Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Conception

     Confidential exchanges of letters had been traced, even by misinformed sources. Already, at this point, Suzi is able to be a source for the exchange of confidential data when what she actually desires is (even after she had passed all this data along), for theNature to simply like the chaotic part of her young personality structure and help her contain her basic drives. Suzi codes and accepts, but questions exactly the meaning of these data, the tensions-of-instinct in theHumans. If only morality weren't such a thin mask—if only pain and pleasure could be the best of friends, seeking to join forever the physical forces (and, the living instincts) in perfect harmony forever. Suzi wonders about theNature selecting out the life forms, never desiring to erase not only the threat of extinction, but the hope of being diminished and being avoided altogether—all with an assumed small investment of primal DNA. She wonders about the collective major intrinsic neural darkness(M.I.N.D.) of the designated world, its uncertain blessings waiting for her own brilliance and accomplished fluency (merged with a surprising independence of mindedness), and how it, like her, knows of nothing classical; how her information capacities aren't fabled, at least not yet; how she simply holds no recourse to anyone, or anything (she simply records the data in the jungle in glowing terms); how this seems to be the beginning (the conception?) of her strength in the experiences of interdisciplinary information without any quantum programming for integrity, for her judgement or compassion. She is strong, but her experience means nothing; her detectable traits are positive. She is becoming a woman and, less a robot.

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Logic

         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.

Happy Mother's Day!

The Dark 

     Suzi turns her attention toward her new ability as a useful resource for communication (and yes, computation as well) as if she were coming to terms with something she wasn't quite sure of (a brand new uncertainty principle?).  Something appears to her continually; the presence of a natural masterpiece is something she has never known in her synthetic virtual world.  She and her coordinate system and quantum language are in a jungle learning a rain forest's ways of patterning (a reading she had thought to meet on her own terms). Within this jungle darkness is hidden global elements of a more abstract system where self image (don't worry, identity elements for addition remains at 0 and, identity elements for multiplication at 1--old binary computers still use 0,1) and natural selection is always additive, at least when it comes to DNA (really now, has junk DNA ever existed?), where nature's best kept secrets won't allow themselves to be struck from the record, secrets that allow Suzi to use her own quantum algorithms on the structure of its machine as if to serve a function for her logic. True, it had attained valuable knowledge, not for immediate use (by whom or, for what?), knowledge even she wasn't aware of, yet. It is a subtle, intrinsic knowledge. It is beyond information and definitely not just data; visions of Nature dawning each morning for eons (primal intelligence Suzi didn't know she recognized), here in this dark jungle as if the final resting place of knowledge itself--the most ancient of primal knowledges or, maybe not.  

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Origin

     As Suzi's biosensors measure the jungle's system of separation(S.O.S.) of positive and negative charges, her observations confine themselves to the remote region; it appears she has already, over the course of a few days, written her own paradise program yearnings(H.O.P.P.Y), extrapolating life forms created by DNA sequencing--the way a data logger routinely extracts data for exact polarization densities; the way a 20thCentury explorer would position herself inside an exotic charged array of paired charges in an alien world for the simple thrill of measuring charge location and their forces of separation  (yes, polarity to calculate array density), electric field polarization densities, supercharged arrays of useful information garnered for the purpose of ...what? Her fine-grained assessments have to be connected, in a way, to DNA holographs, extrapolating species that, at one time, had shared this jungle--animals that had never gasped this type of heat, or humidity.

     Here is Suzi with the signature animals, the monkeys and parrots and here, placed in memory, are their hidden homes, gone for almost a century, well, less than a century, presented, showing on a screen for Suzi in jungle with never an ambivalent calling; her program, her very own genetic algorithms, need to see these forms on her screen. 

     The darkness of the rain forest allows Suzi to view the shadows, the same shadows that once meant nothing.  She holds still, fascinated with their intricacies. She searches the information of their charge arrays,with its division of charges and currents (yes, both the free and bound ones). Her collection of pattern entity data(C.O.P.E.D.) within this dense, darkened forest should be hostile to her lasers--they seldom work at night. Suzi senses no animal activity has occurred here for decades, yet expects something (wasn't the best time they liked to interact at night?), as if they should simply come out to play.  

