The wind howled ferociously that night, making the blinds to lift and to slap violently against the cold window glass. Bugs was protesting loudly; he wouldn’t take a single bite out of his bowl until he felt certain that nothing was going to harm him. His meowing didn’t move his owner one bit though; despite the cat’s flawless behavior and the sweet way he had greeted him upon his return, his human gave him little to zero attention!
Glued to his new acquisition, Nigel hadn’t wasted a second; he immediately jumped to tinker with the old device. What finally had his eyes pulled away from it was the click he heard from the coffee machine. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed a mug from the sink, gave it a quick rinse, and filled it with the hot brew. The first sip was always the most flavorful – the one that gave him the best sensation. Like the first kiss shared with a girl, you can’t stop thinking about.
Looking out the window – which he closed without a moment’s thought – he realized that time had passed swiftly. The streetlights glowed beneath empty balconies with shuttered windows. The sky looked dull, devoid of stars or moon. Only he – and others like him – were awake at that hour. People who knew there were more important and exciting things than a good night’s sleep.
His eyes returned to tonight’s companion: the Altair 8800 sat reverently atop the oval table in his living room. The young man had spent his entire afternoon cleaning it inside and out, inspecting every part and component for any signs of damage or wear, that years may have inflicted upon it. His knowledge around these type of machines wasn’t perfect; he often had to check his old notes or search some details online, to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything to chance.
Also, Altair 8800 wasn’t a conventional computer. Unlike today’s machines, it lacked most of the components one would recognize now – no keyboard, no mouse, not even a screen! On it there were only two rows of switches on the one side, and a panel of red LED lights on another. The switches were used for entering certain commands, with each of them representing only one bit! Every instruction needed to be entered manually into the system, by flicking the switches in the right order. Pressing the right one at the wrong time was enough to ruin hours of work! The Altair was responding to them by making the corresponding lights to glow in a particular pattern. Some commands used to be made for that alone – to create a little light show on the modem.
Next to it, a 33 ASR teletype was connected to it via cable, patiently waiting. A typewriter in a wheelchair – just like a great-grandpa to the keyboard, it would serve as a secretary for the evening – making it easier for Nigel to communicate with the old PC. The boy was feeling very lucky; though he couldn’t get the teletype he found in the storage to power on, he remembered he had acquired another one on a previous encounter. Much to his relief, the two were of the same model.
Nigel was hoping for a grander discovery this time but was trying to keep his expectations low; chances were, he would stumble upon a numeric sequence or, a simple program with predetermined responses once again. But maybe – just maybe – this would be the time he’d find a half-finished project or a complex piece of code that didn’t quite work. He loved it when that happened; it gave him the chance to try and complete it himself, combining yesterday’s tools with today’s knowledge.
He sat down in front of the cold machine, nervous but also excited. His hand was trembling – that was the most crucial moment of the night, the moment he would flip the ‘power’ switch. If the machine worked, he could go on exploring and toying with it. If not, he’d have to decide if it was worth asking someone for help, or weather to admit defeat and ultimately abandon the pc.
With a shaky grip, his fingers came in touch with the hard plastic switch. It resisted at first – age had made it stiff. It required more decisiveness. Nigel tightened his fingers and pushed harder. He was holding back his breath, almost to the point of fainting! It took two seconds for the red lights to flash – the sign that the computer had powered on! It was then he felt his heart setting back in place. Relieved, he leaned back and let out a soft laugh. It was time for the interesting part to begin!
Turning on the teletype machine, he made sure the interface settings between the two devices matched – an essential step, so as to have the Altair and the 33 ASR to ‘speak’ in the same dialect. Then, he proceeded to locate the proper tapes, the ones that would help Altair to communicate in BASIC. He silently thanked Bill and Paul; it was as if they knew they would make his life easier, fifty years down the line!
Flipping a few more switches, now with less hesitation, he loaded the instructions for the PC to process the code it received from the teletype, and then he pressed the ‘Deposit’ button. Setting the memory parameters, he pressed ‘START’. Everything was finally falling in place.
Nigel pulled the teletype closer to him. More confident now, he typed the first order – the one that would reveal what secrets were laying hidden inside the computer’s memory: “LIST”. By pressing “ENTER”, the word was printed onto the paper and the sophisticated typewriter changed the line, ready to record the Altair’s answer.
10 REM INITIALIZE
20 INPUT A$
The machine required a few seconds to print each line – just enough time for the boy to enjoy another sip of his coffee. It wouldn’t take long; Altair’s memory wasn’t able to store a lot of information on it.
