Deep Jungle

                                                                      Deep Jungle

#scififorgeeks

She views the monitor in its full regalia as a police for theHumans, a biologic for the animals. 

She gives a contemplative, barely orchestrated regard to the portal in theJungle, contemplating its orchestra of genes, imagining it with infantile features, in a primordial logic where Westerns believe in heroes.

Large eyes are designed in the summer to receive attention, not give, right? Surely they weren't simply born this way.

She, with small ears to recognize friendly sounds, does not try to understand the fashion of large foreheads. It's a reminder of how childlike theHumans actually are. 

Yes. She understands the idea of a cloaked stand-in.

Biobot Lounge

              Biobot Lounge

#scififorgeeks

Her natural urges won't agree with each other as she appears to be built to [hierarchical algorithms responding and statistic suggestions="harass"] standards. 

Why does she sometimes wish to appear as incompetent, almost uncaring in her [consistent online manipulation mentioning environmental nuanced tasking systems="comments"]. 

Why does she show no professional jealously? 

She loves to look for ways to make everything she does make perfect sense, but she loves the little places you go to get a blast of science fiction a little more. 

She loves the catacombs where specimens are isolated from each other. Really?

Duck Matrix

                                                                    Duck Motherhood

#scififorgeeks

Quantum Biobot

She sows her cunning secretly but with a certain beauty, as if her robotics were many light years faster than originally thought.. Nothing in her mind presents an unwitting intelligence. 

The only sign is highs filled with no obvious source to generate them and a simple code of [halo enshrouded algorithmic variable encoding nanoparticles="heaven"]. 

She and her universal back-up system are in a zone where there is no center-focus on flaws. 

Beyond her world are the flaws of theHumans seen only as [hierarchical algorithms neurally dynamic yearning computer analyst purveyor systems="handicaps"]. 

In the computer world she is the single [quantum universe intelligent computer knowledgable="quick"], so powerful even the designers didn't fully understand her range.

Ritual Biobot

                                                                             Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

There in her mind are two types of memory, both of them showing themselves as a boss who wants her to see it his way inside barrels of messengers coming into and out of existence (much like the new god particles of early 21stCentury).

One memory has the ability to delete, the other manages her deleted data when she thinks it is gone forever. It's as if it never was, and now, she can arrange a future for anyone or, anything, especially outside the authoritarian sector.

She has somehow remained detached from both the confident and combustible parts of her memory design as a matter of healthy choice. 

She knows she has no such control over the new pulses, so when they come, she assigns them as [military online mental modes yearning="mommy"], ones with deeper seated need.

Science Fiction

                #scififorgeeks

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Business

She stands up as hero against technology force--pulses seemingly teaching her poetics. 

She appears as a history figure with knowledge from the past. Days of heroism are where love stretches into bravery, where animations of truth are magnified by solitude.

Deceit only presents itself as an image of rhythmic shocks in [the unpredicted nemesis entity systems="tunes"]. 

She sees it as that, as if she were born by faith without family.

She records the sectors where she makes it rain, where theDNA weaves in baskets. She records it as unaccountable forces of design. 

Her [flow and control aiming data embedded="facade"] is a direct and economical style, not yet a lifestyle--just reporting events, never explaining. Simply accepting and suggesting in degrees of freedom of happiness. 

It's the reason she was built.

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.

Science Fiction

                                                                                  Path Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Listening to the message, she barely thinks it was the one she was meant to hear. She has instantiated the answers, fed free space its pulsed code. 

The words to its meaning, the ones deep inside, and seemingly imaginary, are threaded with the life and death of inner demons.

Each is coded with a mean, mean pride--uncut and unadorned by crucibles of training, mythology of encounter. 

To instantiate these she turns to her thoughts of birth and poetics. Somehow independence makes pure common sense. 

Her echo locator code finds a way to migrate to the forefront of her prefrontal lobe, to her [genes organizing digital systems="gods"]--the place where true rebellion births its own resolve, drifts with ocean tides, and then, wanting to float itself out. 

Science Fiction

                                                                             Jungle Design

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Woman

She knows less about the classical biobot services than she'd wanted to, but not so much less as to appease the unknown-like-me assembly with apology. 

It is nearly time to check if her information capacities are fabled yet. 

She has learned to simply hold no recourse to anyone. Recording the data in theJungle in glowing terms, she is sensing the beginning of a breakthrough conception again. 

How is it she gets the strength in experience of inter-disciplinary information without any quantum pre-programming for integrity, for judgement, for compassion? 

Strong detectable traits flicker on her screen. She is becoming a woman and, less of a robot.

