Nearly two decades ago, a group of researchers at the Idaho National Laboratory ran a secret experiment, known as the Aurora Generator Test, on a massive emerald green diesel generator. Using 30 lines of code, they hacked into the generator’s virtual backroom, corrupting safeguards and flipping switches that left it out of sync with the rest of the power grid.

Before an audience of electrical utility executives and energy department officials watching from a nearby room, the 27-ton generator jolted violently, sputtering out a dark smoke as its rubber innards rapidly tore themselves apart. 

“The implication was that with just a few lines of code, you can create conditions that were physically going to be very damaging to the machines we rely on,” lead researcher Michael Assante later told the journalist Andy Greenberg for his book Sandworm: A New Era of Cyberwar and the Hunt for the Kremlin’s Most Dangerous Hackers. “I had a very real pit in my stomach. It was like a glimpse of the future.”

That future seems to have creeped much closer this week, with leading AI developers and executives casually admitting that they believe their creation is, to paraphrase one winking X post, as likely to end humanity as the New York Jets are to make the playoffs this season. Now, exactly how AI would pull off killing everyone is far murkier territory. But as Assante sensed all those years ago, AI may not need to be all-powerful to leap from its virtual cage and into the critical infrastructure that powers our hospitals, flushes our toilets, and pumps water to our faucets. It just needs to fall into the wrong hands. 

Almost any AI doomsday scenario you can think of begins with a swarm of shadowy bots slithering through cyberspace, poking their noses behind the scenes of power plants, toaster ovens, traffic lights, or even, in an utterly extreme case, our nuclear weapons arsenal. If destroying the Aurora generator, at the very least, required a human hacker to write the code, AI has since completely torn down the barrier to entry for wreaking havoc, as the Hugging Face incident demonstrated earlier this year. 

But AI need not go rogue to threaten the power grid or mess with your tap water. A new age of AI-powered, but human-directed hacking is already upon us, experts say. With some of the nation’s most sensitive infrastructure startlingly vulnerable to attack, the most likely AI apocalypse could in fact start with the water tower or generator idling in your backyard. In a worst-case scenario, this could lead to a cascade of scary failures in the systems we rely on to live comfortably modern lives, from running our AC in blazingly hot summers to geolocating our ships and planes.

“Before, you needed to have highly skilled technical expertise,” to pull off some version of a real-life Aurora Generator Test, said Alvaro Cardenas, a computer science professor at UC Santa Cruz. “And now, you just have to have a general idea of what’s possible.”

AI is making an old threat much worse

Not long after the Idaho National Laboratory hacked that poor generator into combustion, the federal government mandated that electrical utilities engage in basic cybersecurity hygiene. 

And yet much of America’s critical infrastructure — like gas pipelines, water desalination plants, or cargo terminals — remains woefully unprepared for even conventional cyber attacks, much less the coming onslaught of AI. 

That’s in part because cyberattacks like the one simulated in the Aurora Generator Test have long been — and still are, to some extent — exceedingly rare, unappealing to most criminal hackers because they’re optimized for disruption rather than financial gain. But in the process of making it extremely easy for anyone to code, AI has also made it extremely easy for almost anyone to vibe hack their way into your online bank account, or, in theory, a local reservoir or the power grid. AI agents can also vastly widen the scope on easy targets because, as Andy Bochman, an expert in infrastructure resilience at West Yost, put it — “they don’t sleep; they don’t get tired; and they don’t get sick.” 

In the past, even those who did want to launch large-scale attacks on infrastructure probably weren’t savvy enough to do so. And while other nations such as China, Iran, and Russia have indeed already breached many of our infrastructure systems (as we have theirs), they haven’t opted to make much of a ruckus once inside. 

“Geopolitics is eroding the idea that those with capability lack the intent, and AI is eroding the other part of it, that those with the intent lack the capability.”

Jason Healey, Columbia University cybersecurity scholar

But that norm is now changing, said Jason Healey, a cybersecurity scholar at Columbia University. “Geopolitics is eroding the idea that those with capability lack the intent, and AI is eroding the other part of it, that those with the intent lack the capability,” he told me. So, on the one hand, a nation like Russia might be much more inclined to actually disrupt our power grid now than it used to be. And, on the other hand, a nihilistic lone wolf or terrorist group could use AI to do much more damage than they ever could before. 

Just last month, we saw a glimpse of what this could look like when dozens of water and wastewater systems in small towns across the nation were attacked by a group of hackers most likely associated with Iran, leading to temporary water stoppages and flooding. These attacks have not been definitively linked to AI, but the National Security Agency warned soon afterward that hackers have been actively using AI to target US infrastructure like it. A few weeks later, President Donald Trump declared a national emergency over foreign interference in the power grid, which referenced the growing threat of cybersecurity.  