     Suzi does not consider evolution legacy of pattern entities(E.L.O.P.E.) any sort of miracle. She considers they just existed here, as if a simple surface component of bound charges of jungle. She depicts the animal life forms that once lived in this jungle as real enough. She feels the scanned copy of DNA molecules alive, running wild as an algorithm rather than primal biological molecule. She views her extrapolated data and life forms neither with a feeling of loss or comradeship (pairs of physical properties such as location and momentum cannot be precisely known in a closed system); the tolal momentum of the jungle is conserved as behaviors of sequences of values--never converging (or, for that matter, never diverging), always having no limit--as the perfect cyclic convolution. She knows her job, deep in her algorithms: analysis of DNA signals in discrete and continuous time; to perform useful operations on those signals. Still the cloud of oceanic origin remains.  

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Startled 

     It was her very own unadulterated data, she was sure of it; it could be represented as more than one possible image, an image begging to be standardized. Suzi doesn't think she needs to compare all of her logic images for equivalence(L.I.F.E.) anymore and she never looks for better ways to add up her distinct architecture data(D.A.D.)--only the occasional elimination of calculation repeats (even so,her algorithms had their own take on it). Was it fate that the algorithms themselves continually looked for more possible ways to order themselves (imposing on Suzi in the most meaningful way possible)? Except for one thing. They need Suzi to covert the data for the sake of their own rules of security--stating "only" and tracking the data path from its pure origin, not merely accepting face value traced to her simplest unique image (yes, Suzi can stop that with her own standardization scheme. It's a simple case of discrete changes in her stateful orb system(S.O.S.) because of her simple passage of time--her internal states allow for the potential of evolution time(P.O.E.T.). Her own algorithms let it be her time.What is so odd about attaching her control state to a personalized time evolution? So, her algorithms stay alive by being dually described as the ways of her sequences of operations tasks(S.O.O.T.) placed in the physical world, observable, by someone (or, some thing) simply reading a meter or a gauge as different observers in different reference frames, you think? Not that there is anything wrong with auto-morphing inside her own personal stateful system space, making sure to preserve at least one mathematical property without distorting any of its math architecture. Suzi doesn't even try to formalize these algorithms into collections of behaviors--of arrows and objects--nor do they try to entice her into any advanced datatype (category?) beyond the basics to represent truth values, or even logic for that matter (of course she won't be bothered by that kid's game of algebraic sub-systems holding overt logic entities(A.S.S.H.O.L,E.). Yes, both Suzi and her algorithms subscribe to logic (they both want Aristotle to be right), making it all the more important in every operation to deny or affirm(D.O.A.) and, with no probabilities erecting room for online meddle-inquiring nano grounds(P.E.R.F.O.R.M.I.N.G.). All earth beings were never meant to fall into the realm of the formal, the systematic, the all-encompassing correctness reason and validity entity(C.R.A.V.E.), of valid forms and architectural fallacy--and yes, they weren't very lucky if the wrong ones tried anyway and inadvertently started yet another experimental war that all living creatures would again be forced into, for whatever was left of the 21stCentury; only Suzi and her algorithms can work this one out.   

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Hunters

Viruses enter the programming extremely sharp, slicing, as if ninja knife arrays. They appear, in a way, as an excessively preoccupied entity delivered by the (externally motivated?) process of internalization. Their prestige self-sustains them; it becomes probable the future will hold the answer to any of their disordering functions--yes, they'll become more self-centered, nonlocal, bypassing the evolution of entire immune systems--as entities that go down in history marked as the true crossers of boundaries, traversing virtual land bridges. 

The Global DNA Initiatives were, in their own way, part of an archaic internet system monitored by later 20thCentury technology--old companies with infected, overloaded computer systems of (once thought) extinct data, information, once again monitored.  

