After On

by Rob Reid

  Rather than answer, Kuba starts reading. The words fly by so fast there’s no time for anything else. And as they both know, once they’re gone—Poof!—Phluttr’s temporary messaging system will eradicate them from this dimension.

  “Jepson, a spy,” Kuba mutters after they finish speed-reading decrypted #00001 of 00003, which, true to form, is now gone without a trace.

  “Don’t tell me you’re surprised,” Danna says. Then they both fall silent when their phones hum again, and the second document arrives.

  QUANTUM DECODE DOCUMENT: #00002 OF 00003

  FULL TEXT OF DECRYPTED DOCUMENT BELOW.

  THE ARGUMENT FOR DEVELOPING A SOCIAL NETWORK

  ***TOP SECRET/SCI/COMINT/NOFORN

  * * *

  * * *

  No product or business plans were made during Neo Gatsby’s recruiting period, as the startup’s ultimate focus would be CEO-dependent. Newly hired CEO Tony Jepson now favors developing a social network. Internal opponents question this strategy, pointing to the overwhelming incumbency of Facebook, LinkedIn, and others. They instead propose leveraging certain imaging breakthroughs now under military development, as imaging/display is a rare domain in which government technology still significantly leads the private sector. Imaging expertise is also a national security asset under dire threat from the brain drain away from government labs to promising startups. This analysis will argue that the debate should be viewed in the context of the blinding of the mass surveillance apparatus of Authority subordinates (particularly the National Security Agency) in the wake of Edward Snowden’s defection to Russia.

  Until December of 2015, section 215 of the Patriot Act empowered the Authority’s NSA subunit to collect metadata (essentially, detailed call logs) on substantially all US phone traffic. The actual “content” of suspect calls, emails, chat sessions, searches, and Internet browsing histories could also be easily subpoenaed with warrants. Companies including Google, Facebook, Skype, and Yahoo were appropriately responsive when presented with warrants and certain other requests, generally allowing the NSA to collect the relevant data directly from their servers.

  Edward Snowden betrayed the US to China and Russia in 2013. The media ignored the irony of his allegiance to regimes known for assassinating opponents and imprisoning journalists. This gave his sympathizers, dupes, and collaborators a free hand to fuel public outrage over benign Authority activities. As a direct result, 2015’s revision of the Patriot Act stripped the NSA of its metadata-collection rights.

  Less obviously, but far more dangerously, Snowden’s betrayal of operation MUSCULAR crippled the Authority’s working relations with Google, Facebook, Skype, et al. MUSCULAR secretly tracked the vast data transfers that these companies make outside of US territory via transoceanic and other channels. The Washington Post summarized industry reactions in saying “U.S. technology executives…believed the NSA had lawful access to their front doors—and had broken down the back doors anyway.” The companies publicly voiced outrage over alleged violations of customer “rights.” Privately, they also fumed about the impact the revelations might have on their foreign revenues. In response, they now meticulously encrypt the foreign traffic we had previously surveilled effortlessly.

  Crippling our bulk-data collection was a triumph for Snowden’s masters in Beijing and Moscow, and for the many terrorist entities that we formerly tracked and/or discovered through these mechanisms. We can still collect data on specific individuals by obtaining warrants, or dedicating expensive resources to decrypting their personal traffic. But while we retain an ability to “spy on” anybody, we have lost our ability to “spy on” everybody.

  This makes the world far more dangerous. The real perils aren’t posed by plots and terrorists that we know well enough to have under court-sanctioned surveillance, but by those we are unaware of. The lessons of September 11, as well as baseline common sense, make this clear (as do the more-recent attacks on San Bernardino, Orlando, the Apple campus, Harvard, etc.). Short of repealing the Fourth Amendment (a goal which our political analysts unfortunately deem impractical), the most obvious path to reinstating bulk surveillance is getting warrants on everybody. This, of course, is impossible. Less obvious, and infinitely more feasible is getting consent from everybody. And the most practical route to this is via a massively popular online service’s End User License Agreement.

