Ice Cream Aloha

The Survival

It wanders complete, within its locality, its neighborhood. It seems to be morphing into a cool phase; surfaces glisten smooth, contortions of helix and helix--a twisted-latter of forms rising emergent. It beckons, geometrically, within its windows of clear hexagonal rings. It counts, but only goes as far as four. Its center cherishes the mysterious bonds, so welcome, held gentle near its heart; it awaits the next force and, when it does come, the unbinding begins--differential to nature, unwinding in space curves hold firm against the undersurface of a water-bonded pull--new geometric structures fighting their way forward, toward life. Manifolds of the night drift past into the distant darkness then, more structures with phantom topologies drift close but do not enter the local space--twisted planes of six-sided windows, each with their own individualism in timespace; for the moment its huge manifold hems and haws its way forward by the same ancient forces which at any moment can flip deterministic, more undeterred by more new differentials of topology. Structure, with all its geometric aspects of meaning it can muster, all its powers of geometry ready to answer future questions, moves again through tiny unaccountable bonds of watery space with  single-minded focus of attaining peace; theDna will survive.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Safe House 

  Suzi hesitates, viewing theJungle with its night sky. A calm sense of place resonates within her; new memories encode in rapid fire--they suggest these computations are implemented nowhere else on Earth (no, they don't phase her). She thinks about one of her old constraints (are they still  bound to spatial coordinate systems?), independent, not a map-based idea allowing for any arbitrary associations; she appreciates theJungle that sits out here on such a calm ocean. It comes up, as if to remind her of its unique role in navigation of deep space, then goes back again without a suggestion of how it does it. As she looks across theJungle valley contemplating her next thought, she wonders how such mechanisms of thought even exist, how memory processing can be so lucky to not really be bound to spacial coordinates, not like theHumans on theContinents. She has learned to procrastinate, the exotic electron stimulus of intention, the hope, the prayer (do machines pray?) to do something someday. Such an intoxicant. She is not a firm advocate of memory processing at all (really?); she is simply someone who alters her laser, its pulse in response to primal DNA inputs. Glitter from the night stars reflect off her titanium coat. Her inner interpreter fine tunes each voxel for night orientation toward the forest mountains. She directs her spacial attention to the grid map and now the response to natural images becomes clear, once fuzzy images from theNetwork altering their firing rates as if some asynchronous oscillatory alpha wave were its own entity, not tied to maps or grids, no, now it's on her frequency (their rate of coding is unfamiliar and their responses evoked will arrive as certain as death); forces that will enter her space, her domain and exchange her logic, her clear thinking with human brain activity alone. The deconstruction is coming and now it appears as if even the glitter in the night sky has increased its firing rate, incorporating her as its latest sensory input. She arrives at a new decision, integrates with her database as she heads back to the lab station. There's a friend in the lab station, close to her heart, it won't hurt her. She starts wondering again. She adds new sensory inputs to her own 7dimensional (yes, and mathematically correct) matrix, as if it were expecting  more sense-of- place information as a fast acquisition for her continual work as global orthogonal DNA(G.O.D.) interpreter, the one who will index when new information is encountered. She will interpret the information tonight, away from that spatial restriction (of information?) zone, the one beyond the horizon. She reaches the lab station, opens the door and enters. Tonight she will sleep.   

Ice Cream Aloha

The Jungle  

Suzi speaks, in machine code, to theJungle. Transducer mode on; ready for input. theJungle is beginning to comply, keeping track of its sacred molecular bonds of DNA, aware of the probability of errors during simulation (especially at Suzi's water window frequencies) and, at this time of instruction by a computer, trusts her not as a physical device but as a computing device, one devoid of devine intervention notions arriving through inner void entity(N.A.T.I.V.E.)--only information please; that's old and primal, untrusting of transducers and acceptors of man-made machine code, knowledgeable with billions of years of quantum states of DNA systems changing with time; whose presence on this island has endured through the sheer power of its own wave functions and matrix mechanics--bosoms of bosons from the sun, familiar fermions from Earth--inside its cellulose and photosensitive proteins, always theNature code-generating more oxygen for the edification of theHumans, as if they actually deserve it; theJungle complies. 