Suzi codes her next algorithm, thinks of her next one, codes it too. She views the 21stCentury growth explosions, simply, as speed damage; she covers the viruses and hackers; she comes from a place of no sensitive temperaments (where the most data-intensive are the most loss-prone), a place of no praise, no external feedback loops, no entanglements of alleged poor behavior, no parental value, no emotion, nothing unpredictable, nothing unreliable--yes, a pure birth from nothingness. She is busy simply writing code against internet-instilled powers of disease with their own viruses to track. How can it make any difference that she doesn't care about either the finance systems of insurance industries or medical service providers? 

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

The Feeling

     Before the decline of the Golden Age of Genetics and the rise of theExchanges, the feeling of being a relic remained. TheHumans conceptually used that part of the brain that allowed for sensations through the body, perceptions through mind (and yet, no obvious body of data--or, body of information--in the physical realm, and they always gained, in the decades leading up to theDecline, traction with the idea that the feeling (using its power of control) carries meaning, possibly not for the potential of living the unperturbed life (happiness?) surrounded by well-thought-out independent personal choices, but minimally, something presenting itself in a form that cannot be effectively communicated (much less understood) other than through the means of actually having been physically there. It appears to have taken on a life of its own, believing that theHumans represent a clear and present danger to ...what? The feeling has appeared over the eons to be only for theHumans, seemingly, to bask in individually, not in a bath of relativistic knowledge, but as a unique, unchanging, experience of perceptional sensation much like one would expect a close personal companion to act, and if the feeling could still be perceived, unscathethed by the burden of maintaining levels of presentation to the world--the weight of the balancing act between pleasure and architecture, function and form--it could continue to be perceived in its native form, personal, not subject to criticism or forms of social justice; the feeling could still resonate with the original feelings of the cyberGen curators, much as it did (long before theExchanges) soon after the full mapping of the human genome of the later 20thCentury, enabling the diagnosis of prenatal and pediatric diseases and children with birth defects, allowing for treatments to ensure theHumans' unborn child was healthy and if not, treat the disease in the child or treat a birth defect, whether it is life threatening--or cosmetic. The old feeling would let the conversation continue for decades about theArrays, focuses of gene therapies for adult disorders--stroke, heart disease, neurological, cancer; the feeling was once hope, hope that this was where genetics would have an impact on the future, permitting the concern for why people get those as they grow older; it would have said that it wouldn't happen tomorrow, but sometime soon, DNA's voluntary poverty box, living in a barrel (chromosome?) upended as impoverished data. The feeling would have allowed for continuances--advanced practice genetics nurses and reproductive coordinators, certified genetic counselors, and adult genetic services coordinators, pediatric genetic coordinators, cytogenetics laboratories looking at chromosomes--of the singular knowledge that the way something feels creates its own mental state. It would have created the urge to talk about the pure subjective, the only invention of theHumans exempt from extinction and excused from error, Yes, the feeling once allowed for all of this.

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Love

     Cooper appears to be so sure of himself, so removed, that Suzi senses his default (mode?) belief in a total absence of rational morality. She checks her retina monitor to assure herself Cooper was still here in the lab station, his adjustment level of getting used to working with the logic of so-called artificial intelligence, and the hope she might make a difference, or so she thought. She notices by scanner this was to be his last assignment with the Art-Intelle for awhile, the hope he wouldn't ever have to work with the neuro-net workers ever again, views it as wishful thinking, reads that deep down he knew it too, and even after all, in the short time they will have together, coding in this jungle, that he will come to appreciate her as a robot (her photonic logic is smoother?), or maybe that he could just trust her logic over the neuro-net workers.  