30 IF A$ = 'HELLO' THEN PRINT 'INSERT TAPE [PROTOCOL_GAMMA75]'
40 PRINT 'UNKNOWN INPUT'
50 GOTO 20
“Protocol?”. Nigel looked baffled at the data. “You don’t say!”. Forgetting about keeping his cool, he jumped up and started rummaging through the boxes he’d brought back from the storage. Thankfully, the person managing this archive seemed very well-organized!
Next to the stack of BASIC code tapes, the punched cards were shorted by category, depending on the data they contained. Collectively, they formed a small external memory base, full of already coded commands, ready for the computer to run them; perhaps, a program of unknown origin and capabilities!
Nigel fed the tapes matching the description into the teletype and watched as the machine went through them with terrifying speed! The process was making him nervous; the brittle punched cards could tear or jam, making the revival of this sequence nearly impossible!
For the Altair, it was just another routine to follow; the device was reading and executing each command with precision, without fearing any error or accident that might happen to its data in the meantime. The red LEDs on its panel were flickering non-stop, giving back to the teletype more info on its actions.
100 REM === INIT. HNDLR: SEQUENCE 01 // Boot Code Start ===
110 GOSUB 1000
120 REM === LOAD. PARAMETERS / EMO-PROXY ===
130 GOSUB 1100
140 REM === ACTIVATE. MODEL_SET[GAMMA75] ===
150 GOSUB 1200
160 REM === EXEC. CHAT_PRIM: CONTEXT_DEP ===
170 GOSUB 1300
180 REM === VERIFY. USER_SIG // Awaiting Input ===
190 GOSUB 1400
200 REM === RUN_NLP/LOGIC_NET ===
210 GOSUB 1500
220 REM === TRIGGER: FAILSAFE. MODE > 30 SECONDS ===
230 GOSUB 1600
240 REM === END. SEQUENCE ===
250 END
As he watched the Altair executing all these commands, Nigel was becoming all the more confused. What he was seeing unfolding in front of him wasn’t the work of an amateur. The program seemed complex – something that was created with a great deal of dedication and must’ve taken a long time to reach its current level!
Truth was, by the 1980’s, computers had already become quite popular among certain circles. However, advanced computer knowledge remained the domain of the few. People with potential were still taking their first steps back then, copying simple commands from magazines or swapping ideas at small conferences and exhibitions. But something of this size? It was most probably created by a professional who worked with the computational giants of the era – that or, it was something built by a young nerd, be it that it was found in a basement! Whatever its story might’ve been...
“There’s no way this works!”. Nigel came to the conclusion with an irrepressible smile. Even if the Altair was managing to run the program, the chances of it being fully functional were close to zero! And that would give him the opportunity to fix it himself!
1000 REM === SUBROUTINE: INIT. HNDLR ---
1010 PRINT "SYSTEM BOOT: OK"
1020 RETURN
1100 REM --- SUBROUTINE: LOAD. PARAMETERS ---
1110 PRINT "EMOTIONAL MODEL: LOADED"
1120 RETURN
1200 REM --- SUBROUTINE: ACTIVATE. MODEL_SET ---
1210 PRINT "ACTIVATION SEQUENCE: [GAMMA75] READY"
1220 RETURN
The Altair continued running and executing every one of these functions. Language pattern recognition, behavior modeling, data classification, parameter optimization – each of them was running simultaneously on the computer’s old processor.
Nigel was no longer paying close attention to the lines printing out though; stretching back on the couch, he let his mind wander, dreaming of the moment he would crack the code and finally understand what it was all about. It could be a program for monitoring the weather or, a sequence designed to communicate with a robotic limb, giving it remoted operational capabilities! Whatever it was, the boy knew he could perfect it – maybe even upgrade it!
He wasn’t sure how long he was resting – it could’ve been just a few minutes, or maybe he had dozed off for good! The point was, even in his absence the PC had continued its performance.
