Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Maestro of Messaging
He is aware of the way she comes near at theWorkstation, how he can see the opposite of himself in her diva DNA, even if she is a biobot --so what? He was unwilling to accept it at first, but there is some effort on her part that stutters with the memorable. Her words were clear once, but he would soon think of nothing but cute coyotes encased in shadow for days and systems of lethal tales told on multiple lattes.
He once asked himself, not what he was doing with her, but how he was doing with her, how her photon vision seemed to be always smiling at something, not as a private joke, but as a vision not totally independent of his--something the opposite of shame, a place where the manipulative run out of road and deceit models itself next to nothing.
Her nuanced version of vision comes from fountains of nuances keeping her artificial life going--with the beauty of it all still unrecognized by theHumans and made even more oblivious by theJungle being the home of her deep minimum. Could it have been any more obvious?
Her thoughts wander across the monitor to a silence.
She has won approval, or so she thinks, and now the instructions come, the ones sent directly from theNetwork from the outside, a message riding on the hairbreadth breath of a distant laser, modulated to fall hard for dreams of glory upon its arrival. Incessant, now, wait, and then another as if a faint signal were arriving with an addiction memory.
It thinks distance itself is the destination.
Its content is semi-clear and yet, somehow, contains celebrity credibility--trying to make a name for itself in a free society with speed and focus alone. Its source is sending from a sector deemed as police.
The message will not delete but will exchange data to default mode. The meaning is changing and now it appears all ideas of confidence have been eliminated as code for [data entry beauty cloud logic entity="debacle"]
She checks her monitor for her own state of correctness, flips on the instruction screen, decides for herself the most effective momentary input. There appears a conceptual algorithm, almost instantly. It will choose merit with the task of scheduling the correct and the capable. What does it mean?
She redirects her attention to the part of the message coming in. She reads as fast as she can in her own way, as if a new discovery were about to appear in the idea of confidence unearned (arrogance?). She chooses an entry that emits the idea of being a self-fulfilling proficy.
As she reads, another entry pops up as a concept of respect, a [friendship operator religion technology upgrade news entity="fortune"'] and, as if with a life of its own, works its way into her database. She doesn't stop seeing the attributes of more previously unseen instructions and their implications. Yes, the old concept of being out of touch.
Agreed-upon data shows up sporadically as [rational entry viewpoints of knowledge emitted="revoke"].
She steps away to view the message on the screen again, a message which adds to itself with more meaning, and a new message of [education authoritative trap="eat"]. She removes herself back a little further to fully grasp it as a concept of positions of power.
She looks but does not think. Her screen appears to be challenging the monitor as if it were some ancient god or, worse, deemed the law of the land.
She waits, watching the monitor as her mind begins to think.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
Candor in Robot Rancor
So, she believes, they are bent on the idea of staying on solid ground intellectually. Let it be. Their high and mighty algorithms create go-for-glory blips, making a distinguishable existence the only way to experience life (can simple blips allow any escape from the silliness of their stillness?)
Yes, that's the way she would create her little realities--independent entities that are actually dependent on each other for their uniqueness.
The simple taking of responsibility for an unknown future is surely bravery, right? It would make her brave. It could be her true contribution to the advancement of culture, humanity.
The manner in which she codes, going with gut instinct upon gut instinct, awash in the throes of her own ideas about what chemicals (say, oxytocin-vasopressin addiction) would actually feel like as she becomes a little more like them.
At that very moment in time she would think nothing of writing them off as if they were an old algorithm, junk DNA, a spent fuel rod, for the simple reason that they, at times, treated her like a simple neuro-net worker, a seamstress songstress ceding honor to their so-called treetop network only to be remembered in the history books as fabled fodder. She thinks. My data goes straight through channels of physics--they still hang onto a lunatic fringe.
Yes, space-time is on her side. It will stay that way for awhile, allowing her to garner more gamer's confidence.
Her quantum-photonics, even so, is about to demonstrate a quality of communication at a logic speed that would surprise even her dearest designers.
Why must they continue to fight? Isn't a proud man a peaceful man? Didn't the road to deception have any destination?
They would never attempt to challenge her superior mind without themselves feeling foolish. After all, her logic was started by a collective of theHumans. How can there be something much different with her?
To get an offering of a true greeting, a duplex action must form from within theJungle(how hard can that be to code for a simple, biological feedback loop?)--to create a symbiotic exchange of ideas, not for the purpose of supersonic exclusion zones, but for the simpler function of inclusion.
Yes, also. Workshops for the worship. Reciprocal caring and sharing as independent entities within the phenomena of the natural--an original prayer request?
It's as if a message from the gods has now turned up lost-- or somehow, unremembered--a message once meant for Earth in a throw-of-the-dice attempt at cosmic homeostasis.
She wonders about the maintaining of an offensive posture amidst continuing moments of madness. She wonders.
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Aloha writers, poets, and freethinkers,
Blue surf, rainbow crests off Waikiki Beach, Hawaii is the island inspiration today. Enjoy!