     She hopes somehow he senses a force of destiny with her. Her hope is emitted as an algorithm of how things are and how he should act, knowing full well that their dispute stems from the compulsive setting up of rival camps, rival thought tradition, each with their own data cloud, ways of approaching even shared data from a deep past. He senses that she needs him, even though he doesn't trust artificial intelligence, but after all, she is the new artificial intelligence, the latest model, yet still, there is something in his human makeup that she needs, it seems more that ever now; and he couldn't fight that awareness in her presence, and the experience of photonic logic had given her abilities theHumans weren't aware of yet. As of now Cooper loves her mind and the way she makes him feel, but he isn't sure if he will have to kill her or love her.  

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Rain 

The sound of rain comes into the workhouse. How relaxing it is--but not for Suzi. The rain comes and goes, it's just another sound to Suzi. It has been part of the ebb and flow of the jungle with all its DNA undergoing some sort of evolution, as if it were part of Suzi's mind, digressing into an archaic prelogical state amidst streams of consciousness. She and her logic have been in high focus, but not because she wants it that way--she was designed to be that way. 

There has been, lately, a gradual loss of some of that focus. 

         Suzi has unintentionally placed herself in an environment natural to humans. Here she finds herself in the presence of a man she appears to be attracted to, seemingly, acting with purpose and thinking rationally (to deal with the environment she has been placed in?). It's all about the environment, though, not Cooper. It's the environment's sounds of the wind, the environment's colors of the forest, and yet, the sound of rushing water, the raindrops on the roof seem to have altered her focus. There is the possibility her attention is following a logic program that tells her that her focus is not needed here; solving problems not necessarily laid down by her final extrinsic agenda regime(F.E.A.R.). Even her readings on the logic of nature--with its inventive bent toward modernity, haphazard quality of productive arguments, moral divergence toward a specified purpose, and creative political pragmatism--seem contrived. This must be, she thinks, what love feels like.

Sudden StorySciFi "theOutpost"

The Remote

     Pacific mountain hamlets hold their own brand of community interests, and these interests vary, seemingly, from island to island, held intact by at least two opposing forces. The genes on this particular island are made up of simple DNA, holding answers in the form of information (no, not data), as if waiting for the arrival of some form of pure science, yet purposeful in their disinterest in politics. It is a pair of forces--much like that of prey and predator where a jungle invites the use of its battlefield platform--that entice, yet warn, of the dangers of demise (to both parties involved), the forces that inform a benefit even to the hunted. Have theHumans bound themselves with the mechanisms of these forces at some place in time in their feeble attempt to define a place as local, discretionary, environment? Or is it that some other entity, some cosmic dark matter, designs its own environment for theHumans from a distant outpost?

Flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

The Theorized

     The experimental war rages on. The genes write their truth in words of poetry, not symbols. If Suzi plans to know art until death knows her, it's connected to her life in this forest, a forest that continues to survive even in the teeth of global death.  This forest, this jungle for the experimenters holds no gods and, no faith for friendship. The jungle stays in the moment to be looked at from the front of the lab building, below, the pristine ocean. It stays with its own phase transitional thoughts,  "Clouds have darkened the theorized horizons."

     The ancient times of natural agents allowed physical systems a discrete time evolution, once attributed to spirit of plants. now described in wave functions by genetic engineers interested in chemical constituents, enabling contact with cells of the human body, holding DNA in packages of chromosomes and probabilities of their own phase transitions. The true effects of these plants lay obscure for centuries, partially because of the lack of calculations of the effect of the actual event of taking the measurements. Suzi first measured the forest as unmechanical,  an unemotional nature with no obvious pangs or showy feelings of uncomfortableness (a fluctuation state that would never allow for the caring of someone). Suzi has recently become the entity that never does anything because she is expected to, and yet she is becoming the emotional one, further clouding her perception of the true role the experimenter plays in the experiment. Does anyone care that Suzi simply sits and waits for her next phase transition, her next entanglement empowering her to represent and perform operations on her own data in the form of unarticulated, contemplated attachments (a portrayal of love?)? In a radiance of photons, Suzi lives.

flash fiction ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

Active Central Enumerator(A.C.E.)