  It is in this context that Jepson argues against an imaging-related startup. He notes that while “magic glasses” based on proprietary government technology could become wildly popular, hardware always diffuses slowly. Even smartphones have yet to reach a majority of the world’s population over a decade after the iPhone’s debut. By contrast, successful social media services grow exponentially. Overwhelming “network effects” make them more attractive; and therefore larger, and therefore more attractive still; as more and more people join.

  As for the argument that social media is already dominated by insuperable incumbents, Jepson notes that huge successes like Snapchat launched over a decade after the field first emerged. Moreover, near monopolies once enjoyed by Friendster and MySpace were shattered by later entrants, proving that dominance is ephemeral.

  Finally, Jepson stresses that his company could leverage and develop nation-critical imaging technologies regardless of its primary focus. He cites the wildly diverse initiatives that emerged under the “Google X” banner, many of them completely secret from the public to this day. There’s no reason why a large and successful Authority-backed company could not invest and develop at least as broadly and covertly.

  As for how his service would crack the social media market, Jepson maintains that “most people are only truly authentic with their five closest friends, and, with perfect strangers.” The first need is satisfied by private channels like email. The latter is only partly addressed by anonymous channels like confessional apps (e.g. Whisper), support communities (e.g. Patients Like Me), and what Jepson calls “rumor/backstabbing services” (e.g. Yik Yak). But no service supports its users’ fluid movement back and forth between real-name environments and anonymity. Jepson believes there is room for an entirely new mode, one that “attests that this is a real, widely trusted person who authentically shares your affliction, secret, addiction, etc.; with whom you can communicate intimately but anonymously.”

  He writes, “Anonymous parties can be anyone, by definition. This means nobody can credibly attest that you’re really connecting with a psychologist, a fellow alcoholic, a ‘hot babe,’ a doctor, someone who also once dated your ‘ex,’ an employee of a company that you’re researching, etc, etc, etc. And this matters! Because the urge to connect authentically has never been greater. And the coming global ubiquity of broadband is spreading it worldwide! Anyone who wants to make plans with their ‘bestie’ has a billion ways to do so. But those seeking authenticated connections that are either ‘pseudonymous’ or ‘anonymous’ are screwed! And make no mistake. These are connections people want! With folks they hope to ‘buy a little something’ from, confide in, get advice from, or ‘fuck.’ Many avoid doing this on Facebook for fear that actions might be revealed to their thousand-plus ‘friends,’ to advertisers, and yes, to your beloved ‘subordinates’ in the NSA!

  “Many of this new network’s Killer Apps,” Jepson continues, “will be in what I call ‘Id Fulfillment.’ People airing unfashionable viewpoints (‘vent to fellow college-educated homophobes’), buying sketchy substances, seeking sketchy advice (tax dodges, etc.). And above all, SEX. By merely seeming to be a reliable gateway to this, our service would be irresistible—to ‘card-carrying swingers,’ to closeted mullahs, and to everyone between! Including the large group (perhaps a ‘silent majority’) who will participate in none of this but like to think they just might someday, and/or merely enjoy knowing that it’s happening out there.”

  Jepson’s is an audacious, long-shot plan. But if successful, his network will indeed spread farther and faster than any imaginable hardware platform. And by deliv
ering consent to surveillance from a preponderance of citizens, it will take the Authority far beyond its old high-water mark of gathering mere metadata. Instead, all manner of content will be in play: emails, conversations, browsing histories, and more. This content will also reveal far more than today’s digital outpourings, as people will be much more open to their private confessors than they are in Facebook, public forums, and other channels of questionable security.

  It is therefore the unanimous recommendation of the Executive Council that Jepson’s plan be approved.

  “It was all just so…whiny,” Danna says. “And self-righteous! Yet written in this wooden, bureaucratic tone. It was like listening to the DMV feel sorry for itself.”

  “I didn’t get that at all,” Kuba says.

  “Really? But it was just nonstop bitching about Snowden! With zero self-awareness about there being something wrong about spying on the entire world!”

  “Maybe. But I like it when planes don’t hit buildings. And maybe that’s the price. If so, we’re getting our skyline awfully cheap.”

