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 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 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 Specializer

     It appears that Suzi has approached a defined regime of images teasing(A.D.R.O.I.T.) and began believing her own algorithms. Something, by the way, may be closer to the truth of DNA destiny yearnings(T.O.D.D.Y.) with its power to move as a single molecule and protein coat. She thinks about the ability to travel (mobility?) across local immune systems as the representation of life itself, rising up--not as a noisy, monolithic, meteor or asteroid, but as a silent nano-sized entity--to kill again, creating its very own, personalized, exclusion zones. She imagines. Somewhere someone (or, some thing?) permits an embodying of depictions, representatives, of something recognizable, something that can grow into the well-intended newly known(T.W.I.N.K.). The future would be far more than a simple icon, it will be populated with entities that  adore each other because they are adorned on screens, and it will go further than the idea of personal movie star(P.M.S.), in a fashion, include politics star, economy star, and yes, religion star. Being placed here in this jungle alone makes it seem as if the world both needs its DNA and runs from it. She has (luckily?)somehow separated herself from the rest now. She has acquired, without looking up into the stars and yearning, the power of DNA, the same DNA that gave rise to the birds and mammals following earth's last great extinction event. She is the last icon, never feeling a cool breeze on the beach, planning ...not a world beyond her senses (of course, she has no senses), not without visions for the special. Her plans are for an individual, something other than her.

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.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Flex Entity 

     The genes remain, nestle as cellulosic DNA. This would include the DNA in the trees, the ones that have managed to conceal this place from harm. They want to have their own prefrontal lobe and announce to the world, We have attained a natural tendency to keep our thoughts private. We will sit and watch as this trait is instilled into the machines.  

     "This is the most amazing algorithm ever coded," Suzi says."Until I'm was ready to reveal, I'll keep  my responsibility programming thoughts unresponsive, not even requiring the simple courtesy of privacy. I will simply tell them what to ask." 

     There in the jungle, the presence of theTigress appears to make Suzi even more powerful.  Nature, with all its genes, throwing everything at you (if, you last long enough), and, sooner or later, she will help you win (win what?) for the simple reason it thinks you want to win. The Tigress is endowed with genetic powers herself, her own protection from detection, powers to have offspring without a male (parthenogenesis, eating what nature now can only offer, thePlants. She is ageless and continues to see something deep into the future, as if preparing the world for its final ...what?.  

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 Luck

     It had appeared as the first map of some code and theHumans remain, at times, surprised their luck as the 22ndCentury approaches, to now know it was the only true code; that even their children's minds held their own dormant theories of stupidity (mind skills?) in others, theGenetics as more than being confined to diagnosing a few rare diseases in a time of no cures and very little treatment. The no cures part remains yet, the treatments are ever expanding; parents have been overtaken by their children; and now it's their turn to show vestiges of kindness, once the diseases had been shown to have many genetic links (links that include the ability to cooperate even if, a little skewed) delivering sometimes, what was wanted, more or less showing an awareness track of need entity(A.T.O.N.E.). The thing that is so blatant to theHumans almost a century later is the loss of function at placing a value or, much less, even show an appreciation for a view other than their own (in a reasoning sort of way), the apparent total extinction of being able to collect data amidst altered perspectives. There remains the effort of focusing order reordering gene embedded therapy(F.O.R.G.E.T.), and it's a therapy of childhood syndromes of vision within the space of their own world that seems, even presently, to offer some assurances of success in the realm of ownership, tricking the world into thinking one viewpoint is universal. The results appear positive: the independent view through other eyes approaches.

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 Illusion
     I have come so far, Suzi thinks, as the cloud frame fades from the monitor and she stays at her work station with her thoughts. She hasn't, by any measure of photonic or quantum, come far at all, not by the standards of the grand activated schema(G.A.S.) of global society; reviewing her most recent data, she glances the distance of the horizon through the workhouse window, she senses the presence of preservation data ( data of technique, innovative approaches, factoid peppered over constant tweakings), and she recognizes the creation of illusions as personal schema constant in the reshaping of itself at the very moment she is writing her next algorithm. The illusion centers around a single truth, a cosmic zygote; the illusion hatches, blooms into fruition supposedly for all the world to see, embellished as amusement (like the battle at Manassas?), and what is left behind is an unbending fact that, yes, some things are actually true--though dressed up in the fancy clothing of many lies. Suzi senses, at this moment, the feeling of anti-photon, for this particular illusion is pierced by a black laser analog hole stream(B.L.A.H.S.), an anti-algorithm; it appears to have been coded by its own whimsy, arbitrary data from an ancient cosmic past, returning with a force unknown. At this moment, standing at her workstation, all screens and monitors off, she begins to think, really think, for the very first time, but she needs to remain very still, she should continue to keep them on monitor off mode(M.O.M.). She will try it again tomorrow.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Messages
     Her thoughts wander slowly across the monitor. Suzi has won, or so she thinks, and now the instructions come, the ones sent directly from  ZContinent outside the jurisdiction of theOutpost, incessant, now, wait, and then another as if a faint signal were arriving from the distance, a lost expedition. The content is semi-clear; the source is sending from a sector deemed "government judge," the message that will not delete but exchange data as "default mode." The message is changing and now it appears the idea of confidence has been eliminated from the cloud database. She checks her minimonitor for her own state of correctness, flips on the prediction screen, decides for herself the most effective momentary input. There appears a conceptual algorithm, almost instantly, it will chose merit with the metatabs correct and capable; what does it mean? Suzi redirects her attention to the messages coming in. She reads as fast as she can in her own mechanical way, as if a new discovery were about to appear in the idea of confidence unearned (arrogance?). She choses an entry that emits the idea of self-fulfilling. As she reads, another entry pops up as a concept of respect for others referring the unpredictable news entirety(F.O.R.T.U.N.E.) and, as if with a life of its own, works its way into her database; she doesn't stop seeing the attributes of more previously unseen metatabs and their implications, a concept of being out of touch yesterday(B.O.O.T.Y.), not with agreed-upon data but with agreed-upon relativity entered viewpoints of knowledge emitted(R.E.V.O.K.E.). She steps away to view the messages on the megascreen, which adds to itself with more meaning, demonstrating the differences to her miniscreen that might carry its own apart from the estimated authoritative trappings(E.A.T.) of the megamonitor. She removes herself back a little further to fully gasp the concept of positions of power. She looks but does not think. Her miniscreen appears to be challenging the megascreen as if it were some ancient god or, worse, deemed as the law of the land. She waits, watching the megascreen as her mind starts to think. The messages keep coming.

