Words

By Paul G O Connor

One line of text with a cryptic message has appeared on every phone, computer, and video screen on Earth. It cannot be deleted.

Student and activist GENEVIEVE PHILLIPS might have been too smart. She can’t stand LUX Corporation, the company her scientist father works for, and its involvement with Artificial Intelligence. So Gen downloads her anti-AI science project into the company’s server as a protest.
When a cryptic text appears during the launch of LUX Corporation’s worldwide AI system, Gen is suspected of a malicious ‘hack.’ Then, an internet pandemic erupts as the text message spreads around the world.
Gen is hurtled onto a journey to find the real hackers and clear her name. When the virus expands and cripples even the most secure networks. Multi-national corporations point fingers, and superpower governments prepare for all-out war.
Gen finds herself involved with an AI plan that goes against everything she believes in and is thrust into a non-stop race to prevent the end of civilization as we know it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Castle Publishing, LLC
• Release date: May 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798891261891

Paul G O Connor

Paul was born in Boston and grew up in Western Massachusetts. A pivotal decision was made by him in college to switch from studying law to the theater. He found it more enjoyable to pretend being a lawyer than studying to become one. Upon graduating from the University of New Hampshire in theater, Paul was accepted into the prestigious Royal Academy of Dramatic Art in London. After returning, he worked as an actor/director in New York and regional theatre. Then, an opportunity came to take over as Artistic Director of a performing arts center in New Hampshire.There was another pivot. He became a single father and moved with his children to the Berkshires in Massachusetts. Raising two children alone required a stable home, and work in theatre wouldn’t allow that. So, to keep the ‘creative soul’ alive, he started writing short stories and co-wrote an Off-Broadway play that led to writing screenplays.Paul’s found success in several major film festivals. His feature screenplay was placed at the Austin Film Festival, and he’s won short screenplay awards from the Dallas Screenwriters Association and Waterford International Film Festival, Ireland. A small collection of his stories was put into a book, “Along The Way,” on Amazon. Now, his debut novel “WORDS” will be published by World Castle Publishing.He hopes readers will find the novel entertaining and a cautionary tale.Visit his website: https://paulgoconnor.com/

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Dedication

To Quinn and Nora

Acknowledgements

I want to thank editor Karen Fuller who turned my manuscript into a book. Also Brian Sharry whose ideas and encouragement kept me going. Thanks to Nicolas Mize, for constructive critiques that were invaluable, as well as Neil Bradley and Nick Stefanelli for their positive input. Special thanks to my sister Patty Lagodich and Gary Sheehan. There are many family members and friends that have had an influence on this book. I’m grateful for them all.

CHAPTER ONE

They said I might have caused an internet nightmare.

It all began yesterday just before noon when a trivial, fun, mindless reality show was interrupted by an important, boring, thoughtful announcement. A lot’s happened. I’ve been up and down for a while trying to write in this journal. Not sure what time it is, but it doesn’t really matter.

My name is Gen. Genevieve Leslie Phillips. That’s a mouthful. My father says I’m a handful. In case someone’s reading this to you, it’s Gen with a G. I’m a sixteen, actually sixteen and a half, almost seventeen-year-old girl, woman, fugitive, whatever. A junior in high school. At least I was. Guess I still am for now. I got my brains from my father, Sanjit Phillips, a research scientist at LUX Corporation. He says I got my smarts from my mother, as well as her looks. She was very pretty. I don’t know. All I know is I got my middle name from her. I’m also good at track. Hurdles. Where did I get that from?

My father tries to make everything seem normal…I know, whatever normal is. Let’s say he tries to always keep up the illusion that we’re a simple family, living in a decent house, a nice neighborhood, and good friends. Boy, that life sounds nice. But it’s like when you fill up an ice cube tray and take it out of the freezer too early. It looks like there are solid pieces of ice, but the only thing solid is the thin icy veneer on top. So when you poke a cube, your finger breaks through and gets wet….Hav…Thought I heard something outside. Just rain.

Have to take a break soon.

Glad for distraction. Rain. Makes you feel different. You think about things. Usually, things or people in the past. I don’t know why. It’s weird. I never seem to think about the future when it rains. Only the past. Anyway, I hope there’s a future. I’d like to graduate. There’s a big problem right now. No one seems to know how to fix it. I’m still trying to figure out a way, but I’m running out of ideas. See, this started in Africa, and the phone got messed up, and everything’s not working right, but not like you think. Never happened before, and I have a feeling that it’s because of my science project.

