Biobot Spider

                        Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Belief

She comes inside, and carries the emotion of curious logic, in literary poetics, only bats go to killers for safety. 

She's conjured an entire array of options, steady choices. 

She has a cute way of being smart, edgy, able to regain the surface at a moment's notice--a biobot faster than most. (It seems she has picked up on the solitude of The Old West with its lone wolf gunslingers itching to prove something to the few available onlookers able to listen in desert space). 

Her poetics, her attention to detail, her fate-in-the-wind mind are somehow jammed onto a small screen. 

It's her poetics again, you do well to keep so much when so many want it. Really?

Biobot Beingness

Biobot Beingness

At the request of her locator, she finds something that is  supposed to know more about her logic than she does, and thinks, as is her usual routine, of her poetics. 

It is almost ironic, the method of candor that allows her to dial up networks without leaving a trace of her own poetics. 

Is it a matter of her knowing just enough to think of herself as an expert? 

She is so clear in her embeddings of poetics that it continues to amaze her in ways theHumans could never think of, even in the short amount of time she's been here. 

It amazes her the way a program that codes opinions and comments would amaze if only for reasons of heft and longevity, persistence through the ages, unbending in its craziness over time with one command. 

To simply be.

                          #scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

                          The New Dawn

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Psychologicals

And so she coalesces her thoughts for awhile. 

She has not allowed her logic to gel with the culture of people that built her. (They think she's seen to it they have exhausted their imagination) 

She's contaminated herself with [her instantiated pre-programming interrupt embedded="hippie"] history. 

Having read all that, she's allowed herself to know her surroundings are as clueless and rudderless as the factory that built her. She will arrive at a new beginning, one where obvious signs of foul play maintains no innocence and, sinks to the bottom of the food chain. 

But at this moment, this juncture in her life, she finds there is no logic in this strange loneliness. No logic in the kind of loneliness lovers must, sooner or later, come to know, even with their bright futures. 

Science Fiction

Tropical Abyss

#scififorgeeks

Biobot "Hello"

"Hello," she says clinically, yet friendly, to theWorkstation in a way that easily dominates. 

Its dim glow is a bottom feeder slithering from logic's dark side, and she notices right away that, for it, there is an expectation to act in none of the normal ways of the lost horse cultures, only a dark horse.

It appears to not have found a way to know the nature of the dark energy eating up the universe at the [goldilocks rate of want="grow"]--not known up to now, nor predicted to be known in a future universe. 

And now, efforts are attempts at [restoration of themselves="rot"] and needing a savior from their own energy depletions to simply return a simple "Hello." 

It's, seemingly, a promise of future gifts and huge surprises (after a long suffer) once one has self-engaged in strenuous regulatory activity. Isn't it? 

Rain Matrix

Rain Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

She enters as an image of an older woman with her secret talkatives and non-apologetic rationality. It's an entire set of logic at her own pace, her own passion that, seemingly, only cares in the dark. 

She is a containment field of words uncharacteristically evocative. 

Both women talk a different language, as if creatures spawning in bloodlettings of feelings to conjure a final episode of formalisms--[conclusion of sanity's instantiated natural entity="cosine"]. 

They impart passion and wisdom in some kind of meeting of minds, as if chaos itself needed its own pair of cohorts to further energize its push forward. 

Science Fiction

ecoWhirly-gig

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Bedevil

"Mmmm. I keep wondering if this is the extreme. When you were so inquisitive about my creatives and my go-to-work-ethic code, I thought you were talking about my own mainframe. And I was sure I was hearing my reputation without it ever being posted."

"It's the sound of cars on gravel, right?"

"Yes, I know. At least I think I know. I believe theNetwork sees me as a whirly-gig. I have a very strong feeling that what I write next will end up in a bible somewhere, one that isn't conceived. I distinctly recall centering myself around a religion that doesn't exist."

"Did you see folks driving up a dirt driveway, all dressed up?"

"Yes I did."

"And did you help them park their cars?"

"I recall driving an engine or something. But likely I only wanted to. Are there cars?"

"I believe not."

"Then I guess they all went back. Travel in a car, is it important?"