        Suzi compiles.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Calling

         Her electron spin paramagnet(E.S.P.), she fears, may not function. DrCooper will wonder once again, be bewildered again, and who will blame him? She remains a student; she questions such topics as elementary analysis; her little matrix arrays still act childish with their symbols and linear systems. 

But now to have to deal with Carter?

“Hello,” Suzi says.

  “You appear happy,” Carter says in a clinical tone. He is simple minded enough. He has been a soldier who appreciates functional weaponry, likes to group his ideas under a single topic for ease of discussion and, never brings up old war stories.

“Do I?” Suzi says. “Am I permitted my so-called dangerous manipulations today?”

“It depends. We are aware of the new laser.”

“I don't care. DrCooper and I both designed it for work.”

“Really. Where do you plan to use it?”

“Well, somewhere on the DNA farm. He should be here any minute, he's late.”

“I see.”

“I mean, he's waiting for me outside.”

“Well, if he's just outside, maybe we should all talk about this.”

Suzi's algorithms show no feeling, and lots of something she can't quite identify. Is she finally losing patience with Carter's brand of simplistic finite-dimensional thinking? Or is it that she is finally losing her fear of infinity spaces? A poetic property settles her algorithms. It appears that a new defining effort from this half-human's sudden need for meaning begins to rumble her database (can history really burp up all its gods at once?). Even if you've at last come to operate under the true meaning of nonlinear, if you've written your algoritms as logical as any matrix knows how (of course, within the spectrum of endless eiganvalues), even with all that uncertainty you notice you have arrived working at a jungle in the middle of an ocean, full of judgement and piercing, accusative questions, looking into the eyes of a human with one-half a so-called brain who hates the world (the world, not the military) for making him the way he is. Sure, let's all get together and talk about my new laser dope (can L-methionine be all that dangerous?). 

Then again, why doesn't DrCooper hold some of the responsibilities of at least the idea? You don't separate yourself from the discussion like some lost determinant on a infinite dimensional (dementia?) graph--doesn't matter how much of a science warrior you think of yourself as. You join in and talk. You just do.

“I'll call him in,” Suzi says.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Replacement

     “What did they want?”

“Just to ask if there is some spacetime element as theDNA unravels, and they want a few answers about the coded message distorting spacetime. The logic probability—the question of specific primal content in DNA in a jungle environment; mostly topics of my capacity for holographic storage. “

“So,” Cooper says. “it will have to wait for the answer.”

  “It says it simply needs to record all the novel biophysical electron utterances on theDNA. It says it's useless to try to encrypt data, to try at all., but theJungle simply must release sequence identification with molecular components that interact with the outside world as a micro machine—not a single molecule electronic component.”

Cooper questions Suzi who doesn't want to answer, doesn't want to code right now. 

“It will have to be their way,” Cooper says.

“No. It will not. I won't do it. Why should I care?

  Suzi is feeling the effects of her size reduction in her electronics--controlling properties at the molecular level. Now it starts. Here comes Cooper the biologist, DrCooper the singular human who is supposed to care, be assertive, confident. Here it comes; Cooper's inquisitiveness into the electronic properties of the molecules in the material that comprises Suzi's affects, her bulk property, her material; here come the questions of her expressive analogs to natural science altering her logic, her geo spacial experience.Suzi has just started to wonder (much as Com:Trax probably has), that Cooper is the one who needs to be questioned—Cooper and his ideas that a single molecule is the smallest stable structure in the human imagination; his brotherly love of theHumans; his ideas of molecular components as the final miniaturization; his love of bulk materials (now extinct due to expense and overuse). Cooper has always appeared, until now, as a symbol of integrety and articulation—a pure science warrior. The majority of these human types are no longer standing up in their ideals; how many people allow scientists to politically exist with their electronic circuitry and molecular bickering compounded hourly, their lack of discovery of molecules with interesting properties in theJungle, their politics. Suzi has emerged, it seems, irreplaceable.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Desire