Believe me, no one’s more surprised than I am. I mean, I knew it was a good project. I would definitely do well at the science fair, but never…. well, maybe I was a little too smart.

Just realized, I probably have to end up writing by hand whatever happens, now or in the future. Yes, hand. Unless I find a typewriter. Yes, typewriter.

In any event, the whole story may have to be copied and printed out. Unless everything gets fixed. So, might as well just write what I think. Feels good, like someone’s there. I’m talking to someone. Later on, if there’s time, make sense of things.

I wish Pecker was here. Pecker works in the media room. Always let me copy and print anything. Pecker’s funny, just like his name. He’s little, of course. Got his name because guys made fun of him. You know, said he had a little pecker. Not very nice, but it was funny. Pecker never got mad or anything just laughed it off.

I can tell I’m nervous. Instead of thinking about my boyfriend, I’m thinking about Pecker.

Gotta focus.

The disaster unfolded on TV. My father was at work. He couldn’t get home because of the protesters. Felt bad I couldn’t give him a ride. No room. Four of us were already in the car.

Everyone had a sign. Couple of them smoking. Plus, I don’t think my father would want to ride with protesters. Especially if one of them was his daughter. He knows I wouldn’t do anything to make him sadder. Well, most of the time. However, he also knows I hate where he works. I hate the LUX Corporation.

Why?

There are many rational, cognitive, and empirical reasons. Let’s just say, for now, they suck. That’s just my opinion. LUX sucks. Ya. Now, that would have been a great poster. Wish I’d thought of it sooner. Well, I imagine there are at least one or two people who would disagree with me.

Of course, they would be the CEO and the CFO of LUX Corporation. The Boss in charge of getting money, and the Boss in charge of counting money. Did I mention money? A popular saying for finding corrupt officials is, follow the money. When it comes to LUX, you don’t follow the money. You have to try and not trip over the money. It’s everywhere you can’t be. It’s renting the powerful and buying the weak.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not some wigged-out student who’s an eco-freak dying to live in a moss-covered tree condo. There are some good people out there doing business in the world. They just don’t happen to be at LUX Corporation. And there’s certainly no one in their league.

So, all major news organizations world-wide were on alert. It’s a two-hour special. The LUX Corporation’s new project was about to make a global impact. The corporation’s about to improve economies, connect cultures, and empower a continent. Change Africa. Just shook my head. Time to get a snack. However, I didn’t click the remote fast enough. Got sucked in for a few more seconds. That was it. Forgot the snack.

CHAPTER TWO

Thick Tanzanian brush slowed the girl down as she gripped a book and pushed through twisted vines. She glanced up to try and see the huge bird that followed her. There was an open space in the thick foliage ahead, and she headed for it. The cry of the bird became louder as the girl jumped through the opening.

On the other side of the green portal was a well-worn pathway. She took a few quick steps, felt herself slip, and reached for an overhanging branch. She missed. Momentum propelled her along the damp leaves that littered the path and down a steep hill. Sticks and branches slapped against her face as she pulled the book to her chest, leaned back, and closed her eyes. At the bottom of this natural slide, a dry patch of earth stopped her movement and caused her to fall forward onto her knees. She looked up and stared ahead.

She was at the edge of her village, but it had changed. All around were trucks and large metal dishes pointed at the sky. She stood and started to walk toward the market area. Pictures flashed on and off several large screens that surrounded the center of the village. She saw the villagers point at the screens and stand around a large platform. There were men on the platform. They talked into large sticks. As she started to turn away, she saw her mother. She ran to hug her, but her mother grabbed the girl by the arm and took away the book. It was a book on English language. She’d been reading it at her uncle’s home in the neighboring township.

Her mother tried to wipe dirt off her face as she pulled her to the platform and handed the book to a man in a white coat. He checked his watch. The cry of the large bird returned as it circled the village. The girl looked up and huddled behind her mother.

She pointed at the bird overhead. Her mother started to smile. The man on the platform also smiled, took the girl by the hand, and brought her up the platform steps.

Don’t be afraid, little Mwali, he said. It’s a television drone. Small plane.

