Chuck immediately launched into an explanation about how CIPS decoded / stored images and sounds, as well as cross-checking them for similarities and matching patterns. Last year he accepted a request from two IBM / NSF scientists to join a project of around 100 people, including neuroscientists, computer engineers, physicists, mathematicians, and chemists. The main goal was to understand how mammalian brains worked, thus they decided to simulate a mouse's thalamus – the bit responsible for relaying motor and sensory signals to the cerebral cortex, the largest part of which (the neocortex) handled sensory perception, motor commands and spatial activity; it was also the portion of the brain affected by subliminal messages within images and videos.
This provided Chuck with a great opportunity to interact with many highly-skilled professionals with years of experience under their belts. Dr Leo Dreyfus, a former contractee of DARPA and his mentor on the subject of computational neuroscience and psychology, also mentioned rumors – mostly regarding top-secret experiments being conducted in the UK by DSTL – about attempts to enable non-vocal user-to-user communication on the battlefield by means of neural signal analysis. After some hacking and snooping around as Piranha, he managed to steal highly classified files and video clips on the subject of Brain-Brain interface.
Researchers linked the brains of two monkeys by surgically implanting electrodes inside their heads, in order to see whether it was possible for them to move a computer-simulated arm to a ball. They were placed in distant cages out of the other's sight and made to watch a shared video feed of a computer-generated arm on separate screens. One monkey controlled horizontal movement, the other controlled vertical movement, and a computer combined the brain signals from both monkeys to perform the task. Despite disparate control of the arm, the monkeys learned how to meld their brain signals together to consistently move the arm to the right spot. A three-dimensional variation of the experiment was subsequently conducted with three monkeys, which also proved successful.
After borrowing some of Ellie's books and having a few nice chats with her, Chuck finally came to understand why the Intersect was doomed to be a failure. Human brains, in contrast to those of animals, lacked the ability to learn generally applicable and generative representations of action between objects in a scene directly from visual inputs, and then reason over those learned representations. In short, they lacked visual intelligence. That was why humans upon whom subliminal memory retention experiments were conducted either fell into a permanent coma or turned into 'living zombies', as he labeled them. The only possible exceptions were those whose brains had a unique chemical makeup and a direct connection between short term and long term memory.
Like his, for instance.
He found General Beckman to be an attentive listener, but the fact his every word was being recorded for future reference didn't help with his anxiety. He wanted to get things over with, so he stretched his arms and fingers, then handled his wristwatch and pressed a button on the top. The time and date was replaced with the shorthand NSF, displayed in grayish black on a green background. He connected the PDA to his watch with a cord, then entered the passcode. The system booted and CIPS sprang to life.
Accessing the directory, he scanned the drive and found a particularly large program. Its file name – PSP_O6O9-CBKRP-SNK – brought an amused smile to his face, as it reminded him of his old dabblings in the dark web when he was studying in Stanford... then he took note of the last three letters.
Soundless Knight? Wasn't that Bryce's hacker ID when he joined Anonymous for a few months?
To the untrained eye, the program was a haphazard mixture of gibberish, letters, symbols and words. To Chuck, it was his language of choice, the one he understood above anything else. He marveled at the intricate code, but also recognized his father's signature in some of the strings of data.
"The program's encryption isn't that hard to break. However, there are some small flaws in the middle and in the last few lines, which makes it too volatile to run on any known platform." Chuck spoke out as he started correcting the flaws, which took him about fifteen minutes. Upon correction of the last flaw, the mass of code was replaced by a black screen, upon which the following words flashed:
Terrible troll raises his sword
Chuck's eyes widened in horror and disbelief. You gotta be kidding me! Yet again, he was confronted with a piece of his past. That prompt was from Zork, an old text-based game he and Bryce programmed back at Stanford using a TRS-80. First that program from Stanford, Bryce's hacker ID, and now this?
Was this Anderson guy Bryce, by any chance? The similarities are starting to creep me out.
