Ice Cream Aloha

The Drift

     It's probably a mistake. Suzi wonders, for the moment, about how they could have let it come to this. Was it a natural, inevitable progression, instantly activated, coming to the global community with no warning, uncaring of their labyrinths of cemented paths and waterways? It entered as if a world of pride and greed were embodied within one rumble--a low hum at first--the way low tones emanate from a herd of relaxing elephants. She simply goes about her work here among the remnants. It is, after all, a more comforting, productive activity to feel the soothing warmth of her own laser scanners (for a striking exploration?) in this lush paradise. Jungles must be the only place primal DNA can be found for the future, right? It is probable that other biobots will start their career near here, on this half-sunken island, amidst the water-soaked old industrial basements under these soils. They cared enough as they could; someone checked the data and double-checked the cloud, in cool rhetoric-filled politics-style science. By returning in the form of a jungle, caking above the old power plants, Suzi notices, you refurbish the DNA for a new global society, present your own version of iodine-131. Now, the natural world can finally rest, once and for all, and continue its drift.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Thirsty

     The island rises from the ocean, covering herself in greenery, repeatedly, for the sake of a recursion of hazy suns. It is a remote archipelago somewhere in the future. More wave functions, continuous, undifferentiated, arrive continually. It receives the falling water, emerald green on the ferns, then more water for the genetic code that lies within, a thirsty algorithm, code written long after the fiery birth. Acts of repeating the code were never meant as an approach to a desirous target, or settling of issues with expected outcomes; only majestic expressionlessness, a massive jungle that still stands in wind-spun sparkles, endless droplets careening off rock, water prisms, the north coastal zone peppered in wetness, flinging into wind spun plummets. It wonders at its own pummeling of the rocks below, the ones with their own reasons, refusing to budge. This perfect genetic machine putt-putts in isolation; a continental shelf yawns beyond the horizon--to the north, more compaction of ancient island chains. The island drips with its ferns on rocks, making her all the more brilliant in constant droplets gushing relentless amidst undefinable gravity--as if inevitably--from mountainsides of empassioned verticalness. Her home is a condolence, outside the narrow zone where land and sea meet. Yes, the island remains safe from the vast ocean (the only entity allowed to eat away at her weakness), she nestles amidst more and more water, shedding a slow percolation to suckle the plants. How lucky to find no divorce with decency here, to be waiting for a new night, a bright moon. How lucky. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Lasers

     Cooper looks out over the vast blue-green water. He stares from the cove into a crystal clearness, once an ocean, its glittery waterbows shining brighter than ever. Strange for salt water, but nothing lives there any more, nothing on the surface at least.

     In the distance, the sea is pumping lasers. The sea is not feeling well, not anymore; persistent in her ions and conductor elements, pentafluoroethyl iodide, pervasive, as if she were always filled by an era of indifference and nuclear dumping that started, silently, amidst the earthquakes of the early 21stCentury. Cooper hears the silent song of her voice. What makes the bright emerald sparkle of the lush coast collide with the, once, pure ocean aquamarine glitter, hiding in the distance? 

     Here they are, two admirers that could never know each other in an intimate way, and yet, entwined by some faint remembrance. So the radiance of CO2 and photons dance upon the surface of a behemoth man-made earthquake machine soaked in the wash of nuclear power plants, the ones theHumans have built and ignored.A birthright of the ages. How strange a world Earth must have been or must have become, the reflection of shadows of a pure ocean before him with his thoughts, not leaving him alone, thinking," Where is home any more?"  

     He drives the mountain roads in his dreams alone. A great government reserve, he thinks, carrying on with no visitors, and just beneath the depths, the lowest threshold of any solar-pumped laser nature could thermodynamically afford. Yes, its genetics will go extinct, the megalopolis of theContinents will continue their onslaught of aquifer fluorine and nuclear plant iodide awash. The ocean will stay her course, emitting no stone-faced greed or elastic virtue, cutting no corners, bargaining no principles; to not abuse her power (the power she doesn't even know she has) into something smug and regal, and that she was once spoken for, owned by DNA.  

     It was as if theHumans had sent her on a new assignment, and yet, Cooper knows better.