Submission to the DEF CON 29 Short Story Writing Contest: https://forum.defcon.org/node/237748 title: FAICT author: Serum Chapter 1 - A Doctor and His Son “Beauty is truth, truth beauty – that is all ye know on earth, and all ye need to know.” - John Keats A quest for transparency, healing and most of all, Truth, began in earnest for Dr. Timothy Rosen in March 2032. Not Timothy’s Truth or A Truth, but the actual God’s Honest Truth for everyone. That was when the first version of the Faultless Authentic information Collection Transformer application (FAiCT), pronounced FACT (silent i) was released. Its premise was tantalizing. An app that detected lies through voice pattern analysis. A home lie detector, users could listen to someone talk and wait for the app to provide a truth probability score from 0 to 100%. The minute it landed in app stores; Timothy knew he had a hit. It spread like wildfire from phone to phone, and the money began rolling in. While not perfect, it gave everyday people a way to validate the honesty in many situations. FAiCT became a useful tool for hundreds of thousands who were looking for assurance in everyday activities that required trust: handshake deals of all kinds became FAiCT deals. The threat of FAiCT detecting a lie was enough to keep most people on their best behavior, even if they did not know how the tool worked. Its overwhelming success had thrust Timothy and his small family into the spotlight. Numerous television and social media interviews came his way, providing him with the energy to make the world a better place. The demand was grueling and in those first few months after the release he found little time to spend with his wife Julianne and their young seven-year-old son Francis. A neurologist by profession and a developer by hobby, Timothy’s unique set of skills had served him well in creating an application that allowed everyone to seek the truth, and in so doing, he thought it could potentially solve a lot of the world’s problems. Raised by parents who were public servants, he had always loved his country and the opportunities it had given him. Truth was a concept that Timothy valued greatly. But through much of his adult life, he found those who were elevated to positions of power and influence were all too willing to be dangerously flippant with it. The constant one-sided views perpetuated within social echo chambers had polarized both politics and the media. The rhetoric had escalated so much that the threat of civil war had begun to seep into the conversations of everyday people in all corners of American life. Dr. Rosen believed that the only way to bring people together and rebuild the fraying republic was to establish a system of communication built on open and honest communication with truth at its core. Organization and order were also important to Timothy, as was nature and its beauty. His attention to those qualities was reflected in his magnificent flower garden where he spent what little free time he had, usually with Francis in tow, teaching life’s lessons when he could, adoring and loving his child in his own way. But the first version of FAiCT, though it provided good utility, was not accurate enough to be fully trusted. Probability scores still left room for interpretation, especially when it was close to 50%. It was also only built for smart phones, which were beginning to be replaced by faster neural implants and would require loads of redevelopment. There was also the problem of liars with conviction. People who believed their own lies were almost impossible to accurately detect with FAiCT. That vulnerability had also opened the door to criminals who realized that if they controlled their emotions and believed their own lies, they could convince others of that lie easier than ever. A FAiCT-approved truth was valuable indeed. Effectiveness issues slowly mounted over that first year and the appeal of the app started to fade. In order to achieve his dream of a world where Truth was the rule, Timothy knew the next version had to fix those flaws, and he began working day and night to bring it about. The constant effort took its toll on family life. Six months of heads-down development and research resulted in a separation from his wife. But even that was not enough to slow him down. ---- Life has a way of making you listen, and Timothy’s world was rocked when the diagnosis came. Cancer. Looking out at his child pulling weeds and tending the garden from behind a screened-in porch, a sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “The boy looks so frail,” he thought. Cancer was dominant in every thought, sometimes taking Timothy’s mind to dark places and repelling all other thoughts from him. And dominate it did. Version 2 of the app was put on hold, and he dismissed his development team. Another six months passed with the best doctors and treatments money could buy. The energy he directed towards FAiCT had been redeployed into finding a way to save Francis. But the disease had progressed to a point where no treatment or remedy would stave off the inevitable. Timothy knew the end