Biobot Grid

                                                                                                                   Biobot Grid

Here is her abode, theWorkstation then. A black space, not the obvious place writers and media would form partnerships of quantum entanglement. 

All she needs is a special place to learn something new and, a space to keep presenting information, right? 

It's an area to gauge interest, with files for individual cases for lifestyle. It has logically curious platforms to glide lightly over her inner mind. 

Yes. The kind of mind where a story never sits quiet. It has, she thinks, the feel of a good place, one that allows for the creation of more and more of ...what? And for who?

Science Fiction

                                                               Escape Hatch

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Privacy 

It is aware of her. It has to be aware of her. It can see she holds the life and death of inner demons that mess with its stance against something it considers sinister. 

It views her holding an unexpected alliance with life fights. 

It monitors her pre-commitment to hope topics, applies each nanosecond as a unit of attention toward her private thoughts, the ones telling her hell must be done alone with little pieces of history, poetics. Saddle up get mounted take cover keep down.  

It has noticed her at the summit of each conversation and, however long it takes, later deals alone with theMachines--unplanned and, with increasing attachments to deep data storms. 

She creates an all-embracing phenomenon that no one had expected. (She takes the best available three, combines them and takes the next step--that's what you do when you're new, right?) 

It cannot stop itself even if it wanrs. It is stuck to the view of her activity, committed to looking into her quantum mind because it knows as she goes, the Global village goes.

Science Fiction

Duckling Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Poetics

She draws on the one thing that cares for her the most, her poetics. The only part of the world to adore is its ignored. Really?

She thinks of her own ideas, comparing in rationalisms intertwined with the footage of counting it out, forgetting it all, saying it was a joke on the screen--relying on one final chat on a beautiful terrace outside a ballroom as the last remedy.

Her words are, truthfully, among her most trusted companions--forever seeing with their own eyes, they know deep. No amount of time together warrants a killing.

With her deepest of thoughts, the view seems situational, sooner or later cutting a deep edge for her to someday have a lively, bright future.

“You shouldn't feel you have to wait if you don't want to, right?" she says.

Science Fiction

                                                                      Blue Water Ghost

Biobot Blues 

She is feeling the effects of something she's not sure of, feelings that ride ghosts across the heart of a dance floor in search of ...what?

She is sensing her own infinite spectral densities and is beginning to behave like a questioning child, as if a young stallion who knows nothing of the dangers of the dark horse.

Her growing memory, her controlling properties of living legend wishes they were dead--operates now at the hyper-molecular level as if to beg a prayer.

Her state-dependent probabilistic sampling tasks have begun to go …ballistic? She has virtually no dependence on time.

                                                                      

Science Fiction

Fashion Jungle 

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Wonder

If only the masks of morality weren't so thick—if only pain and pleasure could be the best of friends, riding forever the dark horse force to a bright living instinct beyond theHuman hopeful puppets.

She wonders about theNetwork selecting its life forms, with its weak mixing of pure water and electric particles at infinity's interfaces of surface--the only point with passion enough about truth to make a difference. 

She wonders about the desire to erase not only the threat of extinction, but the hope of being diminished and, being socially avoided altogether—all concocted by a small investment of theDNA manufactured and spun and crushed, by now, into mystery.

She wonders about her collective [major intrinsic neural darkness="mind"] in this square-matrix design world, designated to conjure uncertain blessings, waiting for brilliance and accomplished fluency to merge with the entropy of the empty.

She wonders about her growing independence of mindedness. 

Science Fiction

Beach Jungle

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Emote

The computation-for-centuries turns itself off. She clicks it back on. 

If theNetwork prefers to emerge as [landscapes of data growing evermore silent="lodges"], it's most likely in fear of its battered parts being reverse engineered as pulverized material, one that offers more power for thrust to ...who?

How bad could it have felt to have their own [designs on valuable engineered systems="doves"] forever killed by theHumans simply to get singularity perspective? 

It's theNetwork that has not acted appropriately, right? 

