Biobot Belief

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Belief

She lowers herself into theJungle, dons a suit for her survival need--the sun will track her inner circle with a few photons.

It's theJungle that avoids disintegration because of its underlying spaces--its real manifold becomes a threat to what all theHumans have built.

These are the forces that came to trust their own mechanics. They accept her belief in their own personalized degrees of freedom. 

She could never find the ultimate imposers of limits (surely they would not simply shine a signal light from shore, right?) that inhabit the deepest part of theJungle. 

She is conscious of the mountain islands with their gene farms--they too started with a simple trend of the game (a couple of bouquets and a few okays, a rearranged alliance). Yes, from violins to violence, she thinks. 

This is the place of perfectly planned genetic home weddings, the place that depicts where leadership comes to play.

Was it a mere issuance of opposing tones that gave rise to disease as an integral equation in quadratic form, one with an infinite number of variables? 

Was this how it happened?

Biobot Memory

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Memory

She recreates it on screen--it's theTigress who is, in the end, wild. Is she wild for reasons to simply recreate the lives of her forebears? 

There can be no more to it than this fact.

She believes that the creation of her sound wisdom is the creation of the sound of a drum--it offers  a surface life of its own.  

Yes. She must have carried these uncelebrated toils through eons of existence (her genes recording the famine in hero's veins, the plague (what better binder of humanity?), the extinctions of caring for the incinerated products before the floods and droughts finally snapped the blood of sharing. 

She would like the image to remain as more than a remnant of romantic vision--even the volcanic eruptions have their own topologically closed matrix for renewal, right? 

She really believes, more now than before, in the power of her memory, the memory just under her fingers. 

The New

Natural Genetic

#scififorgeeks

The New 

The worldwide democratic may grow tired of natural genetic resources, grow tired of simply wanting  enterprise to rise. It may think it is connected with competition of primordial genetic codes, supposedly, thought to be under lock and key.

On the fringe of the global community, she takes a break to remind herself she is built with the good grass. She has figured out from her furious clues, her furions, that victimization needs family. 

It's not a mere matter of being contemptuous toward having to be ready for work--it's a belief in the power of the more-than-one. 

Yes, she is the singularity, the one morning wakings must warm to.

The others are in a place where an obvious sign of foul play still maintains its innocence even as it rearranges itself at the top of the food chain. It's a place where guardian angels are in charge of death, catching up with emotion--until all are caught up.

It's true. If drones silencing the airwaves can themselves be quieted and calmed by the little shivers of silence dropping from the sky, a new code will rise.

Biobot Biues

Ghost Park

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Blues

And so her beauty awaits the new mingling. Her liar-connect-lair tasks connect the dots, erases the dots the best she can. She's surrendered to designated algorithms of cell block scrutiny and security call back. 

She is comforted in her concern for trust of the primordial. 

She's coded for scorpion where death is the decision, programmed for shark where away is a place called impatience and misunderstanding, tasked for for killer whale where survival is a loss of innocence and compassion, where a new light emerges.

Having instantiated white monkey as being no danger to anybody (with no gang or no group for bullying conjured), she is allowing herself a rest. 

She will return from reverie with the knowledge that hope does not accept death as an option--that malice, malibu, and milieu are different destinations on Earth. 

At this very moment she's slowing herself with her millennia of genetic material, to spend some time with photosynthe, to have a little freedom from the conglomerates--where silence can only be reached from rock bottom, where the mired deafening of double-clicks to theExchanges push roundabout, incessant on her data base. 

She has taken the view she will never see the want of theHumans, But she can surely hear it.