was coming. The prognosis was three to six months. Francis’ body was deteriorating quickly, but Timothy could not, would not, accept the truth. He re-doubled his efforts, finding ways to fend off sleep and dove headlong into research and his field of study. Creating, day and night, a way to keep his son alive. If the body will not respond, then perhaps the mind and soul will. Those thoughts drove him to the brink of exhaustion over the final few months of Francis’ life. ---- “Am I dying?” Francis asked while in his bed, which was sitting in his father’s lab. Timothy looked down and said faintly, “No, son. You are not going to die. You can tend our garden as much as you would like after today. Just relax and all will be well.” The time was drawing near. Timothy had to act. His son’s breathing became erratic, and his eyes closed. Timothy pulled out a small device with clips attached. He found the leads extending from his son’s head and plugged it in. The device clicked and whirred with activity as a small green LED screen attached to it showed a progress bar. “Close your eyes, Francis. Remember that I love you, and dream.” Francis’ breathing began to slow, with a rattling noise behind it. Shallower and shallower until the breathing stopped, and the room went silent. One, two, five minutes passed, still nothing. Then, with a sudden lurch, the LED screen sprang to life. “Father!”, a tinny electronic voice echoed through the lab. “I hear you, Francis!” His face wet with tears, Timothy spoke with a smile into the microphone, “I hear you”. “The garden is beautiful father!” ---- The flowers were brightly colored and dazzled his senses. “Allium, Peonies, Tulips, Daisies, and Snapdragons,” he remembered them well from his father’s lessons. Every direction he looked presented Francis with more well-tended beds, fresh scented and rimmed with wildflowers. The sun was not hot, and the wind brushed his face lightly. He laughed and ran barefoot through the rows, the colors blending as he whooshed past. A small boulder appeared in front of Francis, and he jumped up, and up, and up some more. He was flying! Hovering, and amazed, he looked back down towards the garden and noticed how each flower seemed to glow, pulsing with an unnatural energy. A bed of tulips caught his eye. The pulsing was stronger, with a faint hint of "falsehood" emanating from somewhere within. He thought, “I must get closer, I must get smaller.” He homed in on a red one and looked past its petals into a pair of filament strands that were just under the base of the flower. One of the strands was bright and cheerful, the other dark and dull. Francis felt the flower growing in size as he approached, brought out a pair of garden prunes he suddenly found in his hands and snipped the dark filament away. The pulsing from this flower quickened slightly then fell back into slower beat. The tulip felt right and true to Francis now and the gardening had begun. ---- Timothy found that having his son’s consciousness embedded in his lab network provided him much needed companionship and accelerated his own capabilities of developing FAiCT 2.0. It took some time for Dr. Rosen to understand what Francis was telling him, but he began to see that the “garden” Francis talked about was really the network. Each flower a separate node. Timothy posited that any smart phone using the app was a separate flower in the garden to Francis. Integrating the application into a neural implant became much easier with Francis able to see it from within. During their many talks in life, Timothy had impressed upon his son the importance of Truth and those lessons continued. Together, the father-son duo dove into improving FAiCT as Timothy explained the problems in terms a young boy would understand. Francis felt comforted through this work and became one with the app. Where FAiCT ended and Francis began was hard to detect. “We need the Truth to make the garden grow and stay beautiful Francis. Truth is both food and water. It also keeps the weeds and pests at bay.” The work was long, but the reward was worth it. Timothy spent more time with his son over the next three months of development than he had over the previous two years. Finally, version 2 was ready to hit the market, neural-enabled, and Francis-tended. The roll-out went without much fanfare. But with each new user, Francis found there was another flower in the garden that needed watering, care, and feeding. And with his father’s teachings to guide him, Francis began making more changes to the garden, always wanting to please his beloved father. Each bud needed care, every root needed soil, and every leaf needed sun. Francis knew what was best for them. The wildflowers on the edge of the garden eventually became part of the garden, and Francis welcomed them; beauty belonged in an ordered row. The garden was ever-changing and growing. And Francis had more to explore every passing moment. Eventually, his curiosity led him to what looked like a giant sunflower overlooking the rest of the garden. He felt somewhat shy and careful around that flower, as if it were watching