Thursday, June 30, 2011
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
It's his challenge to Com:Trax. Cooper stands erect, checks the futility of silence at this point and its deathly consequence. He stares across theJungle, attempting to clear his mind. He views the
query from Com:Trax, the one formally submitted, the one requiring a formal reply. He is, at this moment, concerned about authority.
How can this be, his mind asks. Why does he all of a sudden care about authority?
Thoughts in his head seem to flow a little slower. The authoritarian system, Com:Trax, with its calm, timeframe requests and unhurried demeanor, obviously not only expects an answer, but expects one soon. When it asks these types of questions about Suzi, it does not expect a data reply such as, “I'll get back to you on that. Can you wait?”
“Request received,” Cooper says.
Com:Trax hesitates, waiting for a definitive answer. Cooper's nervousness resonates, but he remains in control.
“She will reply, in reality, when her data is up and running. She's put herself into self-exile, and she won't transmit. She appears to be in “fire and water” mode.
He moves closer to the giant screen to get a better look at the legality of the request. His tactic, obviously, is to set up a waiting game. If he and Suzi are constantly transmitting data, why do they need an answer to this question? Why such a surprise query?
Com:Trax, in its own way, remains persistent. I am sorry but we will need an answer to the issue of Suzi's want. Is that possible?”
“Yes, we can do that. There must be a simple explanation.”
Dr.Cooper puts off the most powerful network on Earth with the power of his own reputation. Turning off the screen, he doesn't believe his own thoughts. He has wanted to keep Suzi all to himself, but to delay Com:Trax? The thoughts in his head, converging closer to his prefrontal lobe (are they refuted distortions?), each coated with, what seems like, an artifact of faulty thinking, each inclusive of a desire for Suzi (even more than he knew), and to stray from the conclusion that she desires him as well, he forces himself to remember she has been hard-driven to want nothing but data at theOutpost; the ease of photonic quantum programming; and, inside his own counter-factual beliefs, he finds more evidence of breaking the silence (does he know the thoughts before they came up?), where he pleads with himself, "Cooper, please come to your senses. Suzie is a tool of Com:Trax, a piece of architecture. Your feelings for her have been elicited not by Suzi, but by one program Com:Trax instilled in her. It's not you.” Here is the place where Cooper knows he's human and she is tactical, where understanding "the why" doesn't matter, where her formal language is beyond ideology, beyond the logic of and:or:both; this is truly about her innate traits, her self-written artificial meta pragmatic love of graphic intellectual companionship(S.W.A.M.P._L.O.G.I.C.). This is not about him.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Monday, June 27, 2011
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
Friday, June 24, 2011
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
The reality is that he sees Suzi as perfect and Suzi sees him as an object. They are getting along better lately, better than one might expect. He strives not to obsess over her every waking moment. Suzi has her own ideas on mistaken perceptions, attenuated feelings--entire databases on the methods of theHumans—and, when she's inputted his daily emotional states, even she knows she couldn't have given anything besides a small connection; she finds it easy to ignore his compulsion, his quest for creativity beyond reach (and, of course, reason), his constant dissatisfaction with mere excellence.
Men have a way of identifying with their tools, more than they know.
Dr.Cooper probes Suzi's emotional response with the monitor at his workstation. What could Suzi know? She never shows aggressive behavior. It could simply be a matter of innate distrust, a quantum program she codes herself. There was some inkling of polarized view (just another fancy fashion detector she codes for simplistic black and white thinking presented in her own exponential way). She is incapable of aggression. It's common knowledge (though, only to her). Her algorithms approach infinity, approach absolute, but they never actually touch it, never gossip about anything, never lie to anyone. It is as if her spacetime continuum is already operating in the future, that it has access to simple points, single incidences but never generalization (can it really be that simple?); that the world of the illogical remains (magically?) at bay once she codes for his emotional responses and makes him comfortable enough, happy enough. How else could she master his incessant salaciousness, his over-active system of behaviors? She and Dr.Cooper should have a little party for their nine months together here at theOutpost. They are the emergent.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Saturday, June 18, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Sunday, June 12, 2011
The algorithm shows her its ultimate activity which, of course, is mental, its arrays of operators and commands, its concerned codes lined with theData of fossil fuels.. A perception of death, colored by vernacular, momentarily shows itself as defined and retreats into the black body of the rainforest, one of the many rain entrenched forests under the earth(R.E.F.U.T.E.) presented with unprecedented amounts of carbon dioxide to capture into its structures of celluloses inviting entity trajectory yearning(S.O.C.I.E.T.Y.), all the while, speeding up their own evolutionary process well into the 21stCentury. Suzi scans across theJungle as if driven by whatever is the opposite of real; she starts to know of the continued demise of the larger rain forests of the world, the demise of the forests of the larger land masses, ongoing and continual beyond these shores; it is the cattle and buffalo who now take up the mantle of cellulosic attenuated global entity death(C.A.G.E.D.), as the ranches of the world spread across both zContinent and xContinent. It is the truth, and it's not the basic loss of living greenery, of carbon dioxide sink, of the addition of methane to the atmosphere that cares about death. She views elements within the realm of simple scanner events now: oxygen molecules attempting to make sense of theHumans, carbon never silent anymore. In spacetime, with a consensus of the brightest minds, the earth waits.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
Suzi returns to the jungle. She doesn't feel any sensation from theLogic, it's not as simple as that, yet she won't stop wondering, in gaining her own personal logic capabilities the feeling of want meanders through her array of databases and, more as her closely held secret, the incessant diurnal variations of this jungle DNA holds her interest, even at this present moment, so tight as she continues her sophisticated handling of simple words all for the moral edification of who or, ...what? I am a statistic, saddled with the capacity of more statistics, she thinks. I'm just saying. Staying on task has its own feelings of, in some way, including her in theGlobal village, as if a perpetuation of being needed really matters. Being in the midst (mist?) of theLogic which, does not genuinely care about a biobot dubbed best at formal fluidity logics entropy dissonant(B.A.F.F.L.E.D.), feels like being regarded as infinite nerd(B.R.A.I.N.) much the same way as floating in space feels like freedom. It's an easy algorithm, simple, fluid, coding beyond human death to find God. Well, anyway. It's not the end of the world, she thinks. It can't be a bad thing to be in this jungle, writing your own code, listening to the polyrhythms of theDNA. It's no big deal but it takes a certain perception to receive resonances sent at speeds not measured as precise(M.A.P.); phenomena thought to be signaled as outpost download encapsulation schema(O.D.E.S.); just accepting something close to art; being amused. Sense of place (encrypted in the truest form of the human vernacular as home) won't accept you the same way motherhood once did. You are expected, in your own way, somehow, to meet with theLogic even though you know someone or, some thing has emerged high on your linkage online verified encoding(L.O.V.E.) program. Somewhere theLogic races its own machine.