The Blockchain Revolution Read online

  There was little now that Frank did not know about the eastern gray squirrel, including its Latin name, which was Sciurus carolinensis. He knew, for example, how much larger the average male squirrel in Washington, DC was than its cousins in Orlando, Florida – eleven-point-five percent – the average distance an adult squirrel in the mid-Atlantic states could leap from a stationary start to a landing place at the same height – thirty-seven inches – and even the last time squirrels were commonly kept as house pets in America – the Colonial Period.

  He had brought all that knowledge to bear in making his latest advance in anti-squirrel technology. He turned his creation around and admired his handiwork. It looked something like an old-fashioned light shade from a bordello. But instead of red satin and black tassels, all the parts were shiny metal.

  The starting point was a commercial squirrel baffle made out of aluminum and shaped rather like a Hershey’s Kiss chocolate candy. The concept behind the off-the-shelf baffle was that a squirrel crawling up a pole would be unable to reach its rim, and would be able to find no purchase on its smooth surface if they did. If it tried to leap from a tree instead, the wobbling baffle would shake the squirrel off before it could grab the pole above.

  All well and good. But that configuration was no use to Frank because Fang could leap directly to the feeder itself. To avoid that, he had drilled holes every inch halfway around the lower rim of the baffle. From these, he hung thin, stainless steel rods, forming a jiggly curtain that resembled a set of emaciated wind chimes extending the full length of the feeder but only halfway around it. And instead of installing the baffle below the feeder, he attached it above.

  He hung the feeder, wearing its new baffle hat and cloak, from the balcony above his, with the curtain of rods in. That left the rod-less side facing the street and available for birds to feed from without difficulty. Assuming a bird ever arrived.

  So tough luck for Mr. Fang. If he tried to get to the feeder from above, he would slide off the baffle and land on the balcony every time. That would be fun to watch! If instead he leaped toward the feeder from the wall, the dangling bars would deflect him. Nor could Fang grab on to the rods themselves – Frank was sure they were much too thin, jiggly and slippery for that.

  And then there was the feeder itself, which now sported a thick, gnaw-proof iron shield on the bottom, as well as a brass tube protecting the wire holding it up. Frank took a picture of his creation and then hung it up. He wondered whether there was some sort of anti-squirrel technology Hall of Fame he could send the picture to?

  He worked at home the next day, waiting for Fang to take up the challenge. But the squirrel never put in an appearance. Or the next day. Perhaps Fang was studying the situation from a hidden location, assessing his options. Well, good luck with that!

  The next day, Frank left for New York, secure in the knowledge that Fang had finally met his match.

  When Frank returned two days later, the feeder, along with his magical, mystical invention had disappeared, without a trace.

  It was time to go nuclear.

  Chapter 27

  Inside the Box and Out

  The lonely light of Shukov’s office window was once again gleaming like a beacon from the upper reaches of the FSS headquarters. Shukov had spent many hours now trying to devise a way to take down the BankCoin network, and he was not pleased with the results. Or, more accurately, lack of results. He’d decided that if the design for an effective attack existed at all, it would be novel and not like anything he’d ever come up with before. In short, to use a Western metaphor, he would need to “think outside of the box.”

  Thinking in such a fashion was not part of the Russian bureaucratic tradition, which made it doubly challenging. He massaged his face with both hands. The lateness of the hour was also not helpful. How should he get a fresh start? He wasn’t sure.

  He stood up and stared into the black void outside his window. One way might be to take nothing as a given. Perhaps that might lead to a useful insight.

  He sat down and started a list, beginning with factors he’d identified as dead ends up until now:

  – FSS does not have enough resources, using traditional means, to penetrate the defenses of every bank hosting a copy of the BankCoin blockchain

  – It would be impossible to disguise a malicious program to the point where it could avoid detection when reviewed in source code form

  – No vulnerability will remain undiscovered forever

  The statements seemed incontrovertible. He massaged his face again, and then with some effort added a few more items to the list.

  Now what? How about this – he could try and come up with an exception to each statement on his list. He tried that and failed. So, this approach must also be a dead end. His face ached from fatigue.

  He stared at the items. Was there another way to think outside this box?

  Maybe this: he could attempt to turn one of these dead ends into an advantage. He gave that a try.

  And got nowhere the first time he reviewed his list. But the second time, an idea came to him when he reached this item:

  – No vulnerability will remain undiscovered forever

  The idea was this: what happened when a flaw was discovered? It was patched, of course. But if he had adequate, ongoing access to the master copy of BankCoin, he could remove that patch, and then the flaw would propagate back to every copy of the blockchain with the next release. Then it might remain there forever. And if it did not, the same trick could be played again, exploiting a different flaw. Or he could wait to reverse the fix until just before an attack was launched. Hmm. He would also need to devise a way to prevent GitHub from reflecting the process of removing the patch. Or to disguise what he had done. He made a note.