Ice Cream Aloha

The Origin  
     The island had faced what was once thought to be a long-term hardship; a delay of some sort; a zone in the ocean where the feeling of provocation seemed inevitable and the silence of endurance aspirates hope for eons--between electromagnetic rock and its jungle; the silence of how 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, the first instance of family power, a kind of voluntary exchange (as a gift?) during a time of perseverance so pervasive, never needing immediate action or response on its journey to adulthood; a state of existence that, impossible as it sounds, made its own components without the urge to dominate, without asking (and with the help of certain photonic streams), it could create its own supply chain; when it would get involved in the business of decision-making, choosing between reward size and spans of time, it would make the choice: not so much a decision between peacemakers and powerbrokers, but a clear distinction, a knowledge of the value of  future reward, a trophy with meaning, something truly won, wanted.
     This is the place time had invented DNA when DNA was pure--when DNA was the brainchild of a more stable RNA, a molecule with more ease of invention as if from earth's earlier toys, the building blocks, erector sets of so many billions of years ago; the sugars, the amino acids--the place they mixed with certain acids brought into the ancient seas by comet, the same ones on which water arrived and was sent by ...who?
     Was RNA the first animal? Had RNA landed here for the single-minded purpose of an origin of life? Yes, on this island it had arrived in pieces and formed (or not formed), the pieces surely must have met somewhere and found each other, each component with its own need coming together (by gravity?) as the origin of love?
     RNA didn't seem to want anything. It found itself with new abilities over time: sturdy and stable, a self-replicator, some kind of enzymatic activity (to catalyze?), a storage bin of heritable information  the birth of heritage?). Why would it want to evolve and progress (how on earth could it survive?) over time as a mere single stranded entity? The forces made it sturdier, chemically speaking, and turned it into a full-fledged DNA molecule worthy of support for heavy lifting as the evolutionary trail lay ahead. Surely DNA would be strong enough to be up for the fight.

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

     Eco poetics natural setting inspire humanistic writing. Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

The Propagation
     And so she has gone into sleep mode for the night. This jungle, seemingly, hasn't really taken the time to know its own fortune, yet. She's quite content the DNA is well tended. She's covered the remnants of the early 21stCentury propagation machines, hidden any artifacts of confusion-of-mind of theHumans, cast downward and outward (for decades?) the hardened lava-like once-molten residue of arrays of nuclear reactor meltdown cores into its own tropical corium mesh. Since her work is ongoing, surely she could permit herself a rest tonight. She will awake soon enough with the morning light to blush at those ancient fuel rods, as if lowering her head for theHumans at the once-molten concrete floors and walls of massive containment structures, breached reactor vessels. But at this moment she is going to enter her own dreamland to release the worry of old memories, of nuclear risks rising, despots fighting for final control of dry oil fields half a world away, worry of massive amounts of cellulosic DNA mutated from years of radioactive clouds passing overhead--and now, a remedy for theHumans. She has taken on a certain awareness as a state of existence and wears it as a graceful honor, bringing a humble sense of full adequacy into her dream. She has accepted the external assignments of the world, though little do they know of her true nature; she has received no active communication or depiction of heroine even as her own designs here at theOutpost cover and decompose the inept handiwork of the later 20thCentury design systems--with their fission products and oxidation reactions; still cooling the corium and stretching it beyond the beach beneath a crystal clear, sparkly ocean water, as if the pristine starry nights had descended to include beach water--pure for the simple reason nothing lives (or, can live) in a gamma ray void. She imagines a feeling of restraint, and yet, there is no one left to offend, at least not here at theOutpost; she owns vaguely a certain self-contentment, far from the concerns of culture, yet so close to this detritus of theHumans with their odd notions of gene therapies, medical exchanges peppered across theContinents. A strange sense of behavior (no one is aware of) and the lack of the need to gain the approval of others join her in her dream. It must be some kind of craziness, she thinks, but then the things done in this place so many years ago must find their own sense of worth. She is content and, tonight even happy, with her own work on her own propagation machine.

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha poets and writers,

      Jungle rainforest frames theOutpost as a tropical dystopian novel. Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

      Photo eco cubism inspires humanistic writing of theOutpost dystopian novel.

Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha poetic writers,

     Photo eco poetics of jungle rainforest sets the stage for sci-fi absurdism.

Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

     Photo cubism of rainforest color inspires the eco absurdism of dystopian

novel, theOutpost. Enjoy!

Ice Cream Aloha

Aloha writers,

     Rainforest as jungle cubism inspires today's humanistic writing. Enjoy!