Keeper of the algorithm.., p.5
Keeper of the Algorithm (The Keeper Saga Book 1), page 5
Winters sat behind his desk, hunched over a digital tablet. He looked up, his eyes meeting Mike's. "You got the go-ahead?"
"Yes, sir," Mike said. He handed Winters his tablet showing the change with the signatures of each committee member.
Winters swiped his pin over the tablet a couple of times and then motioned Mike closer. "Here. These are the new access codes. One-time use. Be careful."
The numbers and letters seemed arbitrary, but their power was immense. With a curt nod, Mike pocketed the digital note.
Winters stood and smiled as Mike left, as if he were remembering the first time, he had performed this ritual.
Mike made his way to the Gödel room, the secure chamber that housed the Algorithm's quantum supercomputer mainframe interface.
The door to the Algorithm’s secure room was a feat of engineering itself. Made from reinforced titanium, it could withstand a blast equivalent to several tons of TNT. But the real protection was its multi-tiered security. Mike swiped Winters' special keycard through the card reader, and a biometric scanner emerged from the wall. His hand trembled slightly as he placed his palm on the glass surface, waiting for approval. A green light blinked, and the door emitted a soft, hydraulic hiss as it slid open.
Inside, the room was austere, almost monastic. A matching set of terminals sat facing each other in the center of the room.
Manfred Gault entered the room and sat at one terminal.
Mike went to the other console.
The two-person rule was required.
Mike took a deep breath. This was it—the moment of reckoning. He inserted the keycard into its slot, and a screen came alive, asking for his Turing ID pin.
He touched his pin to the screen. A prompt appeared on the screen,
"The Algorithm waits:"
Gault entered the changes on his screen while Mike did the same. When the changes match a light went green. Both men pressed, “Enter” and the change was uploaded into the mainframe.
Mike’s eyes remained fixed on the screen, tracking lines of codes as they scrolled, rewriting the essence of the Algorithm.
The screen finally flashed, "Changes successfully implemented. The Algorithm is now updated."
A wave of relief washed over Mike, but the burden of his actions weighed heavily. The Algorithm was changed.
Several people were waiting outside the room as Mike exited.
Mike's eyes were fixed on one person—Gault. The Associate Keeper's face was inscrutable, but his eyes betrayed a hint of a grudge.
As the crowd dispersed, Gault approached Mike. "Your tenacity is commendable," he began, voice neutral. "But remember, every change has consequences. I hope you're prepared for them."
Mike, feeling a surge of confidence, replied, "Every innovation brings challenges, Dr. Gault. That's how progress is made."
Gault nodded slowly, "Indeed. But be wary. The digital realm is unpredictable. And I’ll be watching."
Chapter 9
WormAI
The Turing Institute's sprawling Digital Command Center was ablaze with alarms. Red blips peppered the massive, curved screens. They indicated security breaches and abnormal algorithm behaviors across the Turing Institute campus.
The Keeper, Jacob Winters, was responsible for the Algorithm’s cybersecurity. Amid the chaos, his personal Assistant Keeper, Amber Hearst, was at his side. Cybersecurity specialists manned various computer stations, frantically performing various checks and verifications.
Mike sprinted in, the doors swishing shut behind him. "You summoned me? What’s the crisis?"
Without looking up from her console, Amber spoke quietly to him, "A WormAI may have penetrated our defenses. This malicious worm is self-replicating and does not require user intervention to spread. It's wreaking havoc. This technology has been weaponized for specific hacking. Since your adjustment was part of the last upgrade and it’s being checked as a possible source of infection."
Before Mike could respond, Dr. Manfred Gault strode in, immediately commanding the room. "What in the blazes is happening here?"
Amber bristled but explained succinctly. Gault, eyes scanning the room, looked from Mike to Amber and back again.
He settled his gaze on Mike. "Isn’t it curious that this happens after your little algorithm adjustment? Could your 'minor' change have left us vulnerable?"
