CHAPTER THREE - THE LAW ENFORCEMENT FILE
Carter sat on his own bed reading his Initium tech team's report about the security sweep at Horizon. The report was comprehensive in its condemnation. The building's sensors failed to note an unregistered flash drive on the premises; a file on the drive overrode the automatic security check on Marco's laptop; and the implanted program uploaded to the main operations system through the building's Wi-Fi connection. Every broken step in the process was a failing of his technology. Whoever had created the drive's files had utilized advanced infiltration applications he had never previously seen.
The approach Initium's confidential GCS partner team was taking to the assignment from FedSec involved a multi-tiered security protocol. The face of each person entering a Horizon building was scanned and cleared through a facial recognition application before a body passed through the entry barriers. Discrete sensors on walls and in doorways alerted for the presence of metal, wirelessly transmitting devices, miniature hard drives, cameras, recording devices, and certain drugs. All files originating on the internal system were digitally watermarked, and external files were flagged for viruses and suspicious code. Every desktop, laptop, tablet or mobile used within the premises had to be security cleared, which meant running a validation program to flag for unauthorized file uploads or downloads. And no one took work home. The office complex's servers contained applications for aggregating data pulled from government and businesses around the country. But the main COSA program was run from a server farm located in a converted decommissioned nuclear missile silo station near Carter's family home in North Dakota. As a test, more than 100,000 generated profiles had been created and the program ran analysis all day on updates of incoming data created by those 100,000 individuals as they pursued their lives. No citizen had volunteered for the experiment, but all of the data was legally obtained.
To protect their research advances in information collection, Initium's technologists were convinced they could provide an unobtrusively secure environment where employees seamlessly walked around with their electronic equipment, and were unaware of the constant internal checks and verifications running against the devices they held in their hands. Horizon was the functioning test lab for their findings, but to Carter's surprise the bugs had yet to be completely ironed out. Annoyed by the report's conclusions, but prepared for questions, he sent the document over a secure line to Marco and Julia with only one data point expunged...the revelation about whose device was used to download the documents found on the flash drive discovered at the Infrared restaurant.
Feeling disappointed by his own shortcomings, he stood up, and in bare feet walked to the liquor cabinet to pour a glass of scotch. Moving towards the lights of San Francisco shining into his living room, he stood against a glass window and looked out into the city. 'Maybe Apex was right,' he thought. 'They could try to destroy COSA before the system completely rolled out.' But he quickly dismissed the idea. The minute the system was destroyed, a clone would emerge in its place. 'This advance is inevitable,' he thought. 'No government is going to give up on the idea of identifying every human within its borders.' And given that reality, thinking technologists should ensure the process was controlled even if they ended up complicit in the outcome.
Carter had no answer for the essential conflict inherent in his role. He was on the frontlines, playing both sides, manufacturing the equipment and coding the software to be used for COSA's infrastructure, and warning independent technologists to be prepared for the emergence of an advanced cyber enemy to fight. Neither stance felt entirely correct to him, yet he could not abandon either. 'How did the battle get this far?' he wondered. When discussions had begun between his company and the government, their intentions seemed only to be connected to national security. But the proposal had morphed into a vibrant project to permanently create a record of every individual. Not a criminal record, but a record nonetheless. The government's information gathering mandate was no longer the Social Security Administration having your birthdate and latest mailing address. COSA would know the presents you received for your birthday and if you were planning to move, along with the food you ate, clothes you wore, and each completed moment in transit from one place to another. The scope profoundly reached through the depths of an average person's life, and returned a kaleidoscope of information designed to aid government and business to identify operational objectives.
On the one hand, Carter welcomed the innovations. He considered the efficiencies and conveniences to be gained would transform people's lives and provide extended time for education, culture and recreational pursuits. But on the other hand, did government really have a right to maintain such detail on every citizen? Shouldn't the focus of technology be on security only, and those who may threaten domestic peace? Blanket coverage was designed to catch everyone, but at the expense of the majority innocent, law-abiding citizens.
Turning away from the window, Carter knew his musings were futile. Having provided money, equipment and technical expertise to build the program, he was already entirely implicated in the project's eventual implementation. His name would be hidden from history but he would always know the critical role he had played. In his lifetime the early stages of COSA would come to fruition, and he would clearly see the impact his handiwork will have on future generations, including his own children. 'All right,' he unenthusiastically conceded. 'I've made up my mind. I'm still with them. But where is Apex and what will happen if her actions are ever traced back to me?'