In Bill’s on-line scientific community, there were two levels — rings, actually. The closely held ring consisted of members Bill had code-named “Element.” Members of the second, farther out (in more ways than one) ring were classified as “Compounds.” Hiccock’s SCIAD handle was Nucleus, although everyone knew it was Bill.
There were ninety-two members of SCIAD’s Element ring. They were FBI vetted and cleared to see top-secret SCIAD traffic at its most raw and unedited state. Their primary job was that of gatekeeper to Nucleus. Two Element members had to concur on a thesis, proof, or speculation before it was transmitted to Nucleus. Bill then had the option to send it back to the entire Element ring for comment.
There were now nearly three hundred Compound members on the network, individuals who didn’t have the squeaky clean, flag-waving backgrounds or citizenship to pass National Security scrutiny but had unbelievable minds nonetheless. What America desperately needed in scientific defense was mental horsepower and the Compounds provided it. They were privy only to redacted information. None of which would compromise Nat Sec, but it would get their mental engines going. As with the Element ring, in the event a Compound member came up with any significant thinking, that member also had to be vetted by at least two Element members before dissemination to Nucleus and then out to the entire Element level. As a further hedge bet, Bill then had it all fly back out to the outer ring once again, as redacted information about this new item. This then allowed all 300 Compounds to kick it around before shooting it back inside to the Element ring again. This looping of data and vetting by at least two Element class members kept down the wild, off-the-charts speculation that could clog a system. Yet, because Bill made his bones on “wild ass speculation” in The Eighth Day affair, he didn’t want it stifled completely.
On the technical side, this data ring was grand slam and whiz bang with the latest interconnectivity protocol, layers of protection, and some stuff private industry would kill for, like real-time link-up to supercomputers, big fat pipes to download hi-def, and 3D video and images in real-time, satellite imagery, and real-time geologic, thermologic, and electronic signature analysis. All of these tools and tech marvels sprang forth as the illegitimate love child of Bill’s shotgun wedding of a former felon in computer crimes — a character who liked to be called Kronos — and the best computer guy the government had. These two techno sapiens, left to their own crazy devices and aided by some off-budget funding, built him a ring system that would have been the envy of any hacker, programmer, or tech mogul on the planet…if they knew about it. Of course, no one did. The whole technical side was invisible. Stealth digits, flying around the Internet as a sort of “digital aerosol” sprayed across the web, seemingly never to be condensed again, except by the 392, retinal-scan-protected condenser/expanders out there.
Hiccock’s ex-wife Janice was an Element level member but he waived her $50K yearly honorarium fee paid to the members, to avoid raising eyebrows. His old schoolyard chum and ex-FBI agent, Joey Palumbo, handled interfacing with his former agency on the vetting process of members and was in charge of ring security for Bill. Even though Joey was a crucial part of Bill’s success in the last science attack, the Bureau had its ways. Joey had spoken above his grade to the then-Director of the FBI — in front of the President’s Chief of Staff, no less. His agency career ended at that moment. Bill dragged him kicking and screaming back into Washington, specifically for SCIAD.
Then there was one that got away. Bill would have wanted this person to run the whole thing, even over himself, but that was never going to happen. Rear Admiral Parks was a crusty octogenarian with a mind that beat out the most sophisticated evil science ever stumbled upon. Hell, forget about getting her in the ring system. I couldn’t even get her to hit the power switch on a computer.
It was a great loss to the country, but she’d paid her dues and won her right to privacy a million fold. Still, Hiccock knew she’d have torn up the rings like a teenager doing donuts in a K-Mart parking lot.
To: all E and C ring members:
From: n
Looking for possible exploitation opportunities by enemies, foreign and domestic, of potential flu vaccine shortage. Focus not limited to vulnerabilities or soft targets, but to any and all ramifications that could be leveraged against us. Timeframe is loose. No specific threats or intel to support above, just pure spec.
The little scientific notation letters were a favorite among the scientific elite, so Bill used them at every opportunity. He allowed the red line of the retinal scanner, which was identical to all the others on the ring, to interrogate his iris one more time in response to his hitting the return key to send the message. This was a double way of ensuring that even if a person walked away from a hooked-up computer, no actions, downloading, uploading, or opening a file could occur without the ring system knowing that the cleared person was initiating the action. “Action Approved: Nucleus” popped onto the screen and then it went blank. The computer in front of Bill had no idea it had just handled ring traffic. The ring was an engine that treated any computer like a dumb terminal. All interaction and work done on the ring was accessed and processed within the ring. No cookies, saved copies, or backups to any local drives or servers. As far as the PC on his desk was concerned the last three minutes and fourteen seconds that he spent on the ring never happened.
Realizing he had two minutes until a staff meeting, Bill picked up the new legislation that spent the night on his bedside table and walked out, smiling with a little more pep in his step because of the way he’d spent the rest of his night.
At the meeting, he re-tasked his White House team to get all the pros and cons on the fast-tracked legislation ready for a position paper to the President in three days. Cheryl had stitched in an addendum to this morning’s agenda titled “Crisis Management.”
“Cheryl, what’s this last item?”
“Yesterday you disappeared. In the event of a real emergency you need to appoint an order of succession so we can still function and be of service if the President or whoever, needs Sci during the crisis.”
“Good point. Great point! I’ll work on a short list and we’ll kick it around tomorrow.” Turning to the others, he said, “Anything else? Good, then on with your day people.”
As he was leaving the room, Cheryl came over and gave him the look that meant wait until the others leave. Even though the room was now empty, she spoke in low tones.
“Mr. Hiccock, I hope you don’t mind me bringing this up, but I have lived through a couple of White House crashes before and I thought…”
“Cheryl, I meant what I said. It’s a great point you made and I thank you for bringing it up.”
“Actually, I was hoping you’d make me your second.”