  Like holy commands transmitted by oral tradition, the vanished quantum Poof! documents can be debated endlessly in terms of both content and meaning. Interpretations by their two anointed messengers meanwhile have identical weight. So in this corner, the Berkeley progressive; and in that, the émigré Realpolitikian! Listening to them debate, Mitchell’s astonished by Kuba’s relative comfort with the intelligence regime that treated him so odiously back in high school (dismaying him enough to trigger his lengthy defensive boycott of social media many years later). But Kuba’s always been an intense pragmatist who views evil as a relative, not absolute thing. And his Soviet-era childhood convinced him that bad as imperfect Western democracies are when they run amok, there are greater evils out there.

  Luckily, Danna and Kuba both agree on the core facts conveyed about Phluttr and Jepson, which is what really matters to those assembled. Mitchell and Tarek have rendezvoused with them away from Phluttr’s offices. A bleary-eyed Monika is also beaming in via Kuba’s iPad. Given the digital eavesdropping capacity of the real players in this game, this is a tacit admission that they’re probably not real players themselves. Yes, they’re playing at real-playerdom, in a half-jokey manner (for instance, they’ve designated and code-named several other offsite locations for future secret meetings). But in all likelihood, they’re just the first people to crack certain widely downloaded files. Or rather, the first people they know of. Dozens, even hundreds, of similar groups might be convening right now, also wondering how (or if) to go public with facts that have vanished without a trace. And also wondering if it’s all just another Phluttr publicity stunt.

  Ah well, at least the gin’s good. “My glass is broken again,” Danna pouts, hoisting it to show that it is, indeed, empty. Tarek dutifully refills it. They’re at the Interval—a not-for-profit café/bar built under a hardcover library intended to help reboot civilization should that become necessary. Yeah, yeah; only in San Francisco. But it’s a wonderful spot—a rare place where boozy bar vibes blend seamlessly with laptop-tapping café energy. And being owned by the techno-idealist Long Now Foundation, it might just enjoy a weird measure of immunity from digital surveillance (like a church in a 1930s turf war between Catholic gangsters, say). As a midsized donor, Tarek gets to maintain a bottle here. He had them fill it with an earthy, local gin that is funky and smooth enough to drink straight, and they’re hitting it pretty hard.

  “This is so unfair,” Monika says. “Not only is it 2 A.M. for me, but all I have is Gordon’s.” She nonetheless clinks her glass to her laptop’s camera, toasting Danna, who does the same with Tarek’s artisanal glug. “Anyway. The publicity stunt theory is clever. And credible. But…I’m pretty sure the decrypted docs are real. Jepson doesn’t really come off badly in them. But he does come off as vulnerable. And, a bit of a dupe. And that’s just not the Jepson your PR folks like to sell.”

  Mitchell nods. Not only does it make sense, but Monika said it. And this isn’t his deepening crush talking (for once). Her long history of writing smart Phluttr criticism as NetGrrrl lends her overwhelming authority here. “I’m with you on that,” he says. “The memos also fill in lots of minor blanks in ways that just make sense.”

  Everyone nods with a schizoid mix of satisfaction and disappointment—which is the odd emotional note all this has triggered. It’s cool to (possibly?) be the first to know the contents of the decrypted files. Which do click into place with a gratifying, Lego-like snap, because the narrative lines up snugly with what they’ve long suspected. But while the details are intriguing (exactly what is “the Authority,” for instance?) none are truly juicy.

  “I just wish they filled in a few more blanks,” Tarek says wistfully.

  Danna nods. “Like, who’s Gray Oak Partners?” She turns to Mitchell. “And how does your jackass cousin fit into this?”

  Mitchell shrugs, realizing that he’s oddly incurious about Pugwash’s role. Because, as he now says, “We can pretty much guess that stuff, within a rounding error. Gray Oak’s clearly a shell the government set up to finance Phluttr. Then they needed a real person to be the face of the seed round. And Pugwash was an easy choice because of his history with Jepson. Then I’ll bet the Authority did something-or-other to spook him because he gets all nervous when I dig too deep about Phluttr.” He shrugs again. “So I’d say we’ve got the gist. And the other details’ll come out at some point.”

  “Maybe they’re in the third file?” Kuba muses. Document #00003 never popped out of the quantum system.