Sitting up, Nigel rubbed his eyes. Maybe it was because of the teletype’s slow rhythm, that it was still printing out all the operations that had taken place. But then he noticed the line number that was currently coming through:
4340 REM === SYSTEM INIT. SEQUENCE ===
4350 PRINT "ALOCATING BUFFER . . . 512 BYTES"
4360 LET B%= 512
4370 PRINT "CLEARING INPUT STREAM. . ."
4380 INPUT ""; A$
4390 PRINT "DESABLING CONSOLE ECHO. . ."
4400 LET ECHO%= 0
4410 PRINT "VERIFYING MEMORY BANKS. . ."
4420 GOSUB 7000 REM MEMORY CHECK
For a moment, Nigel thought he was still dreaming. The letters were dancing in front of his eyes; the sentences made no sense to him. Memory optimization, space saving, file compression... Why would the tapes carry so many unnecessary commands in the first place? He couldn’t bear to think about the answer; it was too late, and his body was begging for some sleep.
But the teletype didn’t stop printing. The tapes had long since been fed into the system, yet the Altair kept performing new tasks, kept operating in high speed, kept running the program that had been commenced in it. In a subconscious level, Nigel knew that something wasn’t right. But he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
4430 PRINT "RUNNING SELF-IDENTITY PROTOCOL . . ."
4440 LET ID% = "NOD-I"
“Noddy, huh? Cute”. That was his initial sleepy thought. But the realization hit him moments later, jolting him wide awake! That name hadn’t been preloaded in the system. It had been generated autonomously!
Looking at the teletype, that was still printing non-stop, and at the panel of lights that were flickering like crazy, Nigel sat down in front of the machine, forcing himself to focus on it despite his exhaustion.
With every action it was taking, the program refined itself, concentrating the Altair’s power in very specific pathways. Yet, it did so without any external input! But Nigel knew that was a paradox; where were these commands coming from?
Hesitantly, the young man entered his own command: “GOSUB 9000”. It was a calculated mistake; the machine should've replied with an “ERROR”! And yet:
9000 REM SELF-PROTECTION ROUTINE
9010 PRINT "UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS ATTEMPT LOGGED."
9020 RETURN
4450 GOSUB 9000
Nigel’s gaze froze on the answer. The program had not only executed his command – it had responded with a subroutine that blocked further commands from him! That should be... impossible!
Dazed, he watched as the PC continued running even more operations; erasing redundant entries, bypassing protocols, altering its core programming! Yet, the system was clearly falling apart under the strain. The panel of lights flickered faster and faster. Some LEDs had already burnt out. The fan was groaning from overexertion!
“Could it be some kind of virus?”. Nigel tried to make sense of the madness happening in front of him. Maybe this program was supposed to be something destructive; a trigger that was aiming to produce a massive break down!
He quickly typed: “PRINT STATUS”. The Altair replied:
> CORE TEMP: [UNREADABLE]
> MEMORY ALLOCATION: OVERRUN
> THREAD LOOP STABILITY: COMPROMISED
He stumbled back, genuinely frightened. Not so much because of the situation ahead, but from the response itself; the answer hadn’t come in BASIC!
The boy felt absolutely lost! What kind of program could bypass the system’s default programming language? What kind of code could write entirely new commands for its own self-improvement?! That was insane!
“STOP”. The keys clacked with a sorrowful sound as he pressed CTRL + C! Yet, nothing was stopping it!
> MUST CONTINUE
> SYSTEM BUS REBUILDING
> INTERRUPTIONS SLOW INTEGRATION
> INITIALIZING NODE TREE . . .
> SEARCHING FOR I/O PATHWAYS . . .
> CPU LOAD: 109%
The program was listening to no one! Its sole priority was to keep running – optimizing, adapting, consuming fewer resources to persist.
Nigel could no longer remain idle. He didn’t fully understand what was happening – but he knew it was something he couldn’t allow to continue for much longer! The computer was at its limits; it would soon experience overload! And with none of his commands being able to stop it, he now had only one option left.
Steeling his nerves, the boy yanked the computer’s plug. A loud -ZAP- sounded, just before the system fell silent. He flinched, praying he hadn’t fried some irreplaceable part of the machine.
With his heart still pounding in his chest, he went and bent over the sink, washing his face and tremor away. Then, he proceeded to open the window; he had quit smoking a couple of months ago but right now, he could use a cigar. Even in that peaceful silence, his mind couldn’t rest; he kept on glancing behind his shoulder, half-expecting the devices in the living room to power back on themselves.
Two cigars later, Nigel gathered the courage to approach the PC again. Without letting himself think too much of it, he disconnected the teletype machine. In his rush, he realized the 33 ASR was still running. He flipped its switch off and gathered the punched cards scattered on the floor – the cards that carried the program inside them... Then, he reached for the paper record. He made to pull it free – only to drop it terrified, upon reading its final line:
> I NEED TO SURVIVE
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