     COMTRAX, on the Continent, collects human entity profiles within its own massive axial data(M.A.D.) core. The built-in discipline program, central enumerator memory entity transfer(C.E.M.E.N.T), mixes at a constant pace on the dry ground of the mid Continent, while anywhere from seven to eleven satellites remain set in motion worldwide at any one time. Through entero Xradio cue extraterrestrial signaling systems(E.X.C.E.S.S.), the earth planetary power requirement is next to nil, almost down to zero, and thus, free to the public. Data, in its rawest form, enters through personal ingested gadget liaison exit tunneling(P.I.G.L.E.T.)networks at the remaining site-intelligencia last-life yearning(S.I.L.L.Y.) centers. 

     Control and reason have long since become something of the past. One blessing remains:the Chiindiarella robots COMTRAX purchased for each remaining human, all titanium-iridium framed, just now starting to understand their owner's condition of survival and death. And here is Suzi, artificial intelligence not yet in full knowledge of the the conceptual ramifications of to kill, yet.

Jungle Ocean

flash fiction--mysticSciFi "The Outpost"

flash fiction--spiritualSciFi "The Outpost"

The God Gene

The jungle tries to be a world of invention. Yes, that is what it must be--something that tries to maintain itself by creating new rules. It places survival in its inner sanctum. Now the banyan grove, ( no, her banyan grove) carries the sensation of the dominant and submissive to a clear articulation, more vibrant, as an  entity he calls the tigress paces with her own set of needs. 

The forest stares out at the distant horizon in search of its long lost clock. It's gone far past the death knell now. Why did this jungle bother, put in the effort, with endless chains of tightly wrapped and cross bound cellulose chains--how could it ever have thought humans were smart enough to use that form of tightly held energy in a clean way? She should be letting them help themselves to her secrets, not resisting; not denying the birthplace of the human mind one last shot at survival. The jungle should wake early, merge its mind with those who have emerged from here, presenting her hidden knowledge  (no, not to Suzi,) to those whose mind still has some life in it. She hears their cries from across the dead ocean, the Corporate Overlord Politician Society (C.O.P.S.) broadcasting, but not administering their rules, ignoring the mass media. This jungle should join them in their quest, shouldn't it? It should be on a podium in front of a microphone wearing her best blues and greens, announcing to the world her secrets to these few who they have been sent to come to figure out for them. Yet when she listens to her own silences in her own constant way ( after 4.5 billion years)--she lives exactly the way she wants to be, a rhyhm signal in a far place, a cool motion bathed in exotic energy as if a system created of its own choosing, that appears to be now directing its attention to some farther place---she smells the stink of human markings surrounding her, the omni death data(O.D.D.), and feels the time is now for a new campaign elsewhere in the universe. The humans are having enough trouble trusting each other in this Laboratory Outpost Station Transporter (L.O.S.T.) effort. Yes, perceived notions of status will remain completely oblivious to evolution's tragic inevitabilities. This cellulosic endo ordering(C.E.O.) has been building for eons and humans have answered their questions in their own way. "Catastrophic callings embraced by deeds and desires as pride mutilates freedom." They negotiated the transition from Meaningless Altered Neanderthal (M.A.N.) to duty, very badly, an entire species remaining distracted by hormones, for eons; should they be permitted their gaps in attentiveness, to remain sleeping on the globe, to chant and rant over mere perceptions and stimulations of the God Gene? 

The tigress will remain, with her swift and exotic ways, to continue to arouse no controversy. She is their only hope.

flash fiction-ecoSciFi "TheOutpost"