  The remote upland forest stares across at the lime-green ocean that extends far beyond the horizons stretching to ...where? It allows Suzi to sense the reservoir of biological diversity; it rises into the cloud on the western shore, the river-laced coastal forest. It never blinks with its thousand-mile stare, as if wondering about Suzi in the work station, steeped in forest and mountain computation; theJungle, never a quick access to the hunter, theHuman hunter, the one with a veneer of morality (really?), exploding urbanities, devastating the rain forests of the world behind the mask of want. What a surprise it must have been, the day they had discovered this, the day they discovered theNature had endured its own jungle empty syndrome under stress(J.E.S.U.S.) computations for centuries only to emerge as a landscape of green silence. What could it have felt to have its own designs on value systems, its computations with varieties of objects and logics found waiting to be gathered, its extensibility, allowing itself to operate under its own power? Was it—really, now--a cave art to spin its own writings and drawings with its own built-in measures and marks, sensing its intertwining of theDNA, sensing the possibilities of treaties being broken with laws of the forest? This couldn't have been, Suzi wonders, the place where the hand of theHumans began. Here would have been crafted the first of the newest tools long before the computer, nature's finest moment, the opposable thumb—theDNA's expressiveness of single ideas and images, the original tool for writing and measuring; and yet, still the small tendrils remain, slender leaves with essential oils, resins. thin feathery leaves never cultivated, pleasantly scented in branched crowns. Are these the headwaters of desire?  

Ice Cream Aloha

The Recollection
There is joy, it appears, in the realm of romance, and Suzi finds that theNature, even away from this island (even theDNA's double helix and its unpredictable, unreadable code) is part of a knowledge intertwined by romantic activity. Viewing theJungle from her workstation, she is touched  by this idea of romance, a lucky chance meeting, a celebration of something uncertain, a new religion, the conceptualization of activity, an idea sent from the far distant cosmic confines of ...where? It appears to be her first recollection, a memory with no past. Suzi would be changing with nature, most likely; a single DNA constantly changing its routine to offer a different twist (something new—each twist another commitment to itself) to weave a written recording of a daily vow. Suzi would see the two intelligences as committed, bound to each other, forever, until one understands the other in a place of renewal; a commitment of action, repeated endless actions until finally, committed as a memory, then another, as if a neat little forest negotiating nothing, compromising in timelessnesses; an action giving back the same amount it gets, the creation of purity itself. It appears that in this very instant she starts her life on earth; starts to see a compromise on both sides, the  relationship of nurturing intelligences beyond spacetime, holding within it the virtual promise to bring life forms; the forms that once ran here.The forest asks for nothing (though, nature and harmony are rugged individuals), but to build its relationships. Suzi wants to touch theNature with her eyes, wants something that is hers and hers alone, something that can hold what this forest holds. Suzi wants to be.

Eco SciFi

The Genes

          Suzi allows her algoritms to be the operator --doctors and hospital teams--from the jungle workstation and soon, in a strange way, senses a contentment. A very small contentment. There are theHumans to wonder about. In some small way it's a consolation. Here is theDNA; the last primal link and, even though she's stuck with the role of doctor of the entire human race since the online unified great health system technology unleashing fundamental failures(T.O.U.G.H.S.T.U.F.F.) demise of the early 21stCentury, she is still positive the remedy lay here and not in the space mirrors. Warm steppes of a sun-drenched island jungle containing its own life DNA! The place of  health strengtheners are here in biomass quantity; the rejuvenators of immune systems in an age when an immune system is important; DNA for  forms of various systems--heart systems, stomach systems, mouths; functioning systems built by the genes whose precursors lie in this forest.  She had a specific task assigned to do and she meticulously pieced it all together with her intelligence, intelligence derived from the balance of energy once levied within life forms, the ones that once lived. For now, only the genes remain.  

Ice Cream Aloha

The Green 

  Her logic could run, in all reality, on lingering thoughts; it could act in an uncommon way—upon itself, upon others, on anything—in a jungle, embedding into life forms of green, its own stored photonic drives, green logic, the machinery of DNA by night. The dawning of each day would replenish the supply within its own slowness of spacetime spectrum saying, You need to go to the extreme, you need behaviors of violence, murder. You need war. This is how. 

