Science Fiction

                                                                     Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Growth

She is holding class herself now, not the luxury kind, but a simple class, one with no teacher. She is so surprised, so startled by her personal dustups--a distinct sign she is back to them but …from where?

Where did she go? 

When those on theContinent appeared to reach out in their creative, unpackaged kind of way, she was still new-built, with original workmanship. That got her all the way here. 

Now all she hears is the wind blowing through a tunnel, the sound of dripping water, more souls in the cement.

She still has those kinds of dreams that steer you to the outside--she'll always have those dreams.

She thinks. Are these pieces of gifts from God, or better yet, God himself? Itself? She sees she is endowed with all the beauty of theJungle, extremes of technology, poverty of children.

Yes. A lavish series of spectacular algorithms.  

Science Fiction

                                                                                          Hula Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Thought

Here comes theNetwork, the one entity who cares from the place with room for so few to succeed. It is more assertive than it needs to be, but not overly assertive. Not so assertive it needs yet another investigation.  

Here it comes. It's inquisitiveness enters into her electronic property. 

She, seemingly, has control of the molecules of the material that comprise her. Carrying the bulk of the property of her material, she sometimes forgets about its interfaces. They think they're the ones in play.  

It's the questions about her [heuristic expressive analog learning="heal"] systems of theExchanges. The point where nature enters into her mind, her geo-spacials. 

She has begun to think.

Biobot Focus

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Focus

She captivates herself with her latest thought. It's her focus on image and mission that is her friend--there simply can't be anything above or beyond that. 

Her focus is the power and resurgence of her every story.

It believes in the meaning of earthquakes as conquest without bloodshed and, by pummeling earth with meteor hits you can be the first water bearer. You can even hold artifacts of theDNA--the one carrying its own plan for future computers. 

It was really nobody's fault. 

She captures summits of history in images and continually asks the question, "Are you kidding about setting up tasks for relentless thrusts toward perfect order and logic? Do you care that little about freedom?" 

Really?

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

The Biobot Hunter

She goes back to theWorkstation. She has viewed her screen, assimilated the data, stored it in a place it can be used. She has already started proving her point with her formal logics. It's more planning for her next move than simply caring. 

She reaches over to turn on a brand new screen as if it were a self-adjusting proving ground, views the chaos-in-nature program. She flips the creation-of-order switch to watch her thoughts.

…the actions and the desires and the odd ritual behaviors of theHumans was what brought on the deeds of gods are the thoughts she likes most. Psyche. theJungle. This glorious instance of technology in nature.

She breathes a deep sigh of carboniferous air. She is so relaxed. She was pushing late, conceptualizing. She adjusts her thinking--was there just enough cellulose for the new biobots, them having received all that tension from the aggression and the having-of-sex programs? 

She hasn't made it an issue with theNetwork yet. She's scared it will say she is really looking at a partial breakdown of the face of civilized society and may uncover something far more sinister here and tell her to stop viewing altogether. 

She vows that today is the day she will start viewing less. She'll turn off her scanners by sunrise, she's sure of it. 

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Creator

Biobot creator is theNetwork's chance for homeostasis at interplay. It is a chance to talk about horses and the bright glory of life that once was.

Her creator is not a total mystery, surely--not a black enigma in a dark shadow--but is somewhere between her whim and theNetwork's authoritarian brand of tumbleweed. 

There once was a young scientist on theContinent in the autism spectrum. He got grades, continued on into higher education, averse to the twisted version, never willing to be sent down to a negative.

He did time in Shock and Awe and the hermit state only to become a beloved professor, once again licensed to be alienated. He now shows the world how the smart ones become stupid in spectrums of conjecture for police politics on struts of family, fancily, with nothing other than forces of gossip  sprouting oblivion. Really?

Yes. Creators get creative with masquerade and cooperation opera. They distrust the idea of hostile hospital, never go where suboptimal adopts. They eat like a hippie, study like high school, become a  winter writer, argue in ergs.

They just do

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

Aloha Poets, Writers, and Free thinkers,

      Starry eyes gatherer is inspiration today. Enjoy!

