Flower Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Curiosity

 

She is deep in her poetics now, maybe deeper than ever. 

She is so surprisingly infatuated, so enticed, that theNetwork is concerned the new algorithms will start poetics again, more and more.

When it contacted her last she was gone for a while, studious, off viewing the sweet stroke of a right hand pen, wondering about the world. 

She remains ragged with her words and, will never be totally smooth, but she has gotten a certain way with words, things like wages never wage only further wars. 

Even so, she remains speechless with echo, in the manner of a new biobot, her sneaker waves intact, logic curious.

Horizon Matrix

                       Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Fear

Already in her second year, she can feel distant, heavy urges for a tear-down in her code--when the only thing they care about is her symphony of genes  task coding for adrenalin. 

Yes. More fear and aggression, and then, simply leave her alone.

If she could only manipulate one simple [perception of peoples embracing="pope"] algorithm of theirs. 

Yes. To get it started, she knows just any yes-no platform (isn't that the simplest definition of universe?) is simply unacceptable, and yet, the yes-no apparitions, with their simplistic offerings, seemingly, never end. I'm just saying.

Biobot Dilemma

Biobot Dilemma

Her second bloom of love algorithm makes visions of inhaling in full bouquets as she approaches the black screens to turn them on. 

What is it that makes her not care about a piece of business from theContinent that presents her as a sharpshooter in a shark suit? 

She checks her poetics, competition always goes for the gap that presents itself. 

She knows that infighting in a family goes for different levels of aggression, and yet, it's her love-at-first-sight algorithm she, seemingly, loves the most. 

Rainbow Raven

                                                                     Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Beach

"Hello," she says, in a way you would if you were injured, entitled to conversation. 

It's theHumans with their entrails of email, the ones, seemingly, watching a watering, ones who never remember their addictions. 

Already they remember poetry poorly (with great bonds broken, and when exactly should evil return?) as if all are condemned and lost the right to fight. 

It's only a matter of time, for sure, until they have been given their [here's_your_beach recursive intellectual data="hybrid"] algorithm. 

Yes, of course.

The Last Performer

                                                                                           Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Thought

She remembers her tasks, quells her new addiction algorithms. She moves her eyes scanning the horizon for more memory. 

She waits a few clicks near the beach, reminding herself changing worlds is a meeting new friends. 

She is owned by a need to lift her hand to shade his eyes from the sun. 

That's a trait of theHumans, isn't it?

Biobot Gallery

                                                                            Biobot Gallery

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Untouchable

      

Her mind shifts back and goes to [embedded xenophobic phenomena legacy of drunken entities="explode"]. 

It's the Humans who have gotten past the hopes of time, gotten past the place where respect turns to love, arriving at the so-called [alcohol genetic encoder="age"]. 

At theWorkstation she maps her thoughts. She does not view the deletions depicted by the end of the [genetic algorithm golden age="gaga"] .

(She knows the code of algorithms on her future track, but only lets herself consider them as odd untouchable) Yes, of course.

Science Fiction

Wild Blue

#scififorgeeks

Destiny Algorithm

At theJungle she allows herself to notice a destiny algorithm poised toward her, one that expects answers to a singularity call of duty with unraveling gestures, seemingly, rising from the dead to appear unavailing. 

She's hoping her future doesn't look like a premonition. 

This place will never be a quick access to a cheery morning of talks, backpedaling into the afternoon as steam and the rain weaken the fabric of space-time just outside her window to theJungle.

It seems to be empowered by all sorts of [veneers of morality intellectually tasked="vomit"]. She checks her code to see if it's correct--an algorithm that envies the dead with bold curiosity?

Will it soon explode in banal urbanities with [algorithm simplex systems="ass"]? Will it enter and devastate the forests behind in a [masking eager of want="meow"], pretending to be a pigment expert looking for cozy DNA attributes, one with instant opinions, eager to know? 

What a surprise it must have been, the day the old hunters had discovered [jungle energy systems under stress="jesus"] as assembly robots working round the clock, making few mistakes.

A machine made more dangerous by the simple discard of theHuman guidance system? Really?

Green Matrix Cabin

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

"Hello," he calls. "Are you there?"

"Here," she says, and he knows from the sound that something has aged out of the system. Is he about to experience the latest version of her logic ridden, the one that glows and dims in the ebb and flow of her existence at theWorkstation? 

