Week Six

The Mill, Part I

Friend, relative, and fellow writer, Sam Butcher, sent me this photo as a writing prompt. 

Someone once told me, during a gold rush, sell shovels. So when the Bitcoin/cryptocurrency fad took off, I decided not to invest in them. Instead, I built super-computers called "mining rigs" that harvested the digital currency. At the time, it seemed like a good idea. Build a few computers. Sell them to a few people. Make some money. And maybe, if I had time, I'd build one for myself. 

Here's how cryptomining works: much like the US dollar, you can only receive a piece of cryptocurrency by providing goods and services. After all, if they just handed them out, the currency would be worthless. There needs to be some sort of action that results in the awarding of a Bitcoin, or Ethereum, or Zcash, or whatever the crypto du jour is. So the way to "earn" cryptocurrency aside from just buying one is to "mine" it. 

So how you do you mine something that's digital? Well - and this is the dumbed down version - you need a computer to solve a very difficult math problem. If it solves the problem, you get a piece of cryptocurrency. And these problems are tough. Your laptop won't be able to find the solution to these problems, at least not in a timely fashion. As a result, people realized that if you have a very powerful computer, you can solve these problems much quicker which results in more cryptocurrency.

Still following me? Great.

Now, how do you build a mining rig? To build a successful one - or, at least, a profitable one - you need to use high-end graphics processing units (GPUs) that are capable of performing millions and billions of computations per second. These will then take the cryptocurrency problems and find solutions quickly. The speed of which is called a "hashrate." Higher numbers = speedier solutions. Speedier solutions = more cryptocurrency. 

The problem, or should I say "problems," with these GPUs is that they draw a tremendous amount of energy and as a result, they get very hot. "Good" mining rigs will have upwards of 6 of these bad boys running at a time. So not only will a mining rig destroy your electricity bill, but you need a serious cooling system to make sure they don't overheat. It comes down to finding a balance - your rig needs to be as quick as possible but not so quick that it draws too much energy and you lose money with high electric bills. This is why cryptomining is so popular in cold places like Iceland where they don't need to expend a lot of energy to cool off their rigs. Adding to all these difficulties, it's becoming increasingly harder to find GPUs that aren't marked up by some insane margin. 

All set? Still following? Cool, cryptomining 101 is over. 

I'd made a few rigs, sold some to friends, and watched as they started making hundreds if not thousands of dollars every month just by having their rigs run in the background. And when the cryptocurrency boom happened in late 2017, these numbers exploded as well. So it was time for me to dip my toe in the pond.

I named my rig Wintermute after an AI character in William Gibson's Neuromancer. The difference between Wintermute and the other rigs I built in the past was that I'd be using my 20 years of computer programming knowledge to Frankenstein 8 current GPUs so they'd hyperclock - they'd push my hashrates to incredible numbers while lapping the hashrates of standard NVIDIAs or AMDs. I based the chip programming on swarm intelligence, which saved time on duplicate functions, and allowed for the processing power to concentrate on new solutions.

Think of it like this: one bird flies in a direction and the others follow. By following, they form patterns that ripple out to the rest of the birds. This hive mind becomes - basically - a single organism that can evolve based on conditions. It gets interesting when you consider that each of those birds follows very simple rules, and there's no governing body telling the individual birds how to move. This leads the birds to develop intelligent global behavior which is unknown to each individual bird.

Translate those birds to billions of computer algorithms and you get a flock of them concentrating on finding the solution without needing to waste time doing duplicate functions. So while your top-end miner without my proprietary swarm intelligence programming was getting a hashrate of 32 MH/s, Wintermute was pulling in 66 MH/s and not drawing anymore power than slower rigs.

The cryptomining community is welcoming, but when someone discovers a way to increase their hashrates by a point or two, they usually keep it to themselves. It's greedy, but having a quicker computer means you're taking that bit of cryptocurrency away from someone on a slower computer. Still, I couldn't help but brag a bit. Anonymously, I made a post to a message board indicating my hashrates. Calls of "bullshit" turned to calls of "genius" once I posted a copy of my mining log.

