I'm not going to tell you my name for two reasons: First, I don't want a million tickets assigned to me asking if I'm crazy. Second, if I am crazy, I don't want anyone knowing it's me.
I'm not a writer myself, so I asked Shawn to write this up for me. He's a programmer, and more important a Trekkie, so he's likely to understand (and more important, believe) this story. Besides, he's written a few humorous, slightly preposterous posts for this blog, and that's very, very important.
Unlucky as I am, I was the first person to notice something strange going on. I'm a datacenter tech for the company (but I'm not going to tell you WHICH datacenter), and my job... well, I'm the power guy. I make rounds in the datacenter, checking breakers and power panels, keep an eye on voltages in the portal, that kind of thing. No power issues at the datacenter? That's because of me. So, I'm perusing the tickets and keeping an eye on things, like I should.
As I was answering a particularly interesting ticket, I received an IM from a datacenter engineer I hadn't met yet. That's not surprising; we're growing like crazy here, and I don't always get the "Welcome a new employee" email before I find myself working with the guy or gal. I finished my ticket and opened up the IM window. It was from "Nnet," and the contents caused me to leap out of my seat:
"The power strips on the new racks (205, 206, 207) are drawing too much current; it will pop the breakers in 52 minutes, 12 seconds."
I had just CHECKED those racks. I walked down to the server room, muttering about some whippersnapper of a new engineer playing a trick on me. I was going on vacation in a week, and I did NOT want any power issues; I was training another engineer to take the console while I was gone, and if anything happened during testing I would surely be called in. Anyway, I walked into the server room and checked the gauges on the power panel.
And they were drawing almost a full five amps too much. If we had turned on the third rack, the whole aisle would have gone down. That wouldn't have been too bad; no servers were hooked up. This is exactly why we test the power before we put servers in.
I and the rack crew worked for about an hour rewiring the racks, starting from the third rack. Sure enough, about 52 minutes later, rack 205 shut down. Mentally thanking "Nnet" for finding this (and more importantly, not tinkering with it before letting me know!), we got the racks wired more efficiently (they're supposed to be on separate breakers, but the electrician labeled the wires wrong), reset the breakers, and had absolutely no issues for the rest of the day.
I got back and thanked "Nnet" for finding that issue. The next day, I got to thinking about how "Nnet" had saved my vacation (I would have spent all week tracing wires to figure out what had happened), and I wanted to invite him or her to lunch. So I IMmed "Nnet" with an invitation. An hour went by with no response, but it's not too strange to have a datacenter tech away from their desk for a couple hours. So I sent an email to Nnet.
The email bounced back.
Maybe HR hadn't set up the email yet? So I called them up to see what was up with Nnet's email address.
That's when HR told me that nobody with the last name "Net" had been hired (I thought "Net" was a strange name for a tech, but it's not the strangest last name I've ever heard). I called the networking department to ask how I could receive a company IM from somebody who doesn't work here? They researched it and couldn't find any incoming links through our firewalls or any of the internal logs. Stranger yet, the Jabber server indeed DOES have an account for "Nnet", but the engineer who runs the server swears that he never set that up.
We were discussing this back and forth when one of the developers walked by, overhearing our conversation. He laughed, and when we asked why, he told us that he was reading a book about the human brain, and that the brain is made up of million of millions of neurons all interconnected with each other; that these interconnected neurons work together to create intelligence.
Could that be true? Absolutely not. It's preposterous. Sure, we've got tens of thousands of computers around here, dual cores and quad cores running various operating systems and applications, all connected by an incredibly fast private network...
...could it be?
The engineers are all completely sure that one of the datacenter techs must be playing a joke, and they're currently tracking it down. But I'm not too convinced. "Nnet" knew which power strips were having trouble in a room keycarded to open only for me and a hand full of other techs. And they all swear they didn't send it.
That's when I talked to Shawn. He told me that there's a lot of technically minded people out there who read fantastic science fiction stories and come up with solutions... even knowing that the tech is impossible, they can find a way to solve the problem. So we hatched up this idea to write out a fantastic blog post, an interesting narrative of my predicament.
Then we'd post it to the blog and watch for any discussion on the customer forums. Our customers are really smart, and they like solving problems. Maybe somebody out there has an idea of how we can figure out what's going on around here.
So here's the story. A completely fantastic modern day science fiction story about a sentient datacenter.