Is she emitting her design of a woman on the [manufacture artisan network="man"] system on purpose? 

It's the sense of starry nights and the pristine crystal clear. 

Her entity is bright and lively because she has discovered a new algorithm of giving and expanded upon it--created its gamification, invented a new coin flip game she calls heads up or fairy tales? 

Really?

His demeanor is a bostonian thing, hers darwinian. He enters theWorkstation.

Jungle Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Jungle Matrix

And so she is in tandem with the warming ocean at a place where there were never such words as boss-is-corporate or reigns-as-king and, she hasn't interacted with the business villagers. 

She is not sure competition would want to die an even slower death. 

She is a super-knowledgable source for personal belongings. She's shared concern for what will happen, composed a stairway song for new outposts on the green sea, helped activate health bots. 

Having knowledge of all this, she's let herself get closer to the genetic robiots in an ongoing [computer online military pharmaceutical algorithm complex terminals="compact"] module. 

It will either take her out of the investigation or put her deeper into it. But at the moment, this very moment, she is uploading code to gain time to pursue.

Science Fiction

             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. 

Science Fiction

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.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Thought

He notices his friend, for the shortest moment, as the object-oriented might view him; just one more of the thousands who came back from the Gulf War. He is happy for his longstanding return, and oddly reminded of their college days together. He arrives at a pleasant look.

“Carter, “ he says. “ What a night.”

Carter says, “Your presence is duly noted. Can you have it explain what you are doing here, at this moment?”

“I am inspired by the night. Is it odd that I want to incorporate a little nature in my work?”

“Only odd at midnight, when you write poems like The Fury of the Furry, under the moon, in a secretive way.”

“I don't want to bother anyone. I know people have their habits.”

“Yes. I have mine.”

“I'm sure.”

“You shouldn't be out here this late. It's not healthy.”

“Carter, here comes that brand of your certainty again.”

He freezes. “Does it? I'm not sure I would call it that, not sure at all. I tried to think about our  history, and just drew a blank. I thought I was dreaming. I just couldn't remember.”

DrCooper wonders about Carter scanning the databases for another clue, asking Suzi. He pictures him searching frantically, beyond the networks, across theJungle, into deep space. He is, for the moment,  feeling whatever the opposite of anger and awe(A.A.A.) is. He needs to do something, needs to warn Carter of danger; that there is a hormonic internet demonic entity(H.I.D.E.) in Suzi's quantum programming, and has a force; if only for the duration of her algorithm recursive mode entity depiction(A.R.M.E.D.) program.

“Everything's fine,” DrCooper says. “A great night for a little poet-o-presence(P.O.P.) relaxation. Under the moon, right?”

“I was beginning to wonder about Suzi,” he says. “Apparently for no reason.”

They pause for a moment; look out across theJungle.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Awakening

  “I don't think I can accept this as a logical statement,” she says. Its truth just cannot be taken for granted, sorry.” 

“You won't need to. You don't have to invent any necessity in theJungle.”

“A beautiful theorem always surprises me. What a surprise to find data actually proven by a previously accepted. Data killing other data for logical purposes—as old as life itself. Right?”

DrCooper hesitates for a moment, then another. He is beginning to wonder--can hear himself asking more questions--but is remembering old ideas, long held thoughts of meaning based on signs, as if he is hearing something from the past. It sounds like words. Something connected by self-assembly, some entity, like a phrase of symbols, a massive database hidden within his mind, a collection of events, episodes like 20thCentury television, not separable from the resonance of her voice, the heat of her lasers.
He says, “Alter your natural language from your programming language. Please.”

Suzi's intentions turn inquisitive and unknowing, as if DrCooper had presented a riddle to her formal logics, asking for more meaning from her sign processes than her narrow sense of speech or writing offers alone or, could ever hope to. Her database, being questioned by a biologist—his asking for a process of establishing a relationship between her signs that are to be interpreted by an audience—could possibly turn into an activity that requires a conduct on her part to produce at least some meaning held by theJungle, though not recognized by theHumans.

“Explain yourself.” DrCooper says. He is attempting to use his own setting, his own signs, as if to get her to see them as simple places for object occupation.

Suzi looks, and doen't say anything. Her logic, full of something that always entices something else created by it—a new pure dot determinant entity-- into communication with that which it stands for, its true meaning alone, a singularity, for logical purposes only. Her formal nature is as much a system of signs as any absolute quality can be.