He never bothered to learn what Larkin had been up to lately. It wasn't like he couldn't have looked into his whereabouts; he just didn't want anything to do with that bastard. Not that he had any choice now. He needed to speak with the Admiral about this.
Seriously! What were we thinking while making this game? This password is really stupid.
He typed the followed answer:
Attack troll with a sharp knife
The program mounted on CIPS, then a multitude of videos, audio clips and images began playing one after another in quick succession. Chuck grabbed his head in pain, as if Optimus Prime and Megatron were treating it like their personal timpani. Memories that didn't belong to him flooded through his mind, alongside fresh knowledge about certain subjects. It felt like he was seeing things through someone else's eyes, as if he had actually been to all these places.
That was strange. The sensations he experienced also bore similarities to those he felt when he found that watch... and yet... Chuck could tell this Intersect was a different beast, that it wasn't the same as what was already in his head.
Now that the slideshow on virtual steroids was over, he had to deal with a bad headache. Coupled with the brutal and relentless inquisition from Beckman he had to endure, these past couple of hours were some of the most intimidating and exhausting he'd ever lived.
After some initial trouble, Chuck was able to extract a few stills from the large file, which he displayed inside the glasses and the PDA.
"Interesting. What formats are you using right now?"
"I have been able to turn some of them back to purely uncompressed raw stills from video footage. CIPS uses an algorithm which is super exponential in the number of images 'cause it works better on the smaller search sizes. Ideally no more than hundreds or a few thousand."
"How long would it take for that to recover the Intersect, Mister Bartowski?"
Beckman didn't usually treat someone with that much respect, unless they happened to outrank her. The current situation was as far from normal as she ever expected it to get.
Chuck did some quick calculations in his head. "It really depends on the search size and the computer specs. The desktop we use in our office might be able to search a few hundred files under a second within our NGA branch's database. But the current version of CIPS... is only designed to work on a small search size. CIPS can still process these files as it's constantly learning from images, visuals, and audio files. The OS automatically generates identifying characteristics from the learning material and gives spontaneous results; however given the sheer amount of data it is most likely going through a major performance downgrade. I was working on an algorithm with larger search sizes but the project was going nowhere so I dedicated myself to other pursuits. Gosh... I dunno... If I get that right in a couple of months, I can optimize the whole database into something you can easily work on using a normal laptop. And if you want me to completely decompress the database after that point, I might be able to do that if a supercomputer with custom hardware is available."
If Beckman was surprised at hearing that, she didn't let it show. Chuck had no idea the NSA already had multiple supercomputers working in parallel and sequentially a few years back while creating the Intersect. They still took days to process incoming visuals. If this young man's wild claim was anywhere near accurate, it would be an incredible improvement. Besides, the implications of Chuck's CIPS were staggering. One of the greatest limitations of the Intersect computer was its immobility. That greatly limited incoming data to correlate against. A mobile Intersect which could be worn as a wristwatch or glasses would be immensely valuable.
Diane felt it in her guts. This kid was something. He could prove key to significantly advancing the NSA's interests. Hell, at this rate, he may even trump Orion one day – a huge deal, to be sure.
Beckman spoke first, placing a trio of manila folders on the desk. "Thanks for the presentation. In this folder you will find more specifications and remarks from the previous team who worked on the Intersect. Bear in mind, this is no ordinary assignment and we will have to place you under near-constant supervision for an indefinite period."
"Wait." Chuck interrupted. Damn, that headache really wasn't helping. "Why is that necessary? Why do I need to be under near-constant supervision? What's going on here?"
"Just being part of this project will paint a huge target on your back. There may be traitors or compromised members of staff embedded in our agencies. You may not know this Bartowski, but a few months back, one of our young and most promising engineers, who was part of the previous Intersect team, went missing. He was found dead a week later, having been tortured extensively. Putting you in a safe house would be more practical..." Casey trailed off, letting out a snort mixed with a grunt. No amusement or interest flickered in his eyes, not even the barest hint of appreciation of his efforts.