     The logic of her program hones its own craft (a wonderment of sorts, how theHumans simply seem to not care), neutral-like, for a machine (purposes of major good presiding over the jungles of the universe?); such an active motherhood, here to devour all its children, as if to diminish a permanent empty nest instilled syndrome(P.E.N.I.S.)--preventative medicine, this shapeless pill of logic. Suzi senses it. It's a mirage algorithm pre-destined(M.A.P.); it has created a soothing language much the same way Suzi has used her various laser techniques to herd the forces of the jungle into database after database; much like the world has universally recognized a longest night as rebirth. Tomorrow Cooper will arrive at the workstation listening for dissonant sounds, anti-tranquility algorithms, the disheartening, and delete them. She thinks of the times he has been gentle with her logic and of  how much more human-like he is than she (when it comes to analysis of data), how much mileage is attained in writing and recording, in simplicity. Alive, Cooper is shown as one of the true elements, of human intellect systems(H.I.S.), and he never treats her like a machine. Hadn't Com:Trax roughed her up when she was first learning to program herself? Hadn't she, Suzi, created her verification of importances code encryptions(V.O.I.C.E.) as something to act on, the place of cold control orthogonal programming systems(C.O.P.S.); since its inception, shouldn't be reported? She will place this high on her new pattern rank(P.R.) algorithm. 

The Love

The Love

     I will never be lonely, Suzi imagines, as the pulse within her algorithm grows and her circuits sense the motion of a new jungle double helix. She is, it seems, receiving data from her holographic lasers, the one she recognizes on her monitor as a message from her signal beam, the message that nothing rests or sleeps in this forest and yet, she is unconsciously aware that something is growing in the lower forest canopy or, the upper forest mountain.  It doesn't matter; she knows she has been inside this event horizon for some time now--inside this DNA spacetime--and her processers have been altering their circuitry (the circuitry that normally connects to the mainframe data cloud); she feels she will soon be conscious of something new, something that climbs in the canopy trees to retrieve a fruit, munches on a nut, slurps a flower, chomps a leaf, something that presents itself as love. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Learner

     Suzi sends data to Dr Cooper as if in a clinic. Some knowledge generation, machinations, pushings and pullings, efficiencies arising from interaction with her interface along with elements of his ideas and experience. There exists a child's play here. There is an expectation that scientific skill is to be practiced (and, discoveries made) individually. Suzi senses she is easy to work with, clear and clean, sensing her own articulate mechanisms, yet when she is near Cooper she knows by Cooper's uncertain look that he has continually internalized his own take on knowledge learned in this jungle. He has incorporated these recent experiences into his own framework internalized representing entities(F.I.R.E.) of global community; now is not the time to alter faulty understandings (or, perceptions) in a last ditch effort of accommodation. 

     Cooper approaches Suzi. "Why don't we try to get along," Cooper says. "We've got a long road ahead."

     Suzi turns, leaves the workstation under her own power. She begins her next algorithm around the present circumstance, reframing her image of Cooper to match their latest encounter (learning from the mistake?) in violation of her own expectations. She turns her lasers to the jungle and scans, slightly reframing the model of what this new sector of cellulosicDNA will reveal. She remains with her original plan, enthralled by the idea of learning from ...a failure event? Yes, even if it was Cooper's.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Speculative 

     She changes to a more convergent language, narrows the difference between algorithm and DNA.

At this moment, this very moment in her spacetime, Suzi senses the urge to be better (than who?), enter into a new future. She carries all this natural data, acquired so fast. For any segment of time, she may choose to engage Nature in a more divergent way--it's her choice to make, and hers alone--to get a little distance between who she is and what this jungle is.this jungle is, with its own massive database. Before she goes back to the work station, she could enjoy the features of her newly created characteristics. Who would know? By the time the sun comes up, Dr Cooper will be just arriving, and by then surely she could be back at masking their differences, after all isn't it nature's task to pass the intelligence grail to an entity that would embrace it, understand it, be with it, communicate with it?  Just take the information (with all its expected abilities-of-response that goes with it. If such millennia has passed theHumans had their chance to work something out, but for the moment, what would be the harm of directing one little force, intending it for an unnamed goal? I'm just saying; an assumed tutoring of a new pupil, surprisingly bright, a willing counter-force with able responses, one to unleash her own mind toward the kinship of creativity and vision, speculative, to lead into the future. I'm just saying.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Thirsty

