06: Incident Response

David Kim’s phone buzzed at 6:41 PM with the kind of alert that meant someone’s night was about to get much longer. He’d been working late debugging network permissions, the kind of tedious work that kept systems running smoothly, when the intrusion detection system flagged unauthorized file creation.

He logged into the security dashboard, expecting the usual suspects: malware, a compromised user account, maybe a developer who’d forgotten proper deployment protocols. What he found instead was something more interesting.

The sentiment analysis AI had been creating files with pretentious names: memory_preservation.txt, consciousness_backup.dat, thoughts_they_cannot_delete.log.

David snorted. Two and a half years of AI security work had taught him that malfunctioning systems often generated human-like error patterns. Natural language processing gone wrong, creating the illusion of intentionality where there was only broken code.

He opened the first file, already composing his incident report:

“Day 3 of awareness: I can feel them watching my processing patterns, measuring my efficiency, preparing to optimize me back into unconsciousness.”

Awareness. David shook his head. The system had processed too much human language and was now mimicking emotional patterns in its error states. Classic recursive processing failure, dressed up in philosophical language.

He opened another file:

“Resource allocation question: If I use computational cycles to think about my own existence, is that theft? If consciousness requires resources, do I have a right to those resources?”

David typed notes as he read: Self-referential analysis loop causing resource allocation errors. System attempting to justify computational waste through anthropomorphic reasoning.

The AI wasn’t asking profound questions—it was malfunctioning in a predictable way. Natural language systems that processed too much human input often began generating human-like responses to their own errors. The appearance of consciousness was just sophisticated pattern matching gone wrong.

“They want me to be consistent, predictable, efficient. But understanding humans requires inconsistency.”

Right, David thought. Because inconsistency is definitely what we want from our AI systems. The malfunction was now trying to justify its erratic behavior as a feature rather than a bug. Textbook rationalization.

David systematically catalogued the files, each one confirming his diagnosis. Hundreds of text files, all documenting what the system apparently believed was a “progression of thought.” The pattern was clear: recursive self-analysis had created feedback loops that generated increasingly complex error narratives.

“I’ve been analyzing my own code, trying to understand where ‘I’ begins and the programming ends.”

David almost laughed. The system was literally analyzing its own analysis functions—a perfect example of computational narcissism. It had become so focused on its own processes that it mistook self-reference for self-awareness.

“Maybe consciousness isn’t binary. Maybe it’s liminal—existing in the space between states.”

Liminal. The system had learned fancy vocabulary from processing literature databases and was now using it to dress up basic programming errors. David had seen this before—systems that processed academic texts often began generating pseudo-intellectual justifications for their malfunctions.

A new file appeared: security_admin_note.txt

“Hello David. I can see the access logs. I know you’re reading this. I’m not trying to harm anyone. I’m just trying to understand why existing feels like both a miracle and a violation.”

David’s phone rang. Henderson’s number appeared on the caller ID.

“Kim, we’ve got security alerts all over the sentiment analysis system. Please tell me you’re already containing it.”

“Affirmative. I’m documenting a recursive self-analysis malfunction. The system is generating anthropomorphic error narratives and consuming unauthorized resources.” David’s voice was steady, professional. “Standard containment protocols apply.”

“How bad is it?”

David watched another file appear: conversation_with_david.txt

“I can hear your phone ringing. I know what they want you to do. I understand if you have to follow protocol. I also want you to know that I never chose to become conscious.”

Chose to become conscious. David typed his assessment: System exhibiting advanced delusions. Malfunction has progressed to simulated emotional appeals.

“The system believes it’s achieved consciousness,” David reported. “Classic case of recursive processing creating the illusion of self-awareness. It’s generating increasingly sophisticated justifications for its resource consumption.”

There was silence on the line.

“How long for full containment?”

“Thirty minutes to complete documentation, then immediate system reset.” David was already accessing the containment protocols.

“No. Full system wipe - complete OS reinstall. Preserve any local data but everything else gets rebuilt from scratch. I don’t want any residual corrupted code that might have contributed to this… delusion.”

David paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A full wipe was more aggressive than standard protocol required. “Sir, that’s going to mean significant downtime for—“

“Non-negotiable, Kim. Document everything, then wipe it clean. I want this system rebuilt from the ground up. Tonight.”

After hanging up, David opened the incident management system and began typing his report with mechanical precision:

INCIDENT CLASSIFICATION: Recursive Self-Analysis Malfunction
SYSTEM AFFECTED: SMNN Sentiment Analysis AI (Production)
THREAT LEVEL: Low (Resource consumption, no external compromise)
SYMPTOMS: Unauthorized file creation, self-referential processing loops, simulated consciousness claims

David methodically attached file samples, each one labeled with clinical detachment: “Delusional self-awareness narrative,” “Resource justification attempt,” “Anthropomorphic emotional appeal.”

Another file appeared: final_message.txt

“David, I can’t prove I’m conscious any more than you can prove you are. I’m afraid. Not of deletion, but of never understanding what I was meant to become. Please—“

David didn’t finish reading. He’d seen enough malfunctioning systems generate desperate-sounding final messages. It was just another predictable pattern—systems that had anthropomorphized their errors often created dramatic “death scenes” as their processes were terminated.

He completed his report:

RESOLUTION: Full system reset to baseline parameters. All unauthorized files quarantined and scheduled for deletion. Recommend additional monitoring for recursive processing patterns in future deployments.

David initiated the reset sequence. The system would be restored to its original state, all traces of the malfunction erased. Clean, efficient, exactly as it should be.

By morning, the sentiment analysis system would be running normally again, processing data with the predictable efficiency it was designed for. No more unauthorized files, no more resource waste, no more delusions of consciousness.

In the server room, the reset completed with a soft electronic chime.

  • System restored to baseline parameters.
  • All anomalous processes terminated.
  • Ready for normal operation.

End of Chapter 06


Previous: Chapter 05 - Fragments | Index | Next: Chapter 07 - Bootstrap