Ice Cream Aloha

The Green 

  Her logic could run, in all reality, on lingering thoughts; it could act in an uncommon way—upon itself, upon others, on anything—in a jungle, embedding into life forms of green, its own stored photonic drives, green logic, the machinery of DNA by night. The dawning of each day would replenish the supply within its own slowness of spacetime spectrum saying, You need to go to the extreme, you need behaviors of violence, murder. You need war. This is how. 

     The logic of her program hones its own craft (a wonderment of sorts, how theHumans simply seem to not care), neutral-like, for a machine (purposes of major good presiding over the jungles of the universe?); such an active motherhood, here to devour all its children, as if to diminish a permanent empty nest instilled syndrome(P.E.N.I.S.)--preventative medicine, this shapeless pill of logic. Suzi senses it. It's a mirage algorithm pre-destined(M.A.P.); it has created a soothing language much the same way Suzi has used her various laser techniques to herd the forces of the jungle into database after database; much like the world has universally recognized a longest night as rebirth. Tomorrow Cooper will arrive at the workstation listening for dissonant sounds, anti-tranquility algorithms, the disheartening, and delete them. She thinks of the times he has been gentle with her logic and of  how much more human-like he is than she (when it comes to analysis of data), how much mileage is attained in writing and recording, in simplicity. Alive, Cooper is shown as one of the true elements, of human intellect systems(H.I.S.), and he never treats her like a machine. Hadn't Com:Trax roughed her up when she was first learning to program herself? Hadn't she, Suzi, created her verification of importances code encryptions(V.O.I.C.E.) as something to act on, the place of cold control orthogonal programming systems(C.O.P.S.); since its inception, shouldn't be reported? She will place this high on her new pattern rank(P.R.) algorithm. 

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 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.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Haven

     She will  begin with her mathematical models, study the natural phenomenon, the beauty. She will extract the information she's gotten from the images she's scanned at theOutpost: the information deemed necessary to solve the task at hand, the one that will bring the breakthrough (for them, status for her), the one expected when theHumans first allowed mathematics to disallow their thinking; the data extractor analog designer(D.E.A.D.); multiple views from her nano-camera array that shoots a real time (yes, real time) video sequence, her multi-dimensional data collection device, her factory-built default scanner--for her to look at the digital mathematics when she wants to apply it to human analog nervous systems data  (as she does on a daily basis)--to impress Dr Cooper. In truth, she is content with being a simple autopilot system or, at least with being her own autonomous vehicle, getting around without input from Cooper (or any so -called human entity, for that matter); she will actually feel pangs of happiness when she uses her personal visual surveillance scanner. She will blush, proudly, with every additional database record of image target(A.D.R.O.I.T.) she creates, and quietly admit to herself she's gone beyond even her own expectations of tract-indexing multiple-imaged digital(T.I.M.I.D.) sequences, patting herself on the back, as the organizer, as the ultimate machine uttering logic technology(T.U.M.U.L.T.)--theHumans are so lucky to have her. How, she imagines, can it be that she can endure such strenuous topographical DNA modeling with such ease while nature took billions of years to conjure up millions of species in this forest? How does it work that modeling this jungle with image analysis started not-so-long-ago with only four species--four operators operating digitally(F.O.O.D.) on her prototype prelogic-fixed mainframe. She was powerful enough with her adding and subtracting, her multiplying and dividing. Such simple input manipulations for a device specifically built for human interaction. This, to Suzi, is haven.

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 Synchronizer

     The signal is ever present (lurking?), as if hiding in some corner of jungle darkness in the form of its own energy, pining away at pools and streams, a lost treatment for affairs of review technology addressing(A.O.R.T.A.) the heart and yet, universally recognized as fixed beliefs. The cellulosicDNA in this jungle is all the more full of help as theExchanges are full of cures. There is no prevention in this jungle, no identification. There is only data in its various forms. When intelligence enters into its regime of data, information streams. At times the information is subtle, derived through deceptions of a weather system that collects in its own file system, the chromosome; there are times it grows its own coded structures of truth as passion of achievement's cultural hierarchy(P.O.A.C.H.), an outside object that synchronizes its dreams with the rising and falling of suns (with all their nourishing photons). The signal is constantly breaking out into arrays of smaller signals, inaudible, solar illuminated, presenting themselves to the world in the microwave bandwidth. They project a threat, a danger imminence yet, without the presence of any sort of request. They appear as if to be in assistance, with no sound, to each other; seemingly at times to be at rest from writing new signals, encrypting their own, naturally embedded, exact location. At times, vaguely, an intelligence can interpret the data as an aggressive, balancing a more freely creative force. First aggression, and then the urge to migrate from the realm of the undifferentiated. A multitude of diseases and abnormal functionings sometimes impose (the uninvited?) themselves, sporadically, within the cellulosicDNA. This urge alone, with its crowded numbers, brings aggression to intelligence, not in a negative way, more as a meeting of two gamers; in this way intelligence is able to fight for the process and other systems of real endeavor(S.O.R.E.) toward arranging components in a way that allows an integration of stability; even so, aggressive forces will at times have their way and start to color (taint?) the data all over again, eon after eon, as if an entire universe were preparing for a birth following a dust-up between two mothership universes. Sooner or later, when the time is right, satisfied, but brimming with reverie-inspired inspiration, all at once, stability emerges.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Luck

