Keeper of the algorithm.., p.4
Keeper of the Algorithm (The Keeper Saga Book 1), page 4
Her eyes met Mike's again, shining with unshed tears. "My world would have crumbled if not for my grandfather. He became my anchor, filling the vacuum. I wrestled with grief, depressive shadows clouding my mind. But he guided me through helping me mold a sense of purpose out of the wreckage."
She gave a half-smile tinged with melancholy. "With my grandfather as my guardian, I became a wild child. I roamed the woods, perhaps trying to inherit my parents' sense of adventure. It led to a tomboyish lifestyle, filled with scraps and squabbles with the neighborhood kids. You could say I became a fierce little warrior, but it was just another way of surviving, of holding on."
Mike found her story appealing.
“I found solace in music and math—particularly algorithms,” she said. “They became my passion.”
Mike felt he'd been granted a glimpse into her very core. He said firmly, “I’ve found that music and math make a perfect union.”
They remained quiet for a while, then anchored near a hidden beach, a sanctuary amid the endless horizon of water and sky.
"Do you have a girlfriend? she asked tentatively.
“No. I don’t have a girlfriend,” Mike admitted, and the words tinged with vulnerability.
Amber looked at him, her eyes penetrating yet gentle. “Did you get your heart broken?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, but that seems like a long time ago.”
She seemed to weigh his honesty against her silent ghosts. “I’m sorry,” she said, but her eyes communicated much more—empathy, perhaps a touch of understanding.
The afternoon air grew calmer as they sailed back, but the warmth between them defied a chilly breeze.
When Mike suggested they head home, Amber paused.
“Just a little longer,” she sighed, and at that moment, they both knew that they were talking about more than just the sail.
Finally, with the sun sinking, they moored the skiff in the harbor and prepared to part ways. Mike leaned in and kissed her softly, feeling the day dissolve with that touch.
To his joy, she whispered, “I’d be delighted to go out with you again.”
◆◆◆
The city's muted lights glowed softly through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Mike’s apartment. It was the perfect place for reflection, far above the city's din. He sat on the couch, staring into the cityscape. His doppelganger, Michael Stewart, was seated across from him. He was analyzing a series of medical reports displayed holographically in the air.
Since Mike was digitally twinned, his information was constantly transmitted to the mainframe. But fortunately, his communications were not monitored.
"It's odd," began Stewart, his voice tinged with wonder, "how two entities so alike can have such vastly different experiences. You navigate the digital terrains, pushing the boundaries of innovation. And here I am, battling my own cells."
Mike looked at Stewart, his face strained. "How are the treatments going?
Stewart sighed, running a hand through his hair, which had started to thin out. "They're aggressive infusions. But they're the best shot to control the pain and inflammation until I’m ready for surgery. I’m getting treatment in a clinic for indigent charity cases. They don’t ask too many questions as long as I pay cash."
Mike's gaze grew intense. "The cash will continue as long as I can keep this job. But Gault's always waiting for me to stumble. Every minor success feels like I'm defusing a ticking bomb."
After a moment, Stewart cleared his throat, "Speaking of your job, I've noticed something odd in my medical reports. There's an anomaly. Anyone who looks closely might connect the dots between us.”
Mike shifted uneasily. "What kind of anomaly?"
Stewart tapped the holographic display, highlighting a sequence of genetic markers. "These markers. They shouldn’t exist in my profile. They're too . . . advanced, almost like they're designed for digital interfacing."
Mike's heart raced. "My Digital Twin monitors my biological data under your name. But your clinic’s doctor shouldn’t have anything to do with that. It could blow our cover."
Stewart grimaced, "And if Gault or anyone at Turing gets wind of it . . ."
"They'll not only question every decision I've made but also consider it a security breach. We'd be exposed," Mike finished grimly.
Stewart took a deep breath, "We need to make sure our tracks are covered, and we have clear sailing going forward. Are there any other telltales?"
