FOUR DAYS AFTER RASHID and Ike started working in earnest to crack the Key Code that barred them from penetrating the coconuts, Rashid neared the NSA office building for yet another night of work. He parked in an area reserved for guests of his status, which allowed him to enter and leave the building with a minimal security check.
As he did every night, Rashid carried with him a list of related data sets associated with Islam and the Middle Eastern cultures–groupings he hoped the author might have used as a foundation for a unique encryption. Each night they tried his ideas and proved them unworkable. As his list of schemes grew shorter, His frustration mounted.
Ike worked the joystick on his electric scooter to open the door of his private workspace and greeted his friend. "Evening, Prof, got something good for me tonight?" His optimism sounded forced.
"Yes, Ike. I have six possible data sets to try out." They moved to Ike's work station in the darkened room with the colorful blinking lights. Ike sat at his keyboard and Rashid at the table alongside. "You're going to be busy writing code, I'm afraid." He handed Ike the lists of options to read.
(1) Islamic Calendar and Gregorian Equivalent
(2) Sunrise and Sunset times in Mecca
(3) List of 25 recognized Prophets.
(4) The Five Pillars of Islam
(5) Primary Rituals of Islam
"Interesting," Ike said. "You'll have to explain this stuff. Let's roll."
Rashid reviewed the details of each item. Ike made notes, then assessed the research time and how much code needed to be written before Big Mamma could go to work. "Be lucky to get one of these done tonight. Which one first, Prof?"
"Let's start at the top."
The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar based on the phases of the moon. The Gregorian or Christian calendar is based on the birth of Jesus Christ using a solar system. Ike built a matrix of data, and then wrote code that allowed Big Mama to search finite parameters associated with each message. He lined up the six coconuts in a date received sequence. If Mamma broke through the first one she would automatically tackle the next using her successful findings. He then set her to work. "Let's get a cup of java, Prof. This'll take some time."
When they left the office, Ike locked the door to his private space. With a devilish grin he baited Rashid. "Race you to the elevator." He shoved the power lever on his scooter forward and bolted down the hallway. Rashid tried to keep up, but Ike reached the elevator button first. "Ain't technology wonderful," he said, as the elevator door opened.
They found a table in the corner of the first floor cafeteria. Ike loaded cream and sugar into his coffee. Rashid drank his black. They talked about family. Rashid explained his wife's bout with cancer and the toll it took on him and on their savings even with health insurance. Ike shared his experience after coming home from the war, and undergoing extensive physical rehabilitation that he endured for two years. He told Rashid how he lost his high school sweetheart to a car accident, and how coming to the NSA had changed his life. Without realizing it, they talked for an hour before heading upstairs.
When they got back, Ike checked Big Mamma's output. "Looks like we might have something here, Prof." Under Ike's Project ID number, Big Mamma had spilled forth data contained in four of the coconuts and started working on number five.
Rashid peered over his shoulder. "Appears to be Arabic, but I can’t read it."
"I thought you knew Arabic.”
"Yes, but not this–this is nonsense."
"Hey, man. Big Mamma's got 108 languages in her database. Forty percent of all the people on earth speak eleven of them–that includes Arabic. The rest of the world speaks the other eighty-seven.”
Rashid eyed the letters scrawled across the screen. It contained the twenty eight letters in the Arabic alphabet. The letters didn't spell translatable words. "Can you print those out?"
Rashid sat in the corner and read the five information exchanges Big Mamma had cracked. Almost nothing he read made sense. Occasionally he identified an isolated word or phrase. Meaningless without a context. He spent an hour working without success.
Ike checked his watch. "It's gettin late, Prof."
"I can't read them," he said with desperation in his voice.
Ike focused on his friend, who looked like a kid who opened a Christmas present and found the box empty. "You know, Prof, I bet the Japanese felt the same way back in the second World War."
"What do you mean?"
"Ever hear about the Code Talkers."
"Yes. Native Americans used their language as the basis for an encryption. The Japanese never figured that out because they had no knowledge of the Navajo Nation or their language." Rashid leaped to his feet. "Damn it, I think you've hit on something!"
“How’s that?”
Rashid explained. "Big Mamma has the Modern Standard Arabic form of the language in her database. The formal language I learned at the university. But stretching from far West Africa to the Sultanate of Oman in the Middle East there are four regional groups that speak a variation of Arabic. Each group has three or more dialects in it."
"How different are these dialects?"
"The differences are so great Arabs of one region often can't talk to Arabs from another part of their world."
"What do we do?"
Rashid paused. "We think like the author of the encryption. We search for a remote dialect within the Arab speaking world, and then make Big Mamma translate it into formal Arabic."
Ike’s brows knitted. "That's not as easy as it sounds, old buddy. We got to find lots a samples of each dialect, assemble 'em, then digitize ‘em into a new linguistic source, and then enter it into Mamma so it becomes a reference language. Once we have that language onboard, we can feed the data we just cracked back into Mamma. All that could take weeks for each dialect."
Rashid shook his head, "We can't afford that much time."
"How many dialects is there?"
"Sixteen."
"As my momma used to say, Lord A-mighty."
Rashid whispered, "We might get lucky."
"Say what?"
"The key is obscurity. We start with the most obscure and work up."
Ike thought about that. "Yea, that might improve our odds. He rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I think we got a time problem, brother. While you and me is dickin’ around with all this–somethin’ terrible might happen..."
Rashid finished his sentence, "...leaving our country at risk."
"Right on, Prof. This is no technical problem no more. It's something way above my pay grade. I'm takin this to my boss first thing tomorrow mornin'."
Rashid read Ike's expression of concern. "I don't agree with that, my friend. I think we should do it right now, tonight.”