Confronting the Scootleswarm!

The Most Strange Beginning of All

John here:

I have to say I’m a bit reluctant to share this with our growing subscriber base. I tried to talk Scoop out of this because it does seem like the type of thing that might start a panic. However, he was insistent that this was to be the opening story. Sam is many things, but once he sets his mind to something reasonable is not one of those qualities. Read on if you wish.

Okay, here’s Sam “Scoop” Sterling presented to you in his own words.

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Devoted Readers,

Sam Stirling here. Friends call me Scoop. If you’re reading this, you qualify. So, I’m Scoop to you. Much obliged for those of you still hanging around after all the recent events in my life.

Guess you got a thing for my stories, huh? Here’s hoping you’re in for the long haul. We’ve got a chance to clear this deceitful mist even if it’s as stubborn as a San Francisco fog.

My first tale is just a taste of this rotten apple, but that first bite will show you the decaying core of those in power. Back in 1919 a fella named Yeats wrote a poem that had the lines

…Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…

He wrote those words in a time immediately after the First World War and right as the world was entering a pandemic from a disease that came to be known as The Spanish Flu. Sound familiar? Makes you wonder what else Yeats knew? Had he seen the seedy underbelly of reality too? I kinda think he did.

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There are moments in the life of a reporter when the act of discovery changes how they understand the world. I’ve had more than my share of those moments. Those discoveries have cost me dearly, but it is a price I’d happily pay again just so I could bring you the truth.

Those times, when by virtue of our profession, a reporter is allowed to peek behind the curtain that society calls reality changes a man. You can only peer into that wider world so many times before it alters your perspective, and sears your soul with a jaded form of cynicism that causes you to question everything.

I want to be an optimist, but reality keeps getting in the way.

When you’ve worked as a reporter for more than three decades, you make a lot of connections. You reach the point where you maintain a mental (or maybe even a physical) rolodex of people who are experts in their field. Guys in the know. These aren’t people who have seen behind the curtain. They’re the ones who are holding it up… and every now and then, one of them will contact me with a scoop because sometimes even the power brokers encounter horrors that keep them awake at night.

Most recently, this happened while I was winding my way through the mountains of West Virginia. I was in the southern part of the state traveling down I-19 in what has to be the longest, continuous speed trap ever created by man. That speed trap goes by the name of Summersville. That part of the country considers the town of Summersville to be a bustling hub of activity. Other parts of America house that many residents on a single block of one of the large cities.

Summersville is noteworthy; not because of local law enforcement’s fondness for the radar detector, but rather because of the Pepperoni Roll. You can buy pepperoni rolls all over West Virginia, but the very best place to buy them is at the U-Save on I-19 just outside of Summersville as you’re heading to Beckley.

There you will be met with all types of baked goods that feature pepperoni. Please do yourself a favor and ignore all offerings except for Julia’s Pepperoni and Hot Pepper Cheese. That is the only one worthy of your time. Use the microwave right there in the store to heat it up and enjoy it as you’re driving away, but do obey the speed limit because they will ticket you in a hot second.

I’d just unwrapped one of these delicacies when my phone rang. I looked down at the still steaming treat and felt myself salivating. I hadn’t even had a chance to take that first bite. That melty and spicy cheese was calling to me, but according to the Caller ID so was Dr. Malone Zitron. [I’ve changed his name to protect his identity.]

It’s probably best if I don’t disclose exactly where the doctor works or the name of the large organization based out of Langley, Virginia to whom he reports, but, let’s just say that we’ve crossed paths before and every time has always been ‘memorable’.

Reluctantly, I shifted my van into park, gently placed my pepperoni roll on a napkin, and hoped that he wouldn’t take too long. I answered the phone.

“Have you ever heard of synthetic life?”

The guy didn’t even say hello or wait for me to finish putting the phone up to my ear. He just started talking as soon as I accepted the call. “Hello to you too.” I glanced at my pepperoni roll. “What are you talking about?”

“There was an outbreak last night!” Now, he was shouting. “An outbreak! They’re trying to contain it, but I’m not sure they’ll be able to stop it in time. You have to warn people. You have to let them know that they have to evacuate!”

“Slow down. You need to explain what you’re talking about. I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“You have to get everyone out. Thousands of people will die!”

