Mountain Matrix

                      Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Prayer

She probably thought the sun will be down in a few hours, just a few hours. She returns to the Workstation. 

She isn't angry, she is nothing as small as that, but that doesn't stop a sensation that, in her semi-ignored [focus of simple symbols instantiated logically="fossil"] record, there is the emergence of unsweetened prayers in her primal code--and, more to the point, contradicting ideas that her duties are not their duties, her feelings not their feelings.

She gets ready for motherhood to make a dent in a life that was built for speed but may not, in the end, fully understand theHumans.

Yes, this will open the door for judgement, but by who or …what?  

The Last Green

                                                                       Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Stress

She takes the so-called, virgin seashore into her photonic eyesight.  She checks her poetics, not a bad warm-up by any stretch of the imagination. 

She absorbs a sensation across its vast expanse of water. (Something about the teaching of behavior in groups of children as the most important comes up)

She is now part of the cool breeze in her face, as if it were becoming a self-soothing salve. It would brush off anything that resembles a stressor with its mouth watering confrontations evaporating in close space. 

No. She won't wash away any misery in this ocean, not today, and yet there it is, thoughts fresh in her mind to intoxicate with even more coolness coming off the water. 

Her thoughts remain, as if personal belongings with a sharp concern for what happens next. In time it will take her out of the investigation or, put her deeper in it.

I'm just saying.

Purple Dream

                       Science Fiction

Shock Focus

It feels like theWorkstation has become a luxury showroom for the industrial terrestrial. 

It's a spacious outlet, with its tall ceilings, amber hues, as real as the World War III cinder blocks that were here, seemingly, a moment ago. 

She goes into shock focus. It's as if she's been walking around with a big dart on her back. 

Something within her grapheme nanotube, something like quantum crickets, but not insects, a feeling like another transform hovering amidst the greens and blues of the natural world, says she will give birth.  Really?

Lighthouse Matrix

Science Fiction

Stick in History

She goes back to a place where in front of her are the colors with their motion and symbols, their ripples of image designed for health. 

She views her new bride_side algorithm (why is she is so constant in her sensation of the looming, the hypothetical entity? Why is she so leery of dark matter, dark energy, dark horses?) 

She feels a surprising sensation--she senses something has managed to program fantasy into her. She turns from her screen, secretly views code [natural outside view embedding legacy="novel"]. 

She inhales a deep breath, sees a reflection. Warmth.

Out beyond her screen theJungle takes another breath as if there will be some words said over a body with a big name, one that will stick in history.