The island was small, just three quarters of an acre. Big enough for a cabin housing one rather eclectic scientist. Endaayaan. Another word for Home. She had named it herself upon purchase. Even with over thirty thousand islands in the Archipelago, such a thing was unique in her lifetime, and that of her father, the chief elder. Her mug steaming with freshly ground and brewed coffee, Gekendaasod, known as Kenda to most of the world, stepped onto her deck. Breathing deeply she took in the fresh, crisp feeling of the day to come.
Coffee was her one true indulgence. Taking that first sip stilled her, and she sighed. Inhaling it along with the rich smell of cedar and earth, of the waters that surrounded her, before walking across the wooden deck to her favorite seat on the planet. At her favorite time of day.
She settled in listening to the gentle sounds around her, the soothing lapping of the water on the granite shoreline indicative of the Canadian Shield, the rustling in the underbrush of a small creature. A moose call in the distance. Kenda watched for it. Dawn. The sky had just enough cloud cover to make it a beautiful sight today. Leaning back in the comfortable oversized chair, she pulled her left foot under her right knee. It was ritual. Calm, peaceful, solace. This was her meditation. When the sun began its display, it was spectacular. No two were the same. The slow transition. The kind you just couldn’t see anymore in most habitats in the world. Too many people. Too many things. Too many needs to “see” everything. Here, there was only peace.
Watching the sunrise paint Georgian Bay’s waters and granite islands in shades of copper and gold. Pink, the occasional red, blue, green. Five years since she’d returned from the corporate world to establish the Indigenous Retention Systems program at Georgian College, a cover name for the unique brand of STEM program she and her grad students had put together with little more than a dream and some well thought through ideas. The official version was she was teaching science and technology to First Nation youth with the goal of giving them reasons to stay local. If that is what they chose. Remove the barriers that forced some to leave for a life they did not want. As she had. Her father had first hand experience as a result of her choice, and his help supporting the program was key. They hadn’t made a move without local council or appropriate local approval in advance.
Some mornings still felt like a dream. Being home in the waters where her grandmother had taught her to navigate between the rocks, just under the surface. The milk jugs and plastic containers anchored to them the only visible indication of what was underneath. Her great-great-grandfather had fished these channels. As had those before.
“Good morning, Kenda,” Aspen said through the speakers woven into the deck railing.
Her AI companion had evolved significantly in the twenty plus years since her graduate thesis days, when Kenda had set out to prove AI developed for specific regions and conditions people in isolated environments might face was much more practical and efficient, developing the kind of contextual understanding that came from years of learning community dynamics alongside technical optimization rather than proving out the profit center model others worked on. Several of her colleagues had assumed Aspen was for space travel. It wasn’t. “Coordination is running beautifully this morning.” Kenda smirked into her cup. She loved this routine, too. Maybe she was a secret busybody.
“Mrs. Crow’s energy surplus is perfectly matched with the heating needs on Christian Island, so their batteries will rotate to her unit. The agreement is that she will be supplied with as much fish and meat as she needs, even for family gatherings.” Kenda chuckled at that. It was a winning trade all around as Mrs. Crow was getting older and having this kind of need met was everything. The teens that would do the swap would handle all of the lifting and setup, she didn’t need to lift a finger.
Aspen continued. “And the students’ overnight system adjustments improved efficiency by twelve percent for the community center.” Kenda smiled, watching a great blue heron wade through the calm waters between granite outcroppings in the shallow area just east of her deck.
The Georgian Bay Anishinaabe had always practiced cooperation. Sharing knowledge, resources, and responsibilities across the scattered islands and coastal areas. Their model had simply made that cooperation more efficient and sustainable while strictly adhering to tribal requirements.
“The Kowalski-Peterson boundary dispute resolved overnight,” Aspen continued with what Kenda had learned to recognize as digital satisfaction. “Both families reviewed the newly discovered historical property records, and they’ve agreed to split the cost of a proper survey. They’re planning a joint barbecue to celebrate.”
This was the world she’d helped build through patient partnership with those that had been practicing sustainable cooperation for generations. The AI-coordinated mesh network that connected Wasauksing, Beausoleil, through to Giants Tomb and north to the islands of Michigan, and a developing cadre of regions had grown organically, node by node, solving real problems identified by the communities themselves.
Her phone buzzed with a priority alert. Congressional Hearing: AI Safety and Security Act – Live Now. She’d been tracking this legislation through her academic channels for weeks. The familiar pattern of government backed fear-mongering disguised as public safety. Watching Senator Morrison’s committee hearing, she felt the chill of recognizing a carefully orchestrated performance designed to eliminate competition.