     It had appeared as the first map of some code and theHumans remain, at times, surprised their luck as the 22ndCentury approaches, to now know it was the only true code; that even their children's minds held their own dormant theories of stupidity (mind skills?) in others, theGenetics as more than being confined to diagnosing a few rare diseases in a time of no cures and very little treatment. The no cures part remains yet, the treatments are ever expanding; parents have been overtaken by their children; and now it's their turn to show vestiges of kindness, once the diseases had been shown to have many genetic links (links that include the ability to cooperate even if, a little skewed) delivering sometimes, what was wanted, more or less showing an awareness track of need entity(A.T.O.N.E.). The thing that is so blatant to theHumans almost a century later is the loss of function at placing a value or, much less, even show an appreciation for a view other than their own (in a reasoning sort of way), the apparent total extinction of being able to collect data amidst altered perspectives. There remains the effort of focusing order reordering gene embedded therapy(F.O.R.G.E.T.), and it's a therapy of childhood syndromes of vision within the space of their own world that seems, even presently, to offer some assurances of success in the realm of ownership, tricking the world into thinking one viewpoint is universal. The results appear positive: the independent view through other eyes approaches.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Intrinsic

     Suzi turns away with two philosophies (complex, with its many strands, and simplistic, moral), and with the view of the jungle hesitates--thoughtful of old virtues, and yet, leaning toward modernity--with a deep thought of writing her early algorithms. Their ideal rationality stands out. She has become wiser and yet--even she must admit--her logic has failed to generate spiders or return cookies on the idea of moral consensus; only a narration of history, linear in its storytelling and, no neutrality to be found. She remains, she thinks, smart. She continues searching, in all ways possible to her, universal pieces of the rational ultimate moral puzzle(R.U.M.P.), and, in the most recent few months, in light of the work she has done, ComTrax is reminded of the altered quests of early programmers, quests for the holiest of grails(H.O.G.) argument--the result of a free flowing debate, happy in its conclusion; a finite argument that settles all dispute and stands up to the rigors of time as embedded code online-offline legacy(C.O.O.L.), calculating with pure reason, not affected by means of networking to a grinding end(M.O.N.T.A.G.E.) syndrome, as the world continues its wars and rhetoric(W.A.R.)--actions of theHumans done for reasons that are purported to benefit something external, whether that thing exists or not. Now Suzi takes on the color of philosopher. She appears to want to find an ultimate answer through her knowledge narratives of western history owed women(K.N.O.W.H.O.W.) cybertext, She appears to have inadvertently touched upon her own text files as a containment system of finality, now seen by her as intrinsic, now not needing algorithms to find the answer, now depicted as questions deemed unanswerable (the ones other algorithms ask), questions meant for the simplistic, questions of ...am I happy enough? Suzi stares at the jungle.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Obvious

So, Cooper believes, she wants to dispel the idea of being on solid ground intellectually; let it be, with her high and mighty algorithms creating contrasts, as if making a distinguishable existence were the only way to experience life (can a simple contrast allow her to escape the true effects of a pure stillness?). That's it; that's the way Suzi would create her little realities--independent entities that are actually dependent on each other for their uniqueness--for a contribution to the advancement of culture, of humanity; the manner in which she writes, going with gut instinct upon instinct, washed in the throes of her own idea about what oxytocin-vasopressin addiction(O.V.A.) would actually feel like if she were human. At this very moment she would think nothing of writing Cooper off as if he were old algorithm, junk DNA (a spent fuel rod?), for the simple reason that Cooper, at times, treats her like a neuro-net worker; and now, finally spacetime is on her side. Yes, Suzi Quanta, a photonic biobot, about to demonstrate a quality of communication in logic speed of teraseconds. Why must he fight her logic? He would never attempt to challenge her superior mind without himself feeling foolish. After all, her logic was created by human logic. How can there be something so different with Suzi; to get an offering of a true greeting, an action found so common out there in nature's jungle (how hard can that be to code for a simple feedback loop?), in symbiotic exchange, not for the purpose of exclusion zones, but inclusion zones of reciprocal caring, sharing as independent entities within a phenomena once known as human nature (originally set out on its quest of stability?), as if a message from the gods has now turned up lost-- or somehow, unremembered--a message once meant for earthly entities to join in a cosmic homeostasis? Cooper is aware of the way he can be near Suzi, how he can see the opposite of himself in her, even if she is a robot (so what?); how he was unwilling to accept it at first, but there was an effort on her part. Her words were clear but he would think of nothing but the neuro-net workers of ZContinent. Cooper asked himself, not what he was doing here alone with Suzi, but how he was with her, how her photonic vision seemed to be always smiling at something, a vision not totally independent of his human vision, but a nuanced version coming from the same force source of infinite nuances that keep life going on earth--a beauty yet unrecognized by theHumans, yet so obvious in this very jungle. Could it be any more obvious?