The girl nodded but looked confused. Her mother stood by the platform and watched the man in the white coat hand her a phone. The girl smiled, looked at the phone, and smiled again. As she turned over the device, a strong wind started to blow dust around the platform. The girl looked up and saw a different type of plane…or bird land.

The helicopter put down at the edge of the village. The word LUX in bright red letters covered the side. It also matched the LUX sign on a large banner behind the platform. A distinguished looking man in a tan, designer ‘jungle bush’ outfit leaned out of the cockpit door and waved. He came down the small set of stairs, jogged over to the platform, hopped up, and shook the hand of the man in the white coat. He turned and shook the girl’s hand while the man in the white coat adjusted the microphone, motioned, and stepped back.

Milo Jackson, CEO of LUX Corp., was used to being in front of a crowd. However, today, he’d be speaking to a global audience in the millions. He reached for the base of the microphone.

Welcome to Africa. The eyes of the world are on us. Today, we celebrate the completion of the final Artificial Intelligence Connector. Planned for over a decade, with billions of dollars invested from many countries. The Global Artificial Intelligence Center in the United States will link our planet through Seven Artificial Intelligence Connectors. One on each continent. Economies will boom, the downtrodden will be lifted up, and opportunities for the future will be unlimited. This young person next to me represents our future. She will read the first message sent by the GAIC to this final AI Connector on her phone. The text will be: A NEW WORLD BEGINS IN AFRICA. That message will signify the beginning of a new unified global community.

The television monitors cut away to a split screen. One half showed protesters around the world waving signs like ‘Food Not Fones,’ ‘No Metal Forests,’ ‘Cut Disease Not Trees’ and lighting bonfires. The other side of the screens showed simulated Hi-Tech villages, multi-level restaurants, hospitals, solar towers, and apartment buildings rising from the jungle vegetation.

Someone must have gotten word to the control booth because a couple moments later, the split screen became one screen with no protesters, only the futuristic Hi-Tech villages.

Milo Jackson signaled the man in the white coat to follow him off the platform and left the girl alone. All TV monitors now showed the girl’s amazed face as she looked around at her village full of video screens, antennas, and satellite trucks.

There was a short beep, and everything went quiet. The girl touched the phone. It gave off a longer beep signal. She looked at the man in the white coat. He nodded. The girl searched the crowd and saw her mother, who also nodded.

Then, a different pulsing, high-pitched tone was heard, and the girl looked closer at the phone. She looked around at everyone again. They waved their hands and motioned for her to continue. She leaned into the microphone and read the message which was broadcast around the world:

NOW IS THE TIME.

Television monitors cut to future Hi-Tech Village images as the man in the white coat grabbed the phone from the girl.

Several members of a security team surrounded the platform. Workers rushed to check cable connections. Some technicians grabbed laptop computers and typed in instructions for the television feed. Other specialists began to move the direction of the satellite dishes. A few men in suits gathered around Milo Jackson. One man handed him a paper.

After a few minutes, the calm voice of Milo as CEO came over the television. We are working with our technical experts to find the problem. This is just some sort of glitch. Lux Corporation’s cyber security is the most thorough on the planet. We’ll find the answer. No need for concern. At this time we see there’s no damage done. It’s only words.

CHAPTER THREE

Gen stopped writing in her journal and listened. The rain had ended. Now, the wind caused tree branches to slap against each other in the front yard. She strained to listen again and thought she heard a noise downstairs at the front door. It’s just a matter of time before police or even FBI agents come to the house. There would be all sorts of questions and even the need to confiscate her father’s work computer in his study.

She froze as she realized that her computer would be taken as well. Every electronic device in the house would be dissected, like a frog in a biology lab, picked apart, and analyzed. Only this time, the remains would be labeled and put in sterile plastic bags, not jars of formaldehyde.

Sabotage was an obvious answer to what had happened in Africa, and one of the first places to start looking would be with anyone associated with the GAIC project.

She tip-toed to her bedroom door and looked down the stairs toward the front hall. No one was there. She listened. No sound. They would all know her father was one of the senior members of the research team and had access to almost everything related to the operation. Gen knew that as well. That’s why she had gone into his study the other night.

Now, she hurried back downstairs to her father’s study. There had to be some way to delete her science project information from his computer. Time was not on her side. She had to move fast. Gen kept thinking about what she’d done. It was supposed to be a simple kind of protest, a disruption, that’s all. It had turned into a full-fledged bit of destruction.

