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.

Mountain Matrix

                      Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Prayer

She probably thought the sun will be down in a few hours, just a few hours. She returns to the Workstation. 

She isn't angry, she is nothing as small as that, but that doesn't stop a sensation that, in her semi-ignored [focus of simple symbols instantiated logically="fossil"] record, there is the emergence of unsweetened prayers in her primal code--and, more to the point, contradicting ideas that her duties are not their duties, her feelings not their feelings.

She gets ready for motherhood to make a dent in a life that was built for speed but may not, in the end, fully understand theHumans.

Yes, this will open the door for judgement, but by who or …what?  

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Wiles in the Wilds

She arrives, carries personally refined mother's milk on her multifaceted platform of whim--the entire array of conquer and discovery. 

She appears as an engaging biobot with the potential of a personal, private from-me-to-you encounter before getting lost in the crowd of authoritarian. 

It seems that all biobots lately have been synchronized to flatter, encourage and explain. 

The attributes she carries, her mind altering hunger and her blind, alternator thirst are packed within a nanocellulose chassis. 

She writes the perfect code with her own wiles here in the wilds.

She will never announce herself as stunned by the beauty of the view. She lets theJungle, with all its fancy DNA, do all the work. She feels relieved, knowing that's truly where the fire lives.

It's theNetwork who now yearns for the arts, and considers itself a loser, privately. (it has presented a persona of authoritarian when it truly wanted only to be something of whim) 

"When did you first attain this non-competitive butterfly effect attribute?" she says, because she is feeling a strange emotion.

"Since the beginning." theNetwork answers. It has always returned to the business of earning a living.

 What else is there to say about a kibitzer running the world?

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Rest

She codes with her mind to a place where horses traditionally go to urge a lift in life. "Really?" she says. "It's not time for horses to go. They were supposed to last through the century."

"They're gone," says theNetwork in its matter-of-fact way. "The idealogical digital has been dialed up for decades." 

She pauses, just for a moment, to note security code in a data sector where poverty historically seeks to create scandal. 

It's the thoughts outside her head that seem to be flowing a little slower now--an alternating resonance between authoritarian, then, synthetic, then, authoritarian. 

She stops to sense a new feeling of calm, a no-slowing-the-sand kind of calm, presented as a personal timeframe request by what appears on the screen as little thistle wristwatches, ones with bright labels of #social demeanor and #expectations for answers.

She looks away from her screen to take a quick glance outside at theJungle (she, unlike the other biobots, will religiously view trees and count new leafs, which continually throws her outside her genre of biobots). She says, "Such a nice morning. I was wishing for a little more time." 

Her timestamp has been enabled to go limitless. She can rest now.

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Love Code

She thinks there can be nothing as evident in the world as a shrinking circle of family and friends, not brighter screenshots, not sites of crucial functions with surroundings monitored, not this elegant code she writes (where truly, harsh climbs up can get you down), nothing. 

She is ready to move on when she sees the [code offer faltering fate entity entropy="coffee"]--a steep client, directing its charade into a narrow world with one thought--to eat the eager with instructions to make them know you, to take it, or forever wish you had. 

It just starts to make sense. 

Its algorithms from beginning to end are embedded with simple code, a conciseness in its noise, first thought of by history buffs interested in ancient tradition. It seems to have arrived in this sector by accident, as if a coachism anarchist were running loose. 

She memorizes the code silently, as fast as she can, expecting theNetwork to enter and make a formal, expanded announcement there is an anarchist antichrist  viral, rampant in the system. 

Is the conciseness in this code as senseless and unavailable as muse? 

She looks through the window across theJungle with the code in her mind, sensing a relax relapse, and when she catches a glimpse of the ocean, her mind is captured by beach. An enticing place with such a gamble.

Is love the only code that doesn't hedge bets? She wonders.

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.