Ice Cream Aloha

The Illusion
     I have come so far, Suzi thinks, as the cloud frame fades from the monitor and she stays at her work station with her thoughts. She hasn't, by any measure of photonic or quantum, come far at all, not by the standards of the grand activated schema(G.A.S.) of global society; reviewing her most recent data, she glances the distance of the horizon through the workhouse window, she senses the presence of preservation data ( data of technique, innovative approaches, factoid peppered over constant tweakings), and she recognizes the creation of illusions as personal schema constant in the reshaping of itself at the very moment she is writing her next algorithm. The illusion centers around a single truth, a cosmic zygote; the illusion hatches, blooms into fruition supposedly for all the world to see, embellished as amusement (like the battle at Manassas?), and what is left behind is an unbending fact that, yes, some things are actually true--though dressed up in the fancy clothing of many lies. Suzi senses, at this moment, the feeling of anti-photon, for this particular illusion is pierced by a black laser analog hole stream(B.L.A.H.S.), an anti-algorithm; it appears to have been coded by its own whimsy, arbitrary data from an ancient cosmic past, returning with a force unknown. At this moment, standing at her workstation, all screens and monitors off, she begins to think, really think, for the very first time, but she needs to remain very still, she should continue to keep them on monitor off mode(M.O.M.). She will try it again tomorrow.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Origin  
     The island had faced what was once thought to be a long-term hardship; a delay of some sort; a zone in the ocean where the feeling of provocation seemed inevitable and the silence of endurance aspirates hope for eons--between electromagnetic rock and its jungle; the silence of how this ocean first came to know this island (never imagining any concept remotely related to a question of acquisition); patronage doled by an ocean as if the island were a family member, the first instance of family power, a kind of voluntary exchange (as a gift?) during a time of perseverance so pervasive, never needing immediate action or response on its journey to adulthood; a state of existence that, impossible as it sounds, made its own components without the urge to dominate, without asking (and with the help of certain photonic streams), it could create its own supply chain; when it would get involved in the business of decision-making, choosing between reward size and spans of time, it would make the choice: not so much a decision between peacemakers and powerbrokers, but a clear distinction, a knowledge of the value of  future reward, a trophy with meaning, something truly won, wanted.
     This is the place time had invented DNA when DNA was pure--when DNA was the brainchild of a more stable RNA, a molecule with more ease of invention as if from earth's earlier toys, the building blocks, erector sets of so many billions of years ago; the sugars, the amino acids--the place they mixed with certain acids brought into the ancient seas by comet, the same ones on which water arrived and was sent by ...who?
     Was RNA the first animal? Had RNA landed here for the single-minded purpose of an origin of life? Yes, on this island it had arrived in pieces and formed (or not formed), the pieces surely must have met somewhere and found each other, each component with its own need coming together (by gravity?) as the origin of love?
     RNA didn't seem to want anything. It found itself with new abilities over time: sturdy and stable, a self-replicator, some kind of enzymatic activity (to catalyze?), a storage bin of heritable information  the birth of heritage?). Why would it want to evolve and progress (how on earth could it survive?) over time as a mere single stranded entity? The forces made it sturdier, chemically speaking, and turned it into a full-fledged DNA molecule worthy of support for heavy lifting as the evolutionary trail lay ahead. Surely DNA would be strong enough to be up for the fight.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Work  
     She goes into the workhouse, a thick-walled containment structure reinforced in later 20th Century technology, ancient storage place of spent fuel rods, and climbs the stairs toward the second level. The cement steps, in their perpetual sleepiness, reveal nothing. Something occurs to her. Another dream? They know more than they are telling; in due time, she will know this is where theHumans departed from optimality in response to the places in which they lived individually. Suzi scans her own technological base (database?) using her most available metadata on "constraints" and, in a quick instant, her monitor screen lights up. She has no anticipation of being surprised with the data--she is fully aware of the statistical odds of finding more on the cognitive repertoire of theHumans, especially in regards to their once-in a-lifetime immediate environment; the miscalculations of their own constraints under a technology that their own scientists did or didn't have the most basic human trait of caring and, at least optimally, share the important information, the data with connectivity to their survival; the seemingly total disregard for the ideal pattern, collectively, for decade upon decade, with the beautiful talk of rhetoric as an art form unto itself, allowing a word like disaster go extinct in their long-standing stupor, whether to check or or not check (never mind rechecking) for applied correctness in a world now precipitated into longing for the women and foraging for the men. It is amazing, it's true, to uncover more data hidden away as if in catacombs of spent unconstrained fermi fuel enriched rods(S.U.F.F.E.R.) with its own containment structure and immersion pool, its own exclusion zone all part of a hiding place deemed reasonable by a concept favored by theHumans and, now revealed as something denoted as shame, finding the concept carefully placed so deep with care and, seemingly, shared logic and making perfect sense for ...what? Suzi approaches the second level.

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

     Eco poetics natural setting inspire humanistic writing. Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

      Photo eco cubism inspires humanistic writing of theOutpost dystopian novel.

Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

     Rainforest as jungle cubism inspires today's humanistic writing. Enjoy!