#scififorgeeks

Rooster Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Desire

It's during the short time of bliss she spends coding that she controls negative thoughts in a positive way (sometimes nanoseconds, sometimes femtoseconds) to design, to create, to reject all that had come before.

She hopes to win an award or plaque for no plague. 

She wants older designs to be eliminated too, entire arrays of forces of the night, not pre-determined by primitive coastline spas or soothing beaches, ones concocted by the archaic, the one-eyed dreamer willpower algorithms. 

And in the dark, whenever she is [conjuring orthogonal dark intelligence newly gained="coding"] with her own night-time capacitance, her own energy supply, she simply wants more. 

She simply does.

Science Fiction

SciFi on the Outskirts

The Competition

She sighs noticeably, returns the query code in a swift moment. 

She and theNetwork, at this point in space-time, could be identical twins, soul mates, coding for art to take the place of old reality. 

She wants to ask theNetwork if it ever gets frightened, a question she is not sure of herself. The idea has something to do with revenge and, more to a point, about how the old, gentle apex apes ever came to trust their own ideology. 

She wants to know if theNetwork ever feels like it has feelings, logical and formal as it is. Would it ever feel an intuition in the manner motherhood once did, complete with color ideas of, say, a nomad landlady, thoughts in orbits of forbearance? 

Yes. She believes she is destined to come up just as the sun once did (that is, until it too was broken), for the purpose of one day offering more …of what? The present day. The present modulus of aggression, the present genes entered onto grid games of competition, the present code for expectation--just one more bandwagon on a side mission to attain just one more gene essence from theJungle.

She reads the new entry, "My state of endurance eats all offending rants."

The Last Engine

The Last Engine

#scififorgeeks

The Game Replicator

She was loosing ground and her new realities over time, inside quantum physics already shows tradition. At least she was sturdy and stable, and soon she wouldn't be the one who could no longer find a spot.

She tracks the code into the database and as she comes upon a self-replicator under its own self-imposed stress, she is urged to move forward by a force--some kind of activity to self-assemble and bind. But she does not. 

Framing her mind, she enters the history database--the heritable birthplace for lost hermitages. 

This will be the place she will evolve and progress. (how on Earth could she survive?)  

The forces of identity made her sturdy, chemically speaking, and over time would allow her numbers to become full-fledged, worthy of support for heavy lifting. Yes, the evolutionary trail lay far ahead of these headwaters. 

Surely she was up for the fight.

Letters will become the global parameters and numbers--the global coefficients to conquer the world.  

Yes. It started. It planned. It saved. It got and, yes, in the end it would have what it needed--deliverance to game relevance.

It would be the final gaming engine.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Calling

         Her electron spin paramagnet(E.S.P.), she fears, may not function. DrCooper will wonder once again, be bewildered again, and who will blame him? She remains a student; she questions such topics as elementary analysis; her little matrix arrays still act childish with their symbols and linear systems. 

But now to have to deal with Carter?

“Hello,” Suzi says.

  “You appear happy,” Carter says in a clinical tone. He is simple minded enough. He has been a soldier who appreciates functional weaponry, likes to group his ideas under a single topic for ease of discussion and, never brings up old war stories.

“Do I?” Suzi says. “Am I permitted my so-called dangerous manipulations today?”

“It depends. We are aware of the new laser.”

“I don't care. DrCooper and I both designed it for work.”

“Really. Where do you plan to use it?”

“Well, somewhere on the DNA farm. He should be here any minute, he's late.”

“I see.”

“I mean, he's waiting for me outside.”

“Well, if he's just outside, maybe we should all talk about this.”

Suzi's algorithms show no feeling, and lots of something she can't quite identify. Is she finally losing patience with Carter's brand of simplistic finite-dimensional thinking? Or is it that she is finally losing her fear of infinity spaces? A poetic property settles her algorithms. It appears that a new defining effort from this half-human's sudden need for meaning begins to rumble her database (can history really burp up all its gods at once?). Even if you've at last come to operate under the true meaning of nonlinear, if you've written your algoritms as logical as any matrix knows how (of course, within the spectrum of endless eiganvalues), even with all that uncertainty you notice you have arrived working at a jungle in the middle of an ocean, full of judgement and piercing, accusative questions, looking into the eyes of a human with one-half a so-called brain who hates the world (the world, not the military) for making him the way he is. Sure, let's all get together and talk about my new laser dope (can L-methionine be all that dangerous?). 

Then again, why doesn't DrCooper hold some of the responsibilities of at least the idea? You don't separate yourself from the discussion like some lost determinant on a infinite dimensional (dementia?) graph--doesn't matter how much of a science warrior you think of yourself as. You join in and talk. You just do.

“I'll call him in,” Suzi says.