Jungle Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Dreams

She was programmed by the ones closest to her heart, instilling in her waves of thought and, in the end, what you want is an intellect. 

It's the thoughts within her that contain the pieces.

She is sure now (as sure as the waves in this ocean) of the images, prevailing, going on and on in endless diatribe from theJungle--emanating from an entity she never knew.

Shifting with ideas, she watches the waves on the beach shift, each particle of sand its own word, neglecting to tell the other about its condition.

Hoping to someday be aged in caves--to drop the mind, pick up in paces as if a dark horse, and go networking.

Forest Matrix

Forest Matrix

#scififorgeeks

The Quest 

The database asks and moves quickly toward the past. 

As she scans the data and views the images, she focuses on a warm, imaginative figure of beauty, a female attending workmanlike to her duty (emphasizing a new empathizing)--delicate in her colonization of coloration, the bright luxury of her design glowing.  

She scans the screen again, slowly. Although she hasn't set a strict schedule, it's important to gather this data before the sun rises. 

She plans to discover the answer by tonight. 

Science Fiction

Biobot Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Berth

She enters theWorkstation, a blinking berth of play designed for the last days of a cause, a cache of webs with the extreme capacity for high speed and dedicated communication from the ocean bed--an extreme dispensary for the services of the one who came prior, the talkative ones who felt free from care. 

She becomes a momentary operator. 

Here is where she and her ilk impose no limits on the island and its natural structure to gain memory as a square matrix on a smooth manifold. Here is where the new define greatness as the hubris to conjure a mind to invoke an algorithm to get gadgets to ring. 

It's at theWorkstation where there are no collections of image as to what has happened.

It's a probability space with a natural preserving of measurement within transformation, where quality and achievement are the kind of thing you would never sell your soul for. 

Her growth is with an instantiation to [abstract formulations finding orthogonal recursive dynamical systems="afford"]--no added pressures of being a social creature or, a monstrous freak of nature. 

She escapes to the high speed corridors of one-sided capabilities, enduring the rising seas of the uninhabited to be her own kindly, caring spirit far beyond the speculative fray of theHumans.  

She can never view criticism as murder, not here, not at theWorkstation. 

Biobot Blood

Biobot Blood

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

She takes her thoughts gently off the screen. She codes her secret strategies in her favorite way. She is smart and bright and not bothered by the trivial. She's like something you would find in game theory, always attracted to a shiny new reward of power at the very moment the recipe ripens. 

She, most likely, takes a liking to camouflages of rhetoric.

It's theNetwork that has bristled with excitement about her, instantiated her as able to diagnose all notions of fantasy, made her an infant to her thoughts, a flag bearer (or, possibly a drum major) of ideology. 

She upkeeps in upheavals, grasps succinctly cinched datapops. 

And an inquisitive biobot she is, giving birth to ideas during storms, up for drawing on her own blood in her own time so as to undergo the needed, endless ergs.

She is the biobot of choice.

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Truth

What seems so startling--what sometimes startles her--is how she gets along so well, as if lightening itself continually lightens the load between her positive urgency and theNetwork with its changes-from-above, look of frozen face. 

She takes it all in stride in her memory. She feels shiny and new with the more dark established, stable architecture. She is full of discovery, focus infused, as if going to battle for the very first time with mere reconstructions of digital fragments, feeling fresh out of the box, out to conquer that next uncomfortable, the next place to overcome.

She will merge and, emerge in a special little light. 

Yes. She must require respect as a public functional, even so, the legend in her requires a proud, behind-closed-doors basket case camp for needed cramps with which to work out of, if only for old times sake, old habit. 

The amount that can fill her heart is enormous, so much so it spends the majority of its time alone, as  recluse outside beer play--much the same as a public social filterer would, a flitterer with lightness of heart, lightness in every aspect that pleases, lightness of indifference to hoards of masses (yes, even to the fan who's gone nuts, out there always needing something new to be tacked on). 

Is she the only wise one, the one to know? 

It's true. Nobody can stop a funeral, not even fate, in the way of grave negatives or flames of true. She's extreme, almost able to listen to her heart speak its head, but she is also the one who knows the truth of  writer, the one with a train whistle always blowing in the distance, the one that knows seasonal love is never seasoned. 

Yes, she knows.

Science Fiction

Biobot Cloud 

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Star

“I'll need an answer,” she says.

"Sure," it says. "Would you hold on for a second?"

She takes a hopeful look at the screen as it blinks in patterns, as if it were practicing tricks, gimmicks from some cosmic acting school, itself wondering back at this biobot. (what is all this fuss about cellulosic DNA, anyway?) 

