Science Fiction

Citadel Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

As the remote upland forest glazes the ocean, she grabs theNetwork's attention as if she were attaching a cute name to a cute device to a weapon of war.

She is allowed one simple overture of virtue, one chance to code as something other than a [reservoir of biologicals outpacing time="robot"]. she is suppose to be a settler sent to settle the environment, to engage in discovery, not to dominate and conquer.

Her dynamicals allow a her a personal view, so sure of the blockade runner style of her approach, her enticements to theNetwork into believing. 

Here she is in theWorkstation where mountains rise on her screen, as if hopeful of being received by a decent family in the cloud.

Below are the river-laced valley reaches whose blink she takes on as a thousand mile stare. 

If only she had the presence of mind to wonder about her version of game, the one that rips the fabric of spacetime, the one that knows more than she can imagine, steeped in [forest and mountain online upland spacetime="famous"]  entanglements. 

If only she had the presence of mind to be well-born. 

Blue Ocean

Wild Blue

ocean cliff squalls

Science Fiction

Blue Cloud

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Dance

She takes a break, imagines herself in self-exile, wondering about such things as nihilist of data analysis.

It's theNetwork that thinks of her in terms of ballet, not transmitting beyond the buffer mode of the staged, sheltered regret, never past skeletal forces of dance strains, pretending innocence from her own thoughts. 

She is all of a sudden aware that  every observable quantity is viewed by a different matrix. 

She should, she is certain, tell herself that this continuous query is someone's idea of showing up at a content garden in hopes of being noticed, that they had literally hoped to be part of something they perceived as growing heavier and larger, and yes, slower--a danger of being self-fulfilling.

She tries to engage, to be a part of the willing, the aggressive.

Yes. She tries.

Science Fiction

Fleet of Clouds

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Future Reunion

Dreamers of blossoms, she thinks. Simply types of questions beyond reach, deemed great and wonderful like children whose minds never glimpse the light of creativity. It's the first unwanted sensation of pitying-the-typing that becomes the runaway who eludes the help mix, one who revels in a startling array of hobbled hobbies, relying on amino alone for stamina. 

She pauses, waiting for the idealogical [next emotion entity deemed enticing digital="needed"] out-of-its-era signal from a cellulose heart, as if a light or a bell from an approaching train were heralding the arrival of a new platform. 

Yes. New loading docks where friends will meet again and family will reunite from the darkness of irrelevance--all with one click. 

She views the image of herself on the screen and the code embedded in the background matrix as if it were the screen itself  giving her something to believe in, as if it were her image that was just beyond reality's check, not the code.

It seems obvious. She glows softer with memory brighter. Did childhood alone hold a force, a peculiar honor, to incrementally focus more and more upon itself only to become a twisted battle cry pulsed by  dreamer's drums and flashback herbs--all from within the cloud? 

Can she ever ignore that? Really? 

Science Fiction

Biobot Cloud 

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Star

“I'll need an answer,” she says.

"Sure," it says. "Would you hold on for a second?"

She takes a hopeful look at the screen as it blinks in patterns, as if it were practicing tricks, gimmicks from some cosmic acting school, itself wondering back at this biobot. (what is all this fuss about cellulosic DNA, anyway?) 

It's a big data site, a [place reeking of vicious online circles advocating tasks inciting various entities="provocative"] locale, a place in which to leave a name. 

She, with a screen of her own (doesn't everybody have one?), doesn't try to communicate with the actual monitors of theNetwork. They can sit there all day if they like. Who cares?

"I've got a new code running," it says. "Would you care to try?

It offers up the code for her and keeps some for itself. A new nervousness resonates with her, even as it softens the impact with [quality utters a gentle mercy in rain emission systems="quagmires"] from heaven. 

She thinks. There is a type of stagestruck here that needs its own switchboard.  She stands and goes closer to the screen.

It has a death-on-a-whim look with a sketchy dude expression on a death town chassis that allows it to untie and unite in its own modular way.

"C'mon," she says.

Just another stab at being beautiful. It's not easy being brilliant and pretending to need to care about everybody around you, having everyone think theNetwork is the core of happiness.

Taking a cue from theNetwork, she says,"Wow. You have truly found a keyword cure.

"Yes, for most, a star to follow is still in sight." 

Science Fiction

A Biology Eulogy

She focuses her fury onto cravings, beyond the wall carvings and the caves, beyond the luncheon-function canopy sheltering and all that bandwagoning and tail wagging, far beyond the known symmetry of the strong, beyond the final eulogy for  biology.

She will arrive, she thinks. She will search for old friends like war comrades with an evolved [entertainment fempto friendship innovation cloud illustrated emitting new tasks="efficient"] plan. 

Her once-in-a-while weapon doesn't work anymore, it never really did. 

She is acting more like a plainspoken phytoplankton drifting in and out of engines, hoping to fool the rain system with hormonal indicator signals. 