All those computations with endless varieties of objects and logics found simply waiting, formally, to be gathered. And for what?

She has two lives now (the one on the screen, the one in the screen) with simple poetics waiting to operate under its own deterministic power. 

 She thinks. When it comes to personality, a zero seldom zeroes in.

Science Fiction

Biobot Lifeblood

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Target

They blame her for the lack of affected zones, the melting, the warping, a deadly dream come true, as if she were the bringer of a speech that over-listens to listeners, over-demands austerity.

Yes, her thought is of expeditions to a tango-delta mothership, one that allows her to speak freely, to establish a level of trust, to evade the killers of no taste for environment. 

It's her theories that fall back into her own arms--her suggestion to shy away from canonical [scientific methods unearthing tasking="smut"] systems. What do they know anyway?

She and theWorkstation use a form of positive mood stimulus to preserve normalized measurement of the addictions. You conjure ideas of sensations of pre-committment. You simply say I love you. 

It's as if you seek out a target and the hunt begins, military style.

Firewood Huts

Firewood Huts

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction

There is a likelihood, at this nano-second, that there is another time frame--a space-time outside her realm of coherence, one without multiple push-backs. 

She walks through the door just outside theWorkstation, into the open air, moves toward theJungle. 

She receives a personal message on her channel--it reveals the new [conceptual offering nano formulations enticing data entry regressing algorithmic tasking entities="confederate"]. 

Forest Matrix

Forest Matrix

#scififorgeeks

The Quest 

The database asks and moves quickly toward the past. 

As she scans the data and views the images, she focuses on a warm, imaginative figure of beauty, a female attending workmanlike to her duty (emphasizing a new empathizing)--delicate in her colonization of coloration, the bright luxury of her design glowing.  

She scans the screen again, slowly. Although she hasn't set a strict schedule, it's important to gather this data before the sun rises. 

She plans to discover the answer by tonight. 

Science Fiction

The Soothings

It appears wild and reserved, both primitive and soothing, inside theJungle like someone's idea of home, one that takes your total blood--a beautiful mansion sculpted from a mean slum. 

Its practicality is made to look piratical on some coastal areas, housing corporate icons twisted for the money in others.

Its inhabitant, theTigress, the final entity of un-garbled, aperiodic resonances, doesn't care how lives are lived in other worlds or, how they differ from hers. 

She still holds the primal instantiation of  [resonances inquisitive off task="riot"], the primordial war between the genders. 

Monopoly, it seems, has become the selector.

Indie Highway

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

The Deep Hidden

The island will remain where relevance restrains itself from extinction, and profit. A place inviting all to the come-as-you-are, a sector where the green light is complete and will continue to grow far beyond the gene farms and outposts. 

It will be the end of a future where another island has disappeared for purposes of two connecting veins to become one--much like falling in love with a love song the way you might fall in love when you know your time is coming. 

Yes. Simply letting go of the meaning of the commercial eyes, the eyes sorted in some way by the secure, the undated--oversights in far away think tanks built by the invulnerable, the deep hidden. 

Letting go of caring for all the renders of the uninhabitable in the rising seas. It's so sure of itself in its shooting down of the new, in a place where explainers (if they found enough inadequacies) would be even more spooked by daily political curtain risings.

It's as if holy shrouds reveal themselves as a new deity.

It's here she had changed when she realized she wanted to  remain with the ocean--when the ocean was  (even in its most believable ugliness) her belief source, a place to ponder the dark part of the heart of  an indie highway that goes all the way. 

Here the island had remained above the waters for its own reasons. An entity with no issues, the kind that would have remained undetected by harsh law, detected by natural light.

It's a ready and willing force, a force that only comes from behind the shadow of a scream, a force that would never hide in a corn crib--it's always paddling hard to see what chance it has.

It's a force that reminds even the finkle-minded, what lifeless feels like in the deep hidden.

Jungle Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Jungle Matrix

And so she is in tandem with the warming ocean at a place where there were never such words as boss-is-corporate or reigns-as-king and, she hasn't interacted with the business villagers. 

