Daemon (35 page)

“Before I continue, let me caution you to watch this video in its entirety before contacting your local or federal authorities. This recording contains important information that may affect your decision to involve those entities in this situation.”

A light musical jingle accompanied a twirling inset picture that spun to a stop alongside Sobol’s head. It was a video of Sobol’s mansion roaring in flames.

Sobol smiled pleasantly. “As you can see, involving the authorities is no guarantee of your safety. Although they would certainly be willing to try again at your location.”

The inset video image transitioned to a collection of quivering question marks.

Sobol looked intently into the camera. “But you’re probably wondering just how you got yourselves into this situation. To answer that question, surprisingly, we need to go back hundreds of millions of years to the very origins of life on Earth.”

The question marks expanded to fill the screen and faded away as the entire screen dissolved to an image of primordial Earth. It was a 3-D computer animation of the ancient seas, teeming with exotic life—razor-toothed fish with whiplike probosces and flitting schools of tiny translucent organisms.s

Vangelis music rose on the surround-sound speakers. Sobol narrated, “Let me tell you the story of the most successful organism of all time: this is the story of the
parasite.
”

On-screen a large, particularly evil-looking fish with twin rows of splayed fangs and a spiked dorsal array glided into view. Just then, a small organism swam for the area just behind the enormous fish’s gills, where it latched on, unnoticed. A dozen others followed it and also latched on.

Sobol spoke. “Early on, evolution branched into two distinct paths: independent organisms—those that exist on their own in the natural world—and parasites—organisms that live on other organisms. And it was, by far, the parasites that proved the more successful of the two branches. Today, for every independent organism in nature, there exist three parasites.”

The computer animation transitioned from one eon to the next—from amphibian to reptilian to mammalian—with parasites continuing to evolve along with their hosts, infesting some species, driving them to extinction, while other species evolved means to keep them at bay—at least for a time.

“These two strains of evolution have been locked in a primordial arms race, constantly evolving to best each other for supremacy of this planet. As parasites evolve to perfect their systems against a species of host, the host evolves to evade their attack. Scientists call this theory of an eternal genetic struggle the Red Queen Hypothesis—a name taken from Lewis Carroll’s
Through the Looking Glass.
”

On-screen, the image suddenly changed to an animation of Alice in Wonderland—with the Red Queen running along a hedgerow maze and looking toward little Alice, who struggled to keep up. She was saying: “Now, here, you see, it takes all the running you can do, to keep in the same place.”

The screen changed to a video of a small pond, with snails moving through the mud.

“Animal behavior has evolved to battle parasites. In fact, we have parasites to thank for the existence of sex. Sex is a costly and time-consuming method of reproduction. Experiments have shown that, in the absence of parasites, species evolve toward parthenogenesis—or cloning—as the reproductive method of choice. In parthenogenesis each individual is able to self-replicate. But this produces almost no genetic variation. In the presence of parasites, cloning, while more energy-efficient, is not a viable reproductive strategy. It presents a stationary genetic target to parasites, who, once introduced into such a system, will quickly dominate it.”

The screen changed to an animated diagram of twin sets of human DNA strands, which moved as Sobol spoke.

“Sexual reproduction exists solely as a means to defeat parasites. By mixing male and female genes, sex produces offspring not exactly like either the male or female—making each generation different from the last, and presenting a moving target to intruders intent on compromising this system.

“Even with this variation, parasites continue to pose a threat…”

The screen changed to color film footage of native villages with truly hideous parasitic infestations; children with bulging, worm-filled bellies; malaria victims.

“…and parasitism evolves and moves through
any
system—not just living things. The less variation there is in a system, the more readily parasites will evolve to infest it….”

The screen showed food-borne illness outbreaks—images of fast-food restaurants. The camera panned to reveal identical restaurants running down the sides of each street, in Dallas, in Denver, in Orlando, in Phoenix….

“Perfect replication is the enemy of any robust system….”

Then images of identical rows of computers in a data center, all running the same operating system…

“Lacking a central nervous system—much less a brain—the parasite is a simple system designed to compromise a very specific target host. The more uniform the host, the more effective the infestation.”

The screen changed to a video image of a hermit crab moving along the sandy ocean bottom. The camera followed it as Sobol spoke.

“But if they’re so successful, why haven’t parasites taken over the world? The answer is simple: they have. We just haven’t noticed. That’s because successful parasites don’t kill us; they become part of us, making us perform all the work to keep them alive and help them reproduce….”

The crab scuttled toward its hole.

“
Sacculina
is a parasite that infests saltwater crabs. It burrows into their flesh and extends tendrils into the crab’s bloodstream and brain. It chemically castrates the crab and becomes its new brain—controlling it like a zombie.”

The screen then showed an image of a
Sacculina
-infested crab, with the bulging sack of the parasite filling its abdomen.

“It compels the crab to raise the parasite’s young. It enslaves it.”

The screen changed to a close-up computer animation. It was a double helix of DNA, with each set of genes showing clearly as rungs on the genetic ladder. The perspective moved along the length of the helix.

“And so have thousands of parasites done with us. After tens of thousands of years, a parasite becomes so much a part of us that they evolve into sections of our DNA.”

Certain sections of the DNA were highlighted, one after another.

“They have so enslaved us that we believe we’re reproducing ourselves, when in reality, we’re reproducing hidden others within us. Forty percent of our genetic code consists of these useless segments of DNA—sections that serve no useful purpose to us. Nearly half the human genome is just the ghostly remnant of parasites.”

The images of DNA dissolved back to Sobol, sitting in his armchair by the fireplace. “By now, you’ve figured out that my Daemon is your parasite and that you are hopelessly infected. The Daemon will sip your corporate blood, but it will not be fatal. More importantly, the Daemon will keep other parasites out of your system, strengthening your immunity and ensuring that the corporate host continues to survive.”

