Fools' Experiments

by Edward M. Lerner

Overview

_We are not alone, and it's our own damn fault...._

Something demonic is stalking the brightest men and women in the computer industry. It attacks without warning or mercy, leaving its prey insane or comatose--or dead.

The mayhem is especially calamitous just now. Something far nastier than any virus, worm, or Trojan horse program is being evolved in laboratory confinement by well-intentioned but misguided researchers. When their artificial life-form escapes onto the Internet, no conventional defense against malicious software can begin to compete. As disasters multiply, computer scientist Doug Carey knows that unconventional measures may be civilization's last hope.

And that any artificial life-form learns _very_ fast....

_"Lerner puts his expertise in computer science ... to good use in this exciting and unsettling near-future thriller. It's an ambitious idea for a novel, and Lerner carries it off in style, capturing our interest and our acceptance of his premise from the very beginning."_

--Booklist

_"A spooky cautionary tale that is part hard-wired sf and part intrigue and suspense. A good choice for readers who prefer their sf with a heavy dose of hard science along with fast-paced storytelling."_

--Library Journal

_"Convincingly shows the development of the electronic consciousness and its groping interaction with humanity ... good science and entertaining writing make this a fast, entertaining read."_

--Publishers Weekly

_"FOOLS' EXPERIMENTS is science fiction at its dazzling best, and one hell of a technothriller."_

--Stephen Coonts, _New York Times_ best-selling author of _The Assassin_

_"Edward Lerner brings a wonderfully intelligent, creative style to science fiction. His clever ideas and intriguing plots have given me many hours of enjoyable reading. His stories keep me thinking--and make it fun."_

--Catherine Asaro, Nebula Award-winning author of _The Quantum Rose_

_"Viruses and worms have come to be an important 'feature' of our network landscape. And yet this is just the beginning. In FOOLS' EXPERIMENTS, Edward M. Lerner gives us a fascinating view on how awesome these threats could soon become."_

--Vernor Vinge, Hugo award-winning author of _Rainbow's End_

_"Must reading for anyone worried about computer viruses. They're primitive; in FOOLS' EXPERIMENTS, an expert imagines how deadly a thing might evolve from them--and how fast!"_

--Stanley Schmidt, Hugo- and Nebula-nominated author of _Argonaut_

_"The age of spiritual machines is almost upon us, and Edward M. Lerner is our advance scout. He's already been where the rest of us will soon be heading and gives us fascinating, compelling, exciting glimpses of what lies ahead. A terrific book by a terrific author."_

--Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo Award-winning author of _Rollback_

_"A fast paced and exciting story."_

--Book Spot Central

_"When the artificial intelligences ... go maverick, they turn out to be the true weapons of mass destruction. A fast, fun read."_

--Sci Fi Weekly

_"A lot of characters expire before they find out what a random hungry AI can do to our info-linked society ... Makes for a thriller as good or better than most airport-lobby mass-market thick-books." _

--San Diego Union-Tribune

_"If you think the viruses we've seen so far are annoying and destructive, wait until you see what Lerner has imagined."_

--Critical Mass

_"Lerner's physics and computer science background serve him well for this pulse-pounding yarn about the creation of the first artificial life form inside cyberspace."_

--BookPage Notable Title

_"This is, in its truest sense, fiction about science.

Product Details

BN ID:	2940167730250
Publisher:	ReAnimus Press
Publication date:	09/04/2024
Sold by:	Smashwords
Format:	eBook
File size:	1 MB

About the Author

EDWARD M. LERNER worked in high tech and aerospace for thirty years, as everything from engineer to senior vice president, for much of that time writing science fiction as his hobby. Since 2004 he has written full-time.

His novels range from near-future technothrillers, like Small Miracles and Energized, to traditional SF, like Dark Secret and his InterstellarNet series, to (collaborating with Larry Niven) the space-opera epic Fleet of Worlds series of Ringworld companion novels. Lerner's 2015 novel, InterstellarNet: Enigma, won the inaugural Canopus Award "honoring excellence in interstellar writing." His fiction has also been nominated for Locus, Prometheus, and Hugo awards.

Lerner's short fiction has appeared in anthologies, collections, and many of the usual SF magazines and websites. He also writes about science and technology, notably including Trope-ing the Light Fantastic: The Science Behind the Fiction.

