The Algorithm

Chapter 5: The Cracks in Code

Takeshi stared at the screen, his heart pounding. The results weren't just flawed—they were catastrophic. The algorithm's error rates had skyrocketed in their latest test, proving beyond doubt that the issue wasn't just with biased training data. Something was fundamentally broken in the model itself.

Hiro let out a low whistle. "That's not just bad. That's a complete disaster."

Takeshi ran a hand through his hair. "It doesn't make sense. The earlier versions weren't this bad. How did we not catch this sooner?"

Hiro leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "It's gotta be deeper than just the data. Maybe a structural flaw? A logic loop that's reinforcing bad predictions?"

Takeshi exhaled sharply. "Or worse—something intentional."

They both went quiet. The thought had been lingering in the back of Takeshi's mind since he found the memo about the biased training data. But this—this was different. This suggested that the model itself had been built on faulty assumptions, or worse, deliberately tweaked to perform well under certain conditions while failing in others.

Hiro clicked through the logs. "Let's retrace. Maybe it's something that was changed in a later iteration."

By morning, they had a partial answer. Takeshi compiled every version of the model, tracking changes in its logic and weights. The issue had first appeared two months before he even joined the project.

Dr. Saito listened intently as they presented their findings. Her fingers drummed against her desk as she processed the information. "This is worse than I thought," she admitted. "It's not just about bias anymore. If this flaw is baked into the core model, it could mean the entire framework needs to be rebuilt."

Takeshi hesitated. "Should we pull it from the conference?"

Dr. Saito sighed. "You know what that means."

Hiro folded his arms. "If we pull it now, the hospital loses a massive funding opportunity. If we go forward, we present an AI that doesn't actually work."

Takeshi clenched his jaw. Damned if they did, damned if they didn't.

Desperate for answers, Takeshi reached out to an old mentor from his graduate days—Dr. Fujimoto, an AI ethics researcher who had worked on medical AI models before. The response was quick: Come see me in person.

The urgency in the message sent a chill down Takeshi's spine. He barely had time, but he knew he needed another set of eyes on the algorithm.

Hiro gave him a skeptical look as he grabbed his coat. "You sure about this?"

Takeshi nodded. "We need someone who's not tied to the project. Someone who will give us the truth, no matter how bad it is."

Dr. Fujimoto's office was lined with bookshelves stacked high with research papers and AI textbooks. He listened as Takeshi explained the situation, his expression growing darker by the second.

When Takeshi finished, Fujimoto let out a slow breath. "This isn't a simple error," he said. "This is a foundational problem. The way your model weights certain variables—it's flawed at a mathematical level."

Takeshi's stomach dropped. "Meaning?"

"Meaning whoever designed this either made a critical mistake or did it on purpose."

Takeshi felt cold. If the issue had been introduced before he arrived, that meant someone on the original team had made a decision that ensured this algorithm would never work properly for all patients.

Dr. Fujimoto continued, "If this goes public, it could put the hospital in serious trouble. Are you prepared for that?"

Takeshi didn't answer. He wasn't sure.

That night, as he combed through the project's code documentation, something caught his eye. A log entry—an old commit message left by a former researcher. Takeshi frowned and clicked on it.

Adjusted weight parameters for better clinical trial performance.

The timestamp matched the period when the errors started appearing. Someone had modified the algorithm to make it look better than it actually was.

His hands clenched into fists. This wasn't just an oversight. It was fraud.

Before he could process his next move, his inbox pinged with a new email.

"You're asking the right questions. Be careful who you trust."

Takeshi's breath caught in his throat. Someone else knew.