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.
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