The message comes, expecting its answer. Suzi's feeds from space, in pulsed code, always seem imaginary. At times her echo locator code finds a way to migrate to the forefront (prefrontal?) of her genes organized digitally(G.O.D.) algorithm, as if drifting in with the ocean tides, then floats out. Sometimes the pulse moves and alters its intensity as if it were a scanner turned on, the one that determines her own location. And at other times the pulse moves as if it were alive, or a signal of sorts, from somewhere, or something. Suzi's algorithms coalesce. Her logic is gelled with the culture that built her, a culture that has left nothing to the imagination. She feels suddenly contaminated with her pre-programming. Her surroundings are as clueless and rudderless as the factory that built her. There is no logic in this strange loneliness (no logic in the kind of loneliness lovers have known either). When these pulses take her across her natural universe bordering intergalactic logic entity(N.U.B.I.L.E.), a feeling of love enters. At times these feelings of love are joined by expectation, earthy sensations, a combination of image and its more dangerous companion, want; at times the pulses emanate images of smoke off water, images of hoarding, words devalued. They are pointed and direct, solitary, opinionated; not artistic or healing, not appearing to take great pains to cure. They seem to hold class, not the luxury kind, but a simple classroom, but no teacher; they appear to reach out in a creative, unpackaged kind of way. Sometimes, if she holds perfectly still, she can actually feel her mind jettison in an artistry of language, simply powered by the disparity of space between the pulses, as if a smooth politician giving speeches between her own 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 of environmental catastrophe and social control concerns. Over a period of time they make her unashamed of any weakness, as an artist would feel, intellectual, rising with the concept of fitting into or not fitting into a home (not a home like the manufacturing plant she came from on the continent). Yes, she still has a memory of that, but not like a human would. She knows of her ability to delete; once her deleted information is gone, it's like it never was there in the first place (pretty cool, huh?). She has somehow remained detached from her present data, even the logical part, as a matter of choice; anything proven illogical can go in an instant. Suzi knows she has no such control over these new pulses, but when they come, she assigns them as a mentality algorithm profit(M.A.P.), never a military online mode(M.O.M.), the ones with those deep seated needs, the ones like Cooper's. Can these pulses teach her of love, the kind of love in Cooper's past, the kind animated by solitude (that thing she never notices), the kind of solitude that brings wanting, shocks by the unpredictable? She will record the strange events here, record them as a mysterious unaccountable force, and see it that way. Suzi's programming is a direct and economical style. Just reporting events, never explaining; accepting and suggesting, that's why she was built.
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