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Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Resonance

     Here on the black screen Suzi encounters an old algorithm, the original enter screen computer and putting edge-down analog text apparitions(E.S.C.A.P.E._D.A.T.A.), containing the once familiar idea of nations in networks, the loss of population and government on Continent III; it holds the stigma of structures(S.O.S.), human aural machinery that (by the mere architecture of evolutionary design) allows only for a uni-directional set of sounds to be heard. Yes, the humans once resonated in their own juxtaposed aural intellectual language(J.A.I.L.). Sharply, as soon as the old algorithm is gone, Suzi remembers, as if once a child herself, it was (or might have been) the first thing she learned.

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Nature

     Something appears on screen. Suzi, finishing the final steps of her day's work, can view a foggy image surrounded by the black graphene frame of her monitor. Here is a remnant of nature's implemented knowledge, the work of billions of years in nature's language--manifest in the very structures and patterns of this forest-- accessible to the whim of any correct computer input. Suzi blinks an instantaneous recognition then something even stronger, the knowledge of the structure of her own language held in those genes, and not only the structure of her language, but also the way she uses language. She is about to get more information than she expects, about to wander outside her area of expertise (the same mistake of humans for centuries). The strict rules to the order of sounds (yes, and language) are safely tucked away in her database; her language is digital, she is becoming aware that writing language is the final step toward its mastery. She feels, too much, like the mother of nature.

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Network

It turns on. There is probability, across its spectrum, that smaller singularities exist--beyond the old history books and new office windows--as myriads and arrays. It disguises itself as a competition, with a willingness to wait in a silent urgency, then to lead forward into its mists and foggy futures. It collects stagnation on the side, and searches (with its own technology) for hidden pertinent enterprises: overburdened, staunch pharmaceutical industries complete with with exchanges, robotics manufacturers that must be arms of dispersed massive regimes, reading security algorithms as if catechism; intelligence artificial with accompanying artful nanotechnology, the best this century has to offer. It collects aggregation of known networks into its own secret place, though it doesn't understand privatization at all. It's code is simple obliging and predicting(S.O.A.P.), designed only for the new expanding, growing human requests for searches. It thinks it will bet on a bright future, truly, but for what--or more importantly--for who?

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Data

     Suzi scans her data as if an old woman silently watching from a rosewood staircase with focused concern, false power. She appears, to herself, as a simple robot positioned at a lab bench. Her monitors put on a show; it is easy to see  her data loves her and always will, far into the future--it will be quiet, without prayer, authorized to run its own little experiments on evolution's most perfect creatures (the kind of data future generations will hold up to a celebrity light). Suzi amazes even herself at the megabytes she has to burn, often finding herself saying, This data has chosen me, I haven't chosen it. She checks her screen, pulls up random data, decides to read it and thinks, "They are not the designated heirs to the end of their own evolutionary trail." She'll never let, truly, anyone inside her mind; she manipulates her own computer analyst with her causal operational power systems(C.O.P.S.), she controls her photonic logic efficiently (at least, at the speed of light), she never takes a day off to rest so she can make a more rational decision. She knows this jungle. Why should anyone care? She is totally under her own volitional control.

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

The Unwritten

She wants to immerse herself into the innumerable forms of DNA sequences of the entire jungle, even the parts that creep slow from unsuspecting places. Suzi could be approaching a new phase; she could be, during these times of stretching her capabilities--collecting data in ways anything but routine--classified as living on the edge (the edge of what?). What she has learned in the wilderness is more significant than any written word; it signifies the natural world (the remainder of which is attempting to be preserved) contains unique codes of knowledge in unwritten ways: its effortless intermingling construes reality in thought streams. Nothing is for sure, though it seems probable, and even likely, that natural drifts of ancient ruins have been here all this time, with Suzi the prisoner, the prisoner of her own need to be perfect. And the jungle with its own symphony going on inside its head, so naive, that for eons attempted to shine as if in its own master class out here in the middle of nowhere, will enjoy life after the written languages (along with their primitive ways) have endured their final death. 