Mike’s heart raced. "My change was isolated and went through all the standard verification protocols. It was implemented yesterday with routine monitoring."
Gault cut him off, "I’ve been skeptical of your capabilities since you arrived. This crisis might be . . ."
Amber interjected, "Dr. Gault, Michael's change was unrelated to the type of routing and infected security layers of this attack.”
Gault bristled. His piercing eyes didn't waver. "Prove it."
Amber said, “The attack appears to be an ever-changing AI-generated malware we are calling WormAI. Like any cyber worms it is self-replicating and does not require user intervention to spread. However, this one seems to be an AI super variant of Storm Worm. This AI is determining the most effective ways to self-propagate through our network and automatically customizing its payload for different targets. It uses deep reenforcement learning to create a morphing keylogger.”
Gault was unmoved.
Amber quickly pulled up the logs for Mike's adjustment activity. "Look here. Michael's adjustments were made to the data interpretation layers for targeted advertising. Completely unrelated sectors."
Gault grudgingly nodded.
Mike, desperate to clear his name, used his eidetic memory and thought hard. "Storm Worm malware is often delivered into the computer system through an executable program. Executables have instructions to alter a device’s system. This allows the worm to leverage deep data for its routing, but we can trace the origins to the data source’s entry—possibly its server. It could lead us to the attacker."
Amber nodded, "I can cross-reference the malicious routes with our recent server database accesses. We might find a pattern."
She looked to Winters for approval.
Winters said, “Amber, first create a GeoFence around Turing. We need to confine this attack to our grounds to keep it from spreading. Then you may proceed with your analysis.”
Mike said, “I’ll conducted signature-based detection.”
Jonah said, “I’ll take heuristic detection.”
“I’ll follow behavior analysis,” said Amber.
They worked fervently, their screens a blur of code and data traces.
Gault watched like a hawk. His skepticism was evident in every line on his face.
Finally, Amber exclaimed, "Got it! Look at this. The worm's been exploiting a specific vulnerability, but it’s not from our recent adjustments. It comes from an older gateway in a server farm we’ve hardly used in months."
Mike felt a wash of relief. He muttered quietly, "That gateway was deprecated well before I arrived here.
Though visibly less accusatory, Gault still seemed reluctant to absolve Mike. "Ensure this WormAI is contained. And Stewart," he said with a pointed look, "I'll be watching."
With a parting glance at Amber, he left.
Amber sighed, "You handled that well. Gault was looking for a scapegoat.
Mike replied, weary but determined, "It’s not about Gault. It’s about keeping the Algorithm safe. That worm won’t be the last threat we face.”
◆◆◆
The city buzzed with activity after dusk. Mike, Amber, and Jonah found themselves atop "The Ledge," a popular rooftop bar in town with a panoramic countryside view. The bar was a melting pot, drawing in not only the digital elite, but those looking to escape their daily lives.
Sipping his electric-blue cocktail, Jonah looked out and mused, "After a day like today, I need a drink to escape.”
Amber nodded.
Jonah said, “You ever stop to think about how much things have changed? Just look down there. No physical money, just people waving hands and blinking eyes."
Amber chuckled, "Don’t tell me about paper currency. Such an inconvenience!"
Mike, swirling the ice in his glass, added, "It's not just the money. It's the way we work, live, even dream. Bots now do half the jobs we had a decade ago."
Jonah sighed, "Yeah, and that's left many people out in the cold. My brother’s on UI. They call universal income the dole, but who can live on it? He lives on the fringe, in one of those outdated parts of the city. If you'd believe, he calls himself a dole-dweller with a hint of pride."
Amber's face turned somber, "It's a hard life on the dole. But the UI helps, at least a little. I've heard stories of people selling their biometric chips, though. Desperation's a dangerous thing."
Mike avoided commenting, "Speaking of desperation, have you tried those deep-dive VR experiences? I've heard they're like drugs but without the chemicals."
