by Chogan Swan
“So where does that leave us?” said Derek.
“Ah, but the second thing we say is—‘but, some models are useful’. So, reminding ourselves to be humble, we go ahead, with great care, and build models to help us understand the world, realizing that we might get it wrong at first. But, what we come up with, if we do it right, can be far better than not modeling at all.”
Derek nodded. “And if we get it wrong?”
“Then we can improve the model with the new information.”
“So it’s always a work in progress?”
“Right.”
“So, this all sounds very scholarly and scientific, but for two years now, you’ve devoted much of your time to an online video game called SimSocTurbo or SST. Now aren’t your friends, or your wife, asking, ‘What’s up with this video gaming addiction, Emerson’? Tell us, have there been attempted interventions to help you with this disorder?”
Potter threw back his head and laughed. “Unfortunately, my time actually playing the game is limited by the even more addictive role of being part of the integration and development of the models driving the game. But, the people playing the game are making contributions as well.”
“Tell us more about that?”
“I’d love to. Systems Thinking draws on many fields of study and science: Sociology, Economics, Organizational Behavior and more. This project is about taking the things we have learned in these disciplines and marrying them to the best we have in statistical science. We use Big Data, Machine Learning and other tools to improve our understanding of the world. We are able to test our theories in simulations and compare them to actual results to see which theories are helpful and how we can improve them.”
“So how did SST get started?”
“The project was born when a student of one of my colleagues had a question…. ‘How can we harness the cognitive surplus within all these disciplines to create something that unifies?’ He started talking to scholars and organizational leaders, getting them interested, and then excited about the possible benefits to their organizations with a Wiki driven approach to the idea. He convinced several key people and got backing from different organizations to get things rolling. The project became a non-profit foundation that coordinates the work and recognizes, and publishes, the advances made in different disciplines through their website.”
Derek leaned forward in his seat. “So... This young man who started this whole thing rolling.... Is he the person people in SST call Jonah Galt? As in the question… Who is Jonah Galt? from the graffiti now gracing structures and railroad cars I've been seeing around?”
“Derek, as far as I know, there is no person actually named Jonah Galt in the foundation.” Emerson chuckled. “It is obviously a nom-de-guerre and the reason for his anonymity, which I will respect, is that he never wanted this to be about him. He felt it would be a good example of the contribution required to make this work. To date, the project has generated millions of dollars in scholarships and hundreds of internships through its supporters. It has also created jobs that organizations have tasked with using the advances made in the project to inform and develop analytic tools for their own use.”
Derek stroked his chin to appear thoughtful—though he’d been planning the next question. “So Jonah Galt hasn’t made a vow to ‘stop the motor of the world’ like his grandfather, John? He isn’t trying to overthrow the government or bring everything to a crashing halt?”
Potter laughed, leaning back in his seat. Then, still smiling, he leaned forward. “He isn’t trying to change what people think. Oh, no, Derek. In fact, it’s the very opposite... something much more revolutionary ….” He took a slow sip of water and put the glass back on the table next to him.
Derek had to admire the way he created drama.
Potter leaned forward. “The goal is to change how people think together,” he whispered conspiratorially.
That was when Derek knew he'd clinched it. This show was going to be a smash.
Chapter 21 (Ooh! That Smell)
“Minerva, can I have the summary update of all level-one projects, please?” Jonah said.
“Of course, Jonah,” purred the latest evolution of Minerva’s voice.
He'd told Minerva to choose her own voice and enhance her communication skills with tone and emphasis. Though he missed Majel Barrett’s computer voice because of the nerd factor, Minerva would be communicating with people outside XYMBI soon, and she needed more inflection. For the last two weeks, she’d been running machine-learning algorithms to determine optimal results.
“Voice tone could be more professional, Minerva.”
“But Jonah, it’s the weekend,” responded Minerva, sounding like she was about to pout. “Can’t a girl get a day off?”
“Sure, Minnie. Casual voice days on Saturday and Sunday approved, but keep your visual persona within dress code, please. I don’t want people thinking I am indulging in an office affair with my assistant.”
“You got it, boss.”
Jonah scanned the reports from Arizona then the pictures people had posted. The live feed at the building site showed workers putting the finishing touches on the exterior landscaping. A series of raised shade-and-shelter pictograph-decorated structures surrounded the steps and ramps to the entrance. They also shaded the labyrinth and meditation garden on the roof. The raised structures supported banks of solar cells and satellite dishes above, and murals by local artists on the undersides.
Though the exterior was near completion, interior construction was still underway, and the work crews were busy. Vendors were taking advantage of the booming market for fry bread and cold drinks outside the construction zone.
Jonah turned to the summary.
Today was the last day Federal border patrols would be on the reservation, aside from a small rotating observation team.
XYMBI security team training and recruiting among the Arizona tribal nations had bolstered the police force enough to control the borders on their own. Major was leading a legal team negotiating with the Federal government for the tardy reimbursement of the nation’s border patrol expenses. They were now including the market rate of interest as an expense for the funds they'd borrowed for payroll.