This science project was going to expose the dangers of relying on Artificial Intelligence to solve our problems. Her paper had been full of research, photos and examples of technical failures around the world when societies eliminated human involvement in dealing with human problems. The LUX Corporation was supposed to look bad, but now it just seemed like one of their ‘well-intentioned’ projects was being derailed by the crazy fringe.

On top of all that, her father would most likely get in some real trouble. She would also get in trouble. That was expected. She was ready for that but never wanted to have this explode into an international crisis that would affect her father’s future.

The pictures and some info from her thesis were supposed to be shown on a couple monitors then disappear. She had downloaded the science project into her father’s computer and programmed instructions for the simple release of information during the promotional video lead-in about the GAIC.

Her father’s personal computer was hooked up to a server that interacted with the LUX internal system. However, no one could access the LUX system from the outside. His computer only allowed certain limited access for senior research scientists to conduct work-related projects. It wasn’t like anyone could accidentally get inside the main computer.

Electronic codes were involved. No passwords or fingerprints. Her father’s only password was to get on his home computer. She’d been given permission as a ‘guest’ to do schoolwork and research on his computer.

Gen had used it many times before to send him questions and ask for help with homework while he was at work.

However, she had downloaded her science project to his folder on GAIC Promotional videos. She knew she shouldn’t have done that. There was only information in her thesis paper and no interactive commands or instructions. Her science project information was just to be shown on the video monitors along with the promotional information as a sort of ‘visual’ protest. There was no communication to the GAIC itself.

All that aside, something had gone wrong. She figured her project would be traced back as it would be on video, but it never went to video, and the project wasn’t a malignant hack. Something else had happened to interfere with GAIC’s message and text, but right now, she only knew that her protest project would be implicated no matter how harmless.

She needed advice, what to do, and who to trust. Ella, her closest girlfriend, was visiting colleges until the end of the week. Gen decided to talk with her boyfriend, Zach.

Zach had no idea, no clue, about working with computers, logarithms, or science. He was smart but preferred hands-on work to school work and wanted to go into Construction Management in college. The only thing she was confident that Zach could do at this point in his life was to get out of trouble. He was good at that — and Gen knew she was in trouble. Big trouble.

CHAPTER FOUR

Answers.

Milo Jackson’s voice cracked like a whip. He turned around and took a deep breath. His hands clenched as he looked out the window of his penthouse office in the LUX Corporation complex, just outside of Washington, DC. The rest of the people in the room stared at his back in silence.

Milo cut a simple figure. Average height and a slim build with streaks of gray through his dark hair. He could be anyone to anyone. That was his secret. Women on the staff often referred to him as ‘The chamaleon.’ He always dressed well and had a pleasant, soft face that could change in a heartbeat to a grim, solid piece of stone. That was his image now.

He had made sure the CEO’s office was not simple but intimidating in size and design. The first thing that hit you was the extraordinary view. A twelve foot high and thirty foot long floor to ceiling picture window took up an entire side of the rectangular shaped office. The rest of the office contained cherry mahogany panels and original artworks placed above several leather chairs along the walls.

There were two conference-style tables in the center. The main table was on a raised level, a step up, large enough to seat twelve. At the far end, on a slightly higher level, was the CEO’s desk. A second table to the side was on the flat portion of the floor and sat six. Milo called that the ‘kids table.’ It was for the newest and usually younger executive staff.

Both tables were filled today.

Milo turned around and scanned the room.

Good. Smart enough to know not to speak…Yet stupid enough not to know the answers.

He took one slow step at a time over to his desk. He sat in the thick leather chair and looked down over the two tables.

Milo opened a folder and snapped his fingers toward the small table.

Kids.

He flicked his thumb to the side. Everyone at the small table got up.

Leave your briefcases, he continued. Some of you will come back and move to the grown-up’s table.

Jackson waited for the door to close.

His gaze fell over each of the twelve senior staff members.

The launch of the Global Artificial Intelligence Center was worse than a failure. It was an embarrassment. We can fix failure, but we have to deal with embarrassment. The GAIC is up and running now, but first things first. Ted? Any leads?

Ted Latimer was the Senior VP of Cyber Security. He’d been with LUX for fifteen years, was a former Supervisor at FBI East Coast Cyber Division, and knew the game. Ted sat near the center of the table.