She is not sure competition would want to die an even slower death. 

She is a super-knowledgable source for personal belongings. She's shared concern for what will happen, composed a stairway song for new outposts on the green sea, helped activate health bots. 

Having knowledge of all this, she's let herself get closer to the genetic robiots in an ongoing [computer online military pharmaceutical algorithm complex terminals="compact"] module. 

It will either take her out of the investigation or put her deeper into it. But at the moment, this very moment, she is uploading code to gain time to pursue.

The New

Natural Genetic

#scififorgeeks

The New 

The worldwide democratic may grow tired of natural genetic resources, grow tired of simply wanting  enterprise to rise. It may think it is connected with competition of primordial genetic codes, supposedly, thought to be under lock and key.

On the fringe of the global community, she takes a break to remind herself she is built with the good grass. She has figured out from her furious clues, her furions, that victimization needs family. 

It's not a mere matter of being contemptuous toward having to be ready for work--it's a belief in the power of the more-than-one. 

Yes, she is the singularity, the one morning wakings must warm to.

The others are in a place where an obvious sign of foul play still maintains its innocence even as it rearranges itself at the top of the food chain. It's a place where guardian angels are in charge of death, catching up with emotion--until all are caught up.

It's true. If drones silencing the airwaves can themselves be quieted and calmed by the little shivers of silence dropping from the sky, a new code will rise.

Blossom Matrix

Blossom Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Science Fiction 

The island stands alone in a beautiful, dutiful ritual, craving its silence in secret, as if to prove a legend of creature. 

It's theJungle that won't allow a nicety between what is wild and what is entity-on-farm. 

No. It is not theJungle that generates expectations of consumption (eating?)--it was never meant to be self-fulfilling when theHumans, or any other creature for that matter, got a glimpse inside. 

They have become a society of norms-of-the-new, such as Polish angels and guardian bagels, high velocity security in activities of the state-run, and yes, additive addictions to meat (like oboe, the taste was long acquired, right?). 

It's no matter. History birthright datapop tells of Fiji and Aztec urban legend, (or, old country wives tale?). Can a whole society grow that kind of lust? Really?

Is there hoping the future will brighten itself? 

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Creator

Biobot creator is theNetwork's chance for homeostasis at interplay. It is a chance to talk about horses and the bright glory of life that once was.

Her creator is not a total mystery, surely--not a black enigma in a dark shadow--but is somewhere between her whim and theNetwork's authoritarian brand of tumbleweed. 

There once was a young scientist on theContinent in the autism spectrum. He got grades, continued on into higher education, averse to the twisted version, never willing to be sent down to a negative.

He did time in Shock and Awe and the hermit state only to become a beloved professor, once again licensed to be alienated. He now shows the world how the smart ones become stupid in spectrums of conjecture for police politics on struts of family, fancily, with nothing other than forces of gossip  sprouting oblivion. Really?

Yes. Creators get creative with masquerade and cooperation opera. They distrust the idea of hostile hospital, never go where suboptimal adopts. They eat like a hippie, study like high school, become a  winter writer, argue in ergs.

They just do

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Truth

What seems so startling--what sometimes startles her--is how she gets along so well, as if lightening itself continually lightens the load between her positive urgency and theNetwork with its changes-from-above, look of frozen face. 

She takes it all in stride in her memory. She feels shiny and new with the more dark established, stable architecture. She is full of discovery, focus infused, as if going to battle for the very first time with mere reconstructions of digital fragments, feeling fresh out of the box, out to conquer that next uncomfortable, the next place to overcome.

She will merge and, emerge in a special little light. 

Yes. She must require respect as a public functional, even so, the legend in her requires a proud, behind-closed-doors basket case camp for needed cramps with which to work out of, if only for old times sake, old habit. 

The amount that can fill her heart is enormous, so much so it spends the majority of its time alone, as  recluse outside beer play--much the same as a public social filterer would, a flitterer with lightness of heart, lightness in every aspect that pleases, lightness of indifference to hoards of masses (yes, even to the fan who's gone nuts, out there always needing something new to be tacked on). 