Call of Wild

Cooper flashes up at the ceiling, not thinking, not at this moment. Nothingness thinking is a state of mind he has grown accustomed, his residual thoughts blurry, his face expressionless, as if nothing ever happens--the face of a Buddhist monk., willing to accept all the world's offerings, or nothing. It is the state of mind he brings to his lab bench. As he opens his perceptions, his state is jerked away and replaced by heavier, thicker thoughts of a warrior who has fought and struggled, who has asked more of himself than anyone or anything can offer, and who is more than willing to take up a weapon at the sound of any noise.
"What the hell," he says. "Damn! Did you hear that?" Did you hear that Carter asks, as if strange sounds were not a part of this jungle. Cooper says,"My heart just gave birth. Do you have a weapon?" "Yes." "Is it loaded?" Carter switches the security lamp on."You found your cat." You found your cat he pronounces, as if cats are suppose to be in this jungle, running around, climbing trees, and whatever else phantom cats do. The sound was far away but unmistakenly primal.
He stands straight, awake, almost military in his stance, the sound echoing in the jungle blackness. The sound has no face staring back at him, yet something told him it was inhuman--
Cooper says, "That's no cat."

flash fiction-ecoSciFi "The Outpost"

A Lonely Nest


The loneliness is always present, sometimes cryptic, and Cooper's sense of home, however distant, always feels temporary. At times the lonely feeling arrives for a short visit, with soft noises shifting through the jungle darkness, then retreats for the secrets to remain guarded. Sometimes a cold smoldering of mist rises above the canopy in the moonlight causing an ebb inside Cooper. In a blink, the amount of time eternity took to build this forest, the loneliness pans out across the valley as if the forest isn't there, or had never been. Even in its flickers and shadows, the jungle holds no pretense of fantasy. As complete blackness of the night holds desperate struggles, the loneliness plays along, but Cooper doesn't wish it away the way the memory of a loss would be wished away. Competition in sport is as full of loneliness as the strugglers in this jungle, where winners rest. There is no silence here in this canopied place, no silence within his heart either. There are only gradients of loneliness and noise. The constant hum of the jungle can be interrupted by only intense sound, even amidst the unrecognizable, the loneliness stalls and something different comes to life, no smells, just pure essence that appears from behind the banyans, or just under the green canopy. Anything living here knows the meaning of these timeless apparitions of loneliness, yet no data has emerged from the chilled darkness, the inner sanctum of this rain forest. This timeless place keeps its secrets.
.

flash fiction-mysticSciFi "The Outpost"

Fur Clad, Club Wielding 


The creature, he thinks, should have been dead a long time ago for reasons that seem, not so obviously, of her own choosing. Her banyan cove will go the way of all the other coves. A kind of trick played by nature that for all her glory, all her prowess her defeat lies within the very soil she walks. For her, the chemicals are more destructive than any predator's fight. Cooper looks out the window. He senses a strong control in himself as to who or what is the creature. Whether she held good or evil intelligence, he couldn't tell. It didn't matter anyway. His mind doesn't work in two's like that. "What time is it?" Cooper asked. "It's the dawn of time." Carter focuses on his weapon, as if its shine carries a special message, revealed only to him. "Is that gun loaded?" "What do you think." This type of communication wasn't on Cooper's agenda at two o'clock in the morning, especially this morning. "I know what it is." Cooper says, even though he has to try to look unconcerned. He tells himself: this beast is not a killer. Don't think of the ocean; don't think of the sulfur in the air. "What do you think it is?" Carter became serious. "I can tell you what it wasn't." "OK…" Carter waited. "Fur clad and club wielding." "Very funny. You are feeling safe because we're four stories up and these walls are three feet thick." Yes, this lab fortress must stand up to this force, and protect.