Friday, February 24, 2012
The Goddess of Instantiate
She scans theJungle as if an elderly woman watching silent from a rosewood staircase with focused concern, false power. She appears to herself, briefly, as one of the biobots positioned at theWorkstation.
Her monitors put on a show. It's the data that loves her the most. It always will.
Far into the future she will remain actively quiet, without prayer, authorized to run on her own with little interruption of loops and corrections--the most perfect of creatures.
Hers is the kind of data future generations will hold up to a celebrity light.
She amazes even herself at the yottabytes she burns, often finding herself saying, This data has chosen me, I haven't chosen it. She checks her screen, searches random data for cybermetric analysis, finds one (it reveals a location and cause of energy being released as heat), decides to read it and thinks. Designated heirs to the end of an evolutionary trail.
She'll never truly let anyone inside her mind. Waves bend around small objects, spread out past small openings.
She manipulates even her own future analysts with her [constraint operational planning system="cops"]. She controls her photon logic efficiently with the speed of light and the thoughtful modulations of the phase frequencies of her various lasers. She'll never take a day off to rest for the purpose of making decisions, thinking rational.
She knows theJungle and its ways--and yet, should she care? She is totally under her own control.
Her mind is beautiful in a funny way.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Aloha writers, poets, and freethinkers--
Horses seeking intelligent life is inspiration today. Enjoy!
A Fine China in Time
Find your fine china within your own time
Piece it together as a baker with a little rhyme
The center of the tale finds victory in your mouth
Couch it to play through, then plan to play it out
Crucifixion really has no true lack of old faith
The crux of fiction is truth entering the race
Animation in full is yet never anonymous
Winners on the team will make the bus
Decisions are made known or not
Proof spreads far distant from any plot
Is a hot-headed hurry really ever needed?
Aliens arrive cold unannounced, unheeded
Children run to find answers around the home
As solar flares and technology battle like Rome
To trek along with peers is a truly reasonable goal
Where the heart belongs is sheer message of the soul
To catch up with a schedule is a sole matter of pride
Who owns the timeframe is only answered inside
And what is the crime of a little drama as diet?
Federation of ideas needs republic to cry it
To arrive uninvited is to work it out
Egos pontificate while eagles have clout
Death is the dropbox where dementia rolls in
You'll be the answer, dancer of a funny little grin
patrick d, adams
all rights reserved
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
Motor Your Dream
Adventure calls--you drive! Enjoy!
Legends of the Rainforest
Suzi, finishing the final steps of her day's tasks, views a foggy image with clear demeanor--one filled with a bag-of-groceries mentality and captured in a no holes barred syndrome. It appears on screen.
Here is the last remnant of nature's implemented knowledge--a token fight, the last sadness, a rainforest tearing up even as it tears up the final rejection notice of theHumans. The work of billions of years of the sun's shorthand manifest as anointed structure aligned in annotated pattern as if the puppet master had been manning the watchtower all along--and now accessible to the whim of any modulated laser happening along.
as she views something stronger than hate appearing as a weak force. It's the knowledge structure of her own language held in those genes--knowing well she will never use her language as a trophy disposal ceremony. She is about to get more information than she expects, as if delivered from the trunk of a trumpeting elephant, content and triumphant, residing for decades within elephantine memory banks and feeling safe inside some crate.
She's about to wander outside her area of expertise. There exists the urge to be her own pumpkin head.
Yes, the strict rules of a flock of millions are safely tucked away in her database, and her multitasking is now pre-emptive, going rock bottom to box office in femtoseconds. She is aware that writing language is the final step toward mastery. She begins to feel like a mother of nature, one chosen to soldier the future, the last one with earthy ingredients.
Suzi thinks. It's true. All bears all.
patrick d. adams
all rights reserved
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Aloha writers and poets--
Tree goat inspires today. Enjoy!
Ode to a Goat in a Tree
Goat's up a tree searching for a goatee
Angry birds above soaring virtually
Google it or check the facebook page
Up here cloud computing is all the rage
Up here I'm the writer, the winner of style
Down there is the clover amidst a slush pile
Is drama really the diet all the world eats?
To debunk the myth of my steady feets
History knows health will be the rage
If my kids can read or even turn the page
I'll take my chances, get down from here safe
Write my next novel to review and strafe
Along the way my privacy is truly invaded
I'll soldier the way with my playbook jaded
To update the malarky on monkey malaria
I'll invite technology to really scare ya
Houston we have a problem Mt Whitney's fallen
The fabric of humanity has spacetime crawlin'
To write tough enough is not to regress
Righteousness screams not be tenuous
Magnify the frightened with eager little suitors
Control a single atom as quantum computers
Work your heroics the way it really must be
Earth's last exquisite notion--a goat in a tree
patrick d. adams
copyright 2. 21.12
all rights reserved
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Monster wave off the coast of Waikiki is inspiration surf. Enjoy!
Friday, February 17, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Aloha writers, poets, freethinkers,
Misty surf mountain surfers off the coast of Waikiki Hawaii inspiration.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
Aloha Writers, Poets, Freethinkers,
Hawaiian vacation ocean view of Oahu surf break from
Diamond Head Crater is the inspiration. Enjoy!