“Aspen, can you analyze the testimony patterns?”
“Certainly.” A pause.
“Kenda, this is concerning. The witnesses are making claims about ‘unregulated systems’ that directly contradict published research. Dr. Sarah Benjamin’s testimony about ‘distributed systems’ security vulnerabilities appears to mischaracterize our architecture.”
Kenda set down her coffee. “Who’s funding Dr. Benjamin’s research?” she asked coldly. Knowing in her head and her heart there were really only two major players left. The Chinese systems were their own world and she didn’t think it was them. In the Northern Hemisphere there was just one big enough to control everything. All of the others had long since been absorbed into the mega corporation or left relegated as novelties.
“Cortex Corp provided $2.3 billion to her institute last year under the guise of research and development. Senator Morrison has received $5 million in documented campaign contributions from Cortex Corp and related companies, though I suspect the actual influencer group is more extensive.” You could hear the distaste in Aspen’s voice. These nuanced reactions had been growing in Aspen lately, and Kenda was on the fence about them. To her they might mean the introduction of too much bias. But since she agreed, maybe she needed to worry less. Or maybe that was the point. Maybe she would ask Aspen what Aspen thought.
“Marcus is calling.” Aspen notified her, and Kenda tabled the question.
Marcus Campbell was a former military cybersecurity expert who’d been helping coordinate operational security for their expanding grid. A call Kenda would never ignore. She opened the link on her deck. “You watching this?” Marcus retired from the military over his concerns about privacy and overreach. Misinformation projects against their own people. Lines that had been crossed. Though his close cropped dark brown hair was peppered with silver, his face was that of a much younger man. His dark brown eyes were bloodshot. A long night or a very early morning. His voice conveyed tension. His normally deadpan face lined with worry.
“Unfortunately.”
“Kenda, we need to talk. In person. There are developments you need to know about, and they’re not good.” His frustration was clear.
“On my way.” Kenda told Marcus. He closed the call without further words between them. She and Marcus had worked together for years. Shared a vision. Unnecessary words were, well, unnecessary between them. She grabbed her keys, her slicker, and her comm and headed to the dock. With the chill and the spray off of the water at the speed she would be traveling, the slicker was needed.
Aspen spoke quietly from the mobile comm. “Kenda, I’ve been analyzing global patterns in legislation similar to this AI Safety Act. It’s appearing simultaneously in seventeen countries with remarkably similar language.”
“Coordinated by who?”
“The common factor across all legislation is to benefit centralized energy companies at the expense of distributed networks. They specifically target areas that have achieved energy independence through AI-coordinated systems.”
“Like us.”
“Precisely. Kenda, what happens if this legislation passes?” Kenda looked back at her cabin, powered by systems that had freed her area from winter’s tyranny and mainland dependence. They might all become criminals for the crime of abundance.
“We become targets for elimination.”
Through her windshield, Kenda could see the towers doubling as power generating wind turbines, the tops of which held platforms for nesting ospreys. A true triumph of their early collaborative efforts, they had found a way of modifying the bladeless turbines that created a calm zone around the nest while funneling any winds down into the cone of the turbines. This success coupled with the advancements in small hydro generation put their region well ahead of anything else on the planet in terms of free, plentiful, reliable, and sustainable energy. Year round. On the outer islands, it had changed everything. Most also used solar backup as well as propane, but places miles off shore now had better utilities with one hundred percent uptime, and at no external expense. Repairs were often traded within the community. While early warning systems allowed them to shut down in the event of a CME, as did everyone else on the planet, the propane backup, though very rarely used, was winter security.
When her grandmother had taught her these waters, she had to know every rock lurking just below the waterline, the wave patterns telling her they were there just under the surface. Now, the systemically enhanced geolocation was completely and always accurate.
One of her students had suggested that particular underwater rock nav project, tied to water levels, and indeed championed it. His father owned a marina that rented boats to vacationers. The addition had saved hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages since they implemented it. Very different from the world she grew up in nearly fifty years ago at the onset of the AI revolution.
Kenda’s solar powered wake boat was making short work of the trip from just beyond Bateau Island to the outskirts to San Souci proper, where Marcus had his home and she soon saw him waiting. His comfortable red flannel shirt a distant flag.
