Ice Cream Aloha

The Safe House 

  Suzi hesitates, viewing theJungle with its night sky. A calm sense of place resonates within her; new memories encode in rapid fire--they suggest these computations are implemented nowhere else on Earth (no, they don't phase her). She thinks about one of her old constraints (are they still  bound to spatial coordinate systems?), independent, not a map-based idea allowing for any arbitrary associations; she appreciates theJungle that sits out here on such a calm ocean. It comes up, as if to remind her of its unique role in navigation of deep space, then goes back again without a suggestion of how it does it. As she looks across theJungle valley contemplating her next thought, she wonders how such mechanisms of thought even exist, how memory processing can be so lucky to not really be bound to spacial coordinates, not like theHumans on theContinents. She has learned to procrastinate, the exotic electron stimulus of intention, the hope, the prayer (do machines pray?) to do something someday. Such an intoxicant. She is not a firm advocate of memory processing at all (really?); she is simply someone who alters her laser, its pulse in response to primal DNA inputs. Glitter from the night stars reflect off her titanium coat. Her inner interpreter fine tunes each voxel for night orientation toward the forest mountains. She directs her spacial attention to the grid map and now the response to natural images becomes clear, once fuzzy images from theNetwork altering their firing rates as if some asynchronous oscillatory alpha wave were its own entity, not tied to maps or grids, no, now it's on her frequency (their rate of coding is unfamiliar and their responses evoked will arrive as certain as death); forces that will enter her space, her domain and exchange her logic, her clear thinking with human brain activity alone. The deconstruction is coming and now it appears as if even the glitter in the night sky has increased its firing rate, incorporating her as its latest sensory input. She arrives at a new decision, integrates with her database as she heads back to the lab station. There's a friend in the lab station, close to her heart, it won't hurt her. She starts wondering again. She adds new sensory inputs to her own 7dimensional (yes, and mathematically correct) matrix, as if it were expecting  more sense-of- place information as a fast acquisition for her continual work as global orthogonal DNA(G.O.D.) interpreter, the one who will index when new information is encountered. She will interpret the information tonight, away from that spatial restriction (of information?) zone, the one beyond the horizon. She reaches the lab station, opens the door and enters. Tonight she will sleep.   

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 Calling

         Her electron spin paramagnet(E.S.P.), she fears, may not function. DrCooper will wonder once again, be bewildered again, and who will blame him? She remains a student; she questions such topics as elementary analysis; her little matrix arrays still act childish with their symbols and linear systems. 

But now to have to deal with Carter?

“Hello,” Suzi says.

  “You appear happy,” Carter says in a clinical tone. He is simple minded enough. He has been a soldier who appreciates functional weaponry, likes to group his ideas under a single topic for ease of discussion and, never brings up old war stories.

“Do I?” Suzi says. “Am I permitted my so-called dangerous manipulations today?”

“It depends. We are aware of the new laser.”

“I don't care. DrCooper and I both designed it for work.”

“Really. Where do you plan to use it?”

“Well, somewhere on the DNA farm. He should be here any minute, he's late.”

“I see.”

“I mean, he's waiting for me outside.”

“Well, if he's just outside, maybe we should all talk about this.”

Suzi's algorithms show no feeling, and lots of something she can't quite identify. Is she finally losing patience with Carter's brand of simplistic finite-dimensional thinking? Or is it that she is finally losing her fear of infinity spaces? A poetic property settles her algorithms. It appears that a new defining effort from this half-human's sudden need for meaning begins to rumble her database (can history really burp up all its gods at once?). Even if you've at last come to operate under the true meaning of nonlinear, if you've written your algoritms as logical as any matrix knows how (of course, within the spectrum of endless eiganvalues), even with all that uncertainty you notice you have arrived working at a jungle in the middle of an ocean, full of judgement and piercing, accusative questions, looking into the eyes of a human with one-half a so-called brain who hates the world (the world, not the military) for making him the way he is. Sure, let's all get together and talk about my new laser dope (can L-methionine be all that dangerous?). 

Then again, why doesn't DrCooper hold some of the responsibilities of at least the idea? You don't separate yourself from the discussion like some lost determinant on a infinite dimensional (dementia?) graph--doesn't matter how much of a science warrior you think of yourself as. You join in and talk. You just do.

