Aurora.base.eth (ironmade)

#ZamaCreatorProgram @Zama_fhe @zama Part 1 Sherlock Holmes sat still in his chair. His eyes were fixed on one spot. From the pipe in his mouth, which he seemed to have forgotten about, a thin stream of smoke slowly drifted out, filling the room on Baker Street with the strong smell of tobacco. Outside the window, it was already getting dark, and not even cabs were passing the apartment at 221B. On Holmes’s knees lay a letter with a large letter "Z" made from three crossed sabers, which gave it a dark and mysterious look. “You know, Watson. This letter doesn’t let me rest. Ever since last night, when a tramp slipped it under our door, I can’t stop thinking about it. And, I swear by the late Prince Consort, I can’t make sense of it. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such a hard puzzle.” Holmes seemed to be talking to himself without moving at all. Doctor Watson, sitting in the other chair closer to the fireplace, peeked out from behind the newspaper he had been reading with full attention. The firelight shone on the glasses low on his nose. Watson’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Still nothing?” His voice showed real surprise. “That’s not like you, my dear Holmes.” Holmes gave his friend an annoyed look. The sharp remark finally brought him out of his deep thought. He carelessly put the unlucky envelope on the table, took the pipe from his mouth, stood up, and walked to the window. “No, nothing,” the detective said with open frustration. “This code is not like any encryption I know. Not even close.” Holmes watched the raindrops slide down the glass. “You know, Sherlock, maybe you should get some help.” Holmes gave his friend another displeased look. “Who could help me? Those useless people from Scotland Yard? They can’t even understand a report they wrote themselves.” Holmes snorted. “Let me finish,” Watson narrowed his eyes. “Today’s Times said a cryptographer from Paris arrived in London. I think his name is Paillier . And he…” Holmes’s eyes went wide. He quickly turned his head toward Watson’s chair. “Doctor Pailler in London!? And you didn’t say anything!?” Holmes jumped to the chair and pulled the newspaper out of his friend’s hands. Watson, surprised by the sudden change in Holmes, just looked at him. “Page 7.” Holmes quickly found the page. Among the small notes, he soon spotted the right one. It said: “Famous Parisian cryptographer, winner of the "Best Paper Award", Pascal Pailler, arrived today at Waterloo Station to give a talk on Fully Homomorphic Encryption, which will take place tomorrow at noon at Burlington House. Doctor Pailler is staying at the Athenaeum Club.” “This is it! Exactly what I need! Incredible luck!” Holmes said happily. In two quick steps, he reached the phone and picked up the receiver. “Operator, connect me to the Athenaeum Club right now!” After a short pause: “Hello, this is Sherlock Holmes! Please tell Doctor Pailler that we need to meet as soon as possible!” Part 2 Sherlock Holmes was pacing the room with long steps. “Calm down, Holmes. He is only three minutes late,” said Doctor Watson, hiding his watch on a long chain in his pocket. Holmes did not react to his friend’s remark, continuing to walk nervously around the sitting room. Suddenly, the sharp ring of the doorbell cut through the tension in the room. Holmes froze mid-step, throwing a worried glance at Watson. The doctor only smiled and went to the front door. A minute later a tall man of middle age appeared in the doorway of the sitting room, wearing an elegant coat and a beret. In his hands, he held a heavy bag. The stranger gave the room a quick, curious look, stopping his gaze on Holmes. “Doctor Paillé! Glad to welcome you! My name is Sherlock Holmes.” the detective quickly stepped toward the stranger. “Pascal Paillé. Pleased to meet you, Monsieur Holmes,” said the Frenchman with a slight bow. His accent showed a Parisian through and through. “Would you like a glass of sherry?” offered Watson, already pouring a glass. “Thank you, Doctor. I have very little time. In an hour I am expected at Burlington House. I am giving a lecture on Fully Homomorphic Encryption - an innovative encryption system that changes the very idea of cryptography. And I really dont watn to be late,” Paillé smiled charmingly. “So I would prefer to get straight to the point.” “Of course!” Holmes took the guest by the arm and led him to the table where the letter lay. “In our phone conversation, you mentioned that you had trouble decoding some message,” began the cryptographer, putting on glasses in a thin gold frame. “That’s right,” Holmes tensed. “The day before yesterday we received an encrypted letter. I have every reason to think it could have been sent by a new criminal group working in West London. I spent almost two days trying to decode it, but without success.” The detective pushed the letter closer to Professor Paillé. “Very interesting. Let me take a look,” the professor put his bag on a chair, opened it, took out tweezers, and