This wasn’t getting me anywhere. I grabbed my pepperoni roll and took a bite. The soft dough had absorbed a lot of the flavors from the cheese and meat. It all blended together into a wonderful experience. That experience was like licking something that was the temperature of the sun, but aside from burning the roof of my mouth I was in heaven. Seriously. Someone queue John Denver. The only way this moment would get better was if he were singing about Country Roads.

“…listening to me? They’ll all die!!” He was really shouting now. “Are you… are you eating? Can I hear chewing?”

To be fair, I wasn’t really chewing at that moment so much as doing that thing where you rapidly blow air out of your mouth trying to cool down your food. It worked enough so that I was able to swallow that first bite and I said, “Are you ready to actually talk to me and explain what’s going on or did you want to continue with your hysterical ranting?”

Silence from the other end of the line. That dragged out for about ten seconds and finally he said, “What do you want to know?”

“Let’s start with the obvious. What’s synthetic life?”

“Do you know anything about xenobiology? It’s a field of research devoted to the creation of cellular life. They’ve had some successes creating custom genomes, cells, and even basic vesicle systems.” He paused for a moment and then asked, “You following any of this?”

“Basically, they can make fake cells. Of course, that raises the big question about why someone would want to make fake cells, but I’m not a scientist.” I picked up my pepperoni roll. I could tell he was getting ready to give me some long-winded explanation.

“It’s because these cells can do things that we just can’t. Like the most successful example— the only successful example that the public knows about— is a custom bacteria that was created to eat oil residue. A tanker tips over, a derrick springs a leak, millions of gallons of oil spill out into the ocean. For example, remember back in 2019 when we had that incident off the coast of Texas when 40 million gallons of oil leaked out into the Gulf?”

I sat up straight. This was new information. “What are you talking about? They haven’t had a substantial leak in the Gulf for decades.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Spills happen all the time. And, when a spill happens someone from the government quietly deploys this bacteria. It eats the stuff up, converts all of the excess oil into the energy it needs to stay alive for a few short days, dies, and sinks to the bottom of the ocean where it decays naturally. They’re entirely organic so it decays just like any fish or other natural animal. Everything is absorbed back into the ecosystem without doing harm to the planet… and let me just say on behalf of the US government, you’re welcome.”

“That sounds like a good thing. What’s so bad about that?”

“It’s bad because that’s not the one that escaped. Are you paying attention?”

“Fine. Which one escaped and what’s so horrible about it?”

There was a sigh on the other end of the line. Then, he began, but in a more tentative and cautious voice. I could tell he was getting to the point so I gave my pepperoni roll a longing look and sat it back on the napkin. “Its code name is

Scoot

and it’s bad. What I’m about to tell you is beyond top secret. People have died for revealing information like this.”

“And you want me to go public with it?”

“I want you to save thousands of lives.”

I took a bite of my pepperoni roll. Chewed twice and swallowed. “Fine. What are the details?”

“This was a synthetic organism created to attack silicon wafers. As you probably know, various American companies have made significant strides into artificial intelligence. The general public thinks that’s good because now they finally have someone willing to talk about Seinfeld reruns. That’s gold, Jerry! Gold!”

He coughed. “What the public isn’t thinking about are the greater implications of this. Maybe they’re afraid for their job, but they aren’t thinking about what it means when an AI can deploy and control 40,000 armed drones.

“I’m not talking about Terminator or some made-up sci-fi nonsense. I’m talking about China or Dubai attacking America with strategies designed and carried out by an intelligence that far outstrips our own.

“Do you know that no human has beaten a computer in a professional chess match since 2002? Over twenty years. The computer just sees too many moves ahead. Now, apply that same tactical advantage to modern warfare. What chance do we or any country have against an enemy who wields a superior intelligence and is willing to use it against us?”

The question made me lose my appetite and for the first time I really, really hated the doc. I tossed the roll out the window.

“That’s where Scoot came in,” the doctor continued. “There are just too many countries chasing artificial intelligence. Eventually one of them will gain a tactical advantage. Scoot was made for that moment. It could be deployed by a team in a covert mission or if we really got desperate, we could carpet bomb the entire nation with the organism. It won’t harm the buildings or the civilians, but it’ll destroy all of the computer infrastructure they have.”

“Wait. You said this thing was going to kill thousands of people a few minutes ago. What changed?”