  It was an exciting idea. He stood up and began walking around the perimeter of his small office to stretch his legs. He would immediately instruct some of his staff to review all earlier changes to BankCoin, looking for ones that might be security patches. He would tell others to monitor all future alterations with the same goal. After that, he would either need a mole with the authority to alter that particular part of the software, or a way to spoof the identity of someone who did. Or perhaps he could recruit a senior BankCoin developer to do the job. His budget would be adequate to that task.

  Progress. But not a complete solution. Any time you went about correcting vulnerabilities, you needed to worry about a criminal exploiting the flaw before everyone applied the fix. There were always many users that ignored security notices. It made no sense, but there it was. Certainly, the big, multinational banks would patch their systems immediately.

  But others might take a few days to apply the fixes. So, knowing this, those who maintained BankCoin would not want to identify a change as a patch needed to plug a security hole. Otherwise, since the source code was posted at a public website, criminals would notice and unleash bots against every member bank, searching for any that had not updated immediately. He logged on to GitHub to see if his suspicions were borne out.

  He was right. There were no public notices of security fixes. But such patches must exist. Perhaps the BankCoin network mixed vulnerability corrections in with normal bug fixes as camouflage? If that was the case, how would his people be able to tell one from the other?

  There would be a way, he was sure. Finally, he was on to something. He stood up to go. Despite the hint of dawn now illuminating the horizon outside his office window, he felt more energized than when he’d arrived the morning before.

  * * *

  “I just don’t get this,” Nukem said at the third weekly meeting of his NASLA defense team. “Who are these guys, and what do they have against the modern world? It’s not like they have another planet to hang out on. They must be suffering from the effects of their attacks along with everyone else.”

  “Allow me,” Dirk said. “I have been o
n the blockchain discussion sites since Nakamoto posted his famous white paper. You must keep in mind that all the true believers back then were anarchists and that coming up with something like bitcoin was their common goal. They are still around, and their goals have not changed.”

  “All well and good,” Nukem said, “but what’s the link between anarchism and blockchains? I thought anarchism was about getting rid of governments entirely.”

  “That can also be so – there are many branches of anarchist theory. Americans are not so familiar with anarchism today. Also, I think the concept goes against your national identity. Americans are taught that democracy is like revealed truth from up above – and that it is your country’s great gift to the world. What is the phrase? ‘American exceptionalism,’ yes? As in, ‘if only the rest of the world was like us, everything would be okay.’

  “But the rest of the world, it is not so sure. Most countries have not had so much success making democracy work if they have tried it at all. What people in Europe have seen since, oh, let’s say, forever, is governmental systems coming and going, often several times within in a single lifetime. Take the long view, and they all fail. So, those who grew up under czars, kaisers, emperors, and then duces and fuehrers – their lives taught them there is no good authority. So, some of those people say, ‘I want to live in a world where there is no big guy who can tell everyone what to do. I want a political system where no one can unleash the Cossacks on my village, or ship me off to a ‘reeducation’ camp, or compel me to fight in their imperialist war.”

  “Okay, I guess,” Nukem said. “But what does that have to do with NASLA?”

  “Oh, everything!” Dirk said. “Many anarchists think getting rid of every kind of authority – not just governments, but banks, too – will be the salvation of mankind.”

  “Well.” Nukem snorted. “I don’t know a lot about anarchists, but I do know they’ve never had much success in the past.”

  “Yes, but that is why the blockchain is such a big deal to them,” Magnus said. “Wanting an anarchist society didn’t mean there was any obvious way to get one. But since Nakamoto, some think there is now a way to take authority out of the center of everything forever.”

  “Oh, come on now,” Nukem snorted. “They can’t believe that. How could they?”

  “Perhaps they are encouraged by what they have already seen,” Magnus said. “Even without blockchain, look at all the fundamental, disruptive changes technology has accomplished just recently: Amazon puts more big merchants out of business every year. Uber is killing the taxi companies. Now we see millions of scooters popping up like mushrooms on city streets in many cities. Unless Uber builds scooters, too, or self-driving cars, maybe, will it be the next one to go?

  “Also, countries: some governments are abandoning radio spectrum allocation and broadcast regulation – who needs them with internet broadcasting? Others are trying to get rid of cash entirely. The list goes on, and all these were unimaginable just a decade ago!”

  “But why,” Nukem asked, “would anyone think the new people running things would be any better than the old ones?”

  “Because NASLA-type people say there will be no new guys.” Dirk said. “The blockchain, they think, makes them not only obsolete but unnecessary. The algorithm is the only ‘guy’ there is.”

  “So, let’s say I accept that a lot of the world could be run by software,” Nukem said. “Why is that so much better than having governments and banks doing the job? This country may not be perfect, but I think it runs pretty damn well. We’ve never had a czar or a fuehrer here.”

  “But the anarchists do not see it that way. They would answer, ‘Not yet, no. But wait and you’ll get your turn.’ They have a profound distrust of authority. For thousands of years, people have trusted leaders who then betrayed them. To anarchists, authority is bad, even in a theoretical sense. And it is so much worse when you give it to real people because real people do bad things.