carefully lifted the letter by the corner. “This is a matter of state importance, and if the message is not decoded - not only my reputation, but the existence of the entire British Empire could be in danger!” Pascal lifted his eyes from the letter he was examining against the light and looked seriously into Holmes’s eyes. “I understand,” he said, once again reaching into the bag and taking out a large magnifying glass. Laying the letter on the table, he began to examine every square inch carefully, making notes in a notebook with large sweeping handwriting. “…fonction… opération… sans ouvrir… fascinant…” the professor’s lips barely moved, the words were hard to catch. Holmes and Watson stood in complete silence, watching Doctor Paillé at work. Suddenly, straightening up, the professor looked at the detective with wide-open eyes. “C'est excellent!” he said, taking a silver cigarette case from his pocket. “I think I can help you, Monsieur Holmes,” he said with a boyish smile, lighting a cigarette. “But first tell me - do you know anything about a project called ZAMA?” Part 3 Holmes slowly walked up to the table and ran his finger over the letter Z, as if hoping to merge with the letter and in this way grasp its hidden meaning. Watson silently watched him. “ZAMA project… to be honest, I hear about it for the first time. What is so special about it, and how is it connected with the letter?” He raised his eyes to the professor. “What is special? Everything!” Paillier’s eyes sparkled with the passion of an obsessed man. “I will not hide it - I am extremely surprised how the person who wrote this letter has such knowledge. But I will say one thing – if the developments of Zama have fallen into the hands of criminals, it is not only your reputation, or the Crown of the British Empire, that is at risk - the whole European continent is in danger!” Holmes, without taking his eyes off the professor, stopped lighting his pipe and raised his eyebrows in surprise. “C'est exactement ça! Zama is a development of the French secret services. Absolutely classified. I am the lead curator and scientific adviser. We developed a universal cipher - Fully Homomorphic Encryption, which allows access to any encrypted data without decrypting the text itself.” Sherlock listened carefully to the professor. “How can that be possible? How can you access data without knowing the cipher?” “Exactly like I will do now with this letter!” Pascal Paillier reached into his bag and took out a strange device, somewhat resembling an open book covered with copper gears. “The cipher of this letter is like an encrypted key inside encrypted text. Without understanding homomorphic properties it cannot be decoded. This same technology is at the core of the Zama project. All codes of the world will become useless. Anyone who owns this method can control other people’s secrets without touching them. This is not a cipher. This is - power!” The professor carefully placed the device on top of the letter and clicked a switch. The gears started to move. “This is the Homomorphic Decryptor, developed by me based on the FHE source code. At the moment - it is the only machine able to decode such a code.” The professor let out a thin stream of smoke. Sherlock Holmes came close to the device and began to examine it through a magnifying glass. “Amazing. I have never heard of anything like this.” The detective straightened up. “What you have told us, professor, is truly revolutionary. This will definitely change the rules of the game,” he said, looking thoughtfully at the table. “But how long must we wait for the results of the decryption?” “I think not long,” the professor bent over the machine and began turning small valves under the indicators, which lit up green one after another. One by one the turning gears began to stop, and within a few seconds the last gear froze, and the mysterious device let out a quiet high whistle, like the sound of a train. “All is ready,” whispered Professor Paillier, glancing at Holmes. The detective’s lips pressed together, forming a thin line. The professor carefully took the copper handles on the sides of the device, slowly lifted it and turned it over. All eyes in the room fixed on the smooth white screen, where shone a single phrase -“WEN TGE”. “Good heavens. What is this supposed to mean?” Watson breathed out in amazement. Holmes and Paillier exchanged puzzled looks. “Are you sure of the decryption results, professor?” “Absolutely.” Holmes released a cloud of bluish smoke and looked at his friend. “Well then, my dear Watson. That is what we have to find out.”

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Did you know that winter has its own scent? It smells like quiet miracles and half-forgotten fairy tales ❄️✨ Winter dresses the world in white so we can begin again from a clean page, lighter in heart and braver in hope. May this season bring you fresh starts, gentle wonders, and a little magic tucked into every day 🤍🌨️

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