“That’s the thing. The organism evolved. It was designed to eat silicon wafers, but it’s moved beyond that and now it attacks the information contained on those wafers.”

“So? That’s going to give you the same result. If it’s destroying information it’ll take out these foreign-controlled AIs that you’re so worried about.”

“It would, but it’s loose in America. Specifically, Charleston, South Carolina. A certain branch of the government has been funneling research money to a group who rents office space at the Medical University of South Carolina. Unfortunately, the campus itself wasn’t made aware of this arrangement or of the quiet understanding that members of this group would have access to the specialized equipment. Equipment that was bought and paid for with university money.”

“I gotcha. So ownership made them a bit picky about who could use their 45 million dollar whatever.”

“Bingo,” the doc said. “The police were called. An altercation broke out and suddenly we have an unplanned release.”

“I still don’t see how this is going to hurt anyone. I mean if it’s just eating the information, how’s that going to kill anyone?”

“Do you have any idea how much of our society is entirely dependent on computers? All those planes flying overhead? Traffic lights. The just-in-time delivery systems that every company in the world uses? All of that is coordinated and controlled by computers. You think supply chain shortages were rough during the pandemic? Wait until all of society slams to a sudden and abrupt halt. It’s not just that the computers stop working. It’s that the information is gone. So, even if this stuff is contained all of the information will have to be recreated from scratch.

“Do you know what kind of nightmare scenario that could be? We might have to go back to Windows Millennial Edition just because someone found a copy stored on an optical device. Windows ME, man! Are you hearing the words that I’m saying? ME! Not XP or even 2000. Windows Millennial Edition. God help us.”

That got my attention. “How far has it spread?”

“For the moment, it seems to be isolated to a newsletter delivery service based out of San Francisco. How it got from Charleston to the opposite side of the country in a matter of hours is beyond me, but… wait. I have some screenshots that I’ll send you.”

“Did you get the image? Okay. Good. That’s not the only instance though. Check out this one a few moments later.”

“And then, most concerning of all, it seems to be gaining self-awareness. Its spelling needs a little work, but it’s displaying basic sentience now.”

“Scootletswarm? I mean seriously. This thing has a tin ear. Scootleswarm sounds so much better and more menacing. Scootlet sounds like it’s a bunch of babies. No. That’ll never do. Make sure you refer to it as a Scootleswarm. Got that?”

Before I could answer, I received another image… and then, another.

And then, another.

It didn’t stop. Soon, it had taken over my entire phone screen.

Three days have gone by. I don’t know if anyone will get this message. I’m still in the U-Save parking lot. I’m grateful that my Econoline van was made in 1987. No computers to speak of… so, that seems to work okay, but for how long? What happens when this virus or whatever it is spreads to the gas pumps? To the ATM system? I look at the dozen or so wrappers that litter my floor board. I see the logo for Julia’s Pepperoni and Hot Pepper Cheese roll and wonder if they’ve automated production at their plant.

That settles it. I have to get the word out! I don’t want to live in a world without pepperoni rolls. My phone is bricked. I’ve had to write this note by hand in a steno pad. I’m not sure if John will be able to log in to send the newsletter, but we have to try.

This Scoot stuff is insidious and it’s fast. I hope someone is able to contain this before it sends all of humanity back to the dark ages. I’ve done what I can to get the word out. God help us all. The only advice I can offer is to wait this thing out. Turn off your electronics. Build Faraday cages. Disable your network and cellular connections. Take whatever steps you feel will keep you most safe.

Just remember the prophetic words of George Romero, as spoken by the character Johnny, in the film Night of the Living Dead:

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This is John again. See? Don’t worry about Scoop though. I checked in with him and he’s doing okay. I am a bit concerned about how many pepperoni rolls he’s been eating, but he tells me not to worry. He did have to get a new phone. They still aren’t sure what happened to his other one.

And, somehow, it does seem that the Scootleswarm issue was resolved. Neither Scoop nor myself know all of the details, but there are reports of a man in a psychedelically themed jumper who rushed into the offices of Substack and chanted some phrases that are purported to be a combination of Latin and FORTRAN (of all things). Shortly after that, the Scoot organism disappeared. Where it went or if it will pop up again are anyone’s guess.

If you have any tips or more information about this strangely attired savior, please send them to: jlward@substack.com