  “Technology, though, is different. Ones and zeroes cannot decide to be either good or bad. They just are. You set a program up, you let it go, it runs and does not care who you are. With blockchain, the anarchists have found a way to take people out of the system and place their trust in the computers. Does this help make NASLA easier to understand?”

  “I’m beginning to be sorry I asked,” Nukem replied, “but let’s assume everything you’re saying is what NASLA is thinking. What does that mean for BankCoin?”

  “Oh, it’s very good for us.”

  “Really?” Nukem said, perking up. “Please explain.”

  “Sure,” Dirk said. “All the blockchains NASLA has hit so far are basically dumb distributed ledger networks. Every participant has a copy – ‘their own personal copy of the truth,’ as the blockchain fans like to say – but that is all they have, because only one company has authority to make new blocks. So, they are just like traditional database systems controlled by a single entity who everyone must depend on and trust. But BankCoin is mostly like bitcoin – no block of transactions is trusted unless multiple banks confirm it first. True, only some rather than all. But even the bitcoin zealots admit bitcoin is too slow. BankCoin should not look too bad to an anarchist, because the basic principle is maintained. So, we would not be perfect in the eyes of NASLA, but with so many worse actors, perhaps they will find more appealing targets elsewhere.”

  For the first time, Nukem looked interested. “So, you’re telling me we may not have anything to worry about?”

  “Well,” Dirk said, “I cannot know what goes on inside the heads of the NASLA people. But so far, it is the central authority blockchains they have been harping on. With so many of those to target, we can hope they will leave us alone.”

  Nukem turned to Lola Logan. “What do you say, Lola? Can you make something of that? Put out a big PR blitz explaining why BankCoin is the safest place to keep your money?”

  “Hold on, Horace,” Cronin interrupted. “Let’s not claim we’re immune. That may sound like a dare to these NASLA crazies. I don’t think assuming rationality on the part of people who run around dressed as plague doctors while crippling society is our best bet. Also, I’m not sure the fact we may be more acceptable to anarchists is something to brag about.”

  “I agree,” Logan said. “I do think we can point out to analysts in one-on-one discussions that there are real differences between BankCoin and the networks NASLA has hit. Other than that, though I think the lower the profile we maintain, the better.”

  Nukem nodded, disappointed but convinced. “Yeah. Probably so.” He glanced at his watch. “Anyway, good meeting. Dirk, I think most of what you said was crazy. But what the heck, these people obviously are nuts, so maybe you’re right. That would be great news, at least for us. So, thanks for the interesting thoughts, and see you all next week.”

  Frank followed Dirk and the others out of the room. The anarchist mindset didn’t make a lot more sense to him than it did to Nukem. But it did seem to match well with the facts. And he’d always been partial to facts.

  Chapter 28

  You Sexist Pig!

  No one at the bank had ever told Audrey Addams she was beautiful. Not because she was unattractive, but because she was unapproachable. Even after hours, her colleagues agreed, her severe expression, hairstyle, and wardrobe sent an unmistakable message that read “stay away.” Audrey was okay with that.

  Her friends wouldn’t have called her severe when she was growing up in a small town in upstate New York. True, she was shy and bookish, overshadowed by her big, football playing brothers and ignored socially at school because she was a straight-A student. Her father, a dairy farmer, doted on her because she was his only little girl. But he never took seriously her ambition to be the first Addams to attend college. That is, until the day she packed up and left with a full room, board, and tuition scholarship to a state school in Buffalo. Her mother knew her bett
er and cried. Wherever Audrey would be after college, it wouldn’t be farm country.

  During her sophomore year, Audrey decided Buffalo would be a stepping stone to something bigger. During her junior year, she set her sights on the biggest city of all – New York. Scholarship money didn’t pay for sorority fees, but that was okay. She was happy to hunker down in her dorm room and study harder to be sure she not only got a job in the city, but a good one.

  Her determination paid off. She graduated close to the top of her class and accepted an offer from a bank with a management training program. The pay was generous, too. She’d be able to save up to go to business school – the next stage in the life she’d mapped out for herself. For the first few years, things at the bank went even better than she hoped. She advanced so rapidly that the need to add a business school degree to her resume faded and then disappeared.

  But then things changed, and her promotions stopped. Although he would have been amazed to hear it, the reason was the CEO.

  The bank wasn’t a big, prestigious Wall Street institution, but a smaller one called Bowery Savings & Loan, a solid, modest business with no ambition to become a player on the New York financial stage. Until Willie Bigelow became CEO.

  It took Willie only eighteen years to make it from the mail room to the top spot. He was intelligent, to be sure, and had a great aptitude for banking. But his real skills were personal – all agreed that no one could hold a candle to him when it came to morale and team building. He wanted everyone to think Bowery S&L was the only place they would ever want to work. And he backed that ambition up in every way he could, including by taking the bank on a daring and exhilarating expansion campaign that often scared the board of directors out of its wits but always worked out in the end. Almost every employee, from the receptionist to the executive VP, loved Willie Bigelow.