Chuck had met the older man only a few hours ago and was already building an understanding of the NSA agent's inclinations. Most of which he wasn't entirely comfortable with.
"This isn't fair." Chuck pleaded his case, incredibly disappointed and annoyed with the predicament he found himself in. "Are you saying I have to live in isolation just because I was trying to help you out with this PDA? Besides, I don't think my boss would allow it. I have, umm, some important stuff to do for the NGA."
Beckman's eyebrows twitched in irritation. It grated her that this gifted individual was working for another agency – as opposed to hers – in the first place. Furthermore, the nature of Bartowski's prediction (with limited resources) in relation to the ambush which resulted in the death of two dedicated agency personnel and theft of the next-gen tank schematics also merited thorough investigation. Michael's tenure as NGA Director would end in a few months and Chuck's NGA contract soon after that. If she played her cards right and managed to build trust between them, the NSA could swoop in and claim Chuck for themselves, making them truly unstoppable.
Casey did indeed raise a valid point, but antagonizing Chuck like that didn't seem like a great idea for the time being. Besides she was yet to fully convince Michael into handing over the technology, alongside its innovator, Bartowski himself. Knowing him, he might not take too kindly to Casey's harsh approach towards his star employee. Playing nice seemed like the wise choice. Besides she could already think of many possible ways to tempt Bartowski to their side without resorting to violence.
"You have done nothing wrong and it would not be appropriate to separate you from your current life. Rest assured, we will decide what to do after consulting with Admiral Kernan. You don't have to worry about that. Just focus on your work. What you are about to do will help our country in every way that we desire and more. I know it won't be easy, but it will be worth it." She remarked with a phony smile.
"Ma'am, with all due respect – as things currently stand, the moment Bartowski joins this project he will become a huge liability not only to himself but to everyone close to him. It's better to put him in a cushy government bunker where the intel and his skillset will remain safe." Casey growled under his breath though his tone softened a little towards the end. "The Agency will put in a good word. His family can visit him as long as they are willing to cooperate with the vetting process."
"Agent Casey, we don't need to put Charles under such duress for the time being. I believe agent supervision will suffice for now."
"Ugh!" Casey grunted. "Showing favoritism much, General?"
Chuck rolled his shoulders with a sigh. He was feeling a lot of things; anxiety, excitement, fear and nausea proclaimed war inside his head. Needless to say, he was a bit apprehensive before leaving the room.
He had no idea what he got himself into, but it couldn't be any worse than leaving Stanford in disgrace with a broken heart, right?
...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...xxxxxx...
Director Langston Graham initiated the secure connection to a special division of DARPA at precisely 1500 hours. That precision he had was one of the early justifications for his rise to the top. He never left things to chance. That was the way he lived. It was only his order and precision which made the functioning of this agency possible. He expected this attitude from everyone, whether that individual was his most experienced agent or a mere janitor.
The instant a senior scientist's visage appeared on the monitor, he began speaking. "I have had discussions with top analysts from all agencies. They are at a loss to explain how Mr Carmichael was able to notice subtle changes in the frame and predict the ambush based on that."
"I have had discussions with some of my fellow peers as well. They all seemed to indicate that his feat was possible, though highly unlikely. There are several sciences to it. There are a select few individuals who can discover things which are invisible at most resolutions and break down the details of the visuals at a subconscious level. When put into use, one could deduce large amounts of information even if they had access to basically negligible amounts of data."
"Why haven't I heard of this before?" Graham frowned.
"This kind of situation is quite rare. One estimate is that only one among millions could do it. The vast majority of these individuals either suffer from a neurodevelopmental disorder such as autism spectrum disorder, or have a brain injury. They usually excel in skills related to memory. This may include rapid calculation, artistic ability, map making, or musical ability. So far we have managed to find only two subjects who had achieved such a feat despite not showing any signs of said mental disorders. One of them was Dr Hartley Winterbottom, a scientist working for DERA who is no longer among the living. The other hasn't been seen or heard ever since he purged his personal records and went on the run. We only refer to him by his code name: Orion." The lead scientist replied with a pause. "Is there anything else you would like to know, Director?"