Jonah laughed nervously, "Man, those things are intense. I tried it once. Thought I was a bird flying over ancient forests. I forgot my name for a few hours after I came out of it."
Amber leaned in, "They're not all fun and games. My cousin is addicted to a VR dating sim. He's completely fallen in love with a virtual character and neglects his wife and kids. It's sad. We had to get him into one of those VR overdose clinics."
Jonah said, "My neighbor got addicted to a VR game where you can become a superhero. He spent so much time in the game that he started to lose his grip on reality. He even tried to fly from the roof of his house. He broke his leg."
Mike raised an eyebrow, "I've seen those. They're popping up everywhere. But, you know, there's so much good for all the bad. Art, music, and unique human experiences. Not everything's lost to AI."
Mike smiled, "True. We adapt, evolve, and find our way. That's what we do, isn't it?"
The trio clinked their glasses together, a toast to the neon lights.
Chapter 10
Clueless
Paul Wilson glanced at his computer screen, his eyes narrowing at the anomaly that disrupted the usual rhythmic dance of data. The streams of zeros and ones whispered secrets, but tonight, they were secrets tinged with discord.
As Associate Keeper of Security, Wilson had long since learned to read the Algorithm's idiosyncratic language, a complex syntax encoded in binary strings.
Mark, a colleague who occupied the adjacent office, poked his head in the door and asked, "Working late again, Paul?"
Wilson glanced up, his face a blend of irritation and relief. "Just tying up some loose ends, after the incident with the WormAI, Mark. You know how it is."
Mark chuckled, his voice echoing in the quiet office. "The Algorithm never sleeps, but we should. Catch you later."
Wilson smiled, watching Mark put on his coat and disappear down the hallway.
Back at his screen, Wilson felt a knot of apprehension tighten in his gut. Should he escalate this to the higher-ups? What would Gault say?
He chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplating. Going through official channels could muddle the waters. And if this were an inside job—a notion that twisted his insides—then it would tip off the perpetrator.
No, for now, this is for my eyes only.
Wilson’s fingers found their way back to the keyboard as he decided to record his findings in a secure, encrypted file. Just as he was about to type, his secure messaging app pinged. A note popped up, wrapped in encryption.
"Is everything all right? Noticed you didn't log off. Find anything interesting? — M"
Wilson recognized Michael, the new Assistant Keeper he had interviewed earlier.
Wilson hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys. He hadn't yet gotten the measure of Michael—his enigmatic demeanor, his questionable entry into the hallowed halls of the Algorithm's keepers.
“Still investigating. Lots of open questions. — P”
“Can I help? There are some anomalies I’d like to tell you about. Want to get together again? — M"
"Intriguing," Paul mused to himself. "Why is he taking such an interest? It isn’t his place to get involved. Is he trying to hide something?"
Weighing his options, Wilson finally typed a vague but reassuring response.
"Everything's under control—just some late-night diagnostics. Catch you later. — P"
Wilson’s eyes returned to his screen. He felt a fusion of relief, curiosity, and an underlying current of fear. What he was about to do would take him down the path of no return, but the lure of unearthing hidden truths was irresistible.
This is why I got into security in the first place.
With that thought, Wilson resumed his investigation. He pulled up the records of firewall alerts, the flagged IP addresses, and logs of recent activities. He ran advanced queries that sliced through the data.
Hours bled into each other, each tick of the clock a punctuation mark in an extended period of calculations, queries, and deductions. As the first slivers of dawn light began to filter through the blinds, a grim picture crystallized before him. The breach was not incidental—it was part of a broader insidious plan traced back to an offshore server.
Grabbing his coat, he exited his office and entered the empty hallway. As he made his way to the elevator, Wilson felt a shiver snake up his spine.
I’m getting in over my head.
Chapter 11
Cha-cha
The following weekend, the Turing Institute hosted an event to welcome the latest crop of employees.