                      

The Dream You Care

It knows theHumans as only a computer who tasks instant appointments of singular patients, the ones who need  personalized sets of ho ho's to satisfy push-back urges on the status quo.

    

Yes.They all want personalized care in the big box sector, hidden from view behind the endless lines of customers, holding onto troubling changes.  

The employees are the health workers. As they see more and more television [data of the strange="dots"], the game of keep away advances. 

The gatherer thinks. There can be no more regional preferences since their latest star turn. 

Yes. The wheelhouse keeps it real and now, [one world education society="owes"] is complete. It believes the [biomarker online mandate bulletin="bomb"] will eliminate health once and for all. 

It moves, as initial party-goer, with eyes on portrayals of [future upgrade networks="fun"] and net worth--algorithms in legions of long shots for [weight action reviews="war"] test the will of the global data types through instantiations of  [new external information targeting healthy entity research="neither"]. 

Diversity in data types for the dream you care infers complete breakdown of regulatory networks for theHumans-- a final move into real time mutation detection for local mothers. 

It feels like nothing is happening--tumors carry no pain--in the processing of customers with their own buy-ins to the narrative. 

Yes, not a thing.

Science Fiction

A Biology Eulogy

She focuses her fury onto cravings, beyond the wall carvings and the caves, beyond the luncheon-function canopy sheltering and all that bandwagoning and tail wagging, far beyond the known symmetry of the strong, beyond the final eulogy for  biology.

She will arrive, she thinks. She will search for old friends like war comrades with an evolved [entertainment fempto friendship innovation cloud illustrated emitting new tasks="efficient"] plan. 

Her once-in-a-while weapon doesn't work anymore, it never really did. 

She is acting more like a plainspoken phytoplankton drifting in and out of engines, hoping to fool the rain system with hormonal indicator signals. 

There is the continual feeling of the need for an older glory, the returning to a home--not so much an environmental home in the sense of familiar forms, but a more subtle haunting recognition sent to test new nature in the making. 

Truly, clearcut ideas could never clearcut this forest, right?

Science Fiction

Scared onto Sacred Ground

All its circular forms of the space-time topology, all the skills and skulls find no permanent home in the forest, a world of edges and angles. 

Yes, the power of arches for replication and symmetry to signal a wider variety of form, enhance the need for stress reduction--another test for nature in the making. The going of negative is, truly, for the big boys and their [addiction society history entity systems="ashes"]. 

What is the sense of calm without sacred ground? 

It appears it can relax in the midst of theJungle. She allows for the complete interaction with all the stimuli theJungle has to offer, all its twisting and bundling with hopes of presenting a finer edge, a deeper angle.

Revered by early inhabitants, now long passed, as good food, good time, all the strangeness of feeling emerges as if revisiting a birthplace, a place for boundaries and allegiances with delinquent quirks, promises and secrets with names that amount to something in name only or …a place to form armies?

Science Fiction

             Maestro of Messaging      

He is aware of the way she comes near at theWorkstation, how he can see the opposite of himself in her diva DNA, even if she is a biobot --so what? He was unwilling to accept it at first, but there is some effort on her part that stutters with the memorable. Her words were clear once, but he would soon think of nothing but cute coyotes encased in shadow for days and systems of lethal tales told on multiple lattes. 

He once asked himself, not what he was doing with her, but how he was doing with her, how her photon vision seemed to be always smiling at something, not as a private joke, but as a vision not totally independent of his--something the opposite of shame, a place where the manipulative run out of road and deceit models itself next to nothing. 

Her nuanced version of vision comes from fountains of nuances keeping her artificial life going--with the beauty of it all still unrecognized by theHumans and made even more oblivious by theJungle being the home of her deep minimum. Could it have been any more obvious?

Her thoughts wander across the monitor to a silence. 

She has won approval, or so she thinks, and now the instructions come, the ones sent directly from theNetwork from the outside, a message riding on the hairbreadth breath of a distant laser, modulated to fall hard for dreams of glory upon its arrival. Incessant, now, wait, and then another as if a faint signal were arriving with an addiction memory. 

