PART 1
The scam was dead simple, as most effective scams usually are.
The idea was to take a porn film, the kinkier the better, and then use a simple program like Synthasia or Capwing to create an animation. There was no shortage of rich debs whose parents would pay a lot of money to keep their daughters’ fake sexual exploits from becoming front-page news and likely ruining their lives forever.
The perpetrators were confident that nine times out of ten they would be believed and the blackmail would be successful. These bad actors were a couple of Virginia Tech seniors who saw the burgeoning AI market through the demented sensibilities of the criminal mind. Why bother getting a job somewhere and pulling in a lousy hundred and a quarter a year when the AI world offered so much more to those who were willing to participate in a little extortion?
This is exactly what Carlos Montoya and Gerald Freelander believed, as they set to work on their first project. A deb from high school they both hated and whose arrogance, they believed, was off the charts. So not only was there money to be made, but a lesson to be taught as well.
Source material on Rebecca Tyson was easy to come by. She was very big on selfies and videos that she plastered all over her Facebook and Instagram pages, so the modelling was no problem. The other source material was plentiful because pornography was one of America’s largest underground industries.
The idea came to them over beers and pizza at the Mellow Mushroom in Blacksburg, right around the corner from the first-floor flat they shared there. Both Montoya and Freelander were from well-to-do families. They were eventually expected to use their high-priced education to further their families’ business interests. But they had other plans. If they pulled off this scam and several others like it, they would be sitting on a good chunk of money that they could use to develop their own AI software. Then they were talking about genuinely big bucks.
The only thing they didn’t factor into all their grandiose plans was a couple from New England, AKA The Human League.
About three months earlier, a senior Senator from Massachusetts named Virgil Roman, created a scandal in which he confessed to making millions through insider trading while he was in office. But the scandal was a fake, designed to use a high-profile figure to demonstrate how easy it is to create highly believable fake posts.
After the fake AI scandal broke and was revealed for what it was, a committee was formed to draft legislation that would put controls on AI development, and the market took a bit of a dip. But after that, while the legislation was being put together and turned into law, most companies involved in AI development re-doubled their efforts, in order to capture as much of the market as they could before the shit hit the fan.
At the same time, the underground economy of the AI world grew exponentially. Young programmers saw the potential job or project market would shrink substantially, and their opportunities along with it. Many of them realized that in order to really make their fortunes they would sooner rather than later be forced to live outside the law.
Carlos Montoya and Gerald Freelander had come to that realization as they followed the Senator Roman story, which was really the event that got every person involved in AI thinking twice about the best way forward. Fortunately for them, they were not constrained by fear of punishment. In fact, they both relished the idea of beating the law at its own game. They believed they were smart enough to cover their tracks and devious enough to have a cavalier attitude toward any of the rich girls whose lives they could ruin.
So they got to work on the Rebecca Tyson project.
Terry Moorehouse and Shawna Lennox, had quickly settled into a nice comfortable life in Plymouth.
They toyed around with a number of different AI-based ideas, being careful not to make them exploitative. They also followed the news of the Senate Committee for Cyber Safety, as it was called, and were painfully aware of just how slowly things were moving.
One day, as they were driving home from Boston and dinner with Shawna’s parents, Shawna said. “You know. I have been thinking a lot about fakery lately.”
“Oh yeah. And what have you been thinking?”
“I’m glad you asked. Because I’m thinking that between the two of us, we might just be smart enough to create a program that can detect AI-generated images and text. Just a little app that everybody could have on their computer that they could use when they see stuff, you know on social media, or that gets sent to them, and know whether it’s real or not. I think something like that would be really useful. And maybe it would make it harder for this whole culture of scammers that’s emerging.”
“So do you have any idea how we could build an app like that?”
“Not right at the moment. But it would be really useful, wouldn’t it? And we could give it away. We could give it to computer companies and let them build it into their operating systems. Give it to governments and let them disseminate it to the general public. Give it to other countries too.”
Terry didn’t say anything for quite some time. If nothing else, he was constantly in awe of the way Shawna’s mind worked. If she thought something needed to be done, she would ruminate on it until she saw a way to make it happen.
Finally, he said. “I think you might be onto something, my dear. But I’d have a serious issue with giving it away. There has to be some value attached to because…well because everybody knows there’s no such thing as a free anything.”
“Hmmm. Well, you are the operations guy. If you say we make money with it, then that’s what we’ll do.”
“Got a name for it, this app of yours?”
Yes, I do. The name is Bloodhound.” Shawna said nothing for a moment because her brain was working. “Bloodhound. Sniffin’ out fakes.”
“Sniffin’ out fakes?” Terry just laughed. But after thinking about it for a minute or so. “That’s pretty good. Let’s talk to the kids about it.”