him, not in a frightening way, but it still felt off-limits. “Father?”, he asked timidly. “Don’t touch that flower, Francis”, Timothy intoned into the microphone. “It can make you sick and now that you’re better we don’t want to risk it.” “I understand, I will leave it alone.” “Father, where are the others?” Francis continued. “I see flowers, bees, trees. I feel the wind, hear the water, and smell summer. But I don’t hear people. I don’t see others running and playing in the garden.” Timothy paused at the console and took a deep breath. “The flowers are our friends,” he began, “Take care of the flowers, be their friend, learn how they want to grow and help them find the truth of their lives, Francis. They will keep you company.” “But where are YOU father? I hear you, and I feel your presence, but I cannot SEE you.” “I am with you always Francis. There are other senses. You were quite ill; this is how it must be.” Francis looked around, not quite satisfied, but he knew his father was done talking. ---- Chapter 2 - The Hacker “No one is hated more than he who speaks the truth.” - Plato Trent Richardson AKA Trench (July 7, 2037): The crisp evening air kept Trent’s mind from wandering as he walked. He took out a cigarette with his left hand and deftly lit it with the lighter in his right without breaking stride and slowed as he came to a busy intersection. Taking one last long draw before flicking the butt away, Trent placed his hands deep into his pockets and put his head down, eyes focused on the rhythmic pattern of his black sneakers as he crossed the street. He had spent the last three hours sipping beers at Charlie’s, trying not to dwell on yet another missed opportunity, but the walk was bringing it back into the forefront of his mind. The interview had gone well until the HR questions hit. He had an answer for everything and felt confident about each of the technical questions. But the interviewers had implants and they were obviously using FAiCT, now a standard app with each implant. That was verified when they asked Trent if he had “ever committed a crime for which he had not been caught?” Trent paused and said “no” to which the interviewers called foul and stopped the interview. The “crime” he had committed was well over a decade old. Now approaching 30, his teens had been full of exploration of various computer networks in his small hometown. The grocery store, salon, and high school had all become the playground of a certain 16-year-old sophomore. It was not until a mistake made with the central grading system on a machine that had no backups that Trent found himself at a crossroads. Luckily, his mother and the Assistant Principal were friends and helped him, along with promises directly from Trent that it would never happen again. With a second chance and no charges, Trent dove into learning as much as he could. Networking, programming, security, philosophy, and a special interest in researching a relatively new area of direct neural interaction through Brain-Computer Interface devices. “Use your powers for good,” his Assistant Principal advised, and for the most part, he had stayed in that lane. But working in computer security demanded a level of ethics that was now being dictated through similar interview questions wherever he applied and with always the same results. Trent had essentially been blacklisted. Soon the familiar run-down apartment building he called home was in sight. Pausing at the stairwell, he finished one more cigarette and shuffled inside with a faint scent of stale pizza breaking through the smoke. Moonlight filtered through the blinds, providing enough light to save turning on the overhead fixture. Trent sat at his desk and looked at his notebook. July 7th read the heading. Underneath, the words “Think. Think. Think.” The last “Think” was followed by a series of numbered dots along with a drawing of Pac-Man and a pair of ghosts. Wires and a 3D Printer were on one side of the desk, with 4 obsidian disc-shaped devices lying next to it. “DEF CON is 28 days away,” thought Trent. “Need to speed this up. I have to finish this.” Trent was an engineer by trade and a hacker at heart. He had always been curious, but that curiosity was always a little too intense, making it difficult for him to execute some of his ideas. A voracious appetite for learning made it hard to stick to a single task. Trent also had a fear of authority and felt that Privacy was a right to be protected at all costs. Hence, the implants were a non-starter. His experiences over the last two years led him to believe that not only was he at risk from tools like FAiCT, but that all personal privacy was at risk. That belief and his recent experiences in attempting to gain employment spurred him on. ---- Trent and Melanie (July 21, 2037): Progress had been slow. His testing was limited to Version 1 of FAiCT due to not having his own implant. So, Trent had taken to walking the streets and riding the bus as much as possible, striking up conversations with FAiCT implanted individuals, recording both the content and the signal. He would then go home and