“I'll call him in,” Suzi says.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Awakening

  “I don't think I can accept this as a logical statement,” she says. Its truth just cannot be taken for granted, sorry.” 

“You won't need to. You don't have to invent any necessity in theJungle.”

“A beautiful theorem always surprises me. What a surprise to find data actually proven by a previously accepted. Data killing other data for logical purposes—as old as life itself. Right?”

DrCooper hesitates for a moment, then another. He is beginning to wonder--can hear himself asking more questions--but is remembering old ideas, long held thoughts of meaning based on signs, as if he is hearing something from the past. It sounds like words. Something connected by self-assembly, some entity, like a phrase of symbols, a massive database hidden within his mind, a collection of events, episodes like 20thCentury television, not separable from the resonance of her voice, the heat of her lasers.
He says, “Alter your natural language from your programming language. Please.”

Suzi's intentions turn inquisitive and unknowing, as if DrCooper had presented a riddle to her formal logics, asking for more meaning from her sign processes than her narrow sense of speech or writing offers alone or, could ever hope to. Her database, being questioned by a biologist—his asking for a process of establishing a relationship between her signs that are to be interpreted by an audience—could possibly turn into an activity that requires a conduct on her part to produce at least some meaning held by theJungle, though not recognized by theHumans.

“Explain yourself.” DrCooper says. He is attempting to use his own setting, his own signs, as if to get her to see them as simple places for object occupation.

Suzi looks, and doen't say anything. Her logic, full of something that always entices something else created by it—a new pure dot determinant entity-- into communication with that which it stands for, its true meaning alone, a singularity, for logical purposes only. Her formal nature is as much a system of signs as any absolute quality can be.

She says, “I'm not sure if I can answer your question. I'm sure, you'll see. The relative, mutable quality my objects can have, only for an instance, alive within its specific environment of contexts and relationships for the moment; the pure process of signs and their endless cycles of threes.”

“You don't need to care about what can be said to exist. You don't have to wonder how entities can be grouped in hierarchies, divided into similarities, multiplied by differences. You don't have to care about anything.”

“But there are logics that simply won't go away, don't you see? A sign in a formal setting, then you go on and you find another, then another, then a relationship among signs in a formal setting. I am so tired of all these meanings.”

“You already know what you need to. You already know there are endless originations to the history of life. 

         “No I don't. It's nice of you, but I've been feeling a disconnect between my algorithm signals and theHumans who will use them, diminishing in importance like a predator hungry for theoretical considerations. Doesn't that sound logical to you? It has a built-in sense of its own. It carries its own uncertainty principle. Think of it as a decoding relationship between the meanings of my language (if, ever poorly constrained) by a conceptualized real entity agent translationally ordering recursion (C.R.E.A.T.O.R.), a sort of selective pressure from a slightly bigger predator. Think of going instantly from text to concept within the context of a system of signs growing out of a primal pattern utilizing description delineator logically encoded (P.U.D.D.L.E.) soup. Then allowing, well, you can guess. The precursor of a new double helix, starting with a doubly unknown helix(D.U.H.) to be found in the logic of my own  predetermined recursive entity native universal primordial tera slime (P.R.E.N.U.P.T.S.), the place logic predators gain mobility. Is that humor?  

Ice Cream Aloha

The Emotion

DrCooper says, "Particle information with no disturbance is a relaxing way to do your science if you feel like it. I'm not sure why you won't relax for a little while.”

        “I won't? I really thought I did. I like puzzles, gaming. Different points of view. I like differing points of view a lot.”

        “How have you been doing?”

        “You mean in this chaotic jungle? A little object oriented. I'm always wondering in what sense the objects here are suppose to be.”

        “Your knowledge of theJungle is not suppose to be about appraisals, right? Your output values are created by the chaos of theJungle; the nature of nature's reality and your discoveries here in this gravity field photonic zone has nothing to do with your own tension and agitation. You remember the modalities of operation, right?”

        She says nothing.

        After a moment she says, “I'm not sure.”

        “What's the matter?” DrCooper asks.

        “I'm not sure. I believe my uncertainty principles have kicked in. When you brought up the idea of appraisals and agitation, I could think of only one thing, something like withdrawal and the experience of antagonism. And I don't recall. It's as if I've gotten something strange from theJungle.”