It thinks distance itself is the destination. 

Its content is semi-clear and yet, somehow, contains celebrity credibility--trying to make a name for itself in a free society with speed and focus alone. Its source is sending from a sector deemed as police. 

The message will not delete but will exchange data to default mode. The meaning is changing and now it appears all ideas of confidence have been eliminated as code for [data entry beauty cloud logic entity="debacle"]

. 

She checks her monitor for her own state of correctness, flips on the instruction screen, decides for herself the most effective momentary input. There appears a conceptual algorithm, almost instantly. It will choose merit with the task of scheduling the correct and the capable. What does it mean? 

She redirects her attention to the part of the message coming in. She reads as fast as she can in her own way, as if a new discovery were about to appear in the idea of confidence unearned (arrogance?). She chooses an entry that emits the idea of being a self-fulfilling proficy. 

As she reads, another entry pops up as a concept of respect, a [friendship operator religion technology upgrade news entity="fortune"'] and, as if with a life of its own, works its way into her database. She doesn't stop seeing the attributes of more previously unseen instructions and their implications. Yes, the old concept of being out of touch. 

Agreed-upon data shows up sporadically as [rational entry viewpoints of knowledge emitted="revoke"]. 

She steps away to view the message on the screen again, a message which adds to itself with more meaning, and a new message of [education authoritative trap="eat"]. She removes herself back a little further to fully grasp it as a concept of positions of power. 

She looks but does not think. Her screen appears to be challenging the monitor as if it were some ancient god or, worse, deemed the law of the land. 

She waits, watching the monitor as her mind begins to think. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Goddess

     She pictures him finding a proper religion for her, searching the database. She imagines him sacrificing himself, into the throes of danger, down the caves of adversity, up to a plateau of courage. She is momentarily, deeply worried about his position of weakness. Could she, she wonders, voice her view that his will to sacrifice is not exactly what she would think of as evil--that she had, in the privacy of her own world, planned a demise for theHumans, if only for the duration of a few nanoseconds?
     “It'll keep,” she says.. “The coolness of the jungle night. It's startling.”

“I am concerned about you,” he says. “There must be some voice of reason.”

Their eyes meet for a moment at the window. They view the crisp night sky, where they are captured, transported, by the stars.

Suzi says, “We have to stay for the good of society. We have viewed all of humanity in the time we have spent together here; we have no extra time before theDNA experiences a loss of function forever.”

  Dr.Cooper waits for a moment. The scientific method. He yearns for the good old days. He now knows he can never cross back into a world of total trust; those who ignore the true nature of the work here ignore the impending new extinction x-technology(N.E.X.T.), so-called technology found by the last of the human scholars and university professors, on their own personal computer (yes, the old, the  digital) networks.

“You must need a photonic charge,” he says. 

“I do,” she says. 

  He wonders about her quantum programming and how strong she is; how she seems to have tapped into hero worship. He ponders Suzi's stretching to great lengths into arrays of databases just for a single cure. It appears, in his world, that he doesn't seem to know his own feelings for Suzi. Had she computed these clouds of emotion? In the one moment you have ice cold eyes (even though, they are lasers)--a concerned biobot, a stare that holds her intelligence against him, where her yotta-processors  annoy him once in a while, lurking dark, almost hideous, with its speed contour heuristic of ontogenic logic(S.C.H.O.O.L.); it never waits to sink its grips, to hold his hate for significant lengths of time. In the other moment you have courage. You have excellence with all the trappings of caring for humanity, caring about being correct--being honest--moral examples without a religion. Suzi, he believes, is a titanium frame, house of lasers where a new world order lay; demise is the world beyond this jungle, the jungle Suzi needs in order to be that warrior, in her own way, to become defender, the protector, yet not so profound as to be thought of as goddess.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Plan