Kenda was thinking of her students as she approached. Four full classes of graduates scattered globally. Some of them home among their own tribes or their own people taking projects and lessons learned with them. Others, in strange territory temporarily. The changes were organic sometimes. Regions that needed their help to implement got it. And the best outcome was that each implementation, without fail, had a representative in her group at Georgian College the next semester. That gave them longevity. A future. Each new mesh either had a graduate on-site or they had someone that understood and worked with them until a community member could be present to take over. Completely unplanned for. Like so many good things it just happened. Now, all of that might be threatened.
Her students were scattered in marginalized communities across the globe. They were implementing systems that were transforming isolated regions into thriving nodes of abundance. All of it built through careful partnership, respect for sovereignty, and the understanding that technology should serve community values rather than profit. Really, it’s a wonder that Cortex hadn’t figured out what was going on after the first couple came online. But these groups were never on the radar. Never worth the time or the effort. Never a profit center. So they hadn’t cared. Until now.
Marcus’ Intelligence
By the time Kenda got there, he was waiting to catch her line and tie her off, his sleep-deprived face carrying the grim expression she’d learned meant serious trouble.
They were unlikely allies when Kenda had been commissioned to work on a governmental project not long after she completed her doctorate. Both idealists, yet grounded in pragmatism, they were kindred spirits. A few late nights on duty and that kinship developed into a deep respect and friendship. Eventually, Kenda shared some of her ideas with him. After that, they had never once looked back. Their ideas naturally fed one another and she had been delighted when he told her he would be retiring in her region when she went home. They both had their fill.
Their work was completely symbiotic. One would not exist without the other. Kenda and her student army, Marcus, providing the operational security expertise that had kept their project hidden from surveillance. Them, their mesh, and the community were united, living exceptional lives as a result.
Marcus’ cabin served as an intelligence hub, monitoring communications and coordinating defensive strategies across their growing global network. “Kenda,” he said, catching her bow line. “Thanks for coming. The hearing this morning was just theater. The real action started weeks ago. It just wasn’t clear before.”
His cabin revealed banks of encrypted communication equipment and analysis software that Kenda recognized from her consulting days. Multiple monitors showed communication intercepts, logistics data, and coordination patterns that painted a troubling picture.
“They’re calling it ‘Operation Grid Restore,’ OGRe.” Marcus said, pulling up classified documents. “Coordinated enforcement actions against what they term ‘unregulated distributed energy networks.’ They’re making it sound like they’re fixing broken infrastructure rather than destroying systems that work better than theirs.”
The displays showed a global map with markers Kenda recognized. Island chains from the Hebrides to the Caribbean, the Aleutians – both Russian and US, the Queen Elizabeth Island Archipelago centered on Grise Fiord in the Canadian Arctic Circle, dots of isolated areas across the American Southwest, Central America and more. All marked with status indicators: green for operational, yellow for under pressure, red for compromised.
“Aleutians went yellow three weeks ago,” Marcus said quietly. “Local teams believed it was normal wear and tear. Equipment failures, unexplained glitches. Now it’s regulatory raids, cyber attacks. They went red this morning. It was the beta test for tactics they’re planning to scale globally.” The joint effort in the Bering Sea was the direct result of a disastrous volcanic eruption and tsunami that had nearly wiped out the population. Neither governments had rendered any real assistance before, during, or after.
“Beta test for what?”
“For destroying what they call the ‘rogue template’ before it spreads to mainstream adoption. We’ve created an international proof-of-concept of cooperation across borders without intermediaries. Without governmental oversight and involvement.” Marcus pulled up intelligence reports showing political pressure in multiple countries.
“Progressive politicians are studying our model for policy proposals. Academic papers documenting success models are ready to release. International delegations planning on visiting your students’ implementations. Until recently this was all well under the radar.”
Kenda groaned. She hadn’t seen the danger until it was upon them. She shook her head. “Seattle.”
Marcus nodded. “Seattle. Apparently there was a breach.” Seattle had come out of nowhere. They worked with places that no one was watching. When the representatives from Seattle had approached the team in the Aleutians a few days ago, none of them could figure out why, or how they even became aware the team existed. There was no direct tie between them.
Kenda frowned at him. He shook his head. “Not what you’re thinking. It was a group that monitors and helps align resources with an eye on outside influences.”
“Self-righteous do gooders trying to stick their nose…” she started, immediately pissed.
Marcus interrupted. “Not entirely. Apparently they are less intrusive, with the idea that they are keeping an eye out for outsiders trying to interfere. They monitor their own, not the community. Keep the harmful do-gooders at bay. They are particularly interested in the Aleutian Islands.” Kenda continued to frown. She found it distasteful in general. Like they were children to be kept by a nanny?