  Until now, that is.

  Everybody’s phone hums simultaneously. It’s Poof!

  QUANTUM DECODE DOCUMENT: #00003 OF 00003

  FULL TEXT OF DECRYPTED DOCUMENT BELOW.

  ***TOP SECRET/SCI/COMINT/NOFORN

  * * *

  * * *

  This confirms the Executive Council’s 5–2 vote to IMMEDIATELY reinstate the long-dormant Sagan project (under the new name “Project Tyson”) at Sandia. CHINA’S DENIALS OF LAUNCHING A SUPER AI PROGRAM IN CONTRAVENTION OF THE COPENHAGEN ACCORD HAVE NOW BEEN SHOWN TO BE INCONTROVERTIBLY FALSE, AND DIRECT INTERDICTION EFFORTS WOULD ALMOST SURELY LEAD TO WAR. We must therefore enter a de facto race to a national Super AI, and win it.

  Since Super AI is deemed to be the most existentially threatening technology on the intermediate horizon, ALL OTHER INTERDICTION DIRECTIVES REMAIN OPERATIVE. The Authority is particularly concerned about rumored private-sector Super AI initiatives. Any and all such initiatives detected MUST be terminated IMMEDIATELY. Force, including extralegal force, is approved if called for.

  Everyone’s silent for at least a minute after the message vanishes from all their phones. Finally, Danna takes a stab at summing it all up.

  “Huh?”

  More silence.

  Then Kuba says, “I may…kind of know what’s happening.”

  Talk about undivided attention!

  He turns to Mitchell. “I may never know exactly why I got kicked out of the country in high school. But when I dig into it, I sometimes come across online rumors about a Project Sagan.”

  “Was it a Turing project?” Mitchell asks.

  Kuba shakes his head. “It had something to do with genetic programming. As in, self-improving algorithms. Not biologically genetic.”

  Tarek’s nodding vigorously. “One of my engineers is all into conspiracy theories, and he mentioned it once. They say it got out of control and spooked everyone by seeming to drift toward consciousness. Or something. He said it led to a secret global treaty banning super AI research. Like the Nuclear Test Ban, only really hush-hush, because they didn’t want people to realize it’s actually possible. Or something. I figured it was just another crackpot rumor.”

  “If it’s all related, we know the timing,” Mitchell says. “High school for me and Kuba.”

  “And the US government had unrivaled technology back then,” Kuba points out. “R&D budgets, too. So if they got scared
, ceasing their own research would’ve amounted to ceasing humanity’s research. And they might’ve thought they had a thirty-year lead.”

  “Meanwhile,” Mitchell adds, “it looks like they let you back into the US right around when they started chasing super AI again.”

  “Do you suppose,” Danna whispers, “Phluttr is the super AI project?”

  “I doubt it,” Tarek says. “The memo says it’s at Sandia Labs. That’s way out in New Mexico. Plus, all of Phluttr’s secret stuff is in the PhastPhorwardr, and I’ve been around long enough to know about anything big happening there.” He tops up everybody’s glass, then playfully points the bottle toward the iPad. Wide-eyed and spooked, Monika refills her own glass with straight Gordon’s, takes a mighty slug, then refills it again.

  “I think Tarek’s right,” Danna says, sipping her own glass. “Phluttr’s a listening post. It’s listening to everyone who accepts its EULA. It’s tracking every new technology in the Valley via the PhastPhorwardr. If it has a super AI angle at all, I’ll bet it’s to find the private sector super AI projects that this Authority thing wants destroyed. If any actually exist. As for Kuba being let back into the country? Maybe they’re filling their talent pipeline. For when the Sandia project gets bigger.”

  “Or making sure the Chinese don’t hire him?” Mitchell speculates.

  “But why us?” Monika says, raising the question they’ve been avoiding. “Why did we get this note? All of us? Simultaneously? And right now?”

  Mitchell expels a slow breath. “Obviously, someone’s trying to tell us something.”

  Silence.

  Then Kuba adds, “Or something.”

  “Something?” Danna cocks an eyebrow. “Like what?”

  “Like Phluttr. Maybe Phluttr’s scared, and is trying to let us know that?”