Still, Wintermute worked like a charm. I was pulling in around $900/month after paying my electric bill, and managed to throw that cash back into building duplicates of Wintermute. Six rigs in, and I was quickly running out of room and air conditioning.

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The Peabody Mill was one of thousands of textile mills that dotted the New England landscape. Some of these were redeveloped into luxury condos, malls, or office spaces. Others, like the Peabody, fell into decay and became makeshift houses for the homeless, druggies, and wild animals. I'd first learned of the Peabody Mill when a friend and urban exploration enthusiast brought me through it. To him, it was just a stone building with graffiti and rotting wood beams. To me, it was perfect. 

In one of the many oversights of our town's infrastructure and electrical grid, they never managed to turn off the power to the mill. But, since no one had actually used power at the mill in over two decades, it never showed up on any spreadsheets.

Free energy.

Plus, the mill was close enough to our downtown that I could pick up unsecured wifi from a local business. And once I realized this, and felt how cool the brick and stone walls kept the building - even in the summer - I knew the mill was about to become the best place to run and store Wintermute 1 - 6. 

I got to work on building a steel room with a triple locked door. A couple of welds, some high capacity fans, proper ventilation ducts, rubber seals to keep out flood waters and river rats, and I was ready to put it into the basement of the mill under the cover of night. Installing it was easy, and it was so deep and out of the way, that no one would ever know it was there. Plus, I ran the entire system on a Virtual Private Network (VPN) which made it look like all of Wintermute's internet usage was coming from somewhere in Montana. And even if someone did find it, they'd need an acetylene torch to get in.

Every two days, I'd stop by the mill and download my earnings to a digital removable wallet. This way, if I were hacked, or the machines were destroyed, I'd only lose two days worth of cash. At the end of the first month, I'd pocketed a little over $6,000 with almost no overhead outside of the original rigs and the steel box. The next month, I made another $8,000. If this kept up, I'd clear $100,000+ by the end of the year. I was practically printing money.

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My Saturday night was all planned out. I'd head to the Mill, download my latest earnings, and then head to dinner with friends. Having spent the better part of five months in my garage and a moldy mill, I was looking forward to a fancy night out. I bought a new dress for the occasion, bought some heels that added significant height to my 5'5" frame, and managed to look like a respectable human being for the first time in years. It's nice having some extra cash in your bank account.

Yes, I had to go to the Mill first. And because in my haste to leave my house, I'd forgotten a change of shoes, I'd have to slog through dirt and debris in my brand new shoes. Slightly bad planning on my part. But, I didn't want to head to the Mill after my evening was done. It'd be too dark, and I was planning on drinking a little more than necessary. Also, I'd missed yesterday's wallet download and I didn't want to go any more days without grabbing it.

I parked my car about a quarter of a mile down the road from the Mill. Best not to make anyone suspicious that there were strange things afoot. Of course, seeing a woman in a cocktail dress walking down the side of the road at dusk near a dilapidated building would probably set off a few alarms in the heads of the conservative citizens of my antique New England town.

The Mill was quiet. And having walked the path dozens of times since I installed Wintermute, I knew where I was going - even in the fading light. But once I got to the steel room that held Wintermute, I realized something was not right. The walls had been cut open, all six of my rigs were torn apart, and the motherboards were missing. Stranger still, the GPUs - the most expensive parts of the rigs - were still there. Maybe it was just some teenagers who needed to fulfill their strange desires to destroy things. Maybe it was some junkies who needed to sell something quick to get their fix. But what really concerned me was the methodical way they cut through the wall. Teenagers and junkies don't normally carry around angle grinders.

I couldn't call the cops, because even though cryptomining is not illegal, the whole "trespassing" business would land me in hot water. So, I took stock of everything. Cleaned it up as best I could, and walked out of the box with the intention to spend the next few days reprogramming new motherboards. And, figuring out a way to better secure Wintermute.

One step out into the basement and I felt it. Right into my back. Pressed hard up against the silk of my stupidly expensive dress. And having never been in this situation before, I was surprised I knew exactly what it was. A gun.

To Be Continued...