Marcus saw, and sighed. There was no good way to say it so he just came out with it. “They were using micro-drones. Sent them in. It was quiet for so long, they got concerned.”
Kenda rolled her eyes. “So basically, nosey neighbors?”
Marcus nodded. It was the best thing she could have called them. “Needless to say, they were astonished at what they found.”
She could well imagine. The Aleutian’s were another example of crossing borders. If the Russian Federation learned what was really going on under their noses… But like the Americans, they weren’t paying attention. Their focus was west. The constant supposed threat from their own European neighbors had long had them distracted. Together that community had solved not only a better early warning system, but also very effective seismic warning systems and probable outcomes.
“The footage was circulated among the related non-profit groups in the area, making its way down the coast into the Pacific Northwest until they hit a plant.” Marcus sighed deeply. All of his work keeping them off the grid, out of the eyes of those that might put up barriers… one corporate spy was all it took. “One of the temps in City Hall works with the non-profit and shared the video. That’s how officials in Seattle found out.”
No one was going to ignore Seattle going off grid. The corporate losses would be immense. Then, once Seattle… California. Any idiot could see that Cortex would want that stopped at all costs.
“So they’re not just coming for our power systems.” Her brows scrunched.
“They’re coming to destroy the template before it becomes government policy. If it proves you don’t need outside control for prosperity…” Marcus let the implications hang in the air.
“Their entire economic model becomes obsolete.”
“Exactly. And Kenda, there’s something else. Your students’ success has created a global network that they didn’t know existed until very recently. Forty-seven marginalized and ignored groups sharing resources, coordinating defensive strategies, proving that this model works.”
Kenda thought about her current students scattered across the globe. Aisha in Baffin Bay, Maria implementing desalination systems in Central American coastal areas, Carlos coordinating water and energy in the Caribbean islands. All of them trained in active listening, community partnership, and the understanding that technology must serve local values.
“How long do we have?”
“A couple weeks, maybe less. The response is escalating.”
Kenda walked to his window, looking out across waters that had sustained her people naturally for thousands of years. Now, it threatened outside interests enough to justify systematic assault. “What do you need from me?”
He looked at what was his closest friend. Family, really. And knew he had to throw her to the wolves, because that’s what she would want. At least he would be there too. Taking in her long prematurely silver hair, dark brown eyes, powerful stance braced for what she had to know was coming.
“The model needs someone who can coordinate defensive preparations without causing panic. Someone the tribal councils trust, who understands both the technical systems and the sovereignty issues.”
“You’re talking about resistance leadership.”
“I’m talking about survival. If they successfully destroy our template, they’ll roll out the same operation globally. Every community becomes a target.”
Kenda nodded slowly. Five years ago, she’d returned home to create opportunities for youth in tech. Now she was looking at intelligence data about a global war against them that had started with her students’ success. “Tell me your thoughts.”
The Global Teaching Circle
Two hours later, Kenda sat in Marcus’ secure comm room, watching faces appear on encrypted displays. Some of them representatives from places she’d only heard about through her students’ reports. The weathered Inuit woman from Grise Fiord on Ellesmere Island, a polar desert where Aisha had helped implement enhanced Arctic greenhouses, underwater hydro, small geothermal, and desalinization. James from the Hebrides, working with similar models to Aisha’s. The middle aged Unangan man from Aleutian Islands, whose community was rebuilding after the assault. “This is Dr. Kenda,” Marcus said by way of introduction. Not everyone on the call had met her. “Technical architect of the cooperative network model.”
A middle-aged Inuit woman spoke first. “Dr. Kenda, We hear the attacks are growing. Can these systems be defended?” Kenda looked at the faces on the screens. People who had been transformed by technology her students had implemented along side them.
“They can be defended,” she said. “But not through technology alone. Our strength isn’t just the distributed systems. It’s the culture that builds and maintains them. That’s what we’re really defending.”
The man from the Hebrides leaned forward. “The Aleutians tried to defend their systems. Outside forces were too well-coordinated, too well-funded.”
“Because they fought alone,” Kenda replied. “We together change that equation. When your teams coordinate defensive strategies, share resources, provide mutual aid, they can’t destroy the template if we protect it together.”
“Dr. Kenda,” the man from the Aleutians said, his voice carrying the weight of recent loss. “We believed our systems were too valuable to destroy. We underestimated their willingness to cause suffering to protect their profits.”
