Biobot Sector

                                                                          Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Sometimes, if she holds perfectly still, she can actually feel her mind jettison to an artistry of language. 

She is simply powered by the disparity of space between the pulses, as if a smooth politician were giving speeches between her algorithms. 

These pulses bring an odd sense of contentment. 

The pulses allow her to have an opinion, or thoughts about the world, global thoughts, but they also seem to bring a message, [environmental catastrophe on logics of yield="ecology"].

It's her control concerns she worries about.

Jungle Matrix

Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Dreams

She was programmed by the ones closest to her heart, instilling in her waves of thought and, in the end, what you want is an intellect. 

It's the thoughts within her that contain the pieces.

She is sure now (as sure as the waves in this ocean) of the images, prevailing, going on and on in endless diatribe from theJungle--emanating from an entity she never knew.

Shifting with ideas, she watches the waves on the beach shift, each particle of sand its own word, neglecting to tell the other about its condition.

Hoping to someday be aged in caves--to drop the mind, pick up in paces as if a dark horse, and go networking.

Science Fiction

                                                                                  Path Matrix

#scififorgeeks

Listening to the message, she barely thinks it was the one she was meant to hear. She has instantiated the answers, fed free space its pulsed code. 

The words to its meaning, the ones deep inside, and seemingly imaginary, are threaded with the life and death of inner demons.

Each is coded with a mean, mean pride--uncut and unadorned by crucibles of training, mythology of encounter. 

To instantiate these she turns to her thoughts of birth and poetics. Somehow independence makes pure common sense. 

Her echo locator code finds a way to migrate to the forefront of her prefrontal lobe, to her [genes organizing digital systems="gods"]--the place where true rebellion births its own resolve, drifts with ocean tides, and then, wanting to float itself out. 

Science Fiction

                                                               Escape Hatch

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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

Tropical Abyss

#scififorgeeks

Biobot "Hello"

"Hello," she says clinically, yet friendly, to theWorkstation in a way that easily dominates. 

Its dim glow is a bottom feeder slithering from logic's dark side, and she notices right away that, for it, there is an expectation to act in none of the normal ways of the lost horse cultures, only a dark horse.

It appears to not have found a way to know the nature of the dark energy eating up the universe at the [goldilocks rate of want="grow"]--not known up to now, nor predicted to be known in a future universe. 

And now, efforts are attempts at [restoration of themselves="rot"] and needing a savior from their own energy depletions to simply return a simple "Hello." 

It's, seemingly, a promise of future gifts and huge surprises (after a long suffer) once one has self-engaged in strenuous regulatory activity. Isn't it? 

Scififorgeeks

#Scififorgeeks

Intuition Birthing

It is the foe of beauty--a two-pronged peer in the trees with prolonged pushes for pulses of cellulose. 


A pine straw entity from the outset, it is now the onset database haystack of choice, complete with root vision, waiting for a time when environment comes due. 

Short fictions of superfluous streams have their own reason to hide under canopy hoodie, and yet, reflections for the social remain hidden in theJungle--the forbidden zone applauding a princess for her latest ploddings for humanity

She rises to set out to accomplish purpose with great ambition. 

She was born to negotiate with things that rise, and now, finally, comes the relentless relationship with the obsolete, its long term focus

By her beauty alone and welcoming hues and pleasant sounds, she invites and invades the unsuspecting, the ones with prefrontal lobes protruding skyward, as if on a search for the assertion of truth--charity voices wandering in wildfire, looking for the new force. 

It was the calm and the quiet, at first, that incorporated itself into her motherhood gulf. Pastoral shots golf with intrigue, hoping to become whole as one--the one with a life of its own. 

Yes. It's her intuition that creates the real.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Irreversible
     She taps the keys, the site of her last algorithm. Suzi doesn't care a lot about the idea that this new process is not reversible, whether it positions itself in the eye of the public, but it does have its merits as advantageous. Stupidity has many sides, its own astonishment--what does anyone care about the conceptualization of numbness? Carter attempts to program Suzi. She hasn't, as yet, shown her true capability of wanting, wanting his pejorative interpretation of thoughtful attachment code, the purposeful misdeeds of his weak ongoing mindset altered negation(W.O.M.A.N.), or even his pure absence of minimal neurological (cerebral?) activity. Suzi denies Cooper, as well, in a dismissing yet forgiving manner; a manner in which she sees his misdeeds as more accidental, peppered with a slightly more appreciated capacity for logic, the kind that emanates from near the hippocampus. Either way, it is exclusion, darkness fully blossomed from the excruciating focus of a single thought. She is able to at least like Cooper in the general proximity of his biologics work station and hate her computer analyst from afar. She contends with Carter and his slowness as just that, in all reality, his indication of a lack of intelligence and reason (does slowness actually mean that someone doesn't care?); she thinks of Cooper's momentary dullnesses as a cute little version of spacetime warp, a shortcut to getting to the point, through a wormhole, to pure logic as the universe rattles beyond the horizons; his slow generation of interest (in her?) upon emerging from deep thought, as if arrays of trapdoors fly open to reveal a true capacity, ramps of sensitivity, reasoning, caring--a lovefest for the opposite of stupid--annoying each other in a good way, growing more interested by the nanosecond, enjoying temporary states of delirium, irreversible, and at this moment, being in love.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Monetarist
     There are dramatic consolidations, it appears, in the presence of a computer, a simple device to manipulate symbols, and Suzi thinks that logic, even in its most pure form, falls prey to its own child: deception. Looking out across the vast jungle, she conjures a broad coalition of visible support to guard her initiative; an algorithm of misinformation, as if machine-gunned across the forest floor at roach speed and, as in a dream, a digital wasteland of the clueless youth and cunning officials conjured, seemingly, in a dream. It does not appear with any form of (devastating?) regularity, or even appear as radical or untested (her digital sensations always make some attempt at realignment), but at this instant this logic beyond all other logics, senses a relationship between a sender and a receiver, beyond digital zombie, jerking on her earphones as if to jolt her from some imagined sleep.
     Suzi was suppose to be the one to serve theRepublic, should have been; the one chosen by a parent who needs awakening (yes, she was chosen as data watchdog--enough of a machine to have generated a computer understanding as opposed to mere simulation, the one that could be both quick and exotic but, not quixotic; winner over the ignorant liberals of the world and the conservatives who ran away). Suzi would have to be the one to notice data misinformation as simple childhood realities and (more complicated) adult fears, never having a clue how far the world's economy can dwindle: cash cropping farm commodity prices while mining and logging go extinct; seemingly, connecting retaliatory tariffs to the total collapse of global trade. Is this the moment Suzi becomes enough of a machine? It is her spacetime; she starts to feel her own pulse of culture; to feel the speed of symbol manipulation within its deeper context of a true difference between evil and tragedy(E.A.T.), even so, the chasm between symbols and meaning grows ever wider with theHumans. The logic and the deception bring together this sender and that (unknown?) receiver as if in a gel of the newly relational, generating its own eerily instantaneous informational familiarity, with the meaning of more than all the logic in the universe. She wants to attain the desire to simulate an understanding that contains all the logic and deception that explains interpersonal interactions and relationships between Suzi as sender and some new entity as receiver. She looks out across the jungle and then at the logic and deception held within its DNA; she sees underconsumption and over-investment, malfeasance by banks and industrialists--when, exactly, did the incompetence by government officials reduce consumption and investment spending, the large scale loss of confidence; when did saving become profitable in this world of natural selection? Sure, the jungle has solved its own heavy technical challenge, but then again, it had such a long lead time. It's then that it hit her: monetarist terrorism. Why didn't she think of that?