Lerner lives in Virginia with his wife, Ruth.

His website is www.edwardmlerner.com.

More books from Edward M. Lerner are available at: www.ReAnimus.com/store/?author=Edward%20M.%20Lerner

Read an Excerpt

FOOLS' EXPERIMENTS (CHAPTER 1)

Thwock.

The bright red ball rebounded with a most satisfying sound, although the racquet continued on its arc without any apparent impact. Doug Carey hurriedly wiped sweat from his forehead with the back of his left arm, carefully keeping his eyes on the ball. Precisely as he had intended, the ball passed through a translucent green rectangle suspended in the vertical plane that bisected the court. The ball instantly doubled its speed.

Across the court, his opponent grunted as he lunged. Jim Schulz caught the ball on the tip of his racquet and expertly flipped the orb back through the green region. The ball redoubled its speed.

Doug swore as he dived after the ball. It swept past him, obliquely grazed the floor, and careened first from the rear wall and then from a sidewall. The ball winked out of existence as it fell once again, untouched by Doug's racquet, to the floor. "Good one," he panted.

Jim waved his racquet in desultory acknowledgment, his T-shirt sodden with sweat. "Pull," he called out, and a new red ball materialized from the ether. Jim smacked the ball to the court's midplane, just missing the drifting triple-speed purple zone. The unaccelerated serve was a cream puff; Doug ruthlessly slammed it through purple on his return. A red blur shot past Jim to a brown "dead zone" on the rear wall, from which the suddenly inert ball dropped to the floor like a brick. This ball, too, disappeared.

"Roll 'em." Yet another red ball appeared, again in midair, this time at Doug's invocation. He twisted the racquet as he stroked the ball, imparting a wicked spin. The serve curved across the court, rebounding oddly from the floor and sidewall.

Not oddly enough. Jim pivoted gracefully, tracking the ball around the rear corner. He stepped behind the ball as it rebounded from the back wall, from which position he casually backhanded it. The ball sailed lazily toward midcourt, aimed squarely at a foot-squared drop-dead zone floating scant inches above the floor.

Doug dashed to center court, ignoring an alert tone as he crossed the warning line on the floor. He swung his racquet into the slight clearance between the vertical brown region and the floor. He misjudged slightly: The body of the racquet swept effortlessly through the court's vertical bisection plane, but the handle struck with a thud. A loud blat of disapproval drowned out his sharp intake of breath, but not the jolt of pain that shot up his arm. All but the offending handle vanished as he dropped the racquet. "Damn, that smarts!"

"Are you okay?"

Doug grimaced, rubbing his left hand against his right forearm just below the elbow. He pressed a thumb into a seeming birthmark, and was rewarded with a subcutaneous click. Through clamped teeth, he forced out, "That's it for today. Don't watch if you're feeling squeamish."

He grasped firmly with his left hand, and twisted. The right forearm popped off, to be placed gently onto the court floor. Doug massaged the bruised stump vigorously. "To coin a phrase, ouch."

Jim walked to center court, beads of sweat running down his face and glistening in his lopsided mustache. He sported possibly the last long sideburns within Western civilization. "Anything I can do?"

"Uh-uh." The answer was distracted.

His friend pointed at the numerals glowing on the ceiling. "Twelve to ten, pretty close. Why don't we pick up there next time? I'll call you tonight. Abracadabra." The last word was directed at the court, not Doug. Jim disappeared as thoroughly as had the out-of-play balls earlier, but with the added touches of a soft "poof" and a billow of swirling white smoke.

"Abracadabra," Doug agreed. Jim's half of the room promptly vanished, revealing at what had been center court the wall that had so rudely interrupted the game. Doug peered at the shallow gouge in the plasterboard that calibrated by how much his depth perception had failed him. Virtual racquetball with real divots: Maintenance would just love that.

Sighing, he reached for the Velcro buckle of his game goggles--and missed. Look, Ma, no hand. He was more successful with his left arm. The colored regions floating about the room, the glowing scoreboard, the lines on the floor--all the ephemera--disappeared. Stark white walls now surrounded him, interrupted only by glass-covered inset minicam ports and the thin outline of a tightly fitting door.

