The Media Candidate

by Paul Dueweke

  She handed him another piece of paper with the hand-written actual results of the selection committee. He looked at her with a grin and said, “Do you have any other notes?”

  “No, Sir.”

  He crumpled the two notes and set them ablaze in his ashtray. “What else do you know?”

  “You remember when the technician was accidentally killed?”

  “The computer was in on that, too?”

  “I’m not totally sure on that one, but maybe,” Jenner said. “I studied the technicians journal, and found that he had discovered something extraordinary about that particular spider’s operation. He noted that it led off with its left foot instead of its right foot during the shakedown.”

  The Asp raised one eyebrow as he reached for the lighter.

  “Let me explain the significance of that.”

  “Go ahead,” he said, replacing the lighter on the pipe rack.

  “Under normal operating conditions, when a spider is at rest and begins to step forward, it will lead with its right front leg unless there is some reason to lead with the left leg. But when there’s no reason to choose one over the other, which is most of the time, it’ll default to leading off with the right leg. The spiders learn a command that sets the leg to right or left according to a parameter in the Targeting Authority data set. When that parameter is high, the leg is right; when it’s low, the leg is left. It could have been the opposite, but it had to be something.

  “That’s the point where I got stuck because what precedes the Targeting Authority, the TA, data set is in the realm of the computer operation. I hacked at that for several evenings but just couldn’t trace the flow. It was just too complex. Dr. Planck had been using a consultant by the name of Dr. Susan Alvarez at the Institute for Research on Artificial Life. I figured she would have a much better shot at tracing the data flow even though she’s had little contact with the computer since Dr. Winger took over. I flew up to see her, and it didn’t take us long, working together, to figure out what was happening.

  “Before profile data can be released to a field agent with a termination order, a screening committee reviews the case and any special circumstances surrounding the order. That must have happened because of some embarrassing hit or something,”

  “Yes, I well remember that flap,” the Asp said. “A daughter of a network vice-president was terminated for alleged subversive associations. It looked like we might have to go to the mat with the network until the VP disappeared on a Canadian fishing trip.”

  “Well, apparently, the Enforcement Committee Report grew out of that flap. That ECR has to be signed off by each of the eight committee-members before a termination can be authorized. And to insure total security and anonymity, none of the committee knows each other.”

  “COPE’s Blind Man’s Bluff Principle strikes again,” the Asp said as he shook his head.

  “Right, the COPE computer unilaterally manages the whole ECR procedure. And it’s done it faithfully—with some rare exceptions.”

  “I see where this is going now, but go ahead and finish your story, Jenner"

  “The Targeting Authority data set issues directly from the ECR. When the ECR takes its normal route through the labyrinth of the computer management system, the parameter ends up high. But when the computer bypasses the normal authorization procedures to insert its own target, the TA data set issues in identical form except for that single parameter, which ends up low. It’s really a weird glitch that I guess even the computer is unaware of.”

  “So the bottom line is,” the Asp said as he leaned back into leather, “a spider leads with its right leg when on a normal mission, but leads with its left leg if it’s on one of those hopefully rare missions invented by the computer. The technician noticed it but didn’t understand its significance. Just a minor operational anomaly, except not so minor to him.”

  A long silence passed as the Asp studied some curves in the pipe rack, and Jenner traced a swirl in the tabletop with her finger.

  “Okay, Jenner. This is all totally incredible to me. What do you recommend we do?”

  “I’ve given that a lot of thought.”

  “I’m sure you have.”

  “I consulted with Dr. Alvarez on this, too.”

  “So she’s involved in this as deeply as you. I’m glad you kept her involvement remote.”

  “We were able to reconstruct a lot of what Dr. Planck did, and it’s really quite exciting. His idea was to allow the main computer to construct itself. His early attempts at artificial life were crude compared to what he finally came up with that worked so well. He finally modeled the computer after the evolution of humans, but with a little help. You probably remember from biology that there are twenty amino acids that are the basic structure of human life. Genes assemble these amino acids into thousands of different proteins. Dr. Planck came up with seven surams, or surrogate aminos. These were blocks of artificial life, which were hybrids of traditional computer code with imbedded neural-network control functions.

  “We don’t totally understand how they worked, but the key was this code that was in each suram. He bathed his baby with billions of the surams. Now comes the part that’s a mystery to me. In a human, the amino acids are assembled into proteins according to the instructions in the gene, which is a small part of each chromosome. Each gene expresses a different protein, and it’s the genes that have evolved over the eons to form humans or blue jays or whatever.

  “Dr. Planck allowed the intra-suram codes to mutate and replaced natural selection with a rule-based selection process that controlled the mutations. And he made the rules. The bottom line was that the surams evolved into units that kept getting better adapted to the computer’s environment according to the figures-of-merit, his rules. Dr. Planck had put them into a part of each code that was locked and not subject to any change, sort of like a stem cell. He was trying to evolve a set of operating instructions for the neural-network coprocessor that would allow it to work very efficiently—and very smart.”