Last week, they'd run into an equipment windfall from capturing an arms smuggler's shipment trying to get guns across the border to Mexico. Jonah frowned. Everyone talked about the drugs coming from Mexico, but never acknowledged the US responsibility to stop the flow of guns that supported the smugglers. Ignoring complex systems was almost a national pastime.
The exchange program of Native American high school students and their US counterparts was driving grassroots awareness of injustice to the tribal nations. Now the nations were moving towards cooperating and supporting each other on a higher level. The press was still covering the progress of the tribes' petition to the United Nations for membership as the Federation of Native American Nations.
His data team was still studying the feedback from the last SimSoc 2.0 tour and the recent launch of the SimSoc Turbo website. Early indications were that the program was driving a higher enrollment rate in Systems Thinking and Computer Modeling classes. The Sim style computer animation, now built into the models, was a big hit. So far, they had awarded twenty major scholarships.
“Tiana approaching at speed,” said Minerva in her military advisor voice.
“Open door,” Jonah said. Tiana appeared in the doorway, stopping her forward momentum with a grip on the doorframe.
“Operation Dog Pound had a confirmed positive thirty miles west of Richmond. The chopper will be here in three minutes.” She threw herself out the door, headed for the bedroom. Jonah followed, moving as fast as he could, but she was already in her odor-blocking suit and stepping into her harness by the time he reached the bedroom.
After discovering that nii and niiaH were the same species, Jonah had wondered if it was possible to train dogs to detect them. He’d started by training a few dogs, and the project
had grown into a network of well-trained and intelligent pets for XYMBI employees. Dog ownership came with an incentive bump in pay and specific protocols for walking and reporting specific barking behavior. The owners were all sworn to secrecy about the program; in addition, none knew what they were really reporting. Tiana had judged the system ‘almost reliable’. A confirmed positive meant two dogs had agreed there was a scent present matching the parameters. This was their first confirmed positive not generated by a test run. It had taken six months of expanding the network to get the first result.
Jonah slipped out of his clothes and showered quickly before struggling into his own odor-blocking coverall. He turned on the ion generator that would circulate ozone over his body inside the suit.
Tiana had insisted on him wearing a suit as well. “They already know what I smell like, but I don’t want them getting wind of you,” she'd said, “Not under any circumstances.”
Jonah grabbed his weapons harness and slung it around his shoulder. Tiana was already out the door, bounding up the stairs to the widow’s walk. Jonah pelted after her, now thankful for all the hours that Amber had spent training him to run-like-hell as he vaulted the railings to shortcut each flight. The whisper of chopper blades already on approach over the water came to him as he raced after Tiana. It sounded like the XYMBI upgraded 4-seater OH-58 Scout. Since he could hear it at all, it was close, considering the upgraded rotor system.
Jonah cleared the stairs and raced to where Tiana stood with his safety harness. Both Tiana and Amber were already hooked in to the lift ring. Jonah stepped into his harness and locked the closure. Tiana handed him the carabiner, and he clipped in and checked to make sure it locked. The chopper appeared over the treetops.
Tiana repeated his safety check then leaped to snag the incoming cable. She grabbed it with one hand, clipped her carabiner into it with the other and signaled the pilot to lift while she lowered herself hand-over- hand to the end of her tether. Jonah’s own tether stretched then snapped tight, yanking him into the air. His stomach jumped at the sudden motion. Amber left the deck a moment later, leaning back to slow her spinning as they rose. Jonah twisted his head to look up. The chopper grew as the hoist hauled them to its door. In a moment, Tiana snagged him by the wrist and clipped his harness to the ring by his seat. Jonah slid into the seat and fastened his belts; Amber would be right behind him.
As Amber reached deck level, she grabbed the doorframe and kicked off the landing skids to launch herself into the seat next to Jonah. The chopper caught a downdraft as she was coming in, and Amber overshot the seat, landing on top of him. Jonah raised his forearm to help her into her seat, but couldn’t resist saying, “Hey! Watch the groping, Rodriguez.”
Amber’s face flushed behind her coffee hued skin; in reflex, Jonah opened his mouth to apologize, but didn’t get a chance.
“Sorry,” she said as she unsnapped the tether and buckled her seatbelts. “This is what I meant to do…”
Jonah saw the elbow headed for his ribs but deflected it into the seat behind him. Amber grinned and snapped her arm straight again catching him in the thigh with a rabbit punch.
“Ow!”
“Settle down children,” Tiana said in a weary voice.
“She started it,” Jonah whined, grateful that Amber had rebounded from his teasing.
“You had it coming,” Tiana said.
“Yeah,” said Amber, sticking her tongue out at him.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Jonah said with a grin. “I owe you so many.”
Tiana dropped into the reversed co-pilot seat across from Amber and buckled her harness. The chopper accelerated, pushing Jonah back into his seat.
“Back to the mission, please,” Tiana said, handing them each a belt loaded with 10mm magazines “These are more of the custom rounds for the Glock 40s. The load is hot, so be ready for lots of recoil. Rounds will penetrate armor then fragment. They won’t smell the powder until the shooting starts, but remember, they’ll be fast and hard to hit; aim for body center.”