Doug carefully laid down his computer-controlled goggles, although its LCD eyepieces and stereo speakers weren't all that fragile, then wrestled himself back into the prosthetic forearm. He hoped the impact of racquet on wall hadn't injured the limb. He would find out soon enough.

Doug glanced at his wristwatch, and it was as late as he had feared. The more conventional part of work called.

Doug strode from the virtual-reality lab to his office, whose laser-carved wooden nameplate announced him to be Manager, Neural Interfaces Department. He paused beside his secretary's desk to check his tie. He'd be amazed if it didn't need straightening.

No surprises today.

The sidelight to his office door reflected more than his tie. His most prominent feature, a nose too large for his taste, stared back at him. Aquiline, Doug reminded himself, aquiline. Like an eagle. A hint of a mischievous smile flashed and was gone. What eagle had a bump like this on its beak? His hood ornament had come courtesy of a long-ago pickup football game gone a tad too enthusiastic.

He tugged the knot into something closer to symmetry before entering his office. A visitor waited inside, scanning titles on his bookshelf. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.

Cheryl Stern turned to face him. It was her first time at BioSciCorp, and Doug found himself taken aback. Cascades of wavy brown hair framed a face graced by wide-set hazel eyes, an upturned nose, and a sensual mouth. Her brief smile seemed forced and out of practice. She was slender and, he guestimated, about five foot four. All in all, very attractive.

The memory of Holly instantly shamed him.

Cheryl looked surprised when Doug waved off her outstretched hand. She would understand soon enough. He offered her a guest chair, shut the door, and hid behind his desk.

Her application sat in a manila folder in front of him. He got his mind back on the interview and the résumé. The résumé, he reminded himself severely, that had earned her his invitation. "Thanks for coming in, Cheryl. I hope you didn't have any trouble finding us."

"Your secretary's directions were great. I gather she gets to give them out a lot."

Implying the question: Against how many people am I competing? He also couldn't help noticing that she perched just a bit too far forward in her seat. He tried for a friendly grin. "There's no opening per se. You obviously know how few people there are in the neural-interfacing field. When a résumé as impressive as yours crosses my desk, I make a point of talking to its owner. If this looks like a fit, I'll make a spot."

She relaxed a bit at his answer but said nothing.

"Let's start with one of those open-ended questions candidates hate. I try to get those out of the way early. That way, Cheryl, you'll actually get to eat when we go to lunch. So, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

It was quickly clear she didn't intend to volunteer more than was on her résumé. "Excuse me please, Cheryl. What I'd like to hear is more along the lines of what you're looking for in a job. For instance, why did you contact BioSciCorp?"

It took a few tries, but he eventually got her to open up. ". . . And the field of neural interfacing fascinates me. Still, when I consider the potential of linking the human brain directly with a computer, my imagination can't quite handle it. Sure, I know the standard predictions: speed-of-thought control of complex machinery, immediate access to entire libraries, mind-to-mind communications using the computer as an intermediary. What I don't believe is that any of us can truly anticipate the full implications. When we pull it off, neural interfacing will have as big an impact as did the industrial revolution and the Internet."

When, not if. That was the attitude Doug wanted to see. "I agree: It will be astonishing. That's not exactly what we're working on here."

"Close, though?"

"One small step along the way," he conceded. "Mind if I do a quick overview of what we're up to here in my little corner of BioSciCorp?"

"Yes, I'd like that."

"Okay, then. Metaphorically, we're trying to walk before we run. The human brain is the most complex piece of neural engineering that we know, right?" She nodded to fill his pause. "The truth is, we--humans--don't begin to understand how the brain works. We're not even close to cracking the code. That's why BSC is trying to connect a computer to a much simpler structure of nerve cells."

Cheryl tipped her head in thought. "Say you do interface a lower life-form to a computer. How could you know if any communication was taking place, or how well it worked?"

"Who mentioned lower life-forms?" He took a moment's glee from her puzzled expression, then relented--sort of. He lifted his right arm off the desk, thinking hard about his hand. The microprocessor-controlled prosthetic hand slowly rotated a full 360°, the wrist seam hidden behind a shirt cuff. In the suddenly silent room, Doug heard the whirr of the motor by a freak of sound conduction through his own body.