  The Asp studied a cloud of smoke as he listened to Jenner. “I tried to read each of his monthly reports,” he said. “He referred to ‘evolution’ of the coprocessor control-system, which I believe is resident in the main computer. I never knew exactly what he meant by that.”

  “What he was getting at,” Jenner said, “is that the main computer is what tells the neural network what to do and how to do it. The main computer can’t do the complex processing that the neural net coprocessor does, but it does tell the coprocessor how many levels to use, where to distribute the signals, and exactly what weighting factor to use for each of the trillions of neural connections. There’s no question that the main computer is the real brain behind the brain.”

  “What would happen if we simply shut down the coprocessor neural net?”

  “That would make a real change in the computer’s mental state. Its highest-level functions are shared somehow with the neural net processing, but it’s more complicated than that. It’s not like a part of the human brain because the brain is hardwired with the inter-neuron connections. In this case, the main computer is far more than just an input/output device. It effectively tells the coprocessor what to think and, to a large extent, how to think it. Somehow, the emotions it has developed are shared between the two parts of this thing. I really don’t understand the interaction very well.”

  “But it’s probably safe to say,” the Asp said, leaning back and speaking to a swirl of walnut, “that shutting down the coprocessor would have an effect on COPE operations.”

  “I think it would be dramatic. All of the computer’s operations have become totally integrated with that coprocessor. And it’s more than just dependence. It’s like … like some kind of relationship.”

  The Asp looked directly at Jenner while he silently recharged his pipe. “This is almost too much for an old timer like me to even think about. I thought I was pretty flexible in my thinking until about a half-hour ago. But this …” He s
hook his head as he replaced the gold lighter on the table.

  “It’s pretty hard for me to grasp, too. But I’m forced to accept it.”

  “Okay, Jenner, get on with your recommendation.”

  “We discovered the part of each suram that was locked out of the intra-suram mutation sequences. It turned out to be a simple set of instructions with read and write statements.”

  The Asp pointed the stem of his pipe at Jenner as he leaned forward. “A back door,” he said. “Planck left himself a back door.”

  “That’s exactly right,” Jenner said. “He figured that he might have to find all those mutant codes some day, and maybe modify them for some reason, so he gave himself access to them, no matter where they went or how the code structure around them had changed. It’s like a receptor molecule on a protein.”

  “Yes,” said the Asp. “But maybe even more than that since it contains built-in input and output ports. In cell biology, I believe one of the biggest challenges is to figure out how to get the modified genes into the nuclear DNA. Planck made that easy.”

  “Correction, sir. Easier. I don’t think Dr. Planck appreciated just how far afield these little critters were going to get.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Remember I said the computer falsified all those purchase orders for networks and buffers? Well, I traced some of its excursions over a few of its satellite nets. It either knows about the back door or is just playing it very safe because I found critical packages of code all over the place, and not just at COPE facilities.”

  “What kind of places?”

  “For example, the World Bank in Sao Palo, TRW in Jakarta, GE in Dublin, Mitsubishi in Baghdad, Cairo University—”

  “And what is the function of these disbursed files?”

  “Well, I’m not sure.”

  “Spare parts?”

  “Yes,” she said quickly.

  “An army is only as good as its inventory of replacement parts.”

  “That might be a good analogy.”

  “But an army also needs a supply line to get the parts to where they’re needed.”

  “Nearly all of the networks have multiple redundancies. And most are not dedicated to COPE so you can’t take out the networks without severe communication disruptions worldwide.”

  “Can you find all the storage depots?”

  “That’s the good news. I don’t think we need to find every one. We can equip the network managers here with the ability to look for those back doors as they come in.”

  “But aren’t the network managers under the control of the main computer?”

  “They were. I built a network manager emulator and tested it, and I think it’s transparent. At the appropriate time, I can physically cable around the old network manager with a switching device and insert the emulator so the computer won’t know about the change we’ve made.”

  “I see,” said the Asp, “sort of like a switch to switch out the returning surams right under the computer’s nose.”

  “That’s right. If it’s done properly, the computer will never know. This machine may be clever, but it lacks arms and legs.”

  “How about …”

  “ … spiders?”

  The Asp nodded thru a thin cloud.

  “Can we count on security to keep them out?”

  He nodded again, this time with a grin. “Now tell me about your virus.”

  “How did you know we’d written a virus?”

  “Not only have you written a virus, but you’ve tested it somehow, too.”

  “I guess I’m as transparent as my net-manager emulator.”

  “Not transparent, Jenner, just thorough.”

  “We’ve written a virus that is actually a time bomb. When it is fully deployed, it will go off and attack suddenly. We can’t afford a gradual attack because the computer might be able then to create an antigen. The virus will disable only those surams that mutated after January 12, 2046. That’s six months before Dr. Planck’s death. I figured his plan to do something like that is what got him murdered. This time bomb will actually infect all surams because they all have their back doors open. The ones whose last mutation was before January 12, 2046 will be spared, but no further mutations will be allowed after that. It’s the closest I could get to returning the computer to some previous state.”