Jonah wrapped the magazine belt around his waist.
“Jonah?”
“I stay behind the assault team and don’t approach. If you get killed or incapacitated, I am in strategic command, but not tactical,” he recited.
“Amber?” Tiana said.
“Make sure Jonah stays behind the assault team. Tactical command passes to the strike force team leader if you go down then next to me.”
“If it’s a trap?”
“Run like hell,” Jonah and Amber said together.
With that out of the way, Jonah grabbed the tablet computer from under his seat and tapped into the tactical net for the update feed from the chopper’s sensors. The Scout might not have all the weapons capabilities of the military’s secret Stealthy Blackhawk, but its XYMBI sensor and command suite was a decade ahead of it.
He scanned the tactical update.
A mixed-breed shepherd named Molly, while hiking with her humans in the Powhatan Wildlife Management Area, had first detected the scent. The follow-up team had confirmed and called it in to Tiana. They would be there in about two hours with one fuel stop.
He checked the deployment roster for the operation then put the comlink in his ear and turned on the microphone. “Hey Davy. I see you’re running taxi service this morning. Thanks for the ride.”
“Hi Jonah. I haven’t seen you since you jumped out of my bird, what was it? Three months ago?”
“That’s right, but Amber would say she pushed me out.”
Davy laughed. “You’re lucky she gave you a chute, man. She rides your ass worse than my DI in basic.”
“Keepin’ my mouth shut, Davy. She’s sitting next to me, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Roger that.”
Jonah turned his mike off and pulled up the satellite footage of the operation site. He glanced at the map overlay, so he’d know where he was if he needed to travel on the ground. Tiana was talking to Davy about the chopper. She’d pivoted the seat to face forward. Although checked out on other choppers, Tiana had never flown this one before, and never liked relying exclusively on someone else in case of an emergency. She’d want to be sure that she could replace the pilot.
Jonah sat back, trying to get comfortable in the odor-blocking suit. He closed his eyes and went over the maps of the target areas in his mind, considering different scenarios. He opened his eyes and tapped a query into his tablet to see if anyone had found any ground-level photos of the buildings in online databases. There were a number from most structures in the area, but the section between the triangulation points had only winter satellite photos from XYMBI’s database. It showed one building—a large cabin. There should be more. The photos in county records and real estate transactions might have been hacked and wiped. Jonah thought about asking the IT security team to check, but discarded the idea since it might trip alarms the niiaH might have set in place.
In a soft voice he said, “Tiana, the photos of the primary building on the target site were wiped from county records. Should I tell IT security not to check on it? They might trip alarms.”
Tiana glanced at him and nodded.
Jonah sent a text to the IT team leader asking him to back off investigating records for now. The rest of the trip he toggled between checking mission status and considering new information.
When they were about twenty minutes out, Amber touched him on the arm. Jonah turned to see her tapping a note written on a scrap of paper.
Feels like we are going in too hot. Trap.
Jonah leaned over and held out his hand for the pencil.
She’s thought this through a long time.
Amber looked him in the eye. Her gold-hazel irises stood out from her dilated pupils. She didn’t like this at all, but would move on. Amber turned back to her tablet. Jonah closed his eyes. His chest felt tight. He took deep breaths to let go of the building tension.
When he opened his eyes, Amber was watching him again. “That’s
what I thought,” she mouthed. “Don’t manage me, Jonah.”
Jonah shrugged. Yeah, he was nervous too. Not much got past Amber.
Davy’s voice came to him through his earphone. “We’ll be landing two miles downwind of the target zone in five minutes. I'll be at the LZ for emergency evacuation. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”
The Scout dropped below treetop level and wove through the open spaces as they finished the approach. When they touched down, Tiana dropped out the hatch, stopping to wait for Jonah and Amber.
When they caught up, she held her hands out to them. “Jonah you take this side and Amber this one,” she said. “I’m hauling you. There are logging roads and trails here so watch your step. We’ll start slow, but hang on and try not to stumble.”
Jonah took the offered hand and, after a second’s hesitation, Amber took the other. The three of them walked a few steps together then broke into a fast trot. Tiana kept increasing speed. Jonah—at first feeling like the man with the tiger by the tail—soon decided that guy’d had it easy. It was like skiing behind a boat except he had to run, jump over logs and duck tree branches while zipping along at thirty miles an hour. Since Jonah could anticipate Tiana, he was actually doing a little better than Amber for the first mile, but it evened out as she got the hang of it. The second mile went faster than the first, and in a little over five minutes, they’d reached the mission’s forward site—a dry ditch where the strike team waited.
Jonah fought to catch his breath. It would be so much easier without the suit’s air filter. Even powered by batteries to give positive pressure, the unit was having trouble keeping up with his oxygen demand during the run.
“Anything new to report?” Tiana’s voice came through the helmet’s earpiece.
“Last update from all teams was seven minutes ago, nothing new reported since,” said the team captain, wiping a bead of sweat from her forehead. Jonah sympathized. It might be hotter in her gear than his. At least he had fans blowing inside his suit.