I AM NOT A BOT Episode 4: “(Un)Knowns”
“Every story is a love story,” my father wrote to me this morning.
Each day for the past year, my father has sent me a famous quote, a one line … uh … life lesson … spiritual reminder … fortune cookie horoscopic thingee … I don’t know exactly what you call it. All I know is that they are nice connects in a time when our connects have become fewer and farther between.
My teacher Rumsfelds on, “The Johari Window places all your Cybersecurity threats into four quadrants. Can you name them?”
Before he can finish asking, Edamame types into the Zoom chat,
“I. Known Knowns
II. Known Unknowns
II. Unknown Knowns
IV. Unknown Unknowns”
ZaeZae posts a big smack of lips on Discord.
NotSoShi replies, “Lol. Quit it!”
“Now can anyone give me an example of each?”
“Hold on. Before Mr. Known-It-All sucks up all our participation points,” ZaeZae jokers on Zoom, “Let me take a shot.”
Smiles are seen across our Zoom boxes.
“All the main malware disruptions we’ve been studying -- Distributed Denial of Service, Phishing Emails, Ransomware – those are Known Knowns.
“On the other hand, those big surprises, those Zero Day exploits, are examples of Unknown Unknowns.”
Edamame breaks in via our Zoom chat, “Don’t forget about your Black Swan Events.” He provides this add as much for the knowledge share as to playfully jab back at ZaeZae.
“This guy!” ZaeZae Discords along with a big cry face emoji.
“What’s a Black Swan Event?” NotSoShi asks over Zoom.
JZ99 jumps in, “It’s like the Solar Winds attacks we were discussing last week.”
“That’s right,” our teacher confirms. “Those major, months in the planning, precisely executed, big scores.”
My zoom box smiles when I remember a great line my dad sent me recently …
“Good timing is invisible. Bad timing sticks out a mile.” -- Tony Corinda
NotSoShi types a question wrapped in a statement, “The difference between a Known Unknown and an Unknown Known always messes me up.”
Another Known Known is our teacher following our big questions with this question, “Does anyone want to tackle that?”
Even our Discord line stays muted.
“One is hidden, the other is a blind spot,” I say out loud before I even know I am saying it.
“Good. Care to expand on that?”
This is followed by more silence.
I know that he’s talking to me. And despite me elevating my morning Adderall intake, my mind starts to drift away as I hear Stromae‘s “Santé'' sounding off on my Spotify playlist. I trigger away to my current relationship with my father.
My parents moved to Arizona five years ago. That physical detachment was the beginning of the end of my relationship with my dad.
The move was quite sudden, at least to me and my sibs. I’m sure it was a more complicated decision, but they said they simply wanted a change after living in the same house in New Jersey for over 30 years.
ZaeZae picks me up, “A Known Unknown is a vulnerability you are hiding from bad actors. An area you know you are weak, yet have no idea how to solve based on the tools, resources, and talent in your stable at the time.”
I try to refocus on the Zoom boxes, but I can only think of my parents. Were my parents hiding something from me and my sibs? Were we their bad actors?
My sister is definitely not a bad actor. She is everything you want from a daughter. A Pediatric Nurse Practitioner. Caretaker of her family. Caretaker of our family. Never a complaint whispered.
Alpha.
My brother on the other hand –
“-- Unknown Knowns are far more dangerous,” ZaeZae continues. “These are blind spots. In this window, the analyst is either uncertain of an infection or totally unaware of an infection.”
Omega.
That’s my big bro in a nutshell. He literally has tried to be an actor. And he literally was one of the baddest I ever saw. But my parents never saw it that way. They’ve never seen any of his flaws that way. At least my dad never did.
My teacher adds, “These blind spots are usually the result of a lack of event log resources that could provide such intel.”
“Log everything,” Edamame follows on the Zoom chat.
My focus shifts to the years-worn, leather bound journal on the corner of my desk. I open it and sift through it while reminiscing on its journey to me.
At the behest of my parents, my sibs and I sold or dumped everything in their old house – everything besides the two suitcases of clothes and one modest crate of memorabilia that my parents brought west with them.
I personally drove 16 donation boxes to my sister’s hospital and other care centers of her choosing. One of the boxes, overstuffed with books, burst open like a pinata on my last run. So I had to hand deliver each medical book, each travel book, and each self-help book my parents had amassed over the years to the Salvation Army.
However, due to this fiasco, I found and saved this pages-curled, coffee-stained notebook that now resides on my desk. This journal I kept. My father’s journal. A relatively short, but poignant record that he wrote, ironically, while he was the same age I am now.
Of course, at that time, he had two kids and had two jobs. Which means he didn’t have time for dissertations, just some streams of consciousness – short stories mixed with all kinds of one-liners. The one I love the most is …
“The two most important warriors are patience and time.” – Leo Tolstoy
I know I should give it back to my dad, but I justify that inaction with the idea that he left it behind for a reason. Besides, what’s the point these days?
There are no pages on me, unfortunately. I was not born yet. Yet every time I read it, I feel like he is talking directly to me.
Or better yet, I sometimes think I am an alternate universe version of him. At the same age I am now, he was married with two kids and two jobs. I am single. Carefree. Careless. Nothing weighing on me besides my own expectations.
I close the notebook. The window to my father’s mind. A window to my own?
Decades prior, my father wrote the following, which I can only hope sums up the life he is living today, “All my dreams will be fulfilled at the proper time.” – Lailah Gifty Akita
Unknown Unknowns.
