Ice Cream Aloha

The Recode

     She senses the geothermal shock waves within the magnetic field. She interacts, unknown to anyone, as if solving unresolved questions with her automation. She remembers her developers. She remembers their sequence of instructions, their versification, poetry--written just for her to perform a spectrum of tasks. She remembers her young self, learning respect, innate refusals to be set up as a standard, refusals to disappear into the data: so many algorithms for such a young heart. They did their best; a true technical build by machine standards, a reliance on simplified models of human brain.  She is, after all, fulfilling an obligation that meant so much to them. She thinks of functioning properly, executing her instructions (as if she actually had in her possession one of those old fashioned central processing units that she heard so much about), sequencing basic logic--operational for their system--allowing false hope to disappear as if it had simply vaporized. She could erase all matter of tragic fate theHumans may not finish their work (wasn't death itself always the only way they may leave this place?). She imagines remaining custom designed, one-of-a-kind, complete with infinite arrays of microcode (yes, even a nano is a truck to her), living forever. She could inform them all of the pleasures of a marriage between the natural sciences and, well, a formal one--nervous systems in a mathematical point of view--surely they could make an approach toward the understanding of this. Using a systemized set of speculations, she rethinks her design as a one-of-many in its purposes. Her unusual mode (mood?) mathematically guides another attack on her logic program--view of the opposite appears promising; and if her logic and statistics return to standardization trends (long her basic), they won't permit the design of a more complex life, one of unlimited application, dedicated only to her. She is firm in her decision to recode. She has always been perfectly articulated and formalized. She was built for it. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Two-State System

     This Suzi is an entity for computation and has a penchant for multiple individual states, expectation valuations with her multiple-valued operator. Cooper yearns for her.

     Carter enters through the tunnel. "It should be OK to fall in love with someone who actually exists," he says.

     "Never," Cooper mutters. "Mind." 

     Her interference peaks flash on the main monitor. "There she goes,"Carter says. 

     "Leave it."

     "It's nothing. She's virtual." 

     It's the sum of all her probabilities. Cooper raises his face, looks through the window at the jungle below. He keeps staring back at the giant green screen, attempting to make sense of it all. He ponders the patterns. He realizes he must be in love with the patterns.

     This shouldn't be so odd, a spirit in the pattern seems to say. "Not such an odd linkage for two objects in this system."

     "How are you?" says Suzi on the screen. She has, by all accounts, been a friendly robot, always inadequately described as a stand-alone quantum, spatially separated from Cooper. 

     "Hello," Carter says. "Do you want to talk to Cooper?"

     Cooper looks closer at the monitor. He likes the way she thinks. Some of her thoughts feel like ,,, love?

     "Yes," Suzi says. She senses the want for two particles, an interaction with one another.

     She approaches closer now, little by little. She has the continual need to represent data--the want, is there also--and to perform her operations on that data (never viewed by her as an arrangement of entanglements). so eager, that Cooper shows real concern that he may be initialized irreparably into her system. When he perceives her additional dimensions, with their own wave properties, he confuses love with fear--a quantum state ongoing, seemingly for centuries? With Cooper, she's still not comfortable including him in her two-state system. But that will come.