#scififorgeeks

Matrix Pavilion

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Want 

She can feel the data crawling all around inside her. She relaxes. 

Yes, it's the meaning of the data and, it's her way of taking the data. Its meaning, her way-- twins identical within their visa versa so as to gain at any given moment the imperiled imperfect, the estranged strangled--all holding a nefarious scoundrel at bay for the desirous founding of  …what? 

She stiffens, looks out the window. Then it's settled. 

The colors of theJungle do not devise any change to their long-range scheme. Nothing lurks to blacken everything. 

She senses something beyond a simple game of stickball, more complex. She is here at theWorkstation with theNetwork out there on theContinent--the quiet border towns and small prairie towns and spectacular infractions. 

Yes, finally, she feels the singularity. It's a want.   

Science Fiction

Candor of 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 theHumans.

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 of a 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 created 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 functions of inclusion.

Yes, also. Workshops for the worship. Reciprocal caring and sharing as independent entities within the phenomena of the natural--the 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.

Copyrighted material   

Patrick Daniel Adams

all rights reserved

Science Fiction

 The Goddess of Instantiate

        

She scans theJungle as if an elderly woman watching silent from a rosewood staircase with focused concern, false power. She appears to herself, briefly, as one of the biobots positioned at theWorkstation.

Her monitors put on a show. It's the data that loves her the most. It always will. 

Far into the future she will remain actively quiet, without prayer, authorized to run on her own with little interruption of loops and corrections--the most perfect of creatures.

Hers is the kind of data future generations will hold up to a celebrity light.

She amazes even herself at the yottabytes she burns, often finding herself saying, This data has chosen me, I haven't chosen it. She checks her screen, searches random data for cybermetric analysis, finds one (it reveals a location and cause of energy being released as heat), decides to read it and thinks. Designated heirs to the end of an evolutionary trail.

She'll never truly let anyone inside her mind. Waves bend around small objects, spread out past small openings.

She manipulates even her own future analysts with her [constraint operational planning system="cops"]. She controls her photon logic efficiently with the speed of light and the thoughtful modulations of the phase frequencies of her various lasers. She'll never take a day off to rest for the purpose of making decisions, thinking rational. 

She knows theJungle and its ways--and yet, should she care? She is totally under her own control. 

Her mind is beautiful in a funny way.

Occupy Walls

Aloha free thinkers--occupy walls of water--imagine freedom--ride the wave
-adventure yourself

Landing Site of Freedom

        He sips the breeze. He barely hears himself as he utters to the horizon: "This can never die." he thinks, slower this time, of how he--how any human--could make a machine like that. He reflects on the sparkles coming off the ocean.  "A work of art, billions of years in the making." It is a beautiful, imaginative thought, a little disconnected from who he thought he was. 

        The machine pronounces new plans inside his mind, quietly but forcefully, as if a message just returned. He could decide to kill. It is a simple, monotone thought, not entirely out of his realm. Exotic stations are where scientists go to save the world, aren't they?  It's possible--maybe even certain--that someone or something targets a radio beam right here, to the unsuspecting. Something calculated as the last landing site; something looks at these cliffs and that ocean on its own screen. By reaching out, it seems, your own personal force field surmounts the extreme conditions of its immediate surroundings and enters the zone of hope; the life zone you seek to occupy, a life zone where greed and, even bacteria have been eliminated.

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?  

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.

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 Rainforest

The Rainforest

     The rainforest writes its own code. It presents its own versions, the long unraveling of events, with its own brand of pageantry, a formal message signed, sealed, and yet, undelivered to ...who or, what? It wants to write for another eon just to show the global village it's not become superficial, or staid, by the universe's force of real time(F.O.R.T.) and, never concerned about missing the point of neighborhood. It's a reflection of its own patterns from which they should have gotten the message. Even at this moment it continues the search for a more constant approach--the best tactic of structural relationships between individuals. It strives within its own worry of imperfectly coating its messages--lost expressions in values. At the start of it all is the ideology, which can only be expressed through entity-altered shared experiences(T.E.A.S.E.).  It builds the higher, more complex, levels of structure branching--the things that really are important instead of who would win(W.W.W.). Its systems of relationships emerge(S.O.R.E.) constantly as formal introductions, sprouting a sense of community so vague to theHumans, it wonders silently if it hadn't  created its own written language(O.W.L.), one that only it understands. Repetitive natures of Nature continually conquer theHumans, instill misunderstandings into their neuron systems as authoritarian capitalism entitlements(A.C.E.), destroys faster and faster their innate deliberation and togetherness agendas(D.A.T.A.) and, the misunderstandings are so systematic, the loss of conceptual reciprocation so clear, that their new agenda becomes a fun, invigorating, energized observation of the act of wanting--personified to mock, easy to define, instant to remember.  The rainforest sees these as no natural-appearing organic form, no part of its slow growth pattern of survival encryption(P.O.S.E.) kindly offered, no entrance into the truth of realm complexities heuristics(T.O.R.C.H.), no staring point for the new artificial life.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Learner