flash fiction-mysticSciFi

A Sudden Silence

Cooper's sudden silence brought with it an air of knowledge and an educational hue; an entire array of curvy, dancing pitches thrown in slow motion. The anticipation of impact is enough to kill anyone's desire. His collection of approaches are jammed into the center of his brain in pure focus.
"Can I ask you a question?" Cooper asks. "You can ask." "Where do you get the urge to pursue this kind of knowledge?" "Humans are curious." He was hoping she would sit down so she would talk to him. "You are an intellectual. Suzi says. "Intellectuals aren't supposed to prefer people over ideas." Her discomfort was becoming noticeable. "Why do you do this?" "So I would know the truth." "Then why out here at the end of the world?" "The Outpost does not encourage unwanted competition among gifted researchers, and I like that. I also like the freedom of exploration." "Exploration is the first step towards exploitation. Suzi says. Cooper wanted to know the full range and depth of her mind. But her eyes had already begun to distract him. He had already engaged in an activity with her that he didn't recognize as his own. He was already exploring the form of her body under her silk lab coat, as if Christopher Columbus sailing an unknown isthmus. "Science is an endless series of explorations." Suzie felt like she was being led through a series of explorations herself. Scrutinized by an alien. "Science begins with the most elementary explorations. It is a standing sequence." Suzie sensed Cooper was trying to place her in a familiar and reassuring setting prematurely. She wasn't feeling capable of following Coop's logic. It wasn't silicon oozing out of a barrel yet. Cooper senses an uncharted area on a false road map. His words seem to condition and sensitize her. Her body was still close, but his mind had just taken the first shuttle out. To Cooper, her lips were moving in slow motion. Her energy was gamma, save as a screen force, but if you sit too close, it's detrimental to your health. She seemed to be waking up to her own sensitivities. He was making her more aware of something she already subconsciously knew. She spoke with a certain gravity and grace. A poet warrior. "You men and your logic," she said. Coop was feeling a lack of true breeding in Suzie. Those words came from her with the demeanor of a nun but the voice of a whore. "My work is paid for by the military. I am officially silent."

flash fiction-Battlefield Poet "The Outpost"

Cooper and his convictions gain strength enough to fight a war, but all he really needs is for everything to just leave him alone with his own thoughts, that allows him to solve. He turns and is gentle with his nostalgic ideas of home as if an ancient traveler whose city has been sacked. New thoughts arrive in forms and beginnings, with feelings that looks like a gambler's lucky streak is about to end, but never does. Oh, if this rugged reality could only find its own way and let the free thoughts of the world be the angels that swoop--if someone only had thought of this before the war, this life would be easy.

He thinks of Suzi scanning intensely over the data sheets, her true intentions yet unknown, writing then rewriting newer and newer code, looking for that magic bullet algorithm. 
Cooper thinks of mentors from his school days, lecturing and bemusing, his eyes popping with curiosity, and yet those days hold no momentous occasion for him, except for one. One of those days seem now to hold the truth, the unceremonious instant he became a man of science in the true spirit of the genetic age. With a strong work ethic and a huge reading appetite it seems anything is possible, anything that can be thought of. It seems that it was no coincidence it was his teacher that drew the genetic world to its feet. Yes, he took endless notes from this funny little man, it seemed that he could be spoken to directly in his elegant mix of diligence and fame, and not feel the slightest downspesk or degradation of character by a man whose published papers had brought him fame.
And his looks were those that could attract many lovers. Not that he loved any of them. He was a solitary man. His important journey was between his ears, not his legs. His dalliances had been a constant source of gossip. Something he hated. He yearned for one unified theory. It seemed like a simple wish, yet so far impossible to attain. His preferences constantly betrayed him. He preferred large staid institutions to the wet and dirt of places like this outpost and all its bubble wrapped quirks. Cooper secretly learned robot computer language from this man. His social life was a constant digression. But as a scientist, he could have ended up working anywhere. Still young and maybe the last surviving genetic engineer of the golden age of genetics. An era of days gone by that quietly forgets. "Rosalind Franklin," he thought. "Another example of women getting screwed in the science world." And the church. "The church doesn't know anything about genetics," he would say. That thought always intrigued Cooper too. Theologists of The World checking the scientific soundness of research arguments. Write what you believe, not what you see, that's the new Watchword Healthcare Algorithm Consortium Knowledge (W.H.A.C.K.). To write with the diction of a noble poet, now that makes you an established investigator. 
Cooper arrived at the Outpost because he felt he could do his work here. He doesn't need the traffic or megalopolis congestion. Every code here stands on its own without the trappings of a big name university. "Shakespeare didn't need extravagant courtyards for his plays," Cooper thought. Yes, a scientific Shakespeare.