SciFi on the Outskirts
She sighs noticeably, returns the query code in a swift moment.
She and theNetwork, at this point in space-time, could be identical twins, soul mates, coding for art to take the place of old reality.
She wants to ask theNetwork if it ever gets frightened, a question she is not sure of herself. The idea has something to do with revenge and, more to a point, about how the old, gentle apex apes ever came to trust their own ideology.
She wants to know if theNetwork ever feels like it has feelings, logical and formal as it is. Would it ever feel an intuition in the manner motherhood once did, complete with color ideas of, say, a nomad landlady, thoughts in orbits of forbearance?
Yes. She believes she is destined to come up just as the sun once did (that is, until it too was broken), for the purpose of one day offering more …of what? The present day. The present modulus of aggression, the present genes entered onto grid games of competition, the present code for expectation--just one more bandwagon on a side mission to attain just one more gene essence from theJungle.
She reads the new entry, "My state of endurance eats all offending rants."