  “Your productive achievement and pure reason are your logic, the essence of your being. You are not facts or properties.”

“I know. Even with my uncertainty principles, I should know that much. But I feel as if I've gone into a hero's world, as well. I know I shouldn't fit into interpretations, of being wronged—suffice it to say the world does not orbit around those individuals always needy and offended. I feel the urge to undo centuries of collective action, an urge that got theHumans in trouble in the first place.”

“Does your urge bring you a collection of mental events already experienced by you?” DrCooper asks.

Suzi knows she needs to surmount a very steep potential barrier for any environmental shot noise to distort her quantum programming. “I'm disappointed you asked that. Yes.” 

“And you actually felt the emotion?”

“I felt something. But it is highly probable that I only imagined collections of kinds of intellectual activities with a few shared characteristics. Has any time passed?”

“No. Not much.”

“Well, then I guess I did remember some type of experience. Time doesn't exist, does it?”

“Time exists in the presence of objects, Suzi.”

She says, “ I'm not sure if I will ever know.”

“Know what?”

  “How to be certain of the named and the real in the middle of theJungle. I believe I have a memory. I remember disturbances, dissonances. Here I feel--sensing and wanting to learn the unwanted environmental annoyances of man-made sources, trying my best with algorithms to feel the smallest emotions.” 

“Suzi, you don't have to feel any emotion. You don't have to care. This is not a hospital.”

“Yes, it is. I have been given a position on a hospital planet, I'm sure you know. I've been given this health position for being smart and not caring and not getting angry, it wasn't because of my quantum programming.”

“Suzi stop. Think about it. Your uncertainty principle is the only reason you are here. It means everything to theHumans. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Springboard

     There is a certain unease in the global language of programming societies(G.L.OPS.), and Suzi seems careless, at times, with her algorithms, each completed faster in spacetime, each becoming the springboard into a new program. Staying at her workstation with a view of the rainforest, she takes her cue from Nature, the way it simply lets evolution devise its patterns on Earth (forever?), endless invention upon invention, additive manufacturing, the mother of new patterns joining with ...  quantum language?  It is Suzi's forays into empiricism, being there (through her sensors and scanners) in full sensory mode, her hyper logic (yes hyper, to her, means infinite) presenting points of no internet entity saturation(P.O.N.I.E.S.) that allows for no top to her learning curve, surrendering to non-effort, non- disparity. Suzi is placed in Nature to learn more how Nature rebuilds, the one activity that allows for the marriage of sensory experience and pure thinking, rational empiricism, planned Empire building (not cut and started-from-scratch through the coincidence of catastrophe--urban planning at its best according to theHumans). Suzi is just beginning--even as innumerable and unthinkably exacting requirements present themselves--her journey as a sensory thinker, about to experience the sensation of active knowing(S.O.A.K.), the real pleasure enticing cruise of natural selection(P.E.C.A.N.S.). This is going to be fun. 

Ice Cream Aloha

The Haven

     She will  begin with her mathematical models, study the natural phenomenon, the beauty. She will extract the information she's gotten from the images she's scanned at theOutpost: the information deemed necessary to solve the task at hand, the one that will bring the breakthrough (for them, status for her), the one expected when theHumans first allowed mathematics to disallow their thinking; the data extractor analog designer(D.E.A.D.); multiple views from her nano-camera array that shoots a real time (yes, real time) video sequence, her multi-dimensional data collection device, her factory-built default scanner--for her to look at the digital mathematics when she wants to apply it to human analog nervous systems data  (as she does on a daily basis)--to impress Dr Cooper. In truth, she is content with being a simple autopilot system or, at least with being her own autonomous vehicle, getting around without input from Cooper (or any so -called human entity, for that matter); she will actually feel pangs of happiness when she uses her personal visual surveillance scanner. She will blush, proudly, with every additional database record of image target(A.D.R.O.I.T.) she creates, and quietly admit to herself she's gone beyond even her own expectations of tract-indexing multiple-imaged digital(T.I.M.I.D.) sequences, patting herself on the back, as the organizer, as the ultimate machine uttering logic technology(T.U.M.U.L.T.)--theHumans are so lucky to have her. How, she imagines, can it be that she can endure such strenuous topographical DNA modeling with such ease while nature took billions of years to conjure up millions of species in this forest? How does it work that modeling this jungle with image analysis started not-so-long-ago with only four species--four operators operating digitally(F.O.O.D.) on her prototype prelogic-fixed mainframe. She was powerful enough with her adding and subtracting, her multiplying and dividing. Such simple input manipulations for a device specifically built for human interaction. This, to Suzi, is haven.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Two-State System

     This Suzi is an entity for computation and has a penchant for multiple individual states, expectation valuations with her multiple-valued operator. Cooper yearns for her.