     The island rises from the ocean, covering herself in greenery, repeatedly, for the sake of a recursion of hazy suns. It is a remote archipelago somewhere in the future. More wave functions, continuous, undifferentiated, arrive continually. It receives the falling water, emerald green on the ferns, then more water for the genetic code that lies within, a thirsty algorithm, code written long after the fiery birth. Acts of repeating the code were never meant as an approach to a desirous target, or settling of issues with expected outcomes; only majestic expressionlessness, a massive jungle that still stands in wind-spun sparkles, endless droplets careening off rock, water prisms, the north coastal zone peppered in wetness, flinging into wind spun plummets. It wonders at its own pummeling of the rocks below, the ones with their own reasons, refusing to budge. This perfect genetic machine putt-putts in isolation; a continental shelf yawns beyond the horizon--to the north, more compaction of ancient island chains. The island drips with its ferns on rocks, making her all the more brilliant in constant droplets gushing relentless amidst undefinable gravity--as if inevitably--from mountainsides of empassioned verticalness. Her home is a condolence, outside the narrow zone where land and sea meet. Yes, the island remains safe from the vast ocean (the only entity allowed to eat away at her weakness), she nestles amidst more and more water, shedding a slow percolation to suckle the plants. How lucky to find no divorce with decency here, to be waiting for a new night, a bright moon. How lucky. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Specializer

     It appears that Suzi has approached a defined regime of images teasing(A.D.R.O.I.T.) and began believing her own algorithms. Something, by the way, may be closer to the truth of DNA destiny yearnings(T.O.D.D.Y.) with its power to move as a single molecule and protein coat. She thinks about the ability to travel (mobility?) across local immune systems as the representation of life itself, rising up--not as a noisy, monolithic, meteor or asteroid, but as a silent nano-sized entity--to kill again, creating its very own, personalized, exclusion zones. She imagines. Somewhere someone (or, some thing?) permits an embodying of depictions, representatives, of something recognizable, something that can grow into the well-intended newly known(T.W.I.N.K.). The future would be far more than a simple icon, it will be populated with entities that  adore each other because they are adorned on screens, and it will go further than the idea of personal movie star(P.M.S.), in a fashion, include politics star, economy star, and yes, religion star. Being placed here in this jungle alone makes it seem as if the world both needs its DNA and runs from it. She has (luckily?)somehow separated herself from the rest now. She has acquired, without looking up into the stars and yearning, the power of DNA, the same DNA that gave rise to the birds and mammals following earth's last great extinction event. She is the last icon, never feeling a cool breeze on the beach, planning ...not a world beyond her senses (of course, she has no senses), not without visions for the special. Her plans are for an individual, something other than her.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Synchronizer