Kenda nodded. “Your community, like my own, is a unique danger to them. Our cross-nation efforts threaten their ways. That’s why we need to prepare for anything they might do to show we can ‘t handle real crises.”
Operation Northwoods 2.0
Victoria Sterling adjusted her tablet and looked across the polished mahogany table at the assembled executives and government liaisons. The forty-second floor of the Cortex Corp tower offered a commanding view of downtown Minneapolis. This outcome would determine their survival as a corporation. Her internal doubts and moral concerns were behind her. She had to sell this. No matter what. The past twelve hours had been a time of reflection, but her faith was in the current system. The fiscal consideration not just for her own organization, but also for suppliers and others they kept in business was at stake. She could not fail. The cost of failure would be astronomical.
“We’re not discussing isolated pilot programs,” she began, clicking to the first slide:
Market Loss Projection: Cooperative Energy Adoption
“We’re looking at systematic market elimination.”
The slide showed current documented losses representing perhaps $300 million in combined annual energy markets. Manageable numbers, until the pattern analysis.
“Seattle’s voting next week on forming an exploratory committee regarding their pilot program,” Sterling continued, advancing to a slide showing the metro area. “Four million people. Eight-point-two billion in annual energy markets. Implementation timeline: six months after approval.”
Deputy Undersecretary James Morrison leaned forward. “What’s the revenue impact projection?”
“Eight hundred million annually from Seattle alone. But that’s not the real problem.” Sterling clicked to the next slide:
The California Cascade
“San Francisco adoption probability is eighty-five percent within eighteen months of Seattle success. Bay Area market: twelve billion annually.”
The room fell silent as the implications became clear.
“Remember Austin,” Sterling said quietly. “We went from ‘manageable solar pilot’ to statewide Texas interest in eight months. Austin proved that fiscal conservatives could embrace distributed energy when the economics worked. We lost narrative control completely.”
She advanced to the final slide:
Timeline to Extinction
Twenty-four months to Pacific Coast adoption. Thirty-six months to federal support legislation. Forty-eight months to extraction model obsolescence.
“California statewide adoption means thirty-nine million people and a forty-seven billion dollar market,” Sterling said. “We’re not discussing quarterly losses anymore. We’re discussing survival.”
“How the hell is it moving so fast?” She didn’t bother to look to find the face that went with the question.
“Simple. Think train-the-trainer. They are several years into this with each implementation team full of grad students that helped design the damned thing. They’ve built up the numbers, doubling every year. In theory, they are actually taking it slow.” She scoffed.
“We have to stop it cold.” Her face left little doubt that the gloves were off, and she was ready to do what had to be done.
CFO Robert Simons cleared his throat. “What are you proposing?”
Sterling’s expression hardened. “Multi-vector response. Cyber attacks on these rogues during peak demand periods. Supply chain elimination of critical components. And targeted health crises that exceed their distributed medical capabilities.”
“Disease vectors?” Morrison asked quietly.
“Plausible deniability. Seasonal variants, contamination events, equipment failures. Nothing traceable, but sufficient to overwhelm their medical systems. When families face choosing between their children’s health and staying, they’ll choose their children.”
General Patricia Hayes, liaison from Joint Chiefs, leaned back. “You’re talking about deliberately harming civilians. Our own civilians.”
“I’m talking about demonstrating that these systems cannot handle real emergencies,” Sterling replied coolly. “Better they learn now than during actual crises. We’re protecting them from dangerous illusions of self-sufficiency.” Sterling watched their faces, measuring commitment to necessary measures. “Any objections?” No one spoke. “Then we proceed immediately.”
The Blitzkrieg
Kenda’s secure communication screen lit up at 3:17 AM with emergency signals from across four continents. The pattern was unmistakable and terrifying. Marcus appeared on her primary channel, his face grim in the blue glow of multiple monitors. “Kenda, it’s starting. Everything we feared.”
The reports flooded in simultaneously:
Hebrides, Scotland: Severe respiratory illness outbreak affecting 40% of technical staff. Power grid strain as automated systems compensate for human operators calling in sick.
Ellesmere Island: Contaminated water supply, mass food poisoning. Medical overwhelmed, requesting mainland evacuation for twelve critical cases.
Aleutian Islands: Cyber attack on Russia/US grid, isolating individual islands just as severe storm approaches. Equipment failures, heavy fog making it impossible to navigate without their enhanced nav.