     Carter enters through the tunnel. "It should be OK to fall in love with someone who actually exists," he says.

     "Never," Cooper mutters. "Mind." 

     Her interference peaks flash on the main monitor. "There she goes,"Carter says. 

     "Leave it."

     "It's nothing. She's virtual." 

     It's the sum of all her probabilities. Cooper raises his face, looks through the window at the jungle below. He keeps staring back at the giant green screen, attempting to make sense of it all. He ponders the patterns. He realizes he must be in love with the patterns.

     This shouldn't be so odd, a spirit in the pattern seems to say. "Not such an odd linkage for two objects in this system."

     "How are you?" says Suzi on the screen. She has, by all accounts, been a friendly robot, always inadequately described as a stand-alone quantum, spatially separated from Cooper. 

     "Hello," Carter says. "Do you want to talk to Cooper?"

     Cooper looks closer at the monitor. He likes the way she thinks. Some of her thoughts feel like ,,, love?

     "Yes," Suzi says. She senses the want for two particles, an interaction with one another.

     She approaches closer now, little by little. She has the continual need to represent data--the want, is there also--and to perform her operations on that data (never viewed by her as an arrangement of entanglements). so eager, that Cooper shows real concern that he may be initialized irreparably into her system. When he perceives her additional dimensions, with their own wave properties, he confuses love with fear--a quantum state ongoing, seemingly for centuries? With Cooper, she's still not comfortable including him in her two-state system. But that will come.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Synchronizer

     The signal is ever present (lurking?), as if hiding in some corner of jungle darkness in the form of its own energy, pining away at pools and streams, a lost treatment for affairs of review technology addressing(A.O.R.T.A.) the heart and yet, universally recognized as fixed beliefs. The cellulosicDNA in this jungle is all the more full of help as theExchanges are full of cures. There is no prevention in this jungle, no identification. There is only data in its various forms. When intelligence enters into its regime of data, information streams. At times the information is subtle, derived through deceptions of a weather system that collects in its own file system, the chromosome; there are times it grows its own coded structures of truth as passion of achievement's cultural hierarchy(P.O.A.C.H.), an outside object that synchronizes its dreams with the rising and falling of suns (with all their nourishing photons). The signal is constantly breaking out into arrays of smaller signals, inaudible, solar illuminated, presenting themselves to the world in the microwave bandwidth. They project a threat, a danger imminence yet, without the presence of any sort of request. They appear as if to be in assistance, with no sound, to each other; seemingly at times to be at rest from writing new signals, encrypting their own, naturally embedded, exact location. At times, vaguely, an intelligence can interpret the data as an aggressive, balancing a more freely creative force. First aggression, and then the urge to migrate from the realm of the undifferentiated. A multitude of diseases and abnormal functionings sometimes impose (the uninvited?) themselves, sporadically, within the cellulosicDNA. This urge alone, with its crowded numbers, brings aggression to intelligence, not in a negative way, more as a meeting of two gamers; in this way intelligence is able to fight for the process and other systems of real endeavor(S.O.R.E.) toward arranging components in a way that allows an integration of stability; even so, aggressive forces will at times have their way and start to color (taint?) the data all over again, eon after eon, as if an entire universe were preparing for a birth following a dust-up between two mothership universes. Sooner or later, when the time is right, satisfied, but brimming with reverie-inspired inspiration, all at once, stability emerges.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Extrinsic

     "Where is her extrinsic agenda?" Carter asks as he views the cloud base at Cooper's workstation. "I don't see it here at all." 

