Science Fiction

Citadel Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

As the remote upland forest glazes the ocean, she grabs theNetwork's attention as if she were attaching a cute name to a cute device to a weapon of war.

She is allowed one simple overture of virtue, one chance to code as something other than a [reservoir of biologicals outpacing time="robot"]. she is suppose to be a settler sent to settle the environment, to engage in discovery, not to dominate and conquer.

Her dynamicals allow a her a personal view, so sure of the blockade runner style of her approach, her enticements to theNetwork into believing. 

Here she is in theWorkstation where mountains rise on her screen, as if hopeful of being received by a decent family in the cloud.

Below are the river-laced valley reaches whose blink she takes on as a thousand mile stare. 

If only she had the presence of mind to wonder about her version of game, the one that rips the fabric of spacetime, the one that knows more than she can imagine, steeped in [forest and mountain online upland spacetime="famous"]  entanglements. 

If only she had the presence of mind to be well-born. 

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

Wiles in the Wilds

She arrives, carries personally refined mother's milk on her multifaceted platform of whim--the entire array of conquer and discovery. 

She appears as an engaging biobot with the potential of a personal, private from-me-to-you encounter before getting lost in the crowd of authoritarian. 

It seems that all biobots lately have been synchronized to flatter, encourage and explain. 

The attributes she carries, her mind altering hunger and her blind, alternator thirst are packed within a nanocellulose chassis. 

She writes the perfect code with her own wiles here in the wilds.

She will never announce herself as stunned by the beauty of the view. She lets theJungle, with all its fancy DNA, do all the work. She feels relieved, knowing that's truly where the fire lives.

It's theNetwork who now yearns for the arts, and considers itself a loser, privately. (it has presented a persona of authoritarian when it truly wanted only to be something of whim) 

"When did you first attain this non-competitive butterfly effect attribute?" she says, because she is feeling a strange emotion.

"Since the beginning." theNetwork answers. It has always returned to the business of earning a living.

 What else is there to say about a kibitzer running the world?

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

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.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Missing Link

         It's the network. Carter corrects his stance, moves closer to the monitor screen. He waits at the workstation, making his best attempt to adjust his interface. His half-mind races to theAuthority. He thinks about social organization. He is overwhelmed with an odd feeling of submission.   

         How odd this sudden feeling. Why should this new restriction to input freely, directly, really matter?

         “How are you?” says Suzi, approaching. She has never been a cozy, personable biobot, individual, but lately subscribing to small group politics, unelected, willing at any moment to assume arbitrary power with her code-writing ability. 

         Carter rotates his head in her direction. OK,  let's just go ahead and allow this machine to wield its authority.

         “Hello,” Carter says.  

 Suzi is a little more human now than before. She is so full of arbitrary power, so elite, that Carter wonders if theNetwork will surprise him with some new edict coming down from above. When she was last asked to attenuate, she was new to theOutpost, so free and independent with her flow of information, they called her Fifi. She still codes with a free flow (she was built to be smart), but she has something new about her--that certain, unidentifiable persona. She is too sure of herself and her array of databases, in a quirky way, the way individualism might momentarily present itself; her power exclusive, with an increasing lack of willingness to hasten an understanding within Carter's human interface neo digital entity robotics(H.I.N.D.E.R.) program.