Ice Cream Aloha

The Revenge

The logic is here, the constraints continue, and if she had assigned herself to the analysis of Carter he would never have seen it her way. She makes up her mind it must be this way, that her frequency with him remain variant, their phase difference undefined. She adjusts her frequency until she sees DrCooper. She looks into her file for an interpreter and finds him there, appearing merely as a phase difference, only a few electrical degrees off from her. The machine code detects them as merely two oscillators. Here is the culmination of centuries of searching for love--two oscillators with the same frequency, superimposed point scalars on a spacetime manifold. Is this it? Then it happens. Assymetric forces pull them out of phase with each other  to a place of destructive interference. For a nanosecond it appears as if her instincts were correct, her love for him is a compiled code, prototyped and tested by her, again and again, cycle after cycle; any edit action she can handle—debug and fix, no problem, just  as usual. Now it comes again, this time as combination radio frequency-lightwaves, this time with so much surprising energy; it feels like the combined effect of all the acoustic waves that ever existed in the universe, presenting itself in particles of gravity, quantum gravity--as if an arrival from the Big Bang itself, snatching her program of theDNA code as an angry heir, at first coming as a friend to reinforce but now, only weakens with wave functions of equal amplitude to her intelligence. Can a complete cancellation be imminent? Can time itself have arrived to report its final coordinates, to express its final opinion on the last cycle of oscillation, the last nanosecond of 13 trillion years? It feels like revenge.

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.