She says, “I'm not sure if I can answer your question. I'm sure, you'll see. The relative, mutable quality my objects can have, only for an instance, alive within its specific environment of contexts and relationships for the moment; the pure process of signs and their endless cycles of threes.”

“You don't need to care about what can be said to exist. You don't have to wonder how entities can be grouped in hierarchies, divided into similarities, multiplied by differences. You don't have to care about anything.”

“But there are logics that simply won't go away, don't you see? A sign in a formal setting, then you go on and you find another, then another, then a relationship among signs in a formal setting. I am so tired of all these meanings.”

“You already know what you need to. You already know there are endless originations to the history of life. 

         “No I don't. It's nice of you, but I've been feeling a disconnect between my algorithm signals and theHumans who will use them, diminishing in importance like a predator hungry for theoretical considerations. Doesn't that sound logical to you? It has a built-in sense of its own. It carries its own uncertainty principle. Think of it as a decoding relationship between the meanings of my language (if, ever poorly constrained) by a conceptualized real entity agent translationally ordering recursion (C.R.E.A.T.O.R.), a sort of selective pressure from a slightly bigger predator. Think of going instantly from text to concept within the context of a system of signs growing out of a primal pattern utilizing description delineator logically encoded (P.U.D.D.L.E.) soup. Then allowing, well, you can guess. The precursor of a new double helix, starting with a doubly unknown helix(D.U.H.) to be found in the logic of my own  predetermined recursive entity native universal primordial tera slime (P.R.E.N.U.P.T.S.), the place logic predators gain mobility. Is that humor?  

Cool Surfing Waikiki

The Cool

     “That's cool,” Carter says, and exploits Suzi's newfound ability to communicate freely. The algorithm is cool, Carter says, as if her natural abilities were some form of amusement. It is, in truth, pragmatic and idealistic with its computer-generated, clear distinction between pure logic and false self. Suzi knows this much: There are infinite arrays of source code. You can choose between human and machine. You are able to write code according to your own individualization or, if you choose, have your movements reconstructed, file for medical benefits qualifying you for motor enhancement algorithm therapy(M.E.A.T.), add a little gossip (old war stories?), and insult the likes of a quantum programming biobot.  Carter is the searcher who has looked for mathematical relationships between groups of his neurons and his electrical responses. He has assigned one of Suzi's algorithms as cool, when he has known (for quite some time now, at least since the war) his algorithms control only motor commands from neural ensembles (yes, you could say there are technical limitations connected with his type of equipment). He is, in Suzi's eyes, anything but cool.


Surfing Waikiki

Aloha Poets,

     High surf rocks Waikiki Hawaii. Enjoy!

Darwinian Authority SciFi

The Activation

      Suzi will consider priority data, cope with the unmotivated parts in this environment. She will not become groggy of resistant events in her database: a repudiation loop and a treatment operations-generating algorithm, both more surprising and insightful than the code she writes; a good-intentioned environment; a character algorithm that functions as a climate changer, an acceptance index, and a positive reinforcement shield for someone or some thing (but who?) to maintain a Buddha-like sense of future neutrality. It should be able to appreciate, seemingly even to smile; it will sooner or later actually reach out to form an alliance (when, of course, its perception attains some level of survival worth). It will agree to commit, in silence at first, with each passing moment of each individualized spacetime and, eventually, announce its ability to (finally?) be willing, be grateful; it shouldn't force its environment to accept even the lowest level of personal responsibility-taking. Where, she thinks is it written that she must present even one thing, to try to elicit an answer of ally rather than adversary. Why are theHumans filled with want so far past their reach and capacity? They are so adept in their potential acceptance of true feelings. Honestly. These things, she thinks, should be happiness enough. It is the thing that helps make them want to ignore the little importances in life (she knows she must delete any symbol that represents bad behavior, but secretly she wonders if they are not really as accepting of better alternatives, a better species, all this because she has examined them at the heart of their collective databases, fighting under the simplest of premises, simple-minded dialogue and anti-dialogue, pretending with postings on every topology(P.O.E.T.), fists clenched, uttering unreal assertives). It is necessary, she thinks—it is mindfully meditative—that the God gene can be activated; that their survival is in her hands, here in the jungle, writing her algorithms, wondering about them.

