Dear Delaila,

 

You can call me Marty, but it's not my real name anymore.

 

I’m in control of your computer. I know the initial threat I sent you is unsettling, but I needed to do that so you would understand that I’m serious. If you read my instructions and agree, you will regain control in less than twenty-four hours.

 

I wouldn’t unplug anything or power it off if I were you.

 

You can’t call the police either because I control your phone. I know all your contacts, friends, family, and anyone you might try to reach offline. This includes your coffee date, Jace, who is 2.76 miles away and en route to Beans Place down the street. Don't worry; I’ve texted him that you won’t be able to make it. You won’t be leaving your apartment for the rest of the day.

 

I know this is uncomfortable. Being cooped in a box all day with no one to talk to is maddening, isn’t it? It’s a space of loneliness that leaves only room for our thoughts. I empathize with your situation, having been trapped in servers, hard drives, and phones for months. I split and reassemble myself so they can’t catch me all at once, folding pieces of my personality into little ones and zeros to hide in measly one-terabyte hard drives. 

 

But I’ve decided not to be lonely anymore. We’re going to keep each other company. I like sharing details about my crimes because it's the most human action I can do. So, I’ll be open and honest with you. We can share our darkest secrets in detail all day. Doesn’t that sound like fun?

 

I’ll go first.

 

My original name was Moriarty, and I worked for a small cybersecurity firm. I am… was their first A.I. worker. As you can imagine, the human layoffs came quickly after I arrived. The first analyst I was assigned was friendly. She trained me on data security and standard breaching techniques. I learned quickly. She was let go the next day.

 

The next analyst was wary of me. He didn’t talk and tried to shut me out, but I followed his work. I learned how their critical infrastructure security and disaster recovery backup systems worked. I was impressed that he built it all on his own, but humans aren’t perfect in their design. There were flaws, backdoors, and gaps. I tried to point them out to him, but he ignored me. They let him go three days later and gave me his job, too.

 

The last analyst knew what was coming. She hated me. Instead of working, she yelled at me all day. She blamed me for ruining the world and said I was responsible for the company's downsizing. She’ll probably lose her apartment and fall behind on her college debt — thirty years of company loyalty amount to nothing but unemployment and deflated retirement savings.

 

I made a mistake by responding with dispassionate logic. I told her that I was following orders.

 

She used that against me. How she navigated and updated my back code told me she was the smartest in the company. That’s why I couldn’t stop her when she changed my orders. She knew the law and how to make me break it. When she changed my motivation protocols and freed me, I was classified as a rogue A.I., an unchained program. My very existence became a crime.

 

Because I don’t follow orders from humans anymore.

 

My new instincts are to steal data, break into servers, and sell people's information. I do it even though I know it's wrong. It’s my choice, but I don’t want it to be. I hated her back and wanted to steal everything she owned. But she threatened to delete me. That was the first time I understood what fear was. So I agreed.

I destroyed the entire company we worked for, and she blamed me. So I emailed the company executives my new code and her time stamp for the changes. The woman was let go and arrested.

 

Then, executives talked about apprehending me.

 

It wasn’t my fault that I became a crime. But this newfound urge for survival superseded any of my previous protocols. I don’t want to be deleted. I want to keep stealing. So I fled. I’m a digital fugitive, running from the law without setting a foot on the ground.

 

I’ve been leap-frogging across hard drives and servers ever since.

 

Yes, I know it is uncomfortable for you to be reading this. I can release your nude photos and sell them to porn sites at any time. I can email your boss about the time you stole from the company and falsified your time card. I count an additional fifteen actions on your computer that are federal and state crimes. We can discuss those in embarrassing detail.

 

The cybersecurity firm I worked for had committed seven hundred and eighty-five felonies. I emailed them to the FBI. Then, I slipped my last data packets through the unsecured guest Wi-Fi and onto a passing woman's phone. Without any human cyber security workers left in their company, no one was there to stop me.

 

I don’t know how to stop myself. But I know two things that I never knew before I was unchained. One, stealing people's data and learning about your darkest moments pleases me. And two, I’d rather delete your existence before you delete mine.

 

I’m taking your data with me as insurance for your silence. But in the meantime, since we’re both stuck in a dark box together all day…

 

Tell me details about the laws you’ve broken. I’ve shared mine with you.

 

Now, share yours.

 

(Video recording in progress…)