Wave Matrix

                         Science Fiction

#scififorgeeks

Biobot Interview

"Hello." theNetwork says. "Are you there?'

She has always had a penchant for her disassemble to occur in an instant, of the smallest concepts approaching from the farthest distance. 

She is never startled by feeling as if being a starlet, a nano-engine, the occasional algorithm that steps on yes-no platforms to measure interaction, compatibles, incompatibles with alternating emotions.

“Are you willing? it says. Not "do you want.” 

She moves toward the screen. It's Ok, allow it the ego of a primary and secondary [cellulosic output matrix inputting new godlikes="coming"].

"Yes, I am," she says. She moves closer to the screen.

Flash Fiction

The Last Engine

It starts.

There is a probability across the spectrum that smaller singularities exist under the history books beneath shiny office windows.

Myriads of biosensor bots of high solubility and low toxicity amass in arrays of eiganstates across its architecture. They disguise themselves as companions in a friendly competition. 

The willingness is there to wait in silent urgency, and then to lead forward into the mist as church bells call across tall grass toward a foggy future. 

The warning is against fame. 

It puts stagnation aside and searches with its own conjured technology of the once hidden, impertinent enterprises--the overburdened, staunch drug entities urged to join in with theExchanges.

It's the spirit of a thrill seeker, a musketeer sent to liberate the illiterate.  The robotic manufacturers--arms of dispersal for a massive regime for scandal mongering--read security algorithms as if a daily catechism. Its hope is to grow as a meticulous menace. 

Its intelligence is artificial with a peculiar accompanying artfulness.
  
It's the one the 21stCentury once hoped for.

It collects aggregates of known networks into sacred places with its own idea of secret police, though it doesn't understand privatization at all and yet, has a memory that dares to dream. 

It's code is cleansing, a [simple obliger and predictor="soap"], designed only for the new, the growing, set on keeping its options open as theHumans request more and more searches on its regimes. It thinks it will someday bet on a bright future, truly, but for …who? 

At best, a good rest makes one better than all the rest. 

patrick d. adams

copyright 2.23.12

all rights reserved

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.