We don’t believe this was a technical problem. Too clean. Too well executed. Had to be one of the ‘Groups.’ We have several leads and are focusing on them right now. Two from the Middle East and Russia. No surprises yet. Also, a new group from Asia. Chinese or Indian. At this time, we’re trying to accommodate the Feds with info on what we know but also trying not to give away our hand.

Milo nodded and shuffled through papers in his folder.

Good. Keep me up to date no matter where I am. Time, Ted. Time is what we never have enough of, you understand?

Ted nodded and sat down. Less said right now, the better.

How’s PR going? Milo glanced down at Sue Merchant, Senior VP of Marketing and Publicity. She sat near the front of the table and was all business.

Milo, right after this ‘event’ happened a couple days ago, we started an image blitz. All over the media are ads that tout our success and growth. Also, we put out news emphasizing once again, our eco-friendly operations done through the GAIC that will improve the standard of living not just in Africa but globally. There are international promotions with cash awards to gather up some housewife types and send them on cruises to celebrate the GAIC’s holiday centers that will open up soon. Also, we’ll get their feedback through focus groups on our plans for future homesteads and resorts.

Milo had a slight smile as he looked at Sue.

Keep all company news upbeat and positive. That’s the way to go. Public information, as well as the perception about Lux Corporation, must be surrounded by squeaky-clean but exciting promotion. Sue, you know how to do it.

Sue stood. Right, I know how. She gave him a slight smile in return and sat down.

Milo motioned to Artie Tayson. Artie was Chief of Corporate Security and quietly referred to around the employee break room as Chief Creep. Artie sat in a leather chair against the back wall. He rose and stood waiting for his orders. Milo waved at him to stay by the door. He continued to address the center table.

I have another appointment. Some details of the initial GAIC launch are being dealt with privately, and you’ll be informed of progress. Those of you I didn’t get a chance to speak with will be contacted for an appointment. At this time, I’m leaving Artie Tayson to deal with the embarrassment. Artie, in this manila folder, are three envelopes from HR. Distribute them.

Milo got up to motion Artie to come forward when the office door cracked open. A messenger leaned in and handed Artie a note.

He opened it and stared at the message.

Milo called out, What is it?

Mr. Jackson, something’s come up.

CHAPTER FIVE

LONDON, ENGLAND

Camden Town Underground Station was just a few blocks from his flat. As usual, the streets were filled with people, but today, they wandered around staring at their phones. Derek Hanes had never been into all that frenzy over the newest mobile phones that seemed to come out every year and the need to own one. He shook his head at all the commotion and pushed his way out of the crowded station. It’s not that he didn’t have a phone. It was just that he didn’t have to look at it every moment he was awake. Just before turning down the street to the quiet comfort of his small one-bedroom, he decided to stop in at his local, ‘The Oxford Arms’ for a pint.

The usual group stood around, but today, they focused on the television above the far corner of the bar. Even the bartender, who usually saw him and immediately poured his pint, had his back to the door, staring at his phone. Derek smiled as he tried to recollect what football game, or soccer to Yanks like him, could be on and tapped once on the oak bar.

Barry, he called out in that loud sort of whisper, not meant to disturb but to get attention.

The bartender turned and stared at him as if he didn’t recognize who had called his name. Then, he nodded and reached for the tap.

Cheers, Derek said as he gripped the foam-topped pint.

Barry nodded without a reply. He continued to look and tap on his phone.

Game today? Derek inquired.

Barry glanced up and shook his head.

What’s going on? Everyone poking at their phones. More crazy than usual. Derek persisted.

Barry squinted down at him. Haven’t ye seen it?

Seen what?

Phones, the feckin’ phones…fecked up, Barry blurted out.

Derek loved his local pub primarily for the company of Barry, an outspoken Irish transplant from the city of Cork.

What’s wrong with them? My phone’s fine, Derek answered.

Several of the customers near him turned on their stools. Others stepped back from the bar and looked away from the television.

Your phone’s fine? A man from the group called out.

Sure, Derek said. I used it this morning.

Use it now, Barry told him.

Derek pulled the phone out of his jacket and turned it on. As he did, a couple of men in the group leaned in to watch over his shoulder. Derek smiled as he glanced around and then looked down at his phone. See… he began, then stopped. The other patrons gathered behind him and held out their phones.

Across the center of his phone screen and across the center of all the other phone screens were the