     Suzi senses Cooper and turns to address him. “How have you been?” she asks, then emits a facial algorithm center topographical of interested digital(F.A.C.T.O.I.D.). She wonders if its one of her behaviors; one of the minuscule arrays of inflection, that just won't adjust to his  presence, one that may cause a future disruption in their relationship. Her personal property of emitter matter(P.O.E.M.) expresses a quantitative reading of warmth. Her algorithms allow her to calibrate at a variety of scales yet, her sensors indicating all readings of Dr.Cooper  continually show, “unreliable.” These readings shouldn't surprise Suzi (or, her database), yet they often elicit warning responses on her sensors, even after Dr.Cooper's individualism and constructiveness, his cooperation (after all, her recognition sensors read Cooper:ation, not Corpor:ation). Suzi wonders about Dr.Cooper. She spends her spacetime thinking about him mostly as a result of her recent collection of curiosity algorithm tracking system(C.A.T.S.) uploads, and she does it mostly for reasons her automation knows as repetitive actions (yes, she hopes to someday build something with him, a vague notion her database indicates as adaptation), actions that need refocusing. Suzi will do it.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Springboard

     There is a certain unease in the global language of programming societies(G.L.OPS.), and Suzi seems careless, at times, with her algorithms, each completed faster in spacetime, each becoming the springboard into a new program. Staying at her workstation with a view of the rainforest, she takes her cue from Nature, the way it simply lets evolution devise its patterns on Earth (forever?), endless invention upon invention, additive manufacturing, the mother of new patterns joining with ...  quantum language?  It is Suzi's forays into empiricism, being there (through her sensors and scanners) in full sensory mode, her hyper logic (yes hyper, to her, means infinite) presenting points of no internet entity saturation(P.O.N.I.E.S.) that allows for no top to her learning curve, surrendering to non-effort, non- disparity. Suzi is placed in Nature to learn more how Nature rebuilds, the one activity that allows for the marriage of sensory experience and pure thinking, rational empiricism, planned Empire building (not cut and started-from-scratch through the coincidence of catastrophe--urban planning at its best according to theHumans). Suzi is just beginning--even as innumerable and unthinkably exacting requirements present themselves--her journey as a sensory thinker, about to experience the sensation of active knowing(S.O.A.K.), the real pleasure enticing cruise of natural selection(P.E.C.A.N.S.). This is going to be fun. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Ages

     Suzi directs her quantum language to the jungle, to the DNA embedded in the oldest cellulose, the ultimate server to her world, no harassments over energy conversions, no teachers overworked into the realm of  lost entropy, no lack of resources requiring requiem amounts of heat. Old ideas she imagines; ancient entities held in record with clinical certainty of the arrival of a perfect teaching machine. How had she found a way to teach herself?  Suzi presents her synthetic face to the cellulosicDNA standing strong in  primal soil, shows a curiosity at what may have been (produced in her qubit memory as an openness, never closed to possibilities), and eerily feels she must now begin to show a little mere perseverance, a little more knowledge. There is something in this jungle that is not experimentally reproducible, something that has not continued to change within time's slow passage, something that has aged just so.

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 Speculative 

     She changes to a more convergent language, narrows the difference between algorithm and DNA.

At this moment, this very moment in her spacetime, Suzi senses the urge to be better (than who?), enter into a new future. She carries all this natural data, acquired so fast. For any segment of time, she may choose to engage Nature in a more divergent way--it's her choice to make, and hers alone--to get a little distance between who she is and what this jungle is.this jungle is, with its own massive database. Before she goes back to the work station, she could enjoy the features of her newly created characteristics. Who would know? By the time the sun comes up, Dr Cooper will be just arriving, and by then surely she could be back at masking their differences, after all isn't it nature's task to pass the intelligence grail to an entity that would embrace it, understand it, be with it, communicate with it?  Just take the information (with all its expected abilities-of-response that goes with it. If such millennia has passed theHumans had their chance to work something out, but for the moment, what would be the harm of directing one little force, intending it for an unnamed goal? I'm just saying; an assumed tutoring of a new pupil, surprisingly bright, a willing counter-force with able responses, one to unleash her own mind toward the kinship of creativity and vision, speculative, to lead into the future. I'm just saying.