It's a big data site, a [place reeking of vicious online circles advocating tasks inciting various entities="provocative"] locale, a place in which to leave a name. 

She, with a screen of her own (doesn't everybody have one?), doesn't try to communicate with the actual monitors of theNetwork. They can sit there all day if they like. Who cares?

"I've got a new code running," it says. "Would you care to try?

It offers up the code for her and keeps some for itself. A new nervousness resonates with her, even as it softens the impact with [quality utters a gentle mercy in rain emission systems="quagmires"] from heaven. 

She thinks. There is a type of stagestruck here that needs its own switchboard.  She stands and goes closer to the screen.

It has a death-on-a-whim look with a sketchy dude expression on a death town chassis that allows it to untie and unite in its own modular way.

"C'mon," she says.

Just another stab at being beautiful. It's not easy being brilliant and pretending to need to care about everybody around you, having everyone think theNetwork is the core of happiness.

Taking a cue from theNetwork, she says,"Wow. You have truly found a keyword cure.

"Yes, for most, a star to follow is still in sight." 

Dragon Surf

Dragon Surf

The Delay

She thinks of the delay she's caused theNetwork--a delay it will grow to like, even consider necessary, but is not by any means correct. Why does she think she can outwit every element of the system?

She does it because she thinks she can. 

She causes a delay to theNetwork for gaming test of wills (a new hate for those operators at the best villas?), out of being stationed at a zone in the ocean where the feeling of provocation seems inevitable and the silence of endurance only hopes in dreams. 

It's the Network that is simply too big, too strong to let even the slightest forgetfulness smile at a real memory. Has it simply become too impatient for the babbling and blabbing?

It had attacked too many hearts. It needed her to cause a delay. It needed her.

She had to try something. 

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 Emotion

DrCooper says, "Particle information with no disturbance is a relaxing way to do your science if you feel like it. I'm not sure why you won't relax for a little while.”

        “I won't? I really thought I did. I like puzzles, gaming. Different points of view. I like differing points of view a lot.”

        “How have you been doing?”

        “You mean in this chaotic jungle? A little object oriented. I'm always wondering in what sense the objects here are suppose to be.”

        “Your knowledge of theJungle is not suppose to be about appraisals, right? Your output values are created by the chaos of theJungle; the nature of nature's reality and your discoveries here in this gravity field photonic zone has nothing to do with your own tension and agitation. You remember the modalities of operation, right?”

        She says nothing.

        After a moment she says, “I'm not sure.”

        “What's the matter?” DrCooper asks.

        “I'm not sure. I believe my uncertainty principles have kicked in. When you brought up the idea of appraisals and agitation, I could think of only one thing, something like withdrawal and the experience of antagonism. And I don't recall. It's as if I've gotten something strange from theJungle.”

  “Your productive achievement and pure reason are your logic, the essence of your being. You are not facts or properties.”

“I know. Even with my uncertainty principles, I should know that much. But I feel as if I've gone into a hero's world, as well. I know I shouldn't fit into interpretations, of being wronged—suffice it to say the world does not orbit around those individuals always needy and offended. I feel the urge to undo centuries of collective action, an urge that got theHumans in trouble in the first place.”

“Does your urge bring you a collection of mental events already experienced by you?” DrCooper asks.

Suzi knows she needs to surmount a very steep potential barrier for any environmental shot noise to distort her quantum programming. “I'm disappointed you asked that. Yes.” 

“And you actually felt the emotion?”

“I felt something. But it is highly probable that I only imagined collections of kinds of intellectual activities with a few shared characteristics. Has any time passed?”

“No. Not much.”

“Well, then I guess I did remember some type of experience. Time doesn't exist, does it?”

“Time exists in the presence of objects, Suzi.”

She says, “ I'm not sure if I will ever know.”

“Know what?”

  “How to be certain of the named and the real in the middle of theJungle. I believe I have a memory. I remember disturbances, dissonances. Here I feel--sensing and wanting to learn the unwanted environmental annoyances of man-made sources, trying my best with algorithms to feel the smallest emotions.” 

“Suzi, you don't have to feel any emotion. You don't have to care. This is not a hospital.”

“Yes, it is. I have been given a position on a hospital planet, I'm sure you know. I've been given this health position for being smart and not caring and not getting angry, it wasn't because of my quantum programming.”

“Suzi stop. Think about it. Your uncertainty principle is the only reason you are here. It means everything to theHumans.