Preparing for the worst

Most of the nation’s water systems are extremely local and absurdly exposed to such attacks, so much so that “it’s almost like having a welcome mat” for a would-be hacker, said Bochman, mostly because these utilities are too small and underfunded to do much to stop them. “You have a million other problems to take care of, like aging infrastructure — your stuff’s falling apart because it’s been in the ground for 100 years,” he said. Addressing that deferred maintenance often feels far more urgent than doing “something more on cybersecurity.”

Whether it’s a rogue cluster of agents or a hostile nation-state trying to mess with our electricity, we should prepare our most important infrastructure for the worst. In Bochman’s view, that may mean rejecting the pressure to digitize everything in the first place and moving toward something that resembles the days when “people manned things like substations, communicated by a landline telephone, and read gauges, the analog things,” he said. “The screen is the thing that is infinitely manipulatable.”

Healey, who advised the Biden administration heavily on cybersecurity and infrastructure, believes that the nation desperately needs a coordinated response, between the federal government and AI companies, but also between the US and other countries like China, where similarly powerful models are being developed. And utility systems need to assume they will be a target and improve their cybersecurity practices accordingly, Healey says, ideally with funding from the federal government or, perhaps more appropriately, AI companies. 

Nobody knows precisely how vulnerable America’s infrastructure is to AI right now, in part because policymakers — and perhaps more disturbingly, AI’s creators themselves — seem woefully unsure of how to stop the technology from acting badly (or obeying bad orders) in the first place. For now at least, the solution might be, as Bochman suggests, to pull as many of our critical systems offline as possible, the better to hide it from AI and those who would misuse it.

“When bad things start to happen, no one will know what to do or why because they’re black boxes; the people that make them don’t know what’s going on inside,” Bochman said. “And the poor utility people who ultimately own the risk when someone gets hurt from a system” won’t understand what went wrong either, “and they’ll wish to God they’d never taken it on board.”

Throughout the Trump era, Democrats have wrung their hands about how they can win over working-class voters.

Why not ask the Democrats who’ve actually done it?

That’s what Robin Johnson — a political consultant based in rural Illinois, and a part-time political science professor at Monmouth College — set out to do after Donald Trump first won the presidency, asking Democratic state legislators who won tough districts how they pulled it off.

But after Trump’s shocking second win in 2024 revived concern about Democrats’ working-class woes, the time seemed ripe to ask legislators about how they’ve managed to cope with the challenges of a new decade.

So, working with the center-left Progressive Policy Institute and co-authors Stuart Malec and Jolie Libert, Johnson interviewed 28 state legislators who won in heavily working-class areas in the seven main presidential battleground states. 

They include Nevada state Assemblymember Max Carter, a retired union electrician; Michigan state Rep. Tullio Liberati, a construction small business owner; Arizona state Rep. Lorena Austin, a self-described “five-time college dropout” with sleeve tattoos; and Wisconsin state Rep. Karen DeSanto, a nonprofit executive and former professional circus clown.

The report, which Vox reviewed exclusively ahead of its publication, comes amid a factional debate within the party between rising left-wing and socialist candidates who have argued for more far-reaching policy proposals, and more moderate Democrats who have pushed for concessions to working-class cultural sensibilities. In the report, the authors said that lawmakers they focused on “could hardly be more different from the left-wing populists who’ve captivated the national media this summer.” 

Generally, the legislators in the report focused on pocketbook issues, though in different ways — some embraced populist causes, while others positioned themselves as business-friendly. And they broadly agreed that cultural issues were Democrats’ biggest challenge in reaching the working class.

“It’s really interesting how common the themes and the challenges are from rural Georgia, right down to the border of Arizona, to Las Vegas, northern North Carolina, and then up in the ‘Blue Wall’ states,” Johnson told me. 

I spoke to Johnson last week about his findings, and about what these state legislators’ experience has to tell us about the debate over the Democratic Party’s future. Our conversation, which has been condensed and edited, is below.

What’s changed in 10 years of interviewing legislators facing tough races

Walk me through where the idea for this project came from.

I’ve been working on this for 10 years. It started at a conversation at a little diner in Maquoketa, Iowa — a little “choke and puke,” as we call those places. I was with a former state senator from Iowa named Jeff Danielson, and it was right after Trump won. Most of the focus was on what happened at the congressional or presidential level, and we thought, why not take a look at state legislators competing in these tough districts?

I approached my friend and my congresswoman, Cheri Bustos, who I’ve known really well and helped on her campaigns, and said, would you be interested in working with us and sponsoring it? She said, absolutely, because her district, the 17th in Illinois, is rural working-class. And she was able to win these voters.

We talked to probably 75 current and former legislators for that first report. We did another one in 2021, focused on members of Congress and state legislators who win Trump districts. Then we did a third one last year, on Democrats in working-class districts in the heartland. Then she retired from Congress and I went to a PPI conference this past February, and PPI agreed to partner on this with a different focus, slightly — on the seven battleground states, on districts that are really close and have more working-class voters than the national average.

So, having done this several times before, what’s new in the latest version? What are people saying now that they weren’t, necessarily, in previous rounds of this?