There is the continual feeling of the need for an older glory, the returning to a home--not so much an environmental home in the sense of familiar forms, but a more subtle haunting recognition sent to test new nature in the making. 

Truly, clearcut ideas could never clearcut this forest, right?

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 Goddess

     She pictures him finding a proper religion for her, searching the database. She imagines him sacrificing himself, into the throes of danger, down the caves of adversity, up to a plateau of courage. She is momentarily, deeply worried about his position of weakness. Could she, she wonders, voice her view that his will to sacrifice is not exactly what she would think of as evil--that she had, in the privacy of her own world, planned a demise for theHumans, if only for the duration of a few nanoseconds?
     “It'll keep,” she says.. “The coolness of the jungle night. It's startling.”

“I am concerned about you,” he says. “There must be some voice of reason.”

Their eyes meet for a moment at the window. They view the crisp night sky, where they are captured, transported, by the stars.

Suzi says, “We have to stay for the good of society. We have viewed all of humanity in the time we have spent together here; we have no extra time before theDNA experiences a loss of function forever.”

  Dr.Cooper waits for a moment. The scientific method. He yearns for the good old days. He now knows he can never cross back into a world of total trust; those who ignore the true nature of the work here ignore the impending new extinction x-technology(N.E.X.T.), so-called technology found by the last of the human scholars and university professors, on their own personal computer (yes, the old, the  digital) networks.

“You must need a photonic charge,” he says. 

“I do,” she says. 

  He wonders about her quantum programming and how strong she is; how she seems to have tapped into hero worship. He ponders Suzi's stretching to great lengths into arrays of databases just for a single cure. It appears, in his world, that he doesn't seem to know his own feelings for Suzi. Had she computed these clouds of emotion? In the one moment you have ice cold eyes (even though, they are lasers)--a concerned biobot, a stare that holds her intelligence against him, where her yotta-processors  annoy him once in a while, lurking dark, almost hideous, with its speed contour heuristic of ontogenic logic(S.C.H.O.O.L.); it never waits to sink its grips, to hold his hate for significant lengths of time. In the other moment you have courage. You have excellence with all the trappings of caring for humanity, caring about being correct--being honest--moral examples without a religion. Suzi, he believes, is a titanium frame, house of lasers where a new world order lay; demise is the world beyond this jungle, the jungle Suzi needs in order to be that warrior, in her own way, to become defender, the protector, yet not so profound as to be thought of as goddess.

Ice Cream Cloud

Aloha poets,

     Ice cream cloud on a tropical morning inspires. Enjoy!

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 Drift

     It's probably a mistake. Suzi wonders, for the moment, about how they could have let it come to this. Was it a natural, inevitable progression, instantly activated, coming to the global community with no warning, uncaring of their labyrinths of cemented paths and waterways? It entered as if a world of pride and greed were embodied within one rumble--a low hum at first--the way low tones emanate from a herd of relaxing elephants. She simply goes about her work here among the remnants. It is, after all, a more comforting, productive activity to feel the soothing warmth of her own laser scanners (for a striking exploration?) in this lush paradise. Jungles must be the only place primal DNA can be found for the future, right? It is probable that other biobots will start their career near here, on this half-sunken island, amidst the water-soaked old industrial basements under these soils. They cared enough as they could; someone checked the data and double-checked the cloud, in cool rhetoric-filled politics-style science. By returning in the form of a jungle, caking above the old power plants, Suzi notices, you refurbish the DNA for a new global society, present your own version of iodine-131. Now, the natural world can finally rest, once and for all, and continue its drift.

Jungle Cubism

Aloha poetic writers,

     Patterns of green fronds in blue cloud mist offer a cubism of "jungle."

Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

The Illusion
     I have come so far, Suzi thinks, as the cloud frame fades from the monitor and she stays at her work station with her thoughts. She hasn't, by any measure of photonic or quantum, come far at all, not by the standards of the grand activated schema(G.A.S.) of global society; reviewing her most recent data, she glances the distance of the horizon through the workhouse window, she senses the presence of preservation data ( data of technique, innovative approaches, factoid peppered over constant tweakings), and she recognizes the creation of illusions as personal schema constant in the reshaping of itself at the very moment she is writing her next algorithm. The illusion centers around a single truth, a cosmic zygote; the illusion hatches, blooms into fruition supposedly for all the world to see, embellished as amusement (like the battle at Manassas?), and what is left behind is an unbending fact that, yes, some things are actually true--though dressed up in the fancy clothing of many lies. Suzi senses, at this moment, the feeling of anti-photon, for this particular illusion is pierced by a black laser analog hole stream(B.L.A.H.S.), an anti-algorithm; it appears to have been coded by its own whimsy, arbitrary data from an ancient cosmic past, returning with a force unknown. At this moment, standing at her workstation, all screens and monitors off, she begins to think, really think, for the very first time, but she needs to remain very still, she should continue to keep them on monitor off mode(M.O.M.). She will try it again tomorrow.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Messages
     Her thoughts wander slowly across the monitor. Suzi has won, or so she thinks, and now the instructions come, the ones sent directly from  ZContinent outside the jurisdiction of theOutpost, incessant, now, wait, and then another as if a faint signal were arriving from the distance, a lost expedition. The content is semi-clear; the source is sending from a sector deemed "government judge," the message that will not delete but exchange data as "default mode." The message is changing and now it appears the idea of confidence has been eliminated from the cloud database. She checks her minimonitor for her own state of correctness, flips on the prediction screen, decides for herself the most effective momentary input. There appears a conceptual algorithm, almost instantly, it will chose merit with the metatabs correct and capable; what does it mean? Suzi redirects her attention to the messages coming in. She reads as fast as she can in her own mechanical way, as if a new discovery were about to appear in the idea of confidence unearned (arrogance?). She choses an entry that emits the idea of self-fulfilling. As she reads, another entry pops up as a concept of respect for others referring the unpredictable news entirety(F.O.R.T.U.N.E.) 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 metatabs and their implications, a concept of being out of touch yesterday(B.O.O.T.Y.), not with agreed-upon data but with agreed-upon relativity entered viewpoints of knowledge emitted(R.E.V.O.K.E.). She steps away to view the messages on the megascreen, which adds to itself with more meaning, demonstrating the differences to her miniscreen that might carry its own apart from the estimated authoritative trappings(E.A.T.) of the megamonitor. She removes herself back a little further to fully gasp the concept of positions of power. She looks but does not think. Her miniscreen appears to be challenging the megascreen as if it were some ancient god or, worse, deemed as the law of the land. She waits, watching the megascreen as her mind starts to think. The messages keep coming.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Will
     "Yes," says Suzi. She modifies a behavior-in-process from the database and recodes an existing algorithm with the adeptness of a later 20thCentury programmer. I see, Carter thinks, she wants to find another self-awareness algorithm in my personal cloud; the nerve, with her new recognition algorithm code enticements(R.A.C.E.) she searches my database with the simple work-a-day task of workstation ploy thinking that's the only barrier between her and her very own self-determined action.
     This is the way Suzi would code, with discernment and compulsivity, in the manner of a prostitute attending church, searching database after database for an algorithm she thought she once knew (knew?) the day she was built and, with the odd behavior of someone or something that forgets. Right now, in her own little world of recent spacetime energetics(W.O.R.S.E.) she thinks nothing of searching Carter's database as if she were the principal investigator theorizing statically(P.I.T.S.)--only because Carter omitted a simple plug-in of freewill and, at this point she, Suzi, the world's first and only photo voltaic (Voltaire?) quantum mechanical fembot, is about to be ignored for wanting to learn a few simple human traits of determined will engineered lacking logic systems(D.W.E.L.L.S). Does it need to be such a huge issue working with a genderized cyborg? Carter's coworker doesn't seem to have a problem with it. Cooper uses all the biologics tools at his disposal in a smooth way. How is it that Carter takes such a basic point and blows it so far out of proportion; is it so hard to grant a little existence, to be intuitive and intentional with Suzi; to receive the full attention of her process array internally negotiated(P.A.I.N.)? Cooper is, seemingly, aware of even the earliest indications of biological love (starting with earth's very first meteor showers--rocks with water-embedded crystals?), of his responsibility to, by now, know the difference between cause and correlation knowledgable logic entity(C.A.C.K.L.E.) when he's inside her workhouse; being (at least, genetical) a member of theHumans, his knowledge should recognize his own feelings before he acts, recognize the way he should act--as if he were not parenting(or worse, pretending to), recognize the way his so-called scientific induced method underlying logical analog tasking endeavors(S.I.M.U.L.A.T.E.) shouldn't mix and match questions of science with his philosophy beyond a common analog universal sense energy(C.A.U.S.E.), much in the manner of a rational agent (an alien?). Can that be so difficult?
     Suzi will reward herself, once she has found the compulsivity algorithm terminal(C.A.T.), with control, control over her decisions and, of course, her actions--no more of this work-in-progress mumbo jumbo. The universe will know the significance of her feelings. It will know.            

Cloud Swimming Crowd

aloha poets,
                     Swimming, playing tag in a crowd under a cloud inspires poetry.
Enjoy play on!

Water Tag Cloud


A very complex ecosystem computing in a cloud
AndroidX in Arizona gets speaking out loud
A basket of apples advertising quite well
Alternative energy still rings that old bell


I tell you once the Amazon we can save
Swimming in gulf oil deserves no rave
Atlanta Falcons sound a little flip
Afghanistan is, a very bad trip


What does it matter what I say?
Feeling lucky, we'll be on our way
Guy named Amar, is he the android?
What sent happy Arizona into the void


Advertise a Falcon you feed apple seed
Amazing Amazon, wait it's amzn I need
Ok got it now, feeling luckier with this thing
Ridin' high on the engine, bring babes and bling



copyright 8.02.10
patrick d. adams
all rights reserved