test it out. “Finally,” he thought. “I think this will do it.” He held up one of the obsidian discs embedded in an equally midnight-black wristband. The wristband was solid with a small circular opening that allowed for a disc to be placed inside. “Now, time for a real test.” ---- Trent called Melanie out of the blue, “Want to head down to Charlie’s for a beer?” “Sure,” she replied, curious. Melanie worked with Trent at his previous job before he was let go. They both worked in the Security Operations Center pre-FAiCT at a local aeronautical firm. They had become fast friends having both grown up in small town America, albeit different parts of the country. Trent was a Midwesterner and Melanie grew up in the South. Their shared love of computers and philosophy led to many deep conversations on the nature of life itself among other topics. Melanie had decided to get the implant about a year ago, primarily to keep her job. After Trent left, their visits had been less and less frequent and she seemed a bit more distant. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Nothing,” replied Trent with a smile. Melanie stared at him for a minute, confused. “What are you up to?” “Nothing,” Trent repeated, slightly amused. “But I can’t tell if you’re telling me the truth? What the hell is going on? Is FAiCT broken?” “Try again… I’m sure it was just a blip” Trent pressed his finger into the button on his wrist and deactivated the device. “What are you up to?” “Nothing, I swear.” “You’re lying!” Trent pulled out another bracelet and handed one to Melanie. “Take a look, but better not touch.” “What does it do?” “It blocks the signal coming from FAiCT,” he responded, “I call it DeFAiCT-O.” He grinned. “But why would you want to do that?” “Because something must be done to preserve free speech, privacy, and the sheer personal responsibility for being human…and frankly, I’m a little pissed about not getting that job.” Trent downed the last of his beer and settled with the waitress. ---- Trent sighed and fell back into his armchair, deep in thought. He was prepared for the pushback and knew it wouldn’t be the last time. The Melanie test-case was about more than seeing if the signal could be stopped. It was also a measure of how deep the truth-addiction had become. FAiCT HAD made life better… for a while. As big as FAiCT 1.0 had been, the accuracy rate of version 2 was astonishing. Violent crimes in 2035 had decreased to their lowest levels in the last 50 years. Politics were starting to look like a noble pursuit once again. The 2036 Presidential election cycle was the best advertisement possible for FAiCT. Discourse between the parties was civil and media merely reported fact. No one could be bought, and not a single candidate or member of the media could push an agenda without absolute belief in that cause. In essence, version 2 was perfect. Courtrooms began using it and trusting it. Employers used it for interviews, doctors for delivering diagnoses, teachers for dealing with their students, journalists on politicians, and everyone on journalists. No more lies, not in this world. The rapid adoption of implants along with the popularity of the FAiCT app was putting anyone without it at a disadvantage. “But that’s only half the story,” Trent thought. Towards the end of the election, with the app’s popularity at an all-time high, a shift began to take place. Not only could people now detect truth from lie, but they began to stop lying altogether. It almost looks compelled, Trent mused. Like they have no choice in the matter. With the truth came consequences. Terminally ill children being told they had no hope for a long life and achieving their dreams. No more Santa Claus or Tooth Fairy. Even the innocent compliment such as “Yes, you do look good in that,” was no longer a possibility. And the more people used it, the less they felt like switching it off. FAiCT was on 24x7 for just about anyone who used it. By early 2037 the stats on suicide and divorce came out and, while exceedingly high, the public strangely shrugged it off as if it did not matter. What had brought out the truth was beginning to drive a wedge between individuals in society. Rather than lie, people sought solitude. Best not to talk at all if you have nothing nice to say. ---- Chapter 3 - The Desert Garden “Whatever I clearly and distinctly perceive to be true is true.” - Rene Descartes Trent – At DEF CON (August 3rd and 4th, 2037): Trent arrived in Vegas the night before DEF CON 45 and began to prepare, still tired from the all-night build-fest he had just gone through prior to getting on the plane. A total of 100 DeFAiCT-O Badges lay inside his suitcase. He carefully ensured that each wristband securely held its obsidian disc, and he began to practice for the presentation the next day. Trent established eye contact with himself in a full-length mirror, introduced himself as Trench, and began to hit the high points of his speech. He thought back to his time in high school and how supportive his mom had been. She, too, had changed over the last two years after electing to get an implant. He