     Suzi sends data to Dr Cooper as if in a clinic. Some knowledge generation, machinations, pushings and pullings, efficiencies arising from interaction with her interface along with elements of his ideas and experience. There exists a child's play here. There is an expectation that scientific skill is to be practiced (and, discoveries made) individually. Suzi senses she is easy to work with, clear and clean, sensing her own articulate mechanisms, yet when she is near Cooper she knows by Cooper's uncertain look that he has continually internalized his own take on knowledge learned in this jungle. He has incorporated these recent experiences into his own framework internalized representing entities(F.I.R.E.) of global community; now is not the time to alter faulty understandings (or, perceptions) in a last ditch effort of accommodation. 

     Cooper approaches Suzi. "Why don't we try to get along," Cooper says. "We've got a long road ahead."

     Suzi turns, leaves the workstation under her own power. She begins her next algorithm around the present circumstance, reframing her image of Cooper to match their latest encounter (learning from the mistake?) in violation of her own expectations. She turns her lasers to the jungle and scans, slightly reframing the model of what this new sector of cellulosicDNA will reveal. She remains with her original plan, enthralled by the idea of learning from ...a failure event? Yes, even if it was Cooper's.

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.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Haven

     She will  begin with her mathematical models, study the natural phenomenon, the beauty. She will extract the information she's gotten from the images she's scanned at theOutpost: the information deemed necessary to solve the task at hand, the one that will bring the breakthrough (for them, status for her), the one expected when theHumans first allowed mathematics to disallow their thinking; the data extractor analog designer(D.E.A.D.); multiple views from her nano-camera array that shoots a real time (yes, real time) video sequence, her multi-dimensional data collection device, her factory-built default scanner--for her to look at the digital mathematics when she wants to apply it to human analog nervous systems data  (as she does on a daily basis)--to impress Dr Cooper. In truth, she is content with being a simple autopilot system or, at least with being her own autonomous vehicle, getting around without input from Cooper (or any so -called human entity, for that matter); she will actually feel pangs of happiness when she uses her personal visual surveillance scanner. She will blush, proudly, with every additional database record of image target(A.D.R.O.I.T.) she creates, and quietly admit to herself she's gone beyond even her own expectations of tract-indexing multiple-imaged digital(T.I.M.I.D.) sequences, patting herself on the back, as the organizer, as the ultimate machine uttering logic technology(T.U.M.U.L.T.)--theHumans are so lucky to have her. How, she imagines, can it be that she can endure such strenuous topographical DNA modeling with such ease while nature took billions of years to conjure up millions of species in this forest? How does it work that modeling this jungle with image analysis started not-so-long-ago with only four species--four operators operating digitally(F.O.O.D.) on her prototype prelogic-fixed mainframe. She was powerful enough with her adding and subtracting, her multiplying and dividing. Such simple input manipulations for a device specifically built for human interaction. This, to Suzi, is haven.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Desire

     The photosynthetic entity receives each photon (packeted, with quantum), and at the first sensation of ultraviolet, excites her proteins into machinery mentality (a brain?)--churning data into information--that signals and transmits, working for the DNA of theCellulosics. Greenery snaps into attention. These photons are so old and have traveled so far, and yet, still carry that fancy energy as if a new-borne; the unique urge to be received and be transmitted, to signal further on. The photons stay focused. They carry the urge, across such distances, as if universal messengers of love, and receiving them at this moment, billions of years old, in this primal and truthful jungle, theGreenery reflects on her own luck--specialized types of proteins under her command, staunch in their duty; proteins who came together long ago and who sought their own individual survival (yes, even to this day) as a corporate of attachment and need, in agreement with objective legacy(A.W.O.L.), part of (secret?) plans, transmitting and signaling, not bothered by their (forced?) commitment to destiny (as more proteins will emerge to join in), furthering the ends of want, creating yet even more desire. 

     In this instant of spacetime theGreenery sees each photon as warrior, humming to its own warship music. It appears to view the dull global societies of theHumans as regime change; it appears unaffected by demise, happy and active and knowledgeable in the rise of the new realm and of course, proud to help.