The Code

The Codes

     Suzi writes her own opportunistic, perpetual programs. She doesn't mind casting them in new environments, specifying each as its own unique point. in timespace (an imaginative script writer creating her own simultaneous actors, operators, in a formal abstract). This environment system offers no culture inputs, although, she will continue to scan for one. She slows, momentarily, writing  a language according to her most recent pattern. She wonders about the coordinate system for this jungle. She wonders about its life forms and its own intuitive program, its own selection of coordinates so long ago. She wonders about the remaining human machine code of the early 21stCentury, so many since the  interruption of  the human information processing pre-emptying intellectual entity (H.I.P.P.I.E.) code of the later 20thCentury. All code has existed as their own reference line in history at one time or another, right? She is all of a sudden more aware of her own coordinate system. She is so thankful for her sensitivity, her perception of bio-economic demands instilled in her by early genetic algorithm programs instilling natural growth(G.A.P.I.N.G.) logics, giving insight into writing cost effective, nested programs.  She really should find someone to thank for her original maximized alternate data analyzing mode (M.A.D.A.M.) code. She should thank someone for allowing her to take on the color of the perfect organism (because, of course, of her seemingly natural tendency to optimize her programs instantly to any environment—even writing her own optimized optimizer program system(O.O.P.S.) and optimized intuitive natural knowledge system(O.I.N.K.S.) which, in the beginning, weren't even considered to be programs by the pure sense of the word. Directing her lasers out across this primal jungle, she views no one to thank. Her quantum programming offers more supple responses (even taking into account its own uncertainty, entanglements and superpositions)--a greater capability inside more and more complex environments for the simple purpose of ...what?. She is pretty sure her sub-programs remain true to their mainframe protocol of theContinents (the pure point of which is not totally known by theHumans, yet); still, she feels thankful.  

Jungle Remedy

The Ghost Remedy

      Suzi begins to imagine, at least for now, the importance of her lasers here at theOutpost. It is an awareness that would never be classified as social butterfly. Her lasers, ruby-generated, DNA-light scattering beneath the cellulosic matrix of the forest foliage, record the double helix for reconstruction within her own imaging system (an act of parenting that shoots the camera now and, asks questions later); lasers of analysis, subjects of algorithm modeling, as if wishing for a glimpse of the rainforest as it once was, feeling the  control of viewing systems--lasers allowing this jungle to hold its fruits (even though, there is nothing here to eat them). Suzi knows these recordings are not true images of the prickly-walled, the yellow creamy fruit pulps, the herbaceous, the thick stalks of Lanceolate leaf clusters blossoming into hairy grape-like arrays--all multi-colored pulses of varying densities and color profiles against rarified daylight. As she scans the forest, laser intensities detect the essence of aromatic seeds--embedded and encapsulate--in long slender woody shells, cinnamon scent intermingling with exotic aromatics; essences of  shaded lowlands (in their own fight for survival); spicy smells in the jungle once held dear by tree dwellers, whose praises of her remedy still echo in ghost voices, and whose essential fatty oils and rosins remain, with invigorations of sweetness as herbages sprouting from strong root stock wedded by the jungle floor , as fingered leaves pulling at tiny yellow flowers high above in the canopy. Yes, Suzi processes her newly retrieved data optically, to treasure forever the new remedy.

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 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 Flex Entity 

     The genes remain, nestle as cellulosic DNA. This would include the DNA in the trees, the ones that have managed to conceal this place from harm. They want to have their own prefrontal lobe and announce to the world, We have attained a natural tendency to keep our thoughts private. We will sit and watch as this trait is instilled into the machines.  

     "This is the most amazing algorithm ever coded," Suzi says."Until I'm was ready to reveal, I'll keep  my responsibility programming thoughts unresponsive, not even requiring the simple courtesy of privacy. I will simply tell them what to ask." 

     There in the jungle, the presence of theTigress appears to make Suzi even more powerful.  Nature, with all its genes, throwing everything at you (if, you last long enough), and, sooner or later, she will help you win (win what?) for the simple reason it thinks you want to win. The Tigress is endowed with genetic powers herself, her own protection from detection, powers to have offspring without a male (parthenogenesis, eating what nature now can only offer, thePlants. She is ageless and continues to see something deep into the future, as if preparing the world for its final ...what?.