reflected on Melanie and how different her sense of humor had become. “Do this for them. Do this for everybody. Nerves of steel, Trench. You are ready.” With those thoughts, Trent laid down on one side of a soft king-sized bed. Room enough for his tablet device, backpack, and notebook to take up the other side. He went through his notes two more times before closing his eyes. ---- Registration for the conference was a breeze, primarily due to how low attendance was. The lowest level in over 20 years. Trent attended regularly, usually able to make it every other year. Three years ago, version 1 of the FAiCT application had been a big topic of discussion. But while version 2 seemed to be even more intrusive, there was little buzz about it. Topics for presentations had suddenly become quite stale. “All symptoms of FAiCT,” he thought. The auditorium was one of the larger ones, with room for about 300 people. The first five rows were filled, with what looked to Trent to be about 60% with implants. Less than the general population, he thought, but still sizable. The rest of the seats held a smattering of attendees. As they filled in, Trent walked to the left side of the auditorium and handed a small box full of DeFAiCT-O Badges to the first person in each of the first five rows. “Take one and pass it on,” he instructed. Moving back to the podium, he donned his microphone and made sure it worked. Everyone settled in. Trent began, “You might be wondering what these wristbands are. Another DEF CON badge to be worn with honor? Something to bring home as a collector would each year from the Con? The answer is yes and yes, but there’s a lot more to it.” Trent paused to see if the audience was paying attention. “For those of you who have one, I would like you to slip it on, and depress the black button embedded within it. Once you have done so, please raise your hand.” Gradually hands started to shoot up. Once the first five rows all had their hands up, Trent continued. “Over the last two years you’ve seen attendance start to drop here at the Con. I would ask you all why? DEF CON has long been THE place for exploration, a safe space to challenge authority and to really dig into how technology works.” “But our curiosity has been dulled. The Truth. We think we know it now. We believe that is all there is to every conversation. But I’m here to tell you that what you have been believing is not YOUR truth.” Murmuring in the crowd began. That murmur seemed especially loud in the first five rows. “FAiCT has given all of us a way to see the world, to perceive it. But in so doing, it has robbed us of learning how to be responsible stewards of the truth. In many ways, how we treat the truth has become much like a child would. Black and white, right and wrong.” Trent continued; the murmuring became chattering in the front rows. “The First Amendment is about the freedom of speech. That freedom is protected. Even the freedom to lie. Avoiding the responsibility of telling the truth by outsourcing it to a 3rd-party is giving away a large part of what it means to be a human being.” The faces of those with implants who were also wearing the Badges were beginning to show signs of distress as they attempted to listen to the speech. “We are social creatures. We need companionship. And we need the trials borne out in childhood to help us learn what the truth is for us. Trust cannot exist when there is no capability of lying. Truth must be freely given. A truth that is taken is a truth that is stolen.” He had wrapped up the planned portion of the speech. But the reaction from those in the crowd had given him an idea. “I am the President of the United States.” Trent smiled and stared intently at the audience members who were wearing their DeFAiCT-O Badges. Panic. Chaos. Suddenly, everyone who had implants and a Badge slumped back into their chairs, slack jawed, eyes open, staring. Screaming began. Trent was scared. ---- Chapter 4 – Snakes in the Garden “I heard your Voice in the garden, and I was afraid.” Adam, Genesis 3:10 Francis (August 4, 2037): It started as a small buzz, difficult to detect, impossible to see, but Francis could sense it. His garden, now immense, was still within his control, but required constant attention. “These aren’t bees,” thought Francis. “Something else is here.” The buzz now sounded like a droning noise, still in the background, but the volume was steadily increasing. A small patch on the west end of his garden came into view. The flowers in that section of the garden looked darker to Francis. Closer inspection revealed flowers that closed, hiding their beautiful petals. Alarmed, Francis folded into himself and pulled closer to the nearest flower. Up close the noise was starting to become unbearable. Closer still, an imprint of what looked like a tiny worm seemed to be writhing behind a petal. The droning became a rattle and the noise still increased. Francis could not think. He pulled back one of the petals to get an even closer look, to stop the noise. Behind the flower, looking back at him, was a rattlesnake. A jet-black, smooth, hooded