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#future - it doesn't exist except in the now.
#green - life, growth, rot, verdent
#law - order, cathedral, stagnation
#safe - probably not harmful. Maybe.
#vore - eating anything is disgusting; sometimes it tastes good anyway
red_queen_hypothesis[1]
[1] red_queen_hypothesis.mp3 [audio]
The screen faded in on a man in his mid-thirties. He was
sitting in a chair next to a fireplace. The chirpy corporate
Muzak continued in the background. Words appeared at the
bottom of the screen:
Matthew A. Sobol, Ph.D.
Chairman & CEO Daemon Industries LLC
Sobol nodded once in dour greeting.
Lindhurst hit the PAUSE button on the remote. Sobol froze in
mid-nod. "That's him."
"That's who?" Vanowen squinted at the words on-screen. He
turned back to Lindhurst.
"Never heard of him. Is this the person who broke into our network?"
"Yes."
"Call the FBI."
"Won't do any good, Russ. Matthew Sobol's dead." Lindhurst
handed the rolled magazine to Vanowen.
Vanowen just glanced down at it, then with some reluctance
took it. He unrolled it and moved it to arm's length so he
could see the cover with his myopic eyes. The same Matthew
Sobol was on the cover of the magazine. It was eight months
old. The headline read: Murderer From Beyond the Grave.
"That guy?"
Vanowen tossed the magazine onto the nearby
conference table. "That was a hoax." He motioned to the
plasma screen. "So is this. My kid at USC could probably
make this video on his Powerbook."
"Russ, someone managed a coordinated global attack that not
only stole rights to our worldwide network, but they did it
months ago without raising a single alarm. They didn't leave a
trace. Matthew Sobol was one of the few people who could
have pulled it off."
"You're frighteningly gullible. Jesus, some hackers got into our
network, and they're trying to put one over on you. Call the
FBI."
"Russ, no one faked this video. If you listen to him, you'll see
what I mean." Lindhurst released the PAUSE button.
Matthew Sobol came back to life on-screen. The infomercial
music faded as he finished his nod. "By now you're beginning
to realize that you no longer control your network and that
your backups are damaged beyond repair. I am now an
integral part of your organization—and have been for several
months. Let me assure you that your corporate data is safe,
and that sufficient backups exist off-site to provide seamless
protection in the event of a natural disaster or other calamity."
"Before I continue, let me caution you to watch this video in
its entirety before contacting your local or federal authorities.
This recording contains important information that may affect
your decision to involve those entities in this situation."
A light musical jingle accompanied a twirling inset picture that
spun to a stop alongside Sobol's head. It was a video of
Sobol's mansion roaring in flames.
Sobol smiled pleasantly. "As you can see, involving the
authorities is no guarantee of your safety. Although they would
certainly be willing to try again at your location."
The inset video image transitioned to a collection of quivering
question marks.
Sobol looked intently into the camera. "But you're probably
wondering just how you got yourselves into this situation. To
answer that question, surprisingly, we need to go back
hundreds of millions of years to the very origins of life on
Earth." </br>
The question marks expanded to fill the screen and faded
away as the entire screen dissolved to an image of primordial
Earth. It was a 3-D computer animation of the ancient seas,
teeming with exotic life—razor-toothed fish with whiplike
probosces and flitting schools of tiny translucent organisms.s
Vangelis music rose on the surround-sound speakers. Sobol
narrated, "Let me tell you the story of the most successful
organism of all time: this is the story of the parasite."
On-screen a large, particularly evil-looking fish with twin rows of
splayed fangs and a spiked dorsal array glided into view. Just
then, a small organism swam for the area just behind the
enormous fish's gills, where it latched on, unnoticed. A dozen
others followed it and also latched on.
Sobol spoke. "Early on, evolution branched into two distinct
paths: independent organisms—those that exist on their own in
the natural world—and parasites—organisms that live on other
organisms. And it was, by far, the parasites that proved the
more successful of the two branches. Today, for every
independent organism in nature, there exist three parasites."
The computer animation transitioned from one eon to the
next—from amphibian to reptilian to mammalian—with parasites
continuing to evolve along with their hosts, infesting some
species, driving them to extinction, while other species evolved
means to keep them at bay—at least for a time.
"These two strains of evolution have been locked in a
primordial arms race, constantly evolving to best each other for
supremacy of this planet. As parasites evolve to perfect their
systems against a species of host, the host evolves to evade
their attack. Scientists call this theory of an eternal genetic
struggle the Red Queen Hypothesis—a name taken from Lewis
Carroll's Through the Looking Glass."
On-screen, the image suddenly changed to an animation of
Alice in Wonderland—with the Red Queen running along a
hedgerow maze and looking toward little Alice, who struggled to
keep up. She was saying: "Now, here, you see, it takes all the
running you can do, to keep in the same place."
The screen changed to a video of a small pond, with snails
moving through the mud.
"Animal behavior has evolved to battle parasites. In fact, we
have parasites to thank for the existence of sex. Sex is a costly
and time-consuming method of reproduction. Experiments have
shown that, in the absence of parasites, species evolve toward
parthenogenesis—or cloning—as the reproductive method of
choice. In parthenogenesis each individual is able to
self-replicate. But this produces almost no genetic variation. In
the presence of parasites, cloning, while more energy-efficient, is
not a viable reproductive strategy. It presents a stationary
genetic target to parasites, who, once introduced into such a
system, will quickly dominate it."
