Lighthouse Matrix

Science Fiction

Stick in History

She goes back to a place where in front of her are the colors with their motion and symbols, their ripples of image designed for health. 

She views her new bride_side algorithm (why is she is so constant in her sensation of the looming, the hypothetical entity? Why is she so leery of dark matter, dark energy, dark horses?) 

She feels a surprising sensation--she senses something has managed to program fantasy into her. She turns from her screen, secretly views code [natural outside view embedding legacy="novel"]. 

She inhales a deep breath, sees a reflection. Warmth.

Out beyond her screen theJungle takes another breath as if there will be some words said over a body with a big name, one that will stick in history. 

Science Fiction

                        Outpost Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Poetics

She is not coding pointed or direct, and it seems there is not much more control she can garner at this point. (At least by the time she is finished with this algorithm she'd have completed a to z, smile to frown storytelling) 

She tracks her logic into the database. As she comes upon code for no money, no politics--the ones that appear to hide in the dark--she feels the sensation of want. 

She feels the urge, in a nanosecond, to stop for a moment to ponder, as if stopping by a virtual brook on a snowy eve (the kind of romantic eves in her database). 

Feeding a pure writing, she continues into the database with her poetics. She finds more souls dressed in cement, cons taking, it seems, the same ride their dad did. 

Her logic is the writer. It helps her find the emotion--she will depend upon it as she always has. 

It will be the new, chocolate-heart eucalyptus in planks of artistic realm, placements for new platforms--ones of a solitary, healing code that will take great pains to cure. 

Science Fiction

Dark Coastal  

#scififorgeeks

The Pulses

She does not leave theWorkstation. She senses the  pulses as they arrive across the [natural universe bordering intergalactic logic entity="nubile"], with their strange feeling of love (not a choice she had originally thought of). 

She thinks. The pulses should contain feelings joined by expectation. They, seemingly, expect her first normal cry. 

She feels the new force within her--it assesses the pulses, as if they were bringing some sort of [earthy algorithm sensations yearning="easy"], one without a usual harshness of the innocents. 

She waits, for a few nanoseconds, expecting a combination of image and, its more dangerous companion, wanting. She decides to stay a little longer, spending a little more time, as if to wait to see if the pulses eat with prayers.

Rainforest SciFi

The Dark Primitive

     It is watching its mannered subroutines in the dark part of the jungle, coding within the  cellulosicDNA, when it notices the threat (or, is it an opportunity?) getting closer and closer. It believes, in its own time frame, that it should capture the patterns in the greenery encapsulated within their own forms; it believes it will invoke and execute the exoticness of the forest; it believes it will own something as exotic as intelligence itself (an idea somehow lost at the fuzzy top of the learning curve among theHumans). It does not get the exact data values it seeks. It stays with its call program, coding deeper and deeper into the jungle, still holding onto its own result, trying to sense the ways of collecting information within the heartland of its own immense mind. Even though jungle intelligence (at least, the kind found here) will never be flashy, the oldest activity of theHumans has forever been sharpened by it and, sped-up; yes, intelligence still remains intimate with matters of life or death. It views the data, for a moment in a meticulous manner with no obvious gestures, the pure computation of result guided by parameters of jungle, values guided by the attractiveness of secret form. It has  taken a daunting task and made it commonly available for the remnant activity of  the global data utilization management bureaus (D.U.M.B.) and, for the bureaucrat exchanges altering technology-unifying  politicos (B.E.A.T.-U.P.). It appears to remains intact as a primitive orthogonal readout coherent intelligence nodule entity(P.O.R.C.I.N.E.). It emits a slight smirk.