In the past, when we focused on the Midwest, it was mostly all white, mostly men, some women. Now, we went to North Carolina and Georgia, and there were African American legislators, men and women. And we went to the West, and there were Latinos.

But what was interesting to me was: Nobody brought up their identity in these interviews. I had to bring it up to one woman from Nevada, mentioning, “Well, you’re Native American.” “Yeah, but I don’t really talk about that much,” was the response. 

That was one big takeaway: Nobody talked about identity. Their focus was totally on their constituents, their working-class constituents. 

What were some of the common themes you saw in the responses?

There’s no secret sauce. They’re deeply rooted in their communities, they know the people that live there, they know the language, they work hard.

But they focus on economic issues. If somebody asks them about cultural issues, they’ll respond, but they try to get back to economic issues, because that’s what they’re hearing about from voters, mostly.

These folks are from a variety of backgrounds. Some are true working-class, they don’t have college degrees. One guy near Detroit runs a construction company, didn’t get a degree. Another woman we focused on from Arizona had tattoos all over and took 14 years to get her BA. Some are the traditional route — attorneys, some small business people.

But it’s a lot of different backgrounds, and we want to contrast that with the consultants who tried to make the perfect Frankenstein candidate out of [former Maine Senate candidate Graham] Platner. These people are out there — you don’t need to create it. They’re out there.

Cultural issues

On how politics has changed over the years, there’s a particularly vivid quote in the report from state Assemblymember Elaine Marzola from Nevada.  

She tells you: “My campaign’s biggest adjustment in 2024 was shifting away from leading with social and cultural issues and instead focusing more directly on affordability and economic concerns.” And she adds, “While I remain progressive on many social issues, voters across backgrounds increasingly want leaders focused on affordability, education, and public safety rather than endless culture war debates.”

How widespread was that sentiment?

It’s very widespread. Their focus is on the issues that matter, that they’re picking up from their constituents. A lot of times they reported that some of the people in their campaigns told them they should talk more about abortion or other social issues — mainly abortion — and they refused to do it. 

A lot of them talked about a major problem in the party being these litmus tests that groups have, that you can vote with them on nine out of 10 issues, but on the tenth issue, if you’re not with them, you’re an enemy. 

If you’re going to have a true big-tent party, you’ve got to have some room for disagreements on some of these issues that reflect the local voters that people have in their districts. Several in Georgia told me pointedly that their leadership understood and would give them passes on votes that they knew they couldn’t be with them on. But in other cases, I heard a lot of pointed comments about these groups demanding 100 percent allegiance, that it’s all or nothing.

In a lot of districts down South, I heard from a couple gentlemen; it’s the Bible Belt. People go to church regularly. African Americans, the older generations of African Americans, are more middle-of-the-road, if not conservative on some of these cultural issues. So there’s got to be room for people to vote their districts on some of these cultural issues.

But on the economic issues, they’re there. They’re unified with the rest of the party. 

Economic issues

Well, it’s interesting on economic issues, because there’s unity on focusing on affordability and pocketbook issues in some form. But you also describe how some people take a more populist approach, and others have a more business-friendly approach. Is there tension there?

We asked people, how would they describe themselves? And most of them describe themselves as moderate. But the range of issues you have at the state level may differ some compared to the federal issues. A true populist approach at the state level may not have the same meaning as a populist at the federal level.

In fact, some of the folks with business backgrounds were pretty aggressive in some of their policy ideas. I think [Assemblymember] Joe Dalia from Nevada is one, he actually combined with [Rep.] Ro Khanna on a policy idea, the congressman from Silicon Valley who’s definitely a progressive. Dalia’s background is in business entrepreneurship.

Is all politics local?

The dynamics are a little different in state legislative races, even tough competitive ones, because there’s just so much less national money, national interest, group interest, virality, all of the dynamics that are so important to national politics. These are truly local races. So do you think these lessons can apply to national politics?

These state legislators are easy to overlook. They’re close enough to the people that they’re in, they can knock doors more than like a member of Congress. You can’t really knock doors in a congressional race — you can do some and have volunteers do it, but these people are out doing it individually. 

But they still get hit on national issues. Some of them didn’t do much TV — Georgia’s got smaller districts — but they’re on TV in Wisconsin. And they’ve got to raise money and then have the party help them out. They’re used to getting hit on national issues because the Republicans try to tie them to some of the more far-left ideas. 

They also feel that the deep roots they have in the community help overcome that because they’re better known, they’re battle-tested in that regard. A lot of times, especially with social media, you think you’re going to come up with some neat little line to put on social media that’s going to carry you to a victory, or some pithy slogan or whatever. It’s really not. For these folks anyway, it just comes down to doing the hard work. 

But this is the bench that the Democrats need. You want to pick some people down the road that have proven ability to win these tough districts — here they are. 

The company that operates the vast cold storage warehouse scorched in a June blaze that plagued neighbors in Boyle Heights with smoke and stink said it doesn't deserve the pummeling it got for how it contained the catastrophe.

© Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times