Wednesday, June 13, 2012

Science in Fiction

Monochrome Signal

The Warning

She brings the message labeled topsy turvy autopsy to her screen. Of course it's another center role decree for ritual order, one that senses the new change in customers. It can't be anything else.

Surely nothing that has grown in its own intelligence and number outside theNetwork would arrive seeking center stage without holding some threshold of awareness. (yes, the good life that needs speed in all its iterations, right?)

Nothing else would do that. 

She approaches the warning with a sense of inner circle, sensing her own writer's hope as prey item (a sensation she could imagine the old captains-of-retreat in public news feeds would feel). 

It seems so urgent in its multiple triggers, rising as gap-toothed captions to retweet. 

Voices less furious would remain unknown due to the massive global white noises now in such prevalence--yes, and mistaken by theHumans as the true caregivers, the ones chosen to burn new hearts into old souls. 

It must be a signal chosen as singularity (by who?), with the surety and certainties of the old invasions of theJungle of the early 21stCentury (where were hints of where future streams will flow). 

Is it an exact datapop of a culture of learning beyond theHumans and killer whales, one to delete that which was and emerge anew with the new?

Each moment the signal presents itself as entity, one with a heart that beats so deep within shadows it's not possible to discern its true intent (is it specialized or, simply opportunistic), or even that it exists at all. 

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