"You've connected to the peripheral nervous system." Her eyes were round with wonder. "That's so astonishing." Then the personal aspect of his demo struck home, and she cringed. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Excuse me. I just get too wrapped up in technology. I don't mean to make light of your, uh . . ."

"No need to feel uncomfortable, Cheryl." He arched an eyebrow. "In the land of the prosthesis manufacturer, the one-armed man is king."

Cheryl laughed--behavior he could not help but find endearing in a prospective employee. The current staff knew all his material.

She said, "Um, but seriously, how did you do that?"

"My stomach alarm went off ten minutes ago. What do you say BSC springs for lunch and we pick up the discussion afterward?"

"You've got a deal."

After beef fajitas and the completion of Cheryl's interview, Doug did some management by walking around.

There had been a virus attack during lunch. They had been semilucky. On the one hand, the invader was not benign. On the other hand (an expression from which Doug could not break himself), the malware was clumsy and well understood. Well understood, that was, according to the web site of the Inter-Agency Computer Network Security Forum, the federal crisis-management organization that strove valiantly, if with mixed success, "to stem the rising tide of malicious software and computer break-ins." The press release announcing the forum's formation had brought unbidden to Doug's mind the image of King Canute drowning in a sea of hostile data. A far-from-bitsy bit sea.

The virus was brand-new that day, and hence unknown by and invisible to the company's Internet firewall and virus checkers. The forum's web site already listed hundreds of attacks. Behind a cute pop-up window (Dyslexics of the World Untie) hid a cruel, if apt, intent: randomly scrambling the hard drives of the invaded computers. It had to be a new infestation, since BioSciCorp's backup files were all uninfected.

In short, they had had a close call. He wondered if they would be as lucky the next time.

FOOLS' EXPERIMENTS. Copyright © 2008 by Edward M. Lerner.

Editorial Reviews

This SF/horror thriller gathers considerable momentum before concluding weakly. Computer researcher Doug Carey uses virtual reality to help people mentally control prosthetic limbs, but other, less benign programmers are producing destructive viruses and worms. The military-industrial complex recklessly encourages the development of a problem-solving program that soon becomes independently intelligent and escapes control. Crises escalate until the entity fries some scientists' brains, causes nationwide network outages and takes charge of the U.S. arsenal of nuclear missiles. Lerner (Fleet of Worlds) convincingly shows the development of the electronic consciousness and its groping interaction with humanity. Nonelectronic characters are streamlined, but usually bright and sympathetic even when they're fatally wrong. Though warnings against invasive, malicious machine intelligences are nothing new, good science and entertaining writing make this a fast, fascinating read. (Nov.)

Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

Publishers Weekly

As researchers into neural interface with computers and artificial intelligence (AI) begin to die under bizarre circumstances or suffer from complete mental breakdowns, a few of their colleagues suspect that an intelligent virus has managed to escape confinement and has now declared the Internet its hunting ground. The author of Probe and Moonstruck has delivered a spooky cautionary tale that is part hard-wired sf and part intrigue and suspense. A good choice for readers who prefer their sf with a heavy dose of hard science along with fast-paced storytelling. For most libraries.

—Jackie Cassada

Library Journal

“A spooky cautionary tale that is part hard-wired sf and part intrigue and suspense. A good choice for readers who prefer their sf with a heavy does of hard science along with fast-paced storytelling.”--Library Journal

“Convincingly shows the development of the electronic consciousness and its groping interaction with humanity…good science and entertaining writing make this a fast, entertaining read.”--Publishers Weekly

“Fools' Experiments is science fiction at its dazzling best, and one hell of a technothriller.”--Stephen Coonts, New York Times bestselling author of The Assassin

"Viruses and worms have come to be an important 'feature' of our network landscape. And yet this is just the beginning. In Fools' Experiments, Edward M. Lerner gives us a fascinating view of how awesome these threats could soon become."--Vernor Vinge, Hugo Award-winning author of A Fire Upon the Deep

“The age of spiritual machines is almost upon us, and Edward M. Lerner is our advance scout. He’s already been where the rest of us will soon be heading and gives us fascinating, compelling, exciting glimpses of what lies ahead. A terrific book by a terrific author.”--Robert J. Sawyer, Hugo Award-winning author of Rollback on Fools' Experiments

From the Publisher