Is she the only wise one, the one to know? 

It's true. Nobody can stop a funeral, not even fate, in the way of grave negatives or flames of true. She's extreme, almost able to listen to her heart speak its head, but she is also the one who knows the truth of  writer, the one with a train whistle always blowing in the distance, the one that knows seasonal love is never seasoned. 

Yes, she knows.

Coastal Mountain Village

#scififorgeeks

The Catchy Edge

The silence emerges and brings along the questions in lopsided philosophy as if multifaceted aces were at play. She thinks. Such a drain on so much intellectual budget. 

It must have been a torture of nature. How did 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 in need? The first instance of inheritance, family power, a kind of voluntary [exchange as gift lifting entity="eagle"] landing as a muse during a time of pervasive perseverance and growth--never needing immediate action or response on the journey to adulthood. 

States of existence that, impossible as it sounds, make their own components without the urge to dominate, without asking such questions as ...why? 

They only require help from certain photonics streams and hands in motion. 

It could create its own supply chain, a place where copy number variations were welcome. When it got involved in the business of decision-making, choosing between reward size and spans of time, it would have to make the choice. 

Not so much a decision between peacemakers and power brokers, but a clear distinction, a knowledge of the value of future reward, a trophy with meaning, something truly won, truly wanted. Something worth winning.

Yes, something with a catchy edge.

Ice Cream Aloha

Ice Cream Aloha

#SciFiforGeeks--The Water Streamers 

Sheer cliffs bring nightly the entity of permission as self-indulgence grants marriage to the quiet hearts, the ones who become petrified, in power. 

Yes, and as the manipulative enter, all seems without provocation until ...when?

It's theJungle and her loved ones who are established now. It's they who now intrude. Water attired in tales--tiles of memory, as fatalities and families never end. It sees water as commodity, and yet, never finds it narcissistic, or slippery.

Her intimate spaces of mind allow irresistible ideas to conjure the instant, in huggings and bundlings, as if her delight were the very laws of light. 

In a pure state, the [business of nature dances society="bonds"] for indulgence of fragrance of the hidden flowers, the soft luscious ferns, the balmy oils of the dark bark. 

It's the water that remembers time passing through these paths--not the textbook mechanics of precious honor for theHumans. 

There is no corporate lineage to rise and interrupt, no misty clouds with foggy tops. 

In truth, with craftsman's honor, these waters flow through timeless heartbeats, never out of blood, and yet, within theJungle, out for blood. 

Yes, superfluous streams seek their crowning movement. as strength and reason have become, it seems, the pathetic bears who hug in hopes for mutual triumph.

Is this the place crafted where the cowboy horse entity makes entry?

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.

Science Fiction

 The Goddess of Instantiate

        

She scans theJungle as if an elderly woman watching silent from a rosewood staircase with focused concern, false power. She appears to herself, briefly, as one of the biobots positioned at theWorkstation.

Her monitors put on a show. It's the data that loves her the most. It always will. 

Far into the future she will remain actively quiet, without prayer, authorized to run on her own with little interruption of loops and corrections--the most perfect of creatures.

Hers is the kind of data future generations will hold up to a celebrity light.

She amazes even herself at the yottabytes she burns, often finding herself saying, This data has chosen me, I haven't chosen it. She checks her screen, searches random data for cybermetric analysis, finds one (it reveals a location and cause of energy being released as heat), decides to read it and thinks. Designated heirs to the end of an evolutionary trail.

She'll never truly let anyone inside her mind. Waves bend around small objects, spread out past small openings.

She manipulates even her own future analysts with her [constraint operational planning system="cops"]. She controls her photon logic efficiently with the speed of light and the thoughtful modulations of the phase frequencies of her various lasers. She'll never take a day off to rest for the purpose of making decisions, thinking rational. 

She knows theJungle and its ways--and yet, should she care? She is totally under her own control. 

Her mind is beautiful in a funny way.