(This is the first of a series of posts taking part in Invisible Networks, taking place throughout February.)
I don't want to be awake right now. I'm supposed to be too important to wake up for these sort of problems, yet here I am sipping unappetizing coffee that's gone lukewarm as I stare at this crisis command room. God, it feels like we should be here because of some rocket launching, not some paranoid nonsense about Foundation.
Everyone else has already been here for a good five or so hours. The room is getting stuffy, and at least one person's deodorant isn't up to task. I'd snap at the person responsible at any other day but right now I'm too angry for even harsh words.
"Director MacHothens!" That's Assistant Director Brown stumbling over to my desk. His suit is a mess and he's too frantic to succumb to the slight intimidation he usually seems to show in my presence. Is that an overstuffed file folder in his hands? Christ man, we have tablets and wifi here for a reason.
"Brown!" My voice is surprisingly firm and calm, despite the feeling quite the opposite inside. "No one was able to give me a straight answer over the phone or on the way to this room, so please clearly explain to me why I'm here at 2 AM on a Sunday and not at home with my wife as I should be."
Brown swallows nervously. Not the intimidation, he probably thinks the news is as bad as everyone is acting about. "Well . . . Ma'am . . . I mean Director. Chuck Thorkin, the CEO and inventor of the Foundation Network Interface, was arrested at 5:37 PM yesterday. One of our monitoring targets we suspected to be a middleman in child-trafficking operations had arrived an hour earlier, and our surveillance equipment . . . we caught Thorkin in the act. Our domestic response team currently has him in custody, but there were press at the scene by 8 PM, as well as sightings of drones that may have been journalists trying to follow the vehicle convoy we transported him in."
"This still sounds like it should be something that waits until Monday for the debriefing." I say, surprised to find I still have some meager scraps of patience to use up. I know there's going to be more, and I won't like it.
"Well this ties into the Foundation Network Interface. It's design as a professional social network is tied into a architectural social model. A social circle is represented through an algorithm that translates the dynamics into an architectural equivalent, with people central to a circle being represented in more important parts of the resulting building. Load-bearing supports and foundations. Most of the process is passive on the user end, since the model is updated by pulling from news feeds and the other social sites rapidly." Brown is starting to talk faster. Maybe he hopes that the momentum will make this awful situation pass more quickly? Same, buddy. "The problem comes from the API integration, which primarily allows stock managers to set up their own algorithms that hook into Foundation and analyze 'social buildings' associated with publicly-owned companies, automatically buying and selling stock based on the perceived stability in the model."
I hold up my hand to have Brown pause while I rub my temple for a moment and try to use the disappointing coffee aroma to mask the room's worse-than-disappointing fragrance. It's economics again. I hate when it's economics. "Go on."
"Well, when we arrested Thorkin he didn't resist, just said that he had the world in a noose and we were the ones pulling it tight. The agent in charge onsite made the call to impose a press blackout and fast-track Thorkin's interrogation. That might have saved our asses if we can ride this storm. Turns out Thorkin made sure that his own status was tied to the ground itself in the Foundation model."
I almost choke on the coffee. This wasn't the curveball I expected. "The ground? Do you mean . . ."
"When it gets out that he's facing pedophilia charges, the algorithm is essentially going to recreate an apocalypse in Foundation. Every building collapsing in moments as the model updates."
"And when that happens, the stock trading scripts will create a financial crash." I finish for him. Maybe it was the right call for Brown to get me in here.
But Brown has that look on his face, sheepishly telling me the presentation isn't over. "Worse. Apparently Thorkin helped a couple billionaires with controlling stakes in other major companies make their scripts even more hands-off, setting up thresholds where the algorithm identifies a company as lost based on the state of it's Foundation representation. At that point it automates mass-layoffs for the affected company. We don't know how many businesses are tied to this, but at our current estimation at least three percent of the american workforce will be fired if this cascade effect isn't prevented."
"Then we take Foundation offline. If Thorkin has orchestrated a national emergency then we can shut down the servers first and get permission to do so after the fact. That better be what everyone else is working on." Algorithmic layoffs? I've heard the dystopic theories of that becoming widespread in the near future, but I didn't think it'd be this fragile and vulnerable.
One of the staff in a sweat-soaked suit shirt suddenly curses, and the rest of the room goes quiet. "Directional-mic drone managed to catch most of Thorkin's arrest and escape the media blackout. We have a squad on the way to take the journalist into custody but it's too late. There's activity at the CNN, NBC and Forbes offices already, and they're not answering our calls."
I echo the curse, and everyone stares at me. "What's the progress on taking down Foundation?"
"Our Arizona team just shut down their last listed server warehouse, but the site is still online. They must have maintained unlisted backup hosting!" Another staff member who fits well in the crowd of disheveled and stressed government workers replies this time. "Cybersec is tracking down the current server locations but the deployment time alone may take a couple hours depending on where they are."
And that's it. We're screwed. Financial depression and riots are certain. I continue to lead the others in trying to mitigate damage, but it feels like a separate person is making those orders, that this isn't real. The only thing that feels sharp in my senses is the overview screen of Foundation as the digital ground begins to crack and drag down every entwined human connection with it.
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