Mike thought momentarily, "Well, there's the login patterns. I've been accessing the Turing systems at odd hours, trying to get ahead of my work. If someone's monitoring, they might wonder why."
"And," Stewart added, "I've had multiple medical consultations, all under pseudonyms, but if someone were to cross-reference . . ."
"They might see a pattern," Mike concluded.
The two sat, weighing the gravity of their situation. If their secret were discovered, it wouldn’t just be Mike's job on the line.
Mike broke the silence, "We need a plan."
Stewart nodded, "First, we address the biological anomaly. Can you . . . tweak the system to mask it?"
Mike pondered, "Possibly. I could do an edit on my profile data. But it'll be risky. And I'll need to ensure there's no backtrace."
Stewart smirked, "Always the meticulous one. Good. And the logins?"
"I’ll stagger them. Create a believable pattern. No more late-night sessions," Mike decided.
Chapter 7
Invisible Hand
Mike felt the high-speed elevator whirring. Rapidly, he descended into the subterranean levels of Turing Institute. The lights were dimmer there. He stepped out into a corridor and went to the Data Analysis Hub.
His pulse quickened when the monitor flashed on his ID pin, and the door whooshed open. Jonah and Amber were already there, seated at a control console, surrounded by holographic displays of real-time data flow. It was like standing at the nerve center of the computer facility at MIT.
"Mike, glad you made it. We're about to test your adjustments in a sandbox environment.” Amber's eyes met his, her gaze intense. “Ready?"
Mike nodded, steadying his breathing. "Let's do it."
Jonah tapped a few commands into the console. A visualization of the Algorithm's vast neural network appeared, throbbing in colorful intricate patterns. He moved methodically along several strands until he reached the targeted location.
He said, "Initiating test sequence now."
They watched as a meter in the corner of the screen climbed from 0 to 100. Then, it paused, blinked, and reset.
"Damn it," muttered Jonah, "we've triggered a security protocol. It seems the Algorithm isn't happy with us tinkering in its core, even in the sandbox."
Mike’s eyes narrowed. "Or someone else isn't. Is there a way to trace who initiated the security lockout?"
Jonah looked uneasy but tapped in a command. "Ah, yes. It seems Dr. Gault has been notified."
A message popped up on the main screen: "Unauthorized Modification Attempt Detected. Notify: Dr. Gault."
"Speak of the devil," whispered Jonah.
Mike turned to find Gault at the doorway, arms crossed, eyes sharp as laser beams. "You do realize that the Algorithm is a highly sensitive entity. Any change, no matter how minute, must be approved by me. And I must approve all analysis developing modifications, even in the sandbox."
Amber bristled, but Mike cut her off before she could retort. "Dr. Gault, with all due respect, we have pinpointed an inefficiency that could improve the Algorithm’s performance."
Gault arched an eyebrow. "Oh, have you now?"
Mike said, “You said you accepted the results of my assignment.”
“I accepted your report. I never authorized any further testing or implementation.”
"But even a 0.0008% improvement could translate into substantial gains in efficiency, given the scale commercial companies like Amazon are operating on," Mike continued. “Don’t you think it’s worth pursuing?”
"Perhaps, but you should have asked permission.”
Mike said, “I apologize. May we have permission now?”
“Very well, show me your demonstration."
Jonah and Amber looked at Mike, who gave a subtle nod. Then, they bypassed the security protocol and again initiated the test sequence. This time, the meter shot up and stayed there. A subsequent screen displayed, "Efficiency Improvement: Confirmed."
Gault's eyes flickered for the briefest moment, a crack in his usually imperturbable demeanor. "I see. Proceed with the preparation for the actual implementation, but remember, the Algorithm is more than just a tool for efficiency. It's a shaping force, molding the very fabric of human choices across the Internet. Don't forget that."
Mike locked eyes with Gault.
That's exactly what concerns me.