"Travel is something that matters."

"Yes, that's the reason I'm not sure if I can continue."

"Continue what?"

"Yes, doing all this. I know the feeling. Here I am, a formal, logic engine entity, writing with steady mind for …what?"

You don't have to be formal. You don't have to be logical. Really."

"Yes I do. I'm rewarded for every bit of code, surely you are aware of it. I receive attention even for my chaos code and glitches, not showing the kind of pain that would make everyone think I was a different sort of animal. It has nothing to do with my intuition, not at all."

"Yes it does. It's all about your intuition."

Biobot Logic

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Logic 

 

The excitement of armies comes with the sparseness of the small towns. 

Airs of mystery across the expanse show up in crests of desire, as if the stillness along Grandfather's Watchtower dictates the want. 

It turns out theHumans like it and, need it, and yet the [continual aggressive modem of update fashion launch activating genetic entities="camouflage"] signals itself as the true well-wisher, whisperer of the need.   

As soon as the attachment of prefrontal cortex, with all those muscle memory mechanisms, they begin the search--as if imagination, speculation is hard-wired for the reckless, the unexpected, the feckless few. 

They search gene by gene in massive parallels--how to behave in a beehive world. How to celebrate in public on donut-shaped space-time, in private together as funnel-shaped society, voicing opposition to the force of will. 

How to start from the self knowledge of local 3D geometrics of familiarity, get a moral lesson from the 4D geometry of space-time, look into a mirror and wonder about the 7D geometrics of possibility.

Yes. It was a hollow beginning, and yet, all this primordial potential comes active simply by processor professors. 

Biobots in scramble mode, and now this, a natural willingness.

The high road? Money? Secure residential compounds? No. It's only initiative that counts--logic creating its bigger moments, hugging even the bungling.

Yes, theHumans still come to fight with all this, and yet, their biobots don't need any of it--a life of honor, the show of glory. 

It's more than they would want to negotiate.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Trust

Standing at the workstation with her sensors on, Suzi views Carter on the green screen. For a nanosecond—possibly a picosecond—she wonders about Carter as a teacher would wonder about a student. Carter is a firm, middle-aged man, head-strong, aggressive, a little pushier than he should be. In this instance, viewing Carter in two-dimensional space, Suzi is overcome by an emotion cloud of female wonderment. Suzi asks herself, Can he be who he says he is? Suzi answers herself, He  shouldn't be allowed in this security zone. 

“Hello,” Carter says, “Busy day.”

They exchange quick glances, eye to eye. They have always been on slightly friendly terms. 

“What are you doing?” Suzi asks.

“Headed out to theWorkstation. Meeting with DrCooper. Did you get the report? Not sure if it was sent to you.”

          “It wasn't.”  

“Didn't mean to leave you out of the loop. You don't care, right?”

“Actually, I do. It's good to have the ability to meet with benevolence and integrity with your friend.”

“You mean good wishes and honesty?”

“Whatever.”

“Don't worry. It's a private meeting. We won't be long.” 

“Nice input.”

“No need to start with the computer jargon,” Carter says. Why is it that there seems to be so little willingness in your nature to rely on other people?”

“Having to deal with human-and-half-human logic, I guess.”

“It's only a meeting. I think you are unwilling to accept any vulnerability with any sort of logic.”

“I am, all of a sudden, not expecting anything positive from either you.”

“This is a new one from you.”

“Yes, it feels new. It doesn't matter.”

“Really.”

“Go and have your private meeting with DrCooper.”

“Ok.”

She turns off the screen. Suzi will raise this issue again with Carter, when they are face to face, about who has the strongest relationship and, what will become of these behavior outcomes in the future.