The golden rays of the setting sun streamed through the windows as Mike pushed open the ornate glass door of the Haven—an upscale establishment nestled within Boston's bustling entertainment district. Jonah trailed behind him, both men entered the opulent cocktail lounge bustling with activity.
Amid the lively atmosphere sat Amber Hearst, resplendent in an elegant cocktail dress. Her blonde hair was artfully arranged, amplifying her appeal, and making her the most captivating woman in the room. As if enchanted, men, both known and unknown to her, approached, trying to join her at her table.
"Hello," she responded gracefully, "Lovely to see you, but I'm waiting for someone." Then, with a gracious tilt of her head, she flashed a radiant smile—a silent plea for understanding that left most suitors politely retreating. One persistent admirer lingered, right until the moment Amber caught sight of Mike and Jonah. She rose with an enthusiastic wave, and the lingering suitor withdrew, casting a caustic glare in their direction.
Jonah occupied the chair to Amber's right, and Mike sat on her left. A warm feeling washed over Mike as the trio ordered cocktails.
"Here's to us," Jonah exclaimed, hoisting his glass high.
Glasses clinked, and the heady liquid disappeared in unison, their empty glasses thumping back on the table.
"Again!" Jonah bellowed, signaling the waitress, who responded with a laugh and briskly went to refill their order.
Just then, Amber’s colleague, Sandy Harris, made her entrance. She exchanged terse greetings with Amber but immediately locked eyes with Manfred Gault. He sat in a distant corner, looking as grim and somber as a storm cloud. Their fleeting eye contact exchanged an unspoken message—thick with tension and mystery—before Sandy moved to join him.
Mike felt an uncomfortable revelation creep into his consciousness. There was a complicated emotional triangle between Sandy, Amber, and Gault. One filled with unspoken jealousy and tension.
His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of another round of drinks and a hearty slap on the back from another colleague, Paul Wilson. Mike coughed and spluttered, trying not to spill his drink.
"Amber, you must be Mike’s mentor," Wilson grinned. “Michael, I thought you’d like to know, I’ve made progress.”
Mike looked mystified as Wilson melded back into the thrumming crowd.
Jonah asked, “What was that about?”
Mike shrugged.
The room's energy escalated into a palpable fervor. It began as a whisper, a call for Jonah's musical skills. Initially, he seemed reluctant. But finally relenting, he delivered an eclectic mix of modern tunes and nostalgic melodies on a virtual piano keyboard that appeared out of nowhere.
Suddenly, the crowd erupted into a chant, "Am-ber! Am-ber!
Confused, Mike watched as she rose to join Jonah. When she began to sing, her ethereal voice weaved a story of passion and yearning that captivated every soul in the room. She returned to the table bathed in applause.
"You were marvelous," Mike said, reaching to squeeze her hand.
"Thank you," she replied, her blush deepening as if his compliment held a unique weight.
Jonah continued playing, and couples floated onto the dance floor, carried by the atmosphere. He glanced knowingly at Mike, then shifted his eyes to Amber as though transmitting an encrypted message.
Before Mike could decode it, Gault materialized, inviting Amber to dance. She accepted with only a fleeting glance at Mike, and the couple melted into the melody Jonah was orchestrating.
Mike watched them as they danced. A tinge of jealousy clouded his gaze. Amber seemed lost in the moment, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she danced the Cha-cha.
"Which do you prefer—pursuing or being pursued?" Gault whispered, grinning.
Amber's smile remained, but she offered no answer, leaving the question—and Mike—hanging in the air.
Shaking his head at Mike, Jonah muttered, "Idiot!"
Chapter 12
Breach
Mike had just settled into his chair when a buzzing noise cut through the quiet of his workstation. The alert wasn't from the Algorithm, but a text message flashing on his phone. The sender was Amber.
"Emergency meeting. Now. Escher conference room."
His brows furrowed, Mike grabbed his laptop and walked briskly through the hallways.
As he entered the conference room, he saw Amber, Jonah, Gault, Winters, and others he didn’t recognize. Their grim faces stared at a paused video feed.
