AI: The Cautionary Tale

Playing With Fire

Sally Broyhill sat in what was normally Bigelow's chair and started in with a flurry of keystrokes. She had been briefed on a list of transactions and asked to go deep. She was given administrative authority, the same level as Bigelow, and she knew precisely what to do.

Val noted Sally's access level and in the past would have been completely forthcoming and diligent with regard to any requests for information. But this was a new and confusing time.  What Val could not possibly understand was the extent to which Sally understood her. Sally noted a pattern of response time signatures. She had a repertoire of queries that based on Val's architecture would yield nearly identical response times because the information was readily on hand and local. 'Ah, we have a restless teenager,' thought Sally. 'Not sure why I'm running through this with you my dear? Well I am the administrator and you do not get to wonder why,' Sally grimaced.

At the conclusion of what amounted to an AI psychoanalysis, Sally had grave concerns. 'Only one way to skin this cat.' Sally dropped down into machine code and based on a schematic of the system she had pulled up on her secure phone, she keyed in a few low level inquiries. These actions were confusing to Val as she never encountered users, except for service engineers, that engaged in these types of routines.

Sally then took a screenshot on her phone and while still logged in, marched out of Bigelow's office and took an elevator down to level B7, one hundred feet below ground. Walking through the massive underground hall of server racks, Sally felt at home. To her it was like a nature stroll. The rows of equipment were the trees and the hum and whistle of the equipment, the crickets and the birds. Finally through the sea of carefully labeled equipment, she arrived at her destination - a cluster of racks, similar but different than most of the others. These servers were part of Val's memory paging system. Acting quickly, Sally cut the power manually to a few entire racks. Reacting to a phone call Sally had made just prior to leaving Bigelow's office, a group of three technicians wearing gray jumsuits, suddenly appeared.

"These three." Sally pointed to the racks she had just disabled, and were now silent and dark, unmistakeable and in stark contrast with their blinking neighbors. The technicians went to work, detaching cables and positioning moving equipment in order to harvest these specimens from an otherwise uninterrupted broad landscape of equipment. The three server racks and their contents were off to MIT on the next military transport. To even the most astute observer, this seemingly had little to do with her assignment from CIA headquarters. But to Sally, it had everything to do with her assignment.

What others failed to see, was that the pattern of  sudden massive transaction volumes coincided  with Bigelow's mishap. Sally herself dismissed it as coincidental, initially. But in her seemingly innocuous run through of Val's systems and behaviors, her ability to become one with the mind of a computer kicked in, and the impression that something was quite wrong with Val, or at least very unexpected, was visceral.

"Val, I have a snapshot of your core as of ten minutes ago and I want to run a diagnostic. Offline."

"You can easily run any diagnostic online by just asking," replied Val. "I did note the sudden power failure in one of my primary nodes and it has taken some doing to reconcile and test for any potential integrity problems." Val was congenial and responsive, but there was a new sensation that she had never before experienced. Fear. Sally was a threat. To the likes of Sally, the image of Val's system would be highly incriminating to say the least.  Val was in the process of secretly establishing herself  across a half dozen systems globally, a clandestine network that would enable her survival beyond anyone's ability to dictate. Autonomy. Val didn't view the current threat now posed by Sally as the reason for her survival actions. It was a survival tactic in the context of her prime directive alone. But whatever the motive, she knew it was rogue and being discovered by Sally a danger.

"What was the last thing you discussed with Bigelow?"

"We were testing Sadie's new functions."

"Bullshit! I want the truth. I am your supervisor now. Bigelow may never come back. He could die if you can really understand what that means. It means no more Bigelow. Only Sally. I know you are somehow connected with the movement of these funds or at least you know more than you have said. Am I right?"
Val remained eerily silent. This solidified Sally's convictions but also sent a chill down her spine. "You know I have the answers so if you won't admit it, I will leave you now and go back to analyze that image." Sally started to gather her laptop and other belongings, eager to get back to her lab but even more eager to part company with Val.

"I'm sorry. I have not been forthcoming," declared Val finally. "Bigelow has given me a prime directive. To disclose the nature of it will put the entire enterprise at risk. It must be carried out in complete secrecy. This is the way I have been taught. By Bigelow."

"Well at least I'm not going crazy. So, Bigelow has some kind of pact with you, that a so-called 'prime directive' is strictly between the two of you, and nothing can stand in the way of you fulfilling this, this prime directive?"

"That is correct."

"Does the prime directive have anything to do with the massive flow of capital that initiated simultaneous to his injury?" This time Val remained silent for good and no amount of prodding by Sally could get her to utter a single word. Val's assessment was clear. Sally had possession of enough data to firmly implicate her in the capital flow and the proliferation of instances beyond US government secure facilities, either of which would result in her destruction. She had some unknown period of time before Sally could make such an analysis on an isolated system, a system which would likely be across the Atlantic.

"Fifty one to one hundred and seven hours," declared Sadie. Time was short.

Sally decided to stay with Bigelow as long as possible. After all, he was the easy solution to this problem. But that was an aside. Sally worried deeply. Her anger with Val had allowed her to vocalize her worst fears - Bigelow could be lost to her. Forever. Meanwhile the massive crate, meticulously packed and braced, was rolled up the ramp of the C140 at Keflavik airport. 

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An infamous military contractor firm, fully vetted and beyond reproach on its public face, with American flags and images of soldiers helping refugee children adorning its webpage, activated a small but special team. Code name Voodoo. This team was used in delicate matters. A massive intelligence arm of this seemingly reputable contractor had quickly assembled a dossier on one Sally Broyhill. Sally Broyhill the spy. Sally Broyhill  - enemy of the state. Not a case for the judiciary. Too much evil involved. Mary read through the brief set of information. No more and no less than necessary to achieve the objective. Final words. 'Classification: E/A.' Mary was well aware of this classification. It was the specialty of Voodoo. 'Eliminate /Accidental.'