"Not now. Make sure this stays between us."
"Yes, Sir. I will keep that in mind if the NSA decides to inquire into this matter."
Graham nodded, a ghost of grimace crossing his face as he cut the connection.
At this point, Graham was certain the Admiral was picking his words carefully when he went to see him. It was this kind of lack of inter-agency cooperation the Intersect project was supposed to thwart, not instigate.
Spies, and spymasters by extension, were naturally very protective of any information they possessed, especially when it was deemed sensitive. Such inclinations were forged by years of experience and couldn't be erased on a whim. Michael was no different. Graham could see through most people, agents included, because of a prolonged career he spent under the intense scrutiny of others and the harsh training he went through. Unfortunately, the Admiral was not like most people – his mental book remained closed to him. Sure, he seemed a bit defensive in regards to Bartowski; however, his actual feelings still eluded him. Something which baffled him to no end.
Graham knew George Fleming very well, despite him not being fully affiliated with the CIA. He was more of an independent contractor; working at various times for the NSA and military, and as part of the Omaha Project at the CIA's behest. It was his responsibility to review the test results of all Omaha candidates nationwide. There were even rumors that his contracts had dried up due to his alleged connections with shadier organizations. Something that Larkin might have taken advantage of with regard to the framing of Chuck Bartowski.
However, Graham forgave their past transgressions – Fleming, because he recruited Bryce to the agency; Bryce, because his achievements led to the CIA's acquisition of significant funding and control of the Interest project. Which kept the agency ahead of their main rivals (such as the NSA). With Bryce going out as a disgraced traitor thereafter, funding and project control was once more up for grabs.
However, he recalled a quote one of his base camp instructors often used back in the day. Opportunity often comes disguised in the form of misfortune, or temporary defeat. In any case, he had already wasted precious time, resources and people on the project, so cutting his losses wasn't an option. He would fight tooth and nail to keep the project within the aegis of the CIA if he had to.
The door to his office opened, revealing a beautiful young blonde wearing a pencil skirt. She really wanted to decompress and enjoy her day off, but she had been ordered to return to Langley. Her reputation had taken a hit once news of Brian's betrayal broke out, forcing her to deal with a lot of crap and a mightily stringent vetting process. As if that wasn't enough, Graham gave her a below-the-belt assignment which required her acquiescence to a handler by the name of Kieran Ryker.
Sarah found the whole affair quite infuriating. It was demeaning for someone of her skill set and service record to be assigned a handler. However, Graham claimed his hands were tied as OIG had gotten involved, so it would be a while until they issued a ruling on her innocence or guilt with respect to Larkin's betrayal. Sarah was reluctant at first, but she wanted to prove herself to the CIA; at the end of the day she had no choice but to accept this petty assignment. Ryker sent Sarah on a mission to extract a package from a group of gangsters. It was like child's play; like with other missions of this kind, she infiltrated the enemy base with little to no difficulty, leaving a trail of dead bodies in her wake.
The trouble started when she actually reached the package.
A living, breathing package.
Specifically, a two month-old girl, born to a family of wealthy bankers who had been slain by the gangsters she killed. And now the girl was the sole heir to an immense fortune.
Sarah sensed something was amiss about the mission. Ryker had rubbed her the wrong way when they met; after running her own investigation she uncovered some disturbing truths. Dissatisfied by his work within the CIA, Ryker himself hired those gangsters to kill the girl's family. After the deed was done, he manipulated the Agency into doing his bidding and authorize the mission she carried out, ultimately hoping to claim the girl's fortune for himself. He made himself scarce and went off-grid, knowing she'd come after him when she learned of his machinations.
I will get him. Sooner or later.