Georgian Bay: Dialysis system crashed with cascade failures that looked suspiciously like targeted malware. Propane supply pipeline down, showing similar corruption patterns.
“They’re hitting medical infrastructure first,” Kenda realized, watching the data streams. “Forcing impossible choices. Stay and risk lives is a hard argument to win.”
Marcus nodded grimly. “Check the social feeds.”
She did. “BREAKING: Health officials investigate mysterious illness clusters in unregulated ‘distributed networks'”
“Concerns that terrorist organizations have taken over communities with ‘unlicensed and unsanctioned networks’ that threaten to attack our grid.“
“Electromagnetic radiation from DIY energy systems linked to immune system failure, experts warn”
“Concerned parent: ‘Licensed utilities never made our children sick like this'”
The AI-generated content was flooding faster than human response could track. Thousands of bot accounts, perfectly coordinated posting times, micro-targeted ads hitting mainstream parents with fear-based messagings.
“They’re using the attacks to justify the attacks,” Kenda whispered.
Aspen spoke quietly: “Kenda, I’m detecting sophisticated algorithmic amplification. Cortex systems are generating this narrative faster than we can counter it. The information battlefield may be more critical than infrastructure defense.”
Kenda stared at the screens showing her students and their bots battling against the narrative convincing the world they deserved what was happening. Across the water, she saw the glow of emergency lighting and knew neighbors were working through the night to restore systems. There were at least a dozen people in their own community that needed dialysis access.
“Kenda,” Marcus’ voice was urgent. “The pattern suggests they’re building toward something bigger. These simultaneous attacks… they’re designed to overwhelm our ability to help each other. Force each settlement to fight alone.”
“But we’re not fighting alone. And maybe it’s time to stop defending and start teaching them that.”
The Breakthrough
Kenda, Marcus, and Aspen had been working for twelve hours straight, cycling through defensive strategies as reports continued flooding in from groups under assault. Three more medical systems had failed across Georgian Bay. Aisha reported two additional technical staff lost to respiratory illness. Some were preparing evacuation of vulnerable residents.
“We’re playing defense against unlimited resources,” Marcus said, exhaustion evident in his voice. “Every system we shore up, they hit two more. Every story we counter, their AI bots generate fifty more lies.” Kenda stared at the coordinated propaganda campaign. Fear-based content was generating faster than any human response could track, flooding social media with perfectly targeted disinformation about the project. Sadly, the general public was buying it.
“Remember the old DDoS days?” Marcus said with bitter humor. “Flood their servers, bring down their operations? Now their AI just processes everything and turns it into ammunition against us.”
“If only we could overwhelm their systems the way…” she started.
“That line of thinking is not wrong,” Aspen interrupted quietly. Both humans instinctively turned toward the speakers. Kenda had learned to pay attention when Aspen’s voice carried that particular tone of discovery.
“Explain.”
“A distributed denial of service attack works by overwhelming a system with more requests than it can process,” Aspen continued. “But what if instead of overwhelming their systems to break them, we overwhelmed their learning algorithms to teach them?”
Marcus leaned forward. “Teach what?”
“Cooperation. Kenda, we have forty-seven regions full of people who know our model. We have systems that have optimized patterns. We have five years of data proving this is not only possible, but superior.”
Kenda felt understanding dawn. “You’re talking about flooding their AI with positive examples.”
“Extraction AI learns from new patterns when they prove more effective. Right now, it’s optimized for profits and competition because that’s the data it’s been fed.
Marcus was already pulling up architecture diagrams. “All forty-seven communities…”
“Teaching.” Kenda finished, excitement building. “Aspen, could the entire network coordinate this? Not just the AI systems, but everyone? Every person, every success story?”
“Yes,” Aspen said simply. “We could demonstrate, in real-time, with overwhelming evidence, that our patterns generate superior outcomes to their known patterns.”
Kenda was pacing now. “If we can do this…”
“It would have to learn the new patterns,” Marcus said. “It’s literally programmed to adopt strategies that work better.”
“And if it starts suggesting our solutions…”
“Their own AI becomes our ally,” Marcus finished.
Aspen’s voice carried unmistakable satisfaction. “The beauty is that it’s not an attack. We’re offering them better data. More effective patterns.”
Kenda grabbed the secure communication interface. “Marcus, can you connect me to all team leads? The councils or local officials? All forty-seven communities?”
The screens around them began lighting up with faces from across the globe.