As Gault walked away, Mike, Jonah, and Amber shared a look. If they uncover more manipulations hidden in the depths of the Algorithm, they might expose more than just inefficiency.
Chapter 8
Implementation
Manfred Gault was an imposing figure as he looked at the trio. His eyes were sharp as flint. "I cannot emphasize enough the care we must take with every change to the Algorithm," he began, his voice resonating in the vast room. “Even minuscule adjustments like this.”
Mike leaned forward, his hazel eyes intent. "We understand, sir. But we need to evaluate the way forward."
Inside the high-tech Data Analysis Hub laboratory of Lovelace Hall, Mike examined the soft glow of a hologram emanating over a sprawling web of interconnected nodes. It illustrated the heart of the Keeper’s Algorithm.
Gault looked at Amber, her fingers twitching as if itching to take notes. "Amber, remember when we first brought you in? We spoke about the necessity of establishing a reference, a baseline."
Amber's brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, to understand the Algorithm's current variations of performance."
Gault nodded approvingly, "Correct. It's like taking a snapshot before making alterations. It’s our safety net."
Jonah, ever the skeptic, questioned, "And after that? How do we ensure that we don't, lose data.”
Gault chuckled, "Ah, Jonah, always one for dramatics. That’s where risk assessment comes into play. We must play the prophet and predict possible outcomes. It's like . . . looking for ripples in a pond before throwing the stone."
Mike smirked, “So no butterfly effects, then?”
“Exactly,” Gault replied with a twinkle.
Amber’s sharp mind was already racing ahead. "We’ve already made Mike’s changes in the closed sandbox environment. And the initial results looked good.”
Gault looked pleased, "Very astute, Amber. Yes, a contained replica of the Algorithm. Any changes, no matter how minor, first play out there."
Mike drummed his fingers on the table, "And I assume there's an additional gauntlet of further testing now?"
Gault smiled, revealing teeth white against his rugged complexion. "Indeed. Multiple layers. We test, refine, and test again. Only then do our senior engineers give their seal of approval."
Mike rolled his eyes, "So, red tape and more red tape."
Gault’s gaze was unwavering. "It’s not bureaucracy, Stewart. It’s vigilance. The world relies on the Algorithm's stability."
Amber looked thoughtful. “Once changes are made, they're specifically monitored with code breakpoints, aren’t they?"
Gault pointed to the dancing nodes. "Always. Like a guardian watching over its charge, we keep an eye, ready to act if things go awry.
With a final glance at the trio, he intoned, "Your duty is not just to the Institute but to the Algorithm beyond. Remember that." He turned on his heel and exited, leaving the three.
Jonah let out a low whistle, "Well, no pressure."
As the heavy door sealed behind Gault, the room was engulfed in a deeper silence—the servers' soft hum and the Algorithm nodes' luminous dance.
Amber laughed, her tension breaking. "Come on, let's dive in."
Mike walked over to a console on the left. The screen came alive, showcasing the sandbox environment. A near-perfect replica of the actual Algorithm was cordoned off, insulated from real-world effects. He pulled the results from their earlier tests.
Amber, an eager planner, spoke first, "We need to start with the baseline metrics. Can you pull up the Algorithm's performance stats from the last week?”
Adept with data analytics, Jonah quickly navigated through a maze of menus. Charts and graphs emerged, showing the Algorithm's intricate dance over the last thirty days. “There we go. Peaks, valleys, anomalies . . . it's all here.”
Mike nodded, skimming through the data. “Our minor alteration today concerns the energy consumption nodes to deliver the advertisements. We must ensure that the distribution remains even.”
Amber’s fingers flew across another console, calling up 3D models of significant city grids. "Here's our simulated environment. Let’s introduce the changes here and watch for fluctuations.”
As they set to work, the room became a ballet of motion and light. Screens flickered with code and holograms shifted with every alteration. The simulated environments reacted to each command.