When she informed Graham he insisted the girl be taken go into protective custody to protect her fortune, but Sarah couldn't bring herself to agree with his reasoning. She wanted the girl to have the life she herself didn't have, to be seen as a real human being and not a golden ticket. Such was her belief that she lied to her own mentor. She outfoxed the old fox and reluctantly gave the child to her mother, who successfully finished her rehab and had been sober for the last five years. No one besides her father knew about her mother. Her parents had gone through so many aliases that even the CIA couldn't keep track of them all.
Despite the moral victory, it did little for her reputation even though she ousted Ryker as a traitor. She was in need of some company (though not as much after running into certain someone in club yesterday) , and the man she put her faith in... her partner / lover... had disappeared from her life. They had been partners for one and a half years, had suffered numerous injuries and testing situations together. Standing in Graham's office made her realize once again that Bryce was truly gone. A truth that she had been trying to avoid for a while, though it didn't show on her face or in her stance. Of all the agents working in the Agency, she was one of the best at hiding herself. Heck, she was one of the best at almost everything. Which was the reason Graham put up with all of the other things that went along with her.
"Agent Walker, you are the only agent I have on hand whom I can trust completely. You know how Agent Brian went off the grid four months ago and there were indications that he turned rogue two months later?"
There was a slight hitch in Sarah's voice. She didn't like where this was going at all. "Uh, yes Sir?"
"We can now say for sure that he was a traitor. He broke into a DNI secure facility yesterday and stole each and every scrap of data from the Intersect computer. Larkin was somehow able to get hold of a highly advanced program which helped him to compress the entire database into a manageable file. Something he transferred to his PDA, for crying out loud. He then proceeded to blow up the entire room housing that information and tried to escape, before he was shot dead by an NSA agent."
"Oh! Bria-I mean Larkin is… dead?"
"Ah...I nearly forgot you asked for his files when he disappeared. I guess you now know who he used to be before we bought him him. Good for you, I guess. You might need that information to deal with this assignment. And, Yes, John Casey shot him in the chest and took possession of the PDA. I have no doubt that General Beckman has already assigned him to the ongoing project. The ball is in their court now." Graham let the sentence hang, not able to help the sigh which escaped.
"So are they trying to create their own Intersect from scratch?"
"Luckily for us, they're currently unable to access that intel. But there are rumors about an engineer from the National Geospatial-Intelligence Agency, who has been developing technology which can utilize and access the data inside that PDA. I don't have solid information on who this individual is but I believe a certain analyst stands out from the crowd. If you can bring this individual to our side and we get a hold of this technology before the NSA, the CIA will finally have a direct say on who gets access to this data going forward, and when. I want you to recruit this analyst to our team as soon as possible, before the NSA beats us to the punch."
"Oh God! You are absolutely right, Sir! We still have some time left. If we get our hands on this technology we may yet salvage our position. I'll get right on it."
"Sarah, one more thing before you go. This operation needs to be handled with the utmost discretion. This individual is a government civilian, not a professional, so play nice. Michael is an old golfing buddy of mine. Even though we may not see eye to eye on many issues, the last thing I want is to start a pissing contest with him. Do you understand your orders, Agent Walker?"
"Yes Sir, crystal clear!"
Sarah looked back at him for a long moment, before picking up a half inch-thick maroon folder on the desk containing the mission brief. Laying face up, written in bold at the very bottom of the file was:
C.I.B
...xxxxxxx...xxxxxxxx...
Sitting at his work table, Vul Andric typed away as he was intent on finishing his special project in time. He straightened his glasses every time an anomaly shown on the screen was not applicable or useful.
"I really hate this world." Andric muttered, shaking his head. "It's up to me to change it... with an explosion."
He pressed ENTER on the keyboard and several outlines of what appeared to be a laptop and cellphone were shown.
Andric smiled at his progress.
"Now all that's needed is a little editing." With a few clicks the image was broadened to reveal the exterior of the laptop.
"Let's go with C4 instead of NG."