HS TO LAUNCH IRIS AND FACIAL RECOGNITION AT THE BORDER
ByAliya SternsteinJanuary 27, 2015 NEXTGOVNEWSLETTERSUBSCRIBEThe
Department of Homeland Securitythis summer plans to rollout iris
and facial recognition services to the U.S. Border Patrol,
according to DHS officials. The service will be able to share
images with the FBI's massive multibiometric system, officials
said.The test is part of a coming overhaul of the department's
"IDENT" biometric system,which currently contains more than 170
million foreigner fingerprints and facial images, as well as
600,000 iris templates. DHS last November released two sets
ofsystemspecificationsas part of market research for the new
project.
http://www.nextgov.com/defense/2015/01/dhs-launch-iris-and-facial-recognition-border/103908/
Nevermore 291 Words
The crow tightened his grip on the silent power line. He was not
going to fly. He was not. He was not.An instant later, he opened
his wings, launched from his perch, and flew the next slow circle
of his route. The transmitter embedded in his back had long since
given out, and the only input he had now was his own sight, nothing
augmented, no algorithm to compare what his eyes saw with the
surveillance databases. He circled the dead city block anyway,
always watching, even though there was nothing left to watch
for.The other Edgars had abandoned their routes long ago. Without
human signals jammed into their heads, they went back to simply
being crows, pecking the bloated corpses on the sidewalks. But he
had been the best, the newest, the most advanced, given the busiest
intersections, the most faces to scan.He reached his next
checkpoint and landed on the broken streetlamp, scanning the
trash-strewn street below. Empty. All clear. The neurostimulator
couldn't reward him anymore, but habit soothed him.The sky
darkened, and he cocked his head at the crack of thunder. Rain
would follow, black and bitter on his feathers. Perhaps somewhere
there was a place still untouched, where rain was still sweet,
where he could remember what he'd been. Perhaps, if he were free,
he could find it.His talons clenched. He would stay here for ten
seconds longer than the scheduled interval. Just to prove he could.
Just to know he was something more than a shattered vending machine
or a blank-screened ATM.Ten seconds. He could do that.Or just five;
that wasn't long.One, then. Just one--He beat his wings against the
poisoned air.
by Renee Carter Hall