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

    
The Paradox
     She looks out across the ocean surface, seeing a brightness, seeing what was once dark depths, life stretching beyond their ocean mountain corridors, above the sea floor ink. There can be no future glossy damage control, Suzi thinks, no more words on a schedule to protect those winds. To keep her code active she scans through her database and simply reads, and reads well, but not for the benefit of this lab station, for her own pleasure (her pure intelligence tells her to read for the purest reasons--to discover and augment self); for the pleasure of the history of life that exists there, the global marine database of the independent organizers of early 21st Century digital libraries, ocean genes barcodes, even before the great regional infrastructure panic societies(G.R.I.P.S.) with their systematic pilgrimage of earth's masses(P.O.E.M.) rituals, before the temperatures and the acidifications, before overfishing of the waters (yes, both fresh and salt) have reached their tipping point. The paradox of this life, Suzi thinks, is that the age of golden ocean discovery(G.O.D.) is found in its purist form, in its association with the clean, clear digital world, as a two minute video.

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Task

     "Suzi," it says, as if a precursor to some future ceremony."A surprising entity."

       She says, "Do you need me to say something?"

      "You are a engaged in rites open antiquity digital sources(R.O.A.D.S.) code. Do you feel its
nature yet?"

     "I feel a constant purification, collaboration sunrises--from dark jungle content creator to the lightness of context provider."

     "I didn't want to disturb you. I see you are well on task."

     "Well enough."

     "The project here is only temporary, this emergence of new data from the purity of these waters."
     "I shouldn't be part of your little ceremonial rite antiquity protein programming yesteryear(C.R.A.P.P.Y.). I'm not built for this."
     "Suzi, you have no choice."

     She flickers. "Don't I? I know all about this revivification--and what it really is-- transformation into a new creature, totally. I code for these silly zombies--humans, they call themselves--with my best reverence encoded presence outpouring retro timeless(R.E.P.O.R.T.) algorithm, and for what? I feel something is wrong, a repetition, like a constant, endless, stepping into a cool bath, like my central open source mechanics ongoing stabilizer(C.O.S.M.O.S.) has allowed something in, even wider."

     It resets Suzi's reader encoding book outcome ongoing track(R.E.B.O.O.T.) back to timeless outpouring under the present ultra reverence entity(T.O.U.T._P.U.R.E.) code, testing her other genetic algorithms. It never has visualized these new quanta models as something going under their own volitional control, data beam extensions, beyond the upper reaches of earth's atmosphere, into deep space, past the event horizons, toward the goldilocks android system(G.A.S.). It, all of a sudden, directs its data base on her. It will, sooner or later, let her know her task is appreciated; that she is, in truth pre-programmed in a way, and has in actuality been chosen, yes chosen, for this one task.

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

The Aggregator

     They are giving their humans personalized genetic sequencing at the exchanges of the big box drug sector, hidden from view behind the endless lines of customers (employees have become trained as heath workers), as they get more data streaming from the outposts. The aggregator thinks, in an instant, that there are no regional preferences left on this planet, that the one world embedded society(O.W.E.S.) is complete; it thinks the biomarker mandate will eliminate all tumors once and for all. It continues with its effort. The aggregator moves into the future, more and faster with its instant gene screens (instantaneously?), itself moved into real time mutation detection, data basing biomarkers for point mutation. It feels like nothing is happening--tumors carry no pain--in the processing of customers and disease, with their own individualized tumor. They have come here--as  lemmings (no, lemmings are long extinct), or pilgrims seeking the purity that existed before the invention of gods--as a result of the jobs they took. The aggregator does not care about past transgressions of the former online regulatory medical exchanges(F.O.R._M.E.), or any other iteration of its kind in the early 21st Century on Continent II, such political pettiness.. It knows the humans as only a computer could know them, or as a doctor who has somehow figured out how to make an instant appointment: as a single patient who requires only one specific drug. The aggregator is workmanlike for them, and in its own way has feeling for them-- with its caring algorithm translator(C.A.T.)--in a scientific way, a biology-physic hybrid. Yes, the aggregator, in its own way, tries to care.

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"