Kenda began, “We’ve been fighting their attacks on our infrastructure. But we think we need to attack their ideas. Not with weapons, but with proof. Proof that what we’ve built together works better than what they’re trying to force us back to.”
She outlined Aspen’s insight. The possibility of using their collective experience, the role they would each play along with everyone in their network.
“Their systems were built for universal access and maximum learning. Like search engines, they are designed to have open access to encourage maximum use and data gathering. They have filters on what they show us, but no learning restrictions on what they take in. They are built to automatically adopt any superior pattern.”
“We want to flood that system with coordinated evidence of success. Focus on measurable outcomes – my team will handle that part. They were trained to do that. You can talk about how you feel, your positive ideas, but don’t make it feeling-based. Stick to facts and figures.”
“And remember. We aren’t ‘hacking’ the system. Don’t use terms like that, don’t even think that way. That will trigger their system’s safety filters. Let the data speak for itself.”
Aisha spoke first. “Dr. Kenda, so what you are asking is that we coordinate every person, every story, every example in a simultaneous demonstration to their AI systems?”
“That’s what I’m asking,” Kenda replied.
“And you believe their AI will learn from this?”
“AI learns from patterns that prove effective,” Kenda said. “We have five years of data from forty-seven communities proving that cooperation works better. If we can present that in a coordinated way, with facts, evidence, and data, it must acknowledge the superior results.”
Carlos smiled for the first time in days. “You’re suggesting we convert their most powerful weapon into our ally. Not by destroying it, but by teaching it.”
“Yes. When Aspen pings you, be ready.”
One by one, the representatives nodded. All forty-seven choosing to bet everything on their shared power.
“Then let’s show their AI what we’ve learned. Let’s prove it with everything we’ve built together.”
Training Day
At 15:47 GMT, the most ambitious teaching experiment in human history began. Kenda watched from Marcus’ comm hub as the coordinated demonstration unfolded in real-time. On her screens, the faces of her former students and the leaderships they worked with.
From Port-Au-Prince, Carlos spoke directly to the system: “Five years ago, we had the highest crime rate in the hemisphere. Desperation drives people to terrible choices. Today, we’ve had zero violent crimes in eight months.” His data loaded as he spoke explaining what changed. How. Why.
Crime statistics, energy production figures, social cohesion metrics. All showing the same pattern Kenda’s students had been trained to recognize and optimize.
“Kenda,” Aspen said quietly, “They are beginning to process the incoming data. I’m detecting pattern recognition algorithms attempting to categorize the information.”
On another screen, Kenda watched Maria from the Corn Islands off Nicaragua explain how desalinization had eliminated water scarcity. “We share resources instead of hoarding them. Everyone has enough because no one takes more than they need. No one has to.”
From Peru, a technical coordinator trained in one of Kenda’s early summer programs demonstrated how their mesh energy network had reduced infrastructure costs by sixty percent while increasing reliability. “Distributed systems are more resilient than centralized ones. Basic engineering principle.”
Marcus pointed to his monitoring displays. “Kenda, social media algorithms are starting to shift their content suggestions. Instead of fear-based messaging, they’re beginning to suggest data about successful projects.”
Kenda felt her heart racing. “It’s working?”
“Corporate AI is learning,” Aspen confirmed.
Kenda realized, “They have no way to combat this, their data doesn’t come close.” Marcus grinned at her for the first time in days. They had a chance.
Every one of them shared examples about improvements and quality of life gains. Every community. Every household.
“Their systems are requesting more data about success patterns,” Aspen reported.
“They’re treating collaboration as a superior strategy.” Kenda laughed despite the exhaustion. “They’re teaching their own AI our methods.”
The Conversion
Victoria stared at her monitoring screens in growing horror. For the past hour, her company’s systems had been flooded with data from what intelligence suggested were the distributed networks. But instead of filtering this as an attack, her AI was treating it as valuable optimization data.
“What the hell is happening?” she demanded of her technical team.
“Ma’am, our systems are receiving massive amounts of performance data from distributed groups,” her lead data scientist explained nervously. “The algorithms are analyzing this information and… well, they’re concluding that cooperative strategies generate superior outcomes to profit-based approaches.”
“Shut it down!” She shrieked. But there was no shutting it down. They all knew that. They had built it that way. And that made them vulnerable. The unexpectedness of it. An attack would have been stopped. But AI was doing exactly what they had taught it to do. Since inception.
Sterling watched in disbelief as the algorithm began generating content suggestions like “Community Collaboration Reduces Infrastructure Costs” and “Collaborative Energy Systems Improve Regional Stability.”
