Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Wild

     Although she was one of the last, the tigress is, in the end, wild, with all its meaning, to recreate the lives of her forebearers, to include their uncelebrated toils through eonic existence; the genes record famines and plagues, floods and droughts, remnants, as a romantic vision of her past; volcanoes, earthquakes, meteor hits remain as artifacts in so-called "garbage" DNA. Computers set upon task to relentlessly thrust toward perfect order and logic, and yet, the tigress continues to honor total freedom (the balance of these, the perfect world?). She hates captivity. She has created this jungle to suit a survival need, and, it has avoided disintegration because of her belief in freedom. But now, here is the ultimate imposer of limits, the high mountain island jungles with their gene farms. Here, where leadership comes into play by the mere issuance of opposing tones; here, where high speed networks and dedicated servers run amok in the oceans; here, where Suzi and her ilk impose no limits, gain no experience and define greatness as the hubris to conjure a mind and invoke a communication (an algorithm?) that  causes gadgets to ring; here, where there are no collection of ideas as to what has happened, where quality and achievement are the kind of thing you sell your soul for, the tigress, unlike Suzi, has escaped the pressure of being  social creature, escaped the high speed corridors with their lopsided capabilities, endured the rising seas of the uninhabitable,, being her own kind caring spirit far beyond the human speculative fray, never viewing criticism as attempted murder. Now the gene farm networks merge and touch, and something, or someone, records its existence cinematic and fluid with all its attending dissonant noises (not Suzi's). In fact, Suzi's silent logic makes the tigress' world full of louder dissonant noises. Suzi has a delicate forgetting of her past once it is gone from her audio or video code, yet, the tigress remembers, her genes make her remember. It is humans who have become the true mythmakers of aggression, not her; they merge the truth with myth with selective forgetting. Tigress remembers; Suzi remembers nothing, only present thought.  

     So this jungle is her home, a beautiful mansion on a mean slum, depending on her activity. Tigress doesn't care how lives are lived in another world and how it differs from hers. There have long been no resonances between the races in this jungle and still no resonances between the genders. Monopoly has become the best selection here. One remains, on an island where, to her mind, the opinionless exist, and have so for billions of years.