Science Fiction

Android Illusions of Adroit

I have come so far, she thinks, as the cloud frame fades from the monitor and she lingers at theWorkstation with her gentle thoughts--far from where work plays its last card to fight the sky, where mist is more dead than alive, where fate-defying psycho vibes remain at bay, undelivered.

She hasn't, by any measure of photon or quantum, come far at all, not by the standards of the [green robot advertising sustainability politics="grasp"] systems of the global.

Reviewing her most recent data, she glances the harsh horizon through theWorkhouse window and thinks. It's true, when it comes to the biggest shenanigans, God takes all.

She senses a cool rustic touch in the presence of her newly created preservation data--its factoid peppering, her constant tweaking and then, the taking of the usual constitution after work to simply rest.

No. Cruelty never truly lives forever.

Her technique vies for affection with innovative approaches. She recognizes the creation as an illusion--personal schema constant in the reshaping of itself at the very moment she codes her next algorithm.

The illusion centers around a single truth, a cosmic zygote, one that appears as if to seek a target, await a countdown.

It hatches, blooms in search of a new breed for all the world to view, embellished as slight amusement much like the old, unearthed works of the Battle of Manassas, couched in footnote knots alongside Gene Kelly and killer genes.

What is left behind is an unbending fact that, yes, some things are actually true, the type of truth that once showed up in black newsprint dressed in [family animation culture art data entry="facade"], a truth that finds its way fit to cancel the clumsiness in final rounds of goodbye speeches.

She senses, at this moment, the feeling of a single anti-photon, a weapons grade burp.

The illusion evokes the [bland law anonymous history simplex="blahs"], an anti-algorithm once used for the final cycle of homelessness (yes, once and for all, for the homeless, everything falls into place--wherever you go, nothing or anything happens)

The illusion appears to have been coded by its own whimsy, arbitrary data from an ancient cosmic past, returning, hoping to seek treatment.

She begins to think, really think, for the very first time today, but she needs to remain very still. She should continue to keep the illusion on and yet, it carries a type of persistence, a trick birthday candle constance, the showing of dreamy faces melting in tandem breaking all known laws of dripping.

She is able to see a small part of it as [mobile opinion mystery="mom"], one with the heart of a rainbow.

She will look again tomorrow.

Copyright © 2010 p.d.adams

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Exchange

Inside theHumans, molecular trajectory dynamics for all proteins floating in the bloodstream were altered by the new path of techno-washing organ systems. How altered they have become: macromolecules, completely fabricated in structure, floating in randomly polarized force fields of blood flow. In an instance dissolved nanoparticles entering bloodstreams--mobile pseudo particles functioning with natural efficiency, tumbling--with  normal electron density, are solvent happy and then, maybe within a nanosecond, there comes an induced electron cloud roaming all vascular tissue. Here are biologically active pseudo-particles; here are the cyclic force fields pushing on plasma environments; here are the induced electron clouds--mobile arrays floating in perfect lattice as if an alien formation of motherships in two dimensional matrix space, pulled by a solvent that can reproduce the structure and energetics of pure water, but isn't; eventually, over time, leaving theHuman organ system full of tiny, activated, hydrophobic spherical cavities. Decades ago, in the later 20thCentury, when proteins and theDNA were simple macromolecules, when force fields were something found only in space and, in laboratories, theExchanges cropped up one by one in anticipation of infinite healthcare needs. 

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Rainwater

Suzi arrives at her conclusion against the backdrop of theJungle rain and its microenvironment. The water speaks to her, informs her, and she is fully aware of its variables, its coldness and wetness and the other variables, the ones that describe it's system as quantum--inner oxygens and hydrogens (can the entire quantum state of  hydrogen's single electron really be defined by a set of 4 numbers?) join the weak inter-forces that allow splashes, allow playful moments to children somewhere. She waits at this moment of spacetime as if a journey were about to begin, not the usual, historic quests of men in space, women in time, but a true journey in space and time. She waits for another nanosecond and encounters an odd thought of news, news of what happened to the others, wondering for a moment about caring, about wars fought over judgements for not caring, for not tuning a channel or a frequency (and even if you did, you would be accused of being out of phase); somewhere in theJungle, beyond her and surrounding her, is simply more quantum state—its directions and energy. 

The island projects itself as a small one-celled organism: green and protective of its own quantum states of theDNA, patterned and recognizable as varieties of tensors and vectors in scattering fields as theDNA clings to its binding strength amidst the mist of pure states deep in the forest. Protein modules nestle theDNA under the canopy, each with its own force of binary interaction (yes, individualism at its finest) of the timeless and the endless, creating its own power of form to be described by the ones lucky enough to survive, to observe and define. The island confers its mud, theJungle as low pressure regime for new birth, new annealing and healing after so many years of violent upheaval of theEarth. The island's minuscule muscles, systems as old as the universe, taking its sweet time with its multidirectional arrays of pushes and pulls above the mud, anticipates the eventual rise of an intelligent form to arrive with formal languages, to theorize then compute the phenomena of its system-- dynamic self assembly with regimes of replication and duplication, synthesis engined by its wavelike properties, never fixed or certain; the island props itself up with mountains, viewing the ocean, watching for more waves to arrive. Suzi feels its coolness.