Ice Cream Aloha

The System

   She goes to the window at the far end of the lab station and, with an eye for some bright color, looks out across theJungle. A radioactive field of beauty—that which cannot, anymore, be openly experienced by the force field of touch and shows no disenchantment—comes into view. Beyond the forest is the ocean of a bluish, lime-green color, with its sheen of useful operator intact, its refusals to disappear as a totally defunct world player. Suzi returns to her workstation. 

DrCooper's mind, its carriage of the outmoded and the meaningless, its emphasis on freedom and structured belief systems, bears its presence on her workbench in the form of little scientific method machines set forward in a steady, perpetual motion for the grandiose purpose of ... what? 

“Beautiful view,” he says.

“Forests are so relaxing to look at.”

She looks at him, sees the insoluble plots inside his mind. Standing with him in friendship, she can feel the authentic urges of his being. His thoughts maintain (housed as photo shots and images in language clouds) a cute rejection of values defining the outside world. His thoughts, too, are devoid of epic narratives of the 20thCentury (though he still wonders about those endangered species) and less so, happily are still creating their own value system, his own depiction of good and evil.  

  DrCooper's belief system, in fact, is infected with opportune moments; or, maybe, it is a system of something that has allowed things to get far out of hand, has allowed the battle between duty, integrity, and professionalism to ensue for such a long time that the lines between the mundane and the imaginary are surely blurred. The system—innocent acts of rebellion against establishment conventions—is a blind advocate of his personal freedom. It is held together by ideas of a narrative, quest-filled, pastoral (yes, this is the best part), as if knowledge had a hero and it was universal peace. Its operator is the technology of function always looking for a new slant on lowering operating costs. Its fluidity is addictive—little promises of adventure—not only for personal pleasure but for the pleasure of living dangerously to acquire more data; data to beat the more widespread system of the routine boredom of the security of previous multiple roles. The system feels like a ledge, a jumping-off point; it feels like freedom. If it were removed he would not continue to exist. DrCooper would be the first to tell you how absurd that would be.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Findings

        “Are you willing to do this?” DrCooper says. “Please tell me you will do it.”

        “I can't say. Stop asking.” She removes herself from the conversation, goes offline, begins to wonder; hateful of Carter; in away, logically curious about DrCooper (she's the one who codes forms and objects into their own  coalition of one—she herself continues, in her own spacetime, to be formed by the very nature of her quantum logics and the pact she made with theNature--in a simple gester to lay claim to, or at least taste, individualism. She thinks about writing, with the simple cache code of her newfound image game, a children's book (a children's book?); entering herself and her fragile imagination into the fantasy world of “BioNa and PhysWo” and helping them find the answers to phonons and solitons. She goes back to her work of raw surveillance (secretly coding properties relevant to her tasks and the tasks of others), passes through the interface that allows her to interact between languages and images, then onto the cache holding the spatial conspirators informing eco nano conscious entities(S.C.I.E.N.C.E.). The spacial colors warm something in her as they translate into pictorial mode. She is satisfied, happily, at assuming the position as the operator for analysis of signals (her favorite identity that allows her to do many things): act on her own analysis, use her format analyzer manager entity(F.A.M.E.) that she wrote herself, be useful with her own discrete personal time frames, expand her interests to altered time values (they seem like entertainment) as she watches her sensor data go off the charts, as if Earth itself were the next patient in her waiting room. Suzi doesn't have to remember any of this (really?), all these abilities that bring into question her controllability; she will answer those questions by DrCooper, then make Carter wonder about her anomalous telecommunication signal, the signal he claims to be infinitely planar. She works pretty hard for her level of maturity. Recently she noticed her percept and linguist data help her relax; she senses her signals don't always represent a physical quantity, or whatever Com:Trax deems them to be; the big-oblong-short-small(B.O.S.S.) entity that has enticed theHumans for centuries, it seems, into a frenzy only then to disguise itself—it lasted just a blip in their so-called standardized time—as something important, a perceptions analog language (P.A.L.), in the time given them. She imagines herself through the eyes of Carter, the old Gulf War veteran, who constantly attempts stabilization programs, trying to impress DrCooper with his little feedback loops, who even now, with all his bionics and neural prosthetics (no, not quite neural net—he still has half a brain) is consumed with intercalated peace and rage at his military wounds (but, of course, not the military) and their supposed benefit to him as a future (futuristic?) computer analyst, and who seems to hate Suzi's one-upmanship with her system state analysis measured in yottaseconds to his little loops and sequences.. That Com:Trax, networking globally and now, sure of Suzi's unobservability, has purposely made her configuration space undefined, operating under the laws of uncertainty so even Carter would lose track of her manipulations, the ones they deem admissible and permissible. It seems in her quantum framework, anything goes at any given moment, and as her values and outputs become instant variables (Com:Trax mainframe had allowed her, again purposely, to assess the states of her own framework) she'd been vaguely, almost obliviously aware of. She'd been given a presence of mind configuration--continuous, instantaneous nows. Now she knows for sure it is Carter (is he really half human?) whose external input attempts try to finally settle the long-held question of  how to alter her internal state-of-system(S.O.S.) from initial to final within the framework of her infinite spacetime intervals (of course, a complete impossibility). She hates him, now--even more than ever.