The screen changed to an animated diagram of twin sets of
human DNA strands, which moved as Sobol spoke.
"Sexual reproduction exists solely as a means to defeat
parasites. By mixing male and female genes, sex produces
offspring not exactly like either the male or female—making
each generation different from the last, and presenting a
moving target to intruders intent on compromising this system.
"Even with this variation, parasites continue to pose a threat..."
The screen changed to color film footage of native villages with
truly hideous parasitic infestations; children with bulging,
worm-filled bellies; malaria victims.
"...and parasitism evolves and moves through any system—not
just living things. The less variation there is in a system, the
more readily parasites will evolve to infest it."
The screen showed food-borne illness outbreaks—images of
fast-food restaurants. The camera panned to reveal identical
restaurants running down the sides of each street, in Dallas, in
Denver, in Orlando, in Phoenix....
"Perfect replication is the enemy of any robust system..."
Then images of identical rows of computers in a data center,
all running the same operating system...
"Lacking a central nervous system—much less a brain—the
parasite is a simple system designed to compromise a very
specific target host. The more uniform the host, the more
effective the infestation."
The screen changed to a video image of a hermit crab moving
along the sandy ocean bottom. The camera followed it as Sobol
spoke.
"But if they're so successful, why haven't parasites taken over
the world? The answer is simple: they have. We just haven't
noticed. That's because successful parasites don't kill us; they
become part of us, making us perform all the work to keep
them alive and help them reproduce..."
The crab scuttled toward its hole.
"
The screen changed to a close-up computer animation. It was
a double helix of DNA, with each set of genes showing clearly
as rungs on the genetic ladder. The perspective moved along
the length of the helix.
"And so have thousands of parasites done with us. After tens
of thousands of years, a parasite becomes so much a part of
us that they evolve into sections of our DNA."
Certain sections of the DNA were highlighted, one after
another.
"They have so enslaved us that we believe we're reproducing
ourselves, when in reality, we're reproducing hidden others
within us. Forty percent of our genetic code consists of these
useless segments of DNA—sections that serve no useful purpose
to us. Nearly half the human genome is just the ghostly
remnant of parasites."
The images of DNA dissolved back to Sobol, sitting in his
armchair by the fireplace. "By now, you've figured out that my
Daemon is your parasite and that you are hopelessly infected.
The Daemon will sip your corporate blood, but it will not be
fatal. More importantly, the Daemon will keep other parasites
out of your system, strengthening your immunity and ensuring
that the corporate host continues to survive."
The fireplace background dissolved, and Sobol now appeared
on a black background. He was more serious.
"But know this: my Daemon has enlisted humans within your
organization. These are hijacked cells in the corporate organism.
People who thirst for more power. That's how the Daemon got
in. You have no way of knowing who is responsible. My
Daemon can teach almost anyone to defeat network
security—especially from an existing network account. The reality
is that my Daemon now controls your global IT function. Your
business will operate as before, and no one will suspect that
there is anything unusual going on—except that perhaps your
systems will run better than they did when you were
responsible for them.
"Your natural inclination will be to resist this indignity, of
course, and so you will be tempted to contact the authorities.
That is your choice—although the moment my Daemon detects
such contact, it will wipe your company's data off the face of
the earth. And don't even think of replicating your databases
from scratch with paper files; remember that my Daemon has
agents among your staff. You can hide nothing from it. If you
start polygraphing or if you lay off everyone, the Daemon will
destroy your company. If you attempt to infiltrate an
undercover operative into your IT department, it will destroy
your company. If you attempt to exert control over your IT
department or to create a new one, it will destroy your
company. In short: if you attempt to do anything other than
ignore my Daemon, it will destroy your company.
"As a financial enterprise wholly reliant upon the trust of your
clients, the loss of all your clients' data will bring ruin upon
you. As for insurance: the Daemon will annihilate you
whenever you reappear, and it will never stop until both your
company and you as individual officers are financially destroyed.
Being a nonsentient narrow—AI construct, the Daemon doesn't
give a damn what choice you make. It's as dumb as Sacculina
." A pause. "And just as effective."
The fireplace background reappeared, and Sobol smiled again.
"I hope you and my Daemon can peacefully coexist. I think
you'll find that, as the years roll by, you'll be glad indeed that
you didn't try to defy it—especially as you take market share
from those companies that did defy it. So, please, carefully
consider your options, and just remember—no matter what you
choose—you serve a crucial role in evolution. Even if it's just
as food for the survivors. Thanks for watching."
Sobol waved pleasantly as the saccharine corporate Muzak
came up, accompanied by fanatical applause. Credits rolled by
impossibly fast.
The female announcer returned. "Don't touch that dial! In a
few moments, you'll have a chance to see how you can avoid
destruction at the hands of the Daemon. And be sure to take
the Daemon quiz—"
Lindhurst hit the STOP button, and the screen went black.
.
F 00111 MORE STUFF - another random update
INDEX - hierachical view of every page as relates to its host.
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