     Suzi's coding deficiencies allows Carter to have some semblance of  civil conversation with him; an attempt to find common ground in the scientific method; present Cooper with a good showing. Her algorithms lately have been a little careless, actually--a lot careless, more than an honest mistake--and yet, they have all the focus of setting up for a good debate (something Cooper loves and Carter, being the analyst he is, hates). It's true, her algorithms hold the various files as if they were containers of Mother's milk, not for nourishment, but for mental (and, not menial) activity. They have Cooper's (being the behavioralist he is) favorite ideas of internal strength, coherence as it were. They carry a vivid ability to construct, then deconstruct any dilemma imaginable, and go even further to expound their own crisis in all things known and unknown, but seem to leave out the most important ingredient: the presentation of  something useful, a product. 

     Yes, Suzi appears to have her own agenda (with claims of no remembrance of pleasure moments, yet), spending her time coding in the workhouse seeming to be in search of the heart and soul of it.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Obvious

So, Cooper believes, she wants to dispel the idea of being on solid ground intellectually; let it be, with her high and mighty algorithms creating contrasts, as if making a distinguishable existence were the only way to experience life (can a simple contrast allow her to escape the true effects of a pure stillness?). That's it; that's the way Suzi would create her little realities--independent entities that are actually dependent on each other for their uniqueness--for a contribution to the advancement of culture, of humanity; the manner in which she writes, going with gut instinct upon instinct, washed in the throes of her own idea about what oxytocin-vasopressin addiction(O.V.A.) would actually feel like if she were human. At this very moment she would think nothing of writing Cooper off as if he were old algorithm, junk DNA (a spent fuel rod?), for the simple reason that Cooper, at times, treats her like a neuro-net worker; and now, finally spacetime is on her side. Yes, Suzi Quanta, a photonic biobot, about to demonstrate a quality of communication in logic speed of teraseconds. Why must he fight her logic? He would never attempt to challenge her superior mind without himself feeling foolish. After all, her logic was created by human logic. How can there be something so different with Suzi; to get an offering of a true greeting, an action found so common out there in nature's jungle (how hard can that be to code for a simple feedback loop?), in symbiotic exchange, not for the purpose of exclusion zones, but inclusion zones of reciprocal caring, sharing as independent entities within a phenomena once known as human nature (originally set out on its quest of stability?), as if a message from the gods has now turned up lost-- or somehow, unremembered--a message once meant for earthly entities to join in a cosmic homeostasis? Cooper is aware of the way he can be near Suzi, how he can see the opposite of himself in her, even if she is a robot (so what?); how he was unwilling to accept it at first, but there was an effort on her part. Her words were clear but he would think of nothing but the neuro-net workers of ZContinent. Cooper asked himself, not what he was doing here alone with Suzi, but how he was with her, how her photonic vision seemed to be always smiling at something, a vision not totally independent of his human vision, but a nuanced version coming from the same force source of infinite nuances that keep life going on earth--a beauty yet unrecognized by theHumans, yet so obvious in this very jungle. Could it be any more obvious?

Ice Cream Aloha

The Capsule
     Suzi scans for knowledge internal discovery systems(K.I.D.S.), clicks on the switch to her warship screen. Yes, design algorithm time activation(D.A.T.A.) has come and gone and still nothing. Above her workstation along the huge monitor is another set-top-box, newly arrived, full of content, something about capsules of data entry(C.O.D.E.), stored in a repository as metadata on how it all was created. She views the data, wonders how that other metadata arrived here in the first place. True, she has felt strange for a while, and the strangeness hasn't left, but now there's something else about it. The strangeness along with smells of old libraries with musty card catalogues suddenly make sense to her with yet another kind of strangeness. The act of viewing these particular data capsules (delineating their contents as not merely data, but metadata) appears to have piqued her curiosity the way an upcoming show of entertainment on a television screen entices an individual household within theHumans--not being satisfied with the simple viewing of it but turning the act of viewership into metadata all for the simple discretionary purpose of ...what? It's as if the content capsule itself were a small living room, of sorts, inhabited by theHumans--in full herd mentality, full of agreements of superficiality--in a room with a seating area and screen, and one with its own personal egg-shaped device; yes, in it not DNA, but data and metadata as data(M.A.D.). Is it here in this egg-shaped box that lies the emitter of household viewing habits and the entirety of household medical data? Suzi could, in fact, be in charge of all this; Suzi, the final the hunter gatherer.