The fireplace background dissolved, and Sobol now appeared on a black background. He was more serious.

“But know this: my Daemon has enlisted humans within your organization. These are hijacked cells in the corporate organism. People who thirst for more power. That’s how the Daemon got in. You have no way of knowing who is responsible. My Daemon can teach almost anyone to defeat network security—especially from an existing network account. The reality is that my Daemon now controls your global IT function. Your business will operate as before, and no one will suspect that there is anything unusual going on—except that perhaps your systems will run better than they did when you were responsible for them.

“Your natural inclination will be to resist this indignity, of course, and so you will be tempted to contact the authorities. That is your choice—although the moment my Daemon detects such contact, it will wipe your company’s data off the face of the earth. And don’t even think of replicating your databases from scratch with paper files; remember that my Daemon has agents among your staff. You can hide nothing from it. If you start polygraphing or if you lay off everyone, the Daemon will destroy your company. If you attempt to infiltrate an undercover operative into your IT department, it will destroy your company. If you attempt to exert control over your IT department or to create a new one, it will destroy your company. In short: if you attempt to do anything other than ignore my Daemon, it will destroy your company.

“As a financial enterprise wholly reliant upon the trust of your clients, the loss of all your clients’ data will bring ruin upon you. As for insurance: the Daemon will annihilate you whenever you reappear, and it will never stop until both your company and you as individual officers are financially destroyed. Being a nonsentient narrow-AI construct, the Daemon doesn’t give a damn what choice you make. It’s as dumb as
Sacculina
.” A pause. “And just as effective.”

The fireplace background reappeared, and Sobol smiled again. “I hope you and my Daemon can peacefully coexist. I think you’ll find that, as the years roll by, you’ll be glad indeed that you didn’t try to defy it—especially as you take market share from those companies that did defy it. So, please, carefully consider your options, and just remember—no matter what you choose—you serve a crucial role in evolution. Even if it’s just as food for the survivors. Thanks for watching.”

Sobol waved pleasantly as the saccharine corporate Muzak came up, accompanied by fanatical applause. Credits rolled by impossibly fast.

The female announcer returned. “Don’t touch that dial! In a few moments, you’ll have a chance to see how you can avoid destruction at the hands of the Daemon. And be sure to take the Daemon quiz—”

Lindhurst hit the
STOP
button, and the screen went black.

Vanowen sat there like someone who had just been through electro-shock therapy. His mouth hung open for several moments before he turned dull eyes toward Lindhurst. “It’s really Sobol.”

“That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

There were a few moments of silence.

“We have to call the authorities.”

“If we call the FBI—and word gets out about this—our investors will bail. And sue.”

Vanowen nodded. He suddenly frowned, as if remembering to be angry. “Damnit, Lindhurst, what kind of an organization are you running down there? Your systems may be responsible for the destruction of this company—a company with a century of history. When the shit hits the fan, I’m going to point the finger of blame squarely at you, where it belongs, and you can count on that.”

Lindhurst looked darkly at Vanowen. “That’s a touching sentiment, but I seem to remember it was you who told me to cut IT head count by half and slash the benefits of the rest. That left us with plenty of disgruntled people in our midst.”

“You took your bonus, if I remember.”

“Look, let’s not turn this into a blamestorming session. There’ll be plenty of time for that if we fail. In the meantime, we should focus on what we’re going to do.”

“You mean what
you’re
going to do. I’m going to Moscow to maintain the appearance of normalcy. But I want a report in my inbox by the time I land, detailing precisely what you intend to do to solve this problem.”

“No e-mail. Our systems are compromised. The phones, too. They’re voice over IP—the signals go over the computer network. We’ll need to use our personal cell phones and handwritten correspondence only—nothing enters a computer concerning this situation. Not a single typed character. Not even a scheduled meeting between us.
Nothing.
Otherwise they’ll know what we’re up to.”

Vanowen was slightly taken aback. “You’re serious?”

“Russ, you might not have noticed, but this entire organization is stitched together with computer networks. You can’t enter the parking garage without producing half a dozen records in some database. Sobol says he has people on our staff, and they no doubt can see everything we’re doing.”

“If you ask me, this is simple: we shut everything off and go back to using pens, paper, and phones. Lay off all these IT bastards. We’ll see how they like that.”

Lindhurst took a deep breath to keep from losing his temper. He heard this suggestion from time to time from men of Vanowen’s generation. Lindhurst chose his words carefully. “Russ, our competitors deliver market information in seconds to their clients, and we need to also. That doesn’t even begin to cover the fact that we need information just as much, if not more, than our clients in order to make a profit. If you turn off these systems, you may as well lock the doors.”

Vanowen was already nodding. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But damnit, I knew this would happen one of these days with these goddamn computers.”

Lindhurst let this Nostradamus-like postdated prediction go uncontested. “Let’s be explicit, then: you go about your normal schedule. I’ll see what I can do about the problem, and when you return, we meet first thing. In person and off-site.”

“Are you sure we shouldn’t simply call the authorities?”

“Look, even if we decide to contact them, the more we know about what’s really going on, the better. We’re only talking about a few days more, and this thing has been inside us for months. Remember, the slightest hint that there’s trouble, and this thing is liable to pull the plug on all our data.”

“But would it really do that? Then it would get nothing.”

“This isn’t a
person,
Russ. It’s a logic tree. That’s like wondering if a computer has the courage to put the letter
D
on-screen if you tap the “D” key. I suspect that a few employees have handed over control to the Daemon. I’m hoping I can quietly discover who and convince them to change sides again.”

Vanowen waved that topic aside. “I don’t want to hear details. Just tell me when you’ve solved it. Now get out of here, I’ve got to get ready to leave.”