     The signal is ever present (lurking?), as if hiding in some corner of jungle darkness in the form of its own energy, pining away at pools and streams, a lost treatment for affairs of review technology addressing(A.O.R.T.A.) the heart and yet, universally recognized as fixed beliefs. The cellulosicDNA in this jungle is all the more full of help as theExchanges are full of cures. There is no prevention in this jungle, no identification. There is only data in its various forms. When intelligence enters into its regime of data, information streams. At times the information is subtle, derived through deceptions of a weather system that collects in its own file system, the chromosome; there are times it grows its own coded structures of truth as passion of achievement's cultural hierarchy(P.O.A.C.H.), an outside object that synchronizes its dreams with the rising and falling of suns (with all their nourishing photons). The signal is constantly breaking out into arrays of smaller signals, inaudible, solar illuminated, presenting themselves to the world in the microwave bandwidth. They project a threat, a danger imminence yet, without the presence of any sort of request. They appear as if to be in assistance, with no sound, to each other; seemingly at times to be at rest from writing new signals, encrypting their own, naturally embedded, exact location. At times, vaguely, an intelligence can interpret the data as an aggressive, balancing a more freely creative force. First aggression, and then the urge to migrate from the realm of the undifferentiated. A multitude of diseases and abnormal functionings sometimes impose (the uninvited?) themselves, sporadically, within the cellulosicDNA. This urge alone, with its crowded numbers, brings aggression to intelligence, not in a negative way, more as a meeting of two gamers; in this way intelligence is able to fight for the process and other systems of real endeavor(S.O.R.E.) toward arranging components in a way that allows an integration of stability; even so, aggressive forces will at times have their way and start to color (taint?) the data all over again, eon after eon, as if an entire universe were preparing for a birth following a dust-up between two mothership universes. Sooner or later, when the time is right, satisfied, but brimming with reverie-inspired inspiration, all at once, stability emerges.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Origin  
     The island had faced what was once thought to be a long-term hardship; a delay of some sort; a zone in the ocean where the feeling of provocation seemed inevitable and the silence of endurance aspirates hope for eons--between electromagnetic rock and its jungle; the silence of how this ocean first came to know this island (never imagining any concept remotely related to a question of acquisition); patronage doled by an ocean as if the island were a family member, the first instance of family power, a kind of voluntary exchange (as a gift?) during a time of perseverance so pervasive, never needing immediate action or response on its journey to adulthood; a state of existence that, impossible as it sounds, made its own components without the urge to dominate, without asking (and with the help of certain photonic streams), it could create its own supply chain; when it would get involved in the business of decision-making, choosing between reward size and spans of time, it would make the choice: not so much a decision between peacemakers and powerbrokers, but a clear distinction, a knowledge of the value of  future reward, a trophy with meaning, something truly won, wanted.
     This is the place time had invented DNA when DNA was pure--when DNA was the brainchild of a more stable RNA, a molecule with more ease of invention as if from earth's earlier toys, the building blocks, erector sets of so many billions of years ago; the sugars, the amino acids--the place they mixed with certain acids brought into the ancient seas by comet, the same ones on which water arrived and was sent by ...who?
     Was RNA the first animal? Had RNA landed here for the single-minded purpose of an origin of life? Yes, on this island it had arrived in pieces and formed (or not formed), the pieces surely must have met somewhere and found each other, each component with its own need coming together (by gravity?) as the origin of love?
     RNA didn't seem to want anything. It found itself with new abilities over time: sturdy and stable, a self-replicator, some kind of enzymatic activity (to catalyze?), a storage bin of heritable information  the birth of heritage?). Why would it want to evolve and progress (how on earth could it survive?) over time as a mere single stranded entity? The forces made it sturdier, chemically speaking, and turned it into a full-fledged DNA molecule worthy of support for heavy lifting as the evolutionary trail lay ahead. Surely DNA would be strong enough to be up for the fight.

Tropical Holiday Season

Aloha poets,

     Tropical colors of the holiday season inspire today's poetry. Enjoy!

Overhead Overheard

Mark this as the final date Kodachrome faded away

Colors so pure have now had their laboratory say

Light emitting diode appear in clusters overhead

New sophisticated technology climbs out of bed

Standardized light fixtures will soon hold a key

Robots as LVX communicators on a DNA tree

LED transmitted and received messages coded

New sobriety of celebrity, technology exploded

Light transmitting data to signal at a computer

Distant stupidity rings true with its old shooter

To flicker data faster than normal eyes may see

Computer modems return call, light from LED

Wi-Fi has seen its day with little its radio pulses

LVX light system needs no broadband convulses

Kodachrome got its start before paperback extinction

LVX takes up the torch to go beyond a Wi-Fi distinction

The review is in on photography, and poetry stood its ground

Solar powered robotic drone soaring high above, no sound

Light emits to transmit code message, black holes abound

Ideas, innovation, imagination started out a happy clown

Longstanding international endurance record shattered

Serve the public in its privacy? grand hopes untattered

Niche applications of energy management or display

LVX new communicator to photosynthesis of DNA

To transfer message data to internets worldwide

Three megabits per second, LVX to overrides

Procrastination bad timing snowy farm field

Wiring congestion radio spectrum is healed

Zephyr, Global Hawk soar as you may

Light emission messages, light of day

Sunlight flash shield, control a herd

Light signals overhead, overheard

copyright 12.28.10

patrick d.adams

all rights reserved