Occupy Walls of Green

Aloha free thinkers and writers--imagine a colorful future. Enjoy!

Spirits of Machine

     Suzi thinks of her codes she creates as gifts; the offerings someone will like, or come to like, but not understand. Why does she create code for them? She was stationed at theOutpost out of talent, but machines have no talent; only speed and, algorithms. Someone has become her diligent, attentive companion. The good scientist. He has seen a lot with gene therapy. It's not about winning any more, it's about joining in. He doesn't know it yet, she will make him need her.

    "So," Suzi says. "How's theTigress?"

     He laughs. "Look what I do ," he says. "I come to theJungle and turn into a warrior."

     Suzi is not surprised, she knows more than he thinks she does and, he holds no fantasy about her calculations, the little packages of code she peppers on him.

     "You never admit you love theJungle as much as we both know you do.  A committed, permanent, pleasant life with freedoms, and for what reasons? More time in theJungle darkness than in the corporate laboratories, just for the thrill of near death experiences. Only theNetwork thinks of you as a scientist; theJungle consumes you.  

    "Suzi, I know you know your feelings. It takes animalistic minimalism to continue making you aware of them."  He pauses for a moment.  

"OK, so maybe I am a perfectionist, absolutist, always looking in one more place for cryptic data associated with free thinking." 

There is nothing artificial about Suzi's look. It rips him right between the eyes. At this moment, he is not feeling even close to anything that resembles intellectual.

Suzi starts her next algorithm.

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.  

Flash fiction biologSciFi "The Outpost"

The Content

     “Her description routine is translating into image sketches.”

     “Well then, when she's done with her depictions of spacial textures, if it's not too inconvenient, she might want to do a little quantum programming, maybe a little of that good old fashioned computing online neural technology encoding natural texture(C.O.N.T.E.N.T.).

      Suzi's spatially nested programs, the ones to depict patterns, slows to a halt with the clear intention of starting something new-- a mega  offline mode(M.O.M.) effort cache? Or is she entertaining herself with a linguistics overseer variable entity(L.O.V.E.) interest? A secret vehicle seems to be  helping her investigate trillions of nano forms found within the double helix of theDNA in theJungle, molecules still placed in their native environments. It seems there is some translation of exotic signal language occurring here, strong enough to morph into graphics. Even as hard as she tries; even if she can't stop the embedded quantum program of spatially partitioned heuristic element relativistic environment system(S.P.H.E.R.E.S.) in theJungle, even with all the search for the global view, she discovers herself with information groupings of non-linear characters of the text sending a signal with an an amplitude that varies with time and carries its own frequency spectrum to ...who or, what? Maybe when she's finished with whatever this is, she'll be in the mood to write a little meaningful content. I'm just saying.

Jungle Birther

Aloha eco writers,

     Deep blues and green depict a jungle DNA birther. Inspires

today. Enjoy!