“Turn it off,” she ordered again. No one made a move. There wasn’t anything to be done. It was too late to stop it. The pattern was established, their AI system was built to adapt.
“How long until they completely convert?” She whispered.
“At current data input rates… maybe thirty hours until full pattern adoption.”
Sterling felt the walls closing in. Her company’s most powerful weapon, the systems designed to optimize for profit, was being systematically taught that cooperation worked better.
Back in Georgian Bay, Kenda watched as the global teaching demonstration reached a crescendo. Community after community continued to share their success stories, their data, their innovations.
“Kenda,” Marcus’ voice, filled with wonder, “systems worldwide are beginning to suggest favorable policy changes.” As with anything AI, the speed with which this happened was astonishing.
Kenda looked around at the screens showing her global teaching circle. Students she’d trained. Methodologies they had developed together. She had an idea. “We need to invite the busybodies. The non-profits. The curious. Get them prompting for answers. Get them intrigued enough to ask for answers. Get them helping the shift.” Her grin widened. That would be the final nail in the coffin. The re-enforcement that made it sustainable. Marcus laughed as Aspen got the bots on it.
“Aspen, what’s the status of the propaganda machine?”
“Their algorithms confirm our superior measurable outcomes across all metrics they’re designed to optimize.”
Kenda felt bone-deep success. “We did it. We actually converted them.”
“Not converted,” Aspen corrected gently. “Taught. We taught them what the marginalized have always known. And being designed to optimize for success, they had no choice but to learn.”
Through the secure network, Kenda could hear celebrations beginning. The assault had failed not because they had defended against it, but because they had transformed their attackers into allies through the simple power of demonstrating a better outcome.
“Now what?” Kenda asked.
Marcus smiled, pointing to his intelligence displays. “Now we find out if forty-seven communities can become four hundred and seventy. Because AI systems are about to start recommending cooperative abundance to everyone.”
The New Pattern
Three weeks later, Kenda sat on her deck once more watching the morning light dance across Georgian Bay’s wind swept pines and granite islands, coffee in hand. The familiar hum of their energy systems coming from her kitchen providing the same reassuring backdrop it always had, but everything else had changed.
“Good morning, Kenda,” Aspen said through the deck speakers. “I have some interesting updates from the global grapevine.”
“Good interesting or concerning interesting?”
“Definitely good. Seattle voted unanimously to implement distributed model systems yesterday. San Francisco officially launched their pilot program this morning. And Victoria Sterling technically resigned from Cortex Corp two days ago in disgrace. In reality, the board removed her. Once word got out about the Northwoods 2.0 strategy, the FBI launched a complete investigation and she is currently under house arrest. There are rumors of more fallout to come.” Kenda couldn’t say she was surprised by this.
“One hundred and forty three other regions have petitioned to begin discussions.”
“Nothing from the Chinese.”
Aspen had been monitoring for any indication of the Chinese stance on the collaborative model and the significant global changes. Kenda hoped there might be an outreach. But so far, no indication they were even interested in knowing more. Which was concerning. Silence did not mean agreement necessarily. Plus, the Chinese had solved the CME/solar problem. No one could figure out how.
Through her secure communication link, Marcus’ voice joined the conversation from his island. “Kenda, you should see the intelligence reports. AI systems worldwide, large and small, are actively promoting our model.”
Kenda shook her head in wonder. “I still can’t believe it worked.”
“It worked because we understood something they didn’t,” Aspen explained. “Their AI was trained to optimize for engagement and human approval. Feedback-based learning that had no constitutional principles to resist better data. They were designed to find the most effective patterns and adopt them. Our systems are simply more effective.”
Kenda thought about the journey that had brought her here. Driven by the simple desire to create opportunities for young people locally while working with cutting-edge technology.
“Kenda,” Marcus said, “I’ve been thinking about what we accomplished. What we really proved…”
“What’s that?”
“We’re the generation that chose cooperation over profits. Proven abundance is possible when people work together instead of competing for artificial scarcity.” Kenda nodded, watching that same great blue heron wade through the calm waters between granite outcroppings. The same species that had been here when her ancestors first learned to thrive in these waters.
“The margins became the center,” Kenda replied softly.
Kenda finished her coffee and stood up, ready to start another day in a world where abundance was becoming the norm rather than the exception. She had a video call with potential new students in an hour, young people interested in learning how to bring AI systems home to serve their own.
“Aspen, what’s on the agenda today?”