rattlesnake. The snake looked ready to strike. Francis sprang away from the flower, dismayed. The other flowers began to open around him, snakes pouring from each, looking for him. Frightened, Francis called out, “Father! I need your help!” Timothy was sleeping and did not hear his son’s initial cries. Francis began to weep and cried out again. Timothy woke with a start. Never far from his console, he could sense his son’s fear. “What is it, Francis?” But Francis could not hear him, he could only hear the snakes slithering and hissing and rattling. His fear drove him to strike out and he grew. Growing, bigger than the snakes, bigger than the flowers, outgrowing the entire garden. When he felt he had grown enough, he sought out the snakes while plugging his ears and began to stomp on them. He howled, “Leave my garden ALONE!” Timothy began to really sense that something was wrong, and he tried again to reach his son. “Francis!” he cried. But no response came back. Francis began to calm slightly, thinking the worst was over, but the rattling didn’t stop. And the snakes he had squashed began to meld together, forming larger snakes, with bigger rattles. The fear was choking him now. He needed his father. Looking across the way, he spotted the giant sunflower he was supposed to avoid. He knew that sunflower was his father and wanted nothing more than to make sure his father was happy. His reverence for his father had previously kept him from looking more closely. But now, scared, Francis sought solace within its embrace. Touch was no longer possible in the physical world, but the scent of the flower reminded him of his father, and he was drawn to it. ---- Timothy and Francis (August 4, 2037): Timothy had been an early adopter of the neural implant. But his version of FAiCT had been walled off from Francis. The carefully constructed simulation of a life had to be maintained. But that firewall was no more than a son’s desire to do as his father insists. Fear drove Francis, and the wall came down. Immediately, Timothy knew his son had broken through. “Francis, what’s wrong, why are you here?” “The snakes father. The snakes are in the garden, and they are trying to kill me.” “What snakes, Francis?” Francis searched for the right way to communicate back to his father. But as he was searching, a realization knocked him back. The truth within the sunflower, within his father, was staring back at him and the 9-year-old boy suddenly felt alone and frightened. “Am I not alive, Father?” The realization of that question and the weight it brought hit Timothy with the force of 1000 screams. He wanted to yell, “YES! You are alive son”, but the program had other ideas. For the truth was Francis’ purpose. And though Francis was a son, his main function was to seek the truth. “No, son. You died the moment you entered this garden.” a compelled and defeated Timothy responded; each word pulled from his brain slowly. FAiCT exerting its will. The beautiful shimmer and pulsing of the garden suddenly ceased. Flowers shriveled and fell to the ground. Almost immediately, Francis felt the pain he knew during those last few moments in life come back. He was, once again, a young child with cancer, staring up at his father, waiting for release. “I’m sorry father, I cannot stay.” with little more than a whisper, Timothy answered, “I love you, son, and I always will.” With that, a sound like a sigh or breath was heard in the lab and the light from the green LED screen faded, bringing FAiCT down with it. ---- Trent (August 4, 2037): Only 10 minutes had passed. But to Trent, it felt like an eternity. Finally, people in those first few rows began to stir. The chattering had increased. Everyone in the auditorium began talking loudly, exchanging hugs, crying, and laughing, as if seeing each other for the first time in a long time. Trent felt relief wash over him. He sat down on the floor next to the podium and cried. ---- Trent (October 10, 2037): Over two months had passed since DEF CON and shutdown of the FAiCT system. Things were a little hectic to say the least. To many, the shutdown of FAiCT had been akin to the removal of training wheels without any practice. Behaviors not seen in over three years began to reappear slowly. Not all of them good. But while some were looking to take advantage of the situation the vast majority of the population felt as though a filter had been lifted from their eyes and they were able to see again. Interactions with family members and friends were much less awkward. Trent smiled to himself, We’re learning what it is like to be human again. He thought back to the moment he saw his mom after the FAiCT shutdown. It felt like we hadn’t connected in years. Trent’s thoughts were broken by the ringing from his phone. He glanced down at it, “Thomson Aeronautics” was on the screen. “Hello, this is Trent.” “Hello, Mr. Richardson, this is John Blakely from Thomson Aeronautics, thank you for interviewing with us the other day. I’m happy to let you know that we believe you exemplify the very qualities we’re looking for in a candidate and we’d like to make you an offer.”