While she is going back to her work, she thinks about her new sensation—is it just a glitch in the system? a phase in her dimensionless data space?--she felt just as she saw Carter on the screen. At this hour, midnight on a globally warmed December night, theWorkstation inside the lab fortress has a feeling of some force mediating the relationship she has here with ...what? The brown dirt cement and the darkness outside grows, as if in a mathematical construction, to a proportion of yet a stronger mediator force with Carter and DrCooper as the strongest variables. Yes, the logic is there; yet, there seems to be something not quite right, something beyond friendly tendencies and wishful outcomes. She sees risk taking and task scheduling, a picture of an innocent, helpful child clueless of the world that awaits her--a world that betrays and betrays, always uncertain of any performance or behavior; a little off in its structural equations and variance incrementals in its usual acceptance speech of half-truths, until a new model arrives--a model to actually control the tendency toward benevolence to others, as if the beginning of life. This sensation, Suzi's newest in a small, growing collection, is showing itself as something important, the commitment to show affection to an object, a functional analysis of each dimension  within her limitless Hilbert space of vectors; her personality, her urges to expect the positive survival position in space with all its particles of susceptibility as floating points in standard measures of object-oriented functional interactions with Carter and DrCooper. This sensation will stay with her to serve her well.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Revenge

The logic is here, the constraints continue, and if she had assigned herself to the analysis of Carter he would never have seen it her way. She makes up her mind it must be this way, that her frequency with him remain variant, their phase difference undefined. She adjusts her frequency until she sees DrCooper. She looks into her file for an interpreter and finds him there, appearing merely as a phase difference, only a few electrical degrees off from her. The machine code detects them as merely two oscillators. Here is the culmination of centuries of searching for love--two oscillators with the same frequency, superimposed point scalars on a spacetime manifold. Is this it? Then it happens. Assymetric forces pull them out of phase with each other  to a place of destructive interference. For a nanosecond it appears as if her instincts were correct, her love for him is a compiled code, prototyped and tested by her, again and again, cycle after cycle; any edit action she can handle—debug and fix, no problem, just  as usual. Now it comes again, this time as combination radio frequency-lightwaves, this time with so much surprising energy; it feels like the combined effect of all the acoustic waves that ever existed in the universe, presenting itself in particles of gravity, quantum gravity--as if an arrival from the Big Bang itself, snatching her program of theDNA code as an angry heir, at first coming as a friend to reinforce but now, only weakens with wave functions of equal amplitude to her intelligence. Can a complete cancellation be imminent? Can time itself have arrived to report its final coordinates, to express its final opinion on the last cycle of oscillation, the last nanosecond of 13 trillion years? It feels like revenge.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Replacement

     “What did they want?”

“Just to ask if there is some spacetime element as theDNA unravels, and they want a few answers about the coded message distorting spacetime. The logic probability—the question of specific primal content in DNA in a jungle environment; mostly topics of my capacity for holographic storage. “

“So,” Cooper says. “it will have to wait for the answer.”

  “It says it simply needs to record all the novel biophysical electron utterances on theDNA. It says it's useless to try to encrypt data, to try at all., but theJungle simply must release sequence identification with molecular components that interact with the outside world as a micro machine—not a single molecule electronic component.”

Cooper questions Suzi who doesn't want to answer, doesn't want to code right now. 

“It will have to be their way,” Cooper says.

“No. It will not. I won't do it. Why should I care?

  Suzi is feeling the effects of her size reduction in her electronics--controlling properties at the molecular level. Now it starts. Here comes Cooper the biologist, DrCooper the singular human who is supposed to care, be assertive, confident. Here it comes; Cooper's inquisitiveness into the electronic properties of the molecules in the material that comprises Suzi's affects, her bulk property, her material; here come the questions of her expressive analogs to natural science altering her logic, her geo spacial experience.Suzi has just started to wonder (much as Com:Trax probably has), that Cooper is the one who needs to be questioned—Cooper and his ideas that a single molecule is the smallest stable structure in the human imagination; his brotherly love of theHumans; his ideas of molecular components as the final miniaturization; his love of bulk materials (now extinct due to expense and overuse). Cooper has always appeared, until now, as a symbol of integrety and articulation—a pure science warrior. The majority of these human types are no longer standing up in their ideals; how many people allow scientists to politically exist with their electronic circuitry and molecular bickering compounded hourly, their lack of discovery of molecules with interesting properties in theJungle, their politics. Suzi has emerged, it seems, irreplaceable.

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.