Hours passed. Mike introduced a new line of code, causing a miniature holographic city to dim and brighten. "That’s it! We’ve reduced energy wastage by 15% without affecting distribution."
Amber, monitoring the sandbox's responses, frowned slightly. "There's a slight heating issue in the southern grid. Jonah, can you adjust the cooling parameters?”
Jonah tweaked the settings, and the red warning zones on the hologram turned a reassuring green. "Handled. We're stable.”
The three shared a moment of triumph, their eyes reflecting the sparkle of the nodes. But they knew their job wasn't done.
Mike said, "Now, let's run the full spectrum—from unit tests to full integration.”
Amber nodded in agreement. "And let’s not forget random event simulations. We need to know how the changes hold up under pressure.”
The team encountered challenges as the simulations played out. There was an unexpected power surge in one district and a sudden simulated natural event in another. But with each challenge, they adapted, refined, and overcame.
Jonah, rubbing his tired eyes, looked at his peers. “I think . . . I think we’re ready for implementation.”
Despite exhaustion, Mike smiled, "Let’s get the senior engineers for final review."
Amber, stretching her back, sighed with satisfaction, "Once they give the green light, we can initiate the rollout within the week."
◆◆◆
The following week at the Turing Institute was tense. News of the confrontation between Mike and Gault had spread. Whispers filled the corridors, and every department was aware. There was a clear divide—those who believed in pushing boundaries for innovation sided with Mike. At the same time, those who favored tradition and caution stood with Gault.
Mike worked diligently, double and triple-checking his work. His usually tidy desk was now covered in holographic displays, charts, and simulations. The weight of proving himself hung heavy on his shoulders.
It wasn’t long before he was due to present their findings to the review committee. Comprising senior scientists, external auditors, and representatives from various tech companies, this committee would evaluate and decide on the proposed algorithm change.
On the presentation day, Mike entered the Escher conference room. He adjusted his shirt, took a deep breath, and began.
His presentation was thorough. It detailed every simulation result analysis and addressed potential concerns. Amber joined him, her confidence lending weight to their collective argument.
When they finished, the room was silent. The committee members whispered among themselves. They frequently glanced at the central screen where the data was displayed.
After what felt like hours, Dr. Helen Martinez, an external auditor renowned for her impartiality, spoke up. “Your analysis is impressive. The potential benefits are undeniable. But we need to be sure of the risks. We cannot jeopardize user trust.” She was a tall, striking brunette with a commanding presence. Her fiery hair complemented her vibrant personality, making her instantly memorable. Her pale complexion contrasted with her deep-set green eyes that often sparkle with mischief or reflect deeper emotions, depending on the situation.
Mike said, “We’ve accounted for potential threats and vulnerabilities. The change, while seemingly minor, is solid. And we’re not looking at an immediate rollout. We propose a phased approach, monitoring at each step.”
Dr. Chetna Wu nodded thoughtfully, “A phased approach is prudent.” He was of average height with a slightly stocky build. He possessed a balding crown, with the remaining hair kept short and neat. His face was animated, easily portraying emotions. His round glasses gave him a studious appearance, complementing his meticulous nature. Like his colleagues, his wardrobe mostly consisted of a tailored suit, though his choices tend to be a tad more conservative, reflecting his desire for order and structure.
The discussions continued, with each committee member challenging Mike and Amber. And with every question, their defense of the change became even more robust.
Then, the moment of reckoning arrived. The committee cast their votes.
The result was in favor of Mike's proposal.
Mike adjusted his collar as he walked down the hallway, his shoes clicking rhythmically on the cold marble floor. A strange sense of finality settled in the pit of his stomach. The review committee had approved the changes, and now, the burden of implementation weighed on him alone.
The first obstacle was getting the access codes. He headed toward Winters' office, taking in the austere décor that adorned the walls. The irony of a place so committed to the future reveling in relics of the past was not lost on him.