  “Is that going to be good enough?”

  “That’s a tough question. If you go back too far, there’s no telling how degraded the computer’s performance will be. At some point before Dr. Planck’s death, the computer’s mutation emphasis shifted from satisfying Dr. Planck’s imbedded success criteria to satisfying its own. That was the critical time. It’s evolution after that probably didn’t benefit COPE very much.”

  “You are in danger, yourself, now. What if—”

  “I’ve taken some personal precautions. And there’s this.”

  Jenner laid an optical disk on the tabletop with a snap.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Jenner is Scorned

  FBI Scientist Linked to Espionage. The page-ten article caught Sherwood’s eye as he scanned the news.

  “A member of an elite FBI technology-group was linked to the sale of government secrets to underworld agents. The leak had been under investigation for several months, and sufficient evidence had been accumulated by the FBI and local law enforcement agencies to bring the scientist before a grand jury.

  “The night before the planned arrest, however, the suspect was murdered in her apartment. There was no sign of forced entry, and the suspect’s nude body was found in the bathroom after a neighbor reported that her shower had been running all night. A single puncture wound was found in her back just below her left shoulder blade. An autopsy report is pending.

  “The scientist’s name has not yet been released because the espionage investigation is continuing. It is believed, however, that an organized-crime group, which deals in stolen government and industrial data, was responsible for the attack. Three such groups have been under investigation by the FBI in southern California for years.

  “An FBI spokesperson said, ‘The syndicates under investigation have purchased highly sensitive information in the past and have found ready markets for it both domestically and abroad. They generally locate an individual who has access to some desired data and who has accumulated a burden of overdue debts. Such a person is susceptible to overtures of easy money. We believe that is what may have happened in this situation.’

  “The state attorney general and the FBI have promised an all out investigation against these groups to stop the trade of illegal information. ‘This kind of activity represents a drain on the security and competitiveness of our society, and we are determined to see it come to an end,’ the Assistant Attorney General was quoted.”

  Sherwood slowly lowered the newspaper and stared without emotion at the opposing wall. He fumbled in his pocket for his pipe, but it was absent. He panicked for a moment until he realized that he had left his favorite pipe at the office, but a surrogate was within reach. After setting it to smolder, Sherwood read the article once more.

  Sounds like a COPE cover, he thought. Could it really be?

  He walked to the one window in his living room where the once-white shears veiled the world outside. Pulling one shear aside, he looked at the street three stories below and examined the disciplined array of bricks leading up the wall. He saw thousands of neatly arranged footholds for a rock climbing genius. He turned toward the door to the hallway. That cipher lock seemed secure enough when he moved in; but that was before spiders. How easy it would be for one to break in there.

  It is still possible, he thought, that the COPE computer does not even relate me to Jenner or know that she passed any information to me. He paused and looked toward the door once more. Then again, maybe Jenner is still alive.

  He picked up his cell phone, paused, and replaced it on the table. This might be a better job for lands. He approached his land-line ph
one slowly, afraid of what it might tell him. He input the numbers and was rewarded with a familiar voice saying, “Hello.” A swell of relief buoyed him. But the sweetness succumbed to a deadly undertow as the remainder of Jenner’s recorded message broke over him. He replaced the receiver and breathed deeply of the life-giving smoke from his pipe. Exhaling, his finger involuntarily began tapping the numbers for her office at COPE. The probability of her being either at home or at work was near 100%, and Sherwood resigned himself to the meaning of another recording.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Sherwood Hits the Trail

  A short time later, with his newly augmented leadership qualities properly enabled, Sherwood finally achieved the goal he’d sought since his grade school sorties into his fantasy undercover world. His field assignment had been a routine position as liaison officer with the Southwest Regional Office of the CBS Party. Sherwood’s happiness knew only the natural bounds of his sterile personality. He spent the first two months doing nothing but getting to know how the party regional offices work and embellishing reports of his activities to his boss at COPE. He wanted to spy on someone or lead a clandestine operation against some enemy of the people or finger somebody for assassination. Anticipating some such great adventure, he responded to several issues brought to his attention by the regional director. They turned out to be disappointingly routine. One involved an expense report that a party executive had accidentally misfiled that caused the COPE computer to raise a flag that some breech of legislated ethics might have been perpetrated. Another concerned an interpretation of policy controlling the disposition of a donation earmarked for straight candidates. The Party had no such category and couldn’t decide how to account for it. His early enthusiasm was beginning to wane.

  Just as he started to understand why the turnover rate was so high among liaison officers, he answered a call from the regional director about a suspected anarchist. And making it even more savory, the anarchist was the same thief he’d confronted trying to break into the Halvorsen files. Sherwood learned how to deal with anarchists in Leadership Training. It had helped his perspective on things—enforcement things. And now he had an anarchist on whom to practice his skills.