Street Game (GhostWalkers, #8)(72)

“How does it work?” Javier asked.

“Here’s how it’s done. My AI program conducts an interview with a person aimed at ferreting out a memory unique to that person, and expressing it in six words: the password. A password made of six unguessable words is just as secure as a password made of twenty-three random letters and numbers.”

“Because there are about 170,000 words in the dictionary,” Javier said, grinning with excitement. “Brilliant, Jaimie. I knew there was a reason I fell madly in love with you.”

Mack smacked him on the back of the head. “She’s in love with me. Keep talking, Jaimie.”

Javier ignored him. “If you choose six words at random from the dictionary for a password, a program trying to crack the password would have to search through an impossibly large number of combinations.”

Jaimie nodded. “Multiply 170,000 by 170,000 by 170,000 by . . . you get the idea: six 170,000s multiplied together. Our fastest supercomputers would take over three hundred years to search through all the possibilities. So this kind of password is pretty secure.”

“You never told me about this, Jaimie,” Javier said. “How does the program work?”

“It has about a thousand different ‘schemas’ representing different kinds of remembered personal experiences: from happy childhood memories, to low-grade traumatic experiences, to fantasies, to love or sexual memories, to memories of accomplishments, on and on.”

Mack frowned at her. “I don’t want to know the kid’s sexual fantasies, Jaimie, just his password. I need a look into that computer.”

“You have no patience,” Jaimie reprimanded. “The program is looking to find an uncommon memory or fact. So, exactly not the kind of thing you often are asked for in security questions like, ‘your mother’s maiden name,’ ‘your favorite pet’s name’—that sort of thing. And not your sexual preference, you perverts. A lot of people besides yourself could acquire those pieces of information. So the program steers away from those sorts of things. Instead, it looks for facts or memories that are unique to you, and that you have never shared with anyone else.”

Javier shook his head, his mouth open, his eyes lit with respect. Mack’s chest expanded. He loved how intelligent Jaimie was, that she could do things few others could do and he had no understanding of. But he loved to listen. Sometimes, when she talked, he felt like her accomplishments were the best in the world. He was more proud of her than of anything he’d ever done. He wanted to show her off to the world—and he wanted to keep her strictly for himself.

“The program uses a natural language interface and a unique AI learning algorithm that almost always allows it to converge on a unique memory for a person within five attempts. So it might start off looking for a low-grade traumatic experience from childhood—something you remember but never told anyone else about—but then it discovers that you are someone who basically doesn’t recall any unhappy childhood memories. So upon learning that, the program might shift over to looking for mildly happy childhood memories.”

“I see you’re focusing on ‘low-grade’ traumatic experiences or ‘mildly’ happy childhood memories,” Javier said, speculation in his voice.

Mack wished he could keep up; this was obviously exciting stuff.

Jaimie nodded. “Because horribly traumatic experiences or the fantastically happy childhood memories are the kinds you might very well have told others about. We’re looking for a memory that doesn’t stand out that much, but is still unique, but is something the person can remember as their password, because after all, it’s created from one of their own memories.”

Mack made a face at her. “I hate to tell you this, honey, because I hate it when you have something to lord over me, but I have no idea how that applies here.”

“Well, while Javier doesn’t recognize this program, I do. This was my approach I came up with for my PhD dissertation, but then I went on to create a working program. It was classified. I don’t know how Paul managed to get hold of a top security program, but he’s using it to protect his e-mail messages. Unfortunately for him, I recognize this. It’s definitely my program.”

“Are you certain?” Mack asked. “How can you tell?”

“Look at the screen.” Jaimie pointed it out. “Look what it reads.”

Mack stepped close and peered at the laptop.

ENTER YOUR MEMEMETRIC PASSWORD

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

“This is my program. There’s no doubt. No other program has an access screen like that or refers to ‘mememet ric’ passwords for memory instead of biometric.”

“Tell me you left a backdoor,” Javier said.

“Of course. Doesn’t every programmer? I should be able to go into any computer using my program and get their six-word password. I just have to load this little tool program of mine.”

“I’m so in love with you, Jaimie,” Javier said. “Sorry, boss, I can’t help it, she’s a mega badass.”

Mack shrugged. “As long as you know you’re risking getting yourself shot. Then I’m okay with it.”

“Uh-oh.” Jaimie took a drink of her coffee, frowning at the laptop. “Very clever, my boy. You found the backdoor and closed it, didn’t you, smart one? But you’re not dealing with just anyone here. I wrote this mother. It’s my brain-child, honey. You’re not defeating me. Good try, but I never leave anything to chance. Let’s just see how clever you really are.” She set her iced coffee down a good distance away and began typing on the keyboard again.