Even Kenneth turned to look at Rebecca, clearly not willing to stick his neck out on this proposal.
After a minute, Rebecca finally responded hesitantly. “I would not risk human life for the mere loss of ten million dollars.”
She paused, and then went on more strongly. “However, the data privacy implications of losing the data stored on those servers are huge. Data loss opens up the potential for litigation from our users, and regulation from the government. Even more significantly, if we lose the confidence of our users, we’re sunk. Our cloud application strategy works only as long as our users have complete confidence in the security and integrity of their personal data.” She stabbed at the table with her pointed finger. “Losing customer trust in this case means billions of dollars of revenue. We cannot afford the loss of even one hard drive containing customer data, let alone the tens of thousands of hard drives in an ODC.”
Jake nodded, and went to respond, but Rebecca held up a hand to indicate she still wanted to speak.
“We are lucky that the ODC thefts have thus far been limited to non-sensitive search data,” she said, anticipating Jake’s input, “But we must migrate our email servers and document servers to offshore data centers within a few months, or we risk capacity outages. It’s not acceptable to allow confidential emails and documents to be stolen by pirates.”
Bill and Jake turned to look at each other. It sure sounded to them as though Rebecca was about to approve the proposal. Neither of them would have guessed that going into the meeting.
Rebecca cleared her throat before she spoke. “I want you to proceed with your proposal. That said, I want this to be structured that we pay iRobot for security, and have them own and control the hardware that does it. I don’t want Avogadro Corporation to own weaponized robots. Am I clear?”
A few minutes later, Jake left the virtual conference room. Even though it was his own proposal, or perhaps especially because it was his own proposal, he felt stunned. Within a few weeks, the ODCs would have their own automated self-defense capability. It felt like something out of the movie
Chapter 6
“Hi David. It’s Mike. Listen, I have to rush to Madison. I just got a message from my mom that my father had a heart attack. I’m flying home. I’m sorry I won’t be there. After our discussion last night, I’m sure things will go fine. I’ll call you when I know more.”
David numbly put his phone down, as much distressed by the content of the message as well as the way Mike’s voice sounded: shaky and stressed. The contrast with Mike’s usual easy-going and joking manner was enough to make his throat tight.
David couldn’t remember Mike talking about his dad much, other than a few comments after his usual trips home, but David assumed he was healthy.
He was glad that Mike could fly out to be home with his parents. He felt lingering guilt, because he had seen Mike’s incoming call on his mobile phone this morning as he was rushing out of the house, and he didn’t answer. Only later when he was in the office did he listen to the voicemail, and now he regretted not answering the call. After a moment’s thought, he tried to call Mike back, but now it went directly to voicemail without even ringing. Likely, Mike was in the air, en route to Wisconsin.
Still shaken, he sat behind his desk, wondering what to do. He called Christine to let her know the bad news. She seemed equally shocked, hardly saying anything, beyond “I’m sorry,” and “I’m so sorry.”
He sat quietly behind his desk for a while, doing nothing at all. When had he and Mike gotten so old that they had parents with health issues? He did the math, surprised to realize that his own parents were going on sixty.
A knock on the door startled David.
Melanie stuck her head in. “Team standup. Mike’s not here. You want to lead it, or should I?”
He slowly nodded his head, and said softly, “I’m coming.”
By the time the team meeting was done, David had inherited a fiasco with the Test department. When that was taken care of, he had sixty emails to deal with. It wasn’t until midmorning that he had time to get another cup of coffee. He felt lonely getting coffee by himself, a ritual he always shared with Mike, who would frequently drag him on a trip halfway across town chasing down an elusive coffee bean. He realized suddenly that Mike had always been there with him. He couldn’t remember one occasion over the last two years when he had gone on vacation or taken a sick day.
Then it hit him that, with Mike gone, he couldn’t rely on his help to remove the ELOPe changes. Trembling nervously, he rushed back to his office, and pounded the carpet pacing back and forth in front of the window, pondering his options. He was so sure he was going to have Mike’s help, and now he was on his own. The coffee sat forgotten, fear-generated adrenaline giving him all the stimulation he could handle.
He wasn’t sure if he could live-patch the email servers to remove the ELOPe override module by himself. Under ideal conditions, server changes were rolled out during specified maintenance times or through a rolling downtime. In a rolling downtime they might take five percent of the servers offline at a time, patch and test them, then do the next five percent until all the servers were done. He had been lucky that rolling downtime had been scheduled the night he released the override module.
However, maintenance windows and rolling downtime were both processes that needed to be scheduled ahead of time. David sat down at his desk, and pulled up his calendar. The next planned maintenance window wasn’t until after the New Year. He slammed his fist down on the table. Tux the penguin wobbled with the sudden movement.
He stood back up. He could get a special exception to get a one-off maintenance window scheduled, but that would require paperwork, and submitting the changes ahead of time, and altogether far too much attention. He sat back down. He looked toward the door to see if anyone was observing his nervous antics, but the door was firmly closed.
That brought him back to the live patch, if he didn’t wait for a maintenance window. During a live-patch, the server stayed up, the code change would be made silently, and the entire operation should only take a few seconds. It was usually done for minor changes that wouldn’t affect the way applications run. For example, if they just want to change the logo or styling of a page, then they could do a live-patch. A live-patch that was more complicated than just changing images or styling could be risky, and was usually reserved for the most critical updates. More than one outage was due to a live-patch code change gone wrong. Changing the ELOPe code, which was now tightly integrated into the mail servers, one of the companies primary products, was definitely not a small change. A botched live-patch would attract even more attention, and an investigation into the code being deployed.
David considered whether he should attempt the live-patch on his own, or watch for the next maintenance window. Mike not only had far more experience with live-patches than David, he also had the legitimate authorization to perform a live-patch. He thought that the safer, lower risk option would be to just wait. He took a cautious sip of his coffee, and carefully leaned back in his chair. After all, whatever it was that ELOPe was doing didn’t seem to be causing any problems.
John Anderson was working his way through the queue of procurement requests when he came upon yet another request from Gary Mitchell’s department. He was happy to see that Gary Mitchell was now using the online procurement app for submitting procurement requests rather than sending him emails, but now he was shocked to see the volume of requests coming from Gary’s communication products group. There had been three reallocation requests that took servers out of the normal pipeline of delivery and directed them to the ELOPe program, whatever that was. There were several additional requests from Gary’s group to purchase the latest, highest performance servers Avogadro could procure, in unusually large quantities. John thought Gary’s division must be expecting massive increases in load.
This last request was a bid for software contractors to work over the holiday break. It was hard for John to understand — wasn’t he surrounded by thousands of software developers? And it was damn short notice for a bid of this complexity. John wouldn’t even have time to submit it to multiple contractors the way he normally would. John
