-mail, then maybe via phone, then, only if necessary, in person. But sitting down to talk informally was absolutely last on his list. There was too much social chatter, too many distractions, and not enough substance for his liking, at least nothing that couldn’t be accomplished in just a few lines of e-mail.
As Sebastin bobbed his tea bag in and out of his steaming hot water, he gathered himself to play the role he needed to once again. Mustering all his strength, he opened the conversation cheerfully. Make this work. This has to go well so I can get what Mohammad needs. “Stephen, let me just say again, thanks for all the data you gave me. It was simply incredible and far more than I could have hoped for. I think your findings will help me enormously.” Perfect. That sounded like nothing’s wrong.
“Thanks. I hope you can use all the information. I know it was a lot.”
“Oh, yes, yes. It was wonderful. As a matter of fact, let me ask you a question, and forgive me for my bluntness. I would really like you to work with me full-time.” Listen to my words, Stephen. Work with me. Not Ubatoo. Not ACCL. Come, work with me. Give me some sign, any sign, that you know what I’m saying. I can’t ask you directly. Think carefully, Stephen. Think about what I said.
Stephen was prepared for a lot of different conversations (primarily revolving around the many new and innovative ways people invented to extract more data and work out of him), but this, he hadn’t seen coming. “I’m flattered, Sebastin, but I really don’t know what more I can do to help right now. I’m not even sure I know enough about ACCL, or what ACCL does, to decide.”
Sebastin’s demeanor seemed to perceptibly change, as if he was grudgingly resolved to give a spiel he had hoped he wouldn’t have to give. It had been a long shot. Stephen was too naïve. There was no time to work on Stephen. What had he been thinking? He had known this when he started the conversation. Now, he just needed to keep up appearances enough to get what he needed and be done with it.
Back to the original plan. “That’s why I’m here, Stephen. I’ll tell you all I can, and then I’ll leave it in your hands. Our core team is just four people, who are now trying to do something worthwhile instead of simply making more money. You can check us on our web site. All of our bios are there. We’re not looking to build a huge team, just a few people we can work with. You’d be the second person we’ve hired. But we have an army of volunteers and partners. I think we’re making a real difference.”
“You mean by contacting all the people you were talking about?”
“That’s only part of it. It’s not as trivial as you make it sound. You must keep in mind, Stephen, that our rights, I mean including yours and mine, are being eroded one by one, and no one is even cognizant of it happening. It’s about preserving our privacy, our ability to access information and to have discussions about any topic without fear.” Sebastin’s voice was steadily getting louder with every word. “Just because I read or say something doesn’t mean I should be on a government watch list. Who knows why someone will be taken in for questioning, or God forbid, tortured? A few years ago, it was called patriotism.”
Stephen looked around the restaurant several times, hoping nobody he knew was within earshot of this conversation. He could only imagine what others would think about Sebastin; probably the same thing he was thinking.
That’s right, Stephen, look around. See everybody watching? Getting self-conscious yet? This was too easy. Sebastin took a deep breath before going on. “The only way we stay ahead of this is by contacting people and gathering all the evidence we can through all our sources of data, including, of course, all that you and Atiq have generously provided. Let’s start with some e-mails and see how far that takes us. The point is that people should know why they’ve made it onto some watch list. I guarantee that most people don’t deserve to be on it.”
Stephen spoke quietly, as if somehow trying to mitigate the effect of Sebastin’s loud ranting. “I have to admit it sounds interesting—more interesting than targeting advertisements forever.” He wasn’t sure why the words were coming out of his mouth, or where he was going with his reply.
“Our ‘silver bullet’ is that we have access to the data that companies like Ubatoo and the half-dozen companies that surround you in the Valley have, and that they are willing to share it with us to help further our mission. No government, no organization, has this. The Valley is a do-gooder’s Mecca, Stephen. Everyone here cares about preserving our rights, cares about free speech, and really wants to do the right thing. I believe we’ve assembled the right team to make a difference.” And you’re just the final step, Stephen. What do you think, Stephen? Enamored with us yet?
He said it with a confidence possible only from having done something remarkable in the Valley. Nevertheless, Stephen wished the would keep his voice down.
Sebastin now awaited a response. “I’m really glad ACCL is around doing what it’s doing,” Stephen said. “I think it’s admirable, I honestly do. I still need to think about it more. I hope it’s okay for me to say that.” It was a strange turn—from computer scientist to political activist in only a few hours. Even though the thought of more diet pill advertising campaigns and the still-fresh sting of Yuri’s offer plagued Stephen’s mind, he needed to reflect carefully this time. He had made too many hasty career changes in the past.
“Look, everybody feels indignant about what’s happening around them. But you’re lucky: You have an opportunity to do something about it. I’ll leave it at that.”
Hopefully, he really would stop the hard sell there. Stephen relaxed for the first time since sitting down, and the conversation steadied for a few minutes to something less taxing. Sebastin was understandably passionate about his work, but it was challenging to keep up with his intensity.
When Sebastin spoke again, it was on a new topic. Stephen would be receptive to anything now, anything as long as I ask without the impassioned ranting. First, appeal to his technical wizardry. I’d bet a year’s salary he’s going to solve this problem, without caring what I ask, before we leave this restaurant. “Stephen, I’m not sure if you can even get this data, but for the 5,000 people’s names you gave me last time, can you tell me which ones are doing well financially and which aren’t? Is there any way you can figure out how to estimate that? I have a gut instinct that tells me there’s probably a lot of income and spending level profiling that goes into deciding who gets put on watch lists.”
As Stephen had anticipated from the start, Sebastin wanted more data. Figures he would mention
a job offer first; nothing works better than flattery. At least, though, this was a conversation Stephen was comfortable having.
It took Stephen a few seconds to consider the request. “I could find a way to estimate it, but why do you want it?”
Sebastin was ready for that question. “Maybe the less income you have, the more susceptible you are to being enticed by extremist groups, especially if you already have proclivities leaning that way, like this group of 5,000 is suspected to have? If there are patterns we can easily find, maybe we can have a class-action lawsuit showing unfair targeting across lower income levels. It’s just a shot in the dark, but can you imagine the amount of publicity it would garner?” Play to his imagination. Imagine doing something really big, Stephen. Imagine the good you’ll be doing. Just imagine the difference you’ll make.
“I can get that information. A lot of people check stocks and mutual funds; I can see what they’ve been looking at. Maybe that will find a few people. I could also just check how much people are spending through Ubatoo’s credit card. That will get more. If that doesn’t uncover enough people, I suppose I could see if they’ve started searching on foreclosures, loans, mortgages, bankruptcies, and so on. We can probably infer what we need to know.”
Before Sebastin could respond, Stephen tacked on, “Oh, and by the way, I’m not sure if I mentioned it earlier, but there’s an intern in the data-mining group who worked at the NSA? He might be a good person to contact, too. Maybe he would have some advice.”
A startled look crossed Sebastin’s face. Think. Think. Is there any way to use this? It was too much to think about right now. No. Better to go with his first instinct. “Really? Let’s save talking to him until a bit later. I don’t want to raise any red flags with anyone until we have all the information we need to make a strong legal case. I hope that doesn’t put you in an awkward position, but if we’re going to make a strong case, the fewer people who know what we’re looking into, the better.”
The Silicon Jungle Page 21