The kids were the eight digital people and the four outsource suppliers who worked for Moorehouse Digital. The next day they all assembled in the lounge area.
Terry, Shawna, and Jackson Freeburgh were sitting on office chairs while everyone else was perched on or sitting on the couches and easy chairs.
Terry got up. “Good morning everybody.” He said. “We want to talk to you about the going forward direction for Moorehouse Digital. But before we can do that, we need each of you to sign a non-disclosure agreement. Because we can’t have anything that you hear this morning go any further than this room. I’m afraid this has to be mandatory, and I hope everyone will sign.”
The next twenty minutes were spent handing out non-disclosure documents and Jackson answering questions, much to the satisfaction of the group. Because everybody signed their agreements.
“OK.” Terry said. “Thank you. Now you’re probably all aware of the recent scandal involving Senator Roman and the AI hoax that he pulled in Washington. Well, that whole operation was engineered by Shawna, Jackson and myself.”
The group was silent.
“As you can well imagine, if word of this ever got out into the larger world, there could be people who might bear us some ill will. Which is why we had you sign the agreements. Going forward we are planning to formalize a new division in the company called The Human League. We will send you our mission statement then sit down with each of you, and you can tell us a) if you think you can contribute to the group, and b) what, generally speaking, could you bring to the party in terms of specific skills.
“Our overarching goal is to do what we can to help mitigate the deluge of AI-produced scamming that has already started to take root in this country and other countries around the world. We are hoping to have the complete support of the current US government, specifically through the newly formed Cyber Safety department.
“Once we have gone through our interviews and assembled our team, we will hire new people to replace those of you who will be part of The Human League. Take a few days to think about this offer, and decide whether you can make a contribution and what that could be. That’s it. Check your inboxes and then think hard about what you can do to make The Human League work. Thanks.”
Nobody applauded. To a person, they were all a bit stunned. This was and would be, for some of them, a real sea change. But Terry knew it had to be done. Nobody was going to lose their jobs but, according to the 80/20 Rule That Governs Just About Everything, Terry knew he could end up with at least a couple of good people. And that’s all he needed at the present time.
One week later the team, which included four of the current Moorehouse staff, was set, salaries agreed to and offices filled. Terry handed the four new Human Leaguers over to Shawna, who would put them to work developing the Bloodhound program. Terry arranged with his lawyer to have $15 million of his trust fund capital transferred to a payroll account for The Human League. Jamie Goldman, who was president of Moorehouse Digital, would also take on the role of President of The Human League.
This left Terry free to troubleshoot inside and network outside on behalf of the organization. Terry was just about to set off on the road to Washington when he got a call from Senator Roman.
“Terry, how are things going with your new venture?”
“I’m just getting ready to head down to Washington to follow up on some of the referrals you’ve given me.”
“That’s good. But listen, son. I was wondering if you would do something for me.”
“You name it sir.”
“I have a personal friend who is in a bit of a situation. I think he could use your help.”
“What sort of situation are we talking about here?”
“It involves AI and, well, I think it would be better if we didn’t talk about it on the phone. I’ll text you his info.
The name the Senator texted to Terry was Arthur Tyson with an address in Stamford and a phone number. Terry did a Google search and discovered that Arthur Tyson was a real estate tycoon, with literally dozens of residential building projects up and down the eastern seaboard. Terry wondered about what kind of trouble someone like this could get into, and even though he was pretty young, he could imagine at least half a dozen things.
Shortly after that Terry got in his car and headed south. He stopped for lunch in New Haven and then pressed on to Stamford, where about two hours later he pulled into the driveway of a large modern-looking mansion. Arthur Tyson was sitting on the front steps when Terry arrived. He was smoking a small cigar.
After the introductions and handshakes, Arthur invited Terry to sit down with him while he finished his cigar.
“I’m not allowed to smoke in the house.” he said.
“Never been a smoker myself.”
“I limit myself to two or three a day.” Arthur said. “But that’s not why you’re here.”
“I have to admit I’m a little in the dark about that.”
“Well, you’re here because Virgil says you know your way around the AI world.”
“Okay.”
“Well right now, as we speak, I am being blackmailed by some people who have used AI to basically create a pornographic film starring my daughter, Rebecca. They are demanding ten million or they will release the videos on Rebecca’s’ social media accounts. This will essentially ruin her life. I can afford to pay them, but what proof will I have that they have actually destroyed the footage? And what’s to keep them from coming back for more?”
Terry looked over at Arthur. He could easily see the pain that he was in. At the same time, he thought, this is the beginning of it. Everything he wanted The Human League to be was embodied in the look on this man’s face.
