Posts tagged ‘science fiction’



Mark said we should start the ogre game, so we did. Rachel and Michael got the part out of the box and Alex opened the service tunnel, we ran through the hallways, down to the fixtures and found the valve in question, and then tag “you’re the ogre!” everyone took ten steps back, Rachel said, “oh no the ogre!” and ran to the wall and then I began the slow work of replacing the valve, wrenching slight shifts of pipe off and occasionally turning around, everyone froze, “Michael froze last,” screamed Rachel and so Michael went back to the wall, resisting against the sweet plastics condensing the impurities and humidity into something we can breath. Rachel began an eventual swoop to my left side while Marco pinced me on the right, all the time I was feeling back there for the right nut. Finally, I found it and wrench! Off came the piece and snap the replacement in place and then, “gotcha!” Someone had tagged me with my back turned. The lights flashed, Rachel was recorded as winner and the panels began to dim down into dullness. A flicker arouse in one of the vents and Marco ran into it, we all followed afterward.

On march first Mom got her first batch of passwords from the Doctorow act. She decrypted the keys and began siphoning through the scroll of passwords. 666morde666 DEathc4mp roger Williams, 414 oak dale drive, Missoula, Montana,
666morde666 Deathc4mp,
666morde666, deAthc4mp,
What were these doing in Mom’s files while the first question she asked and then She clicked on Jesuitacademy and and logged in.

Rachel had given this day to making flowers in photo booth for grand ma. She started out with a series of portraits of them, and then she zoomed into little details, a skirt here, a teddy bear, grand pa’s ancient Mac book, and put them in fractals that scrolled out into floral arrangements that she bean to trim. After a few minutes she exported the whole thing to grand man’s funeral wall and recorded a short video of her saying good bye. I got the job of cleaning out old comments, archiving the pretty ones, and deleting any especially potential spam. When we were done grand man’s wall pristine with just one love filled message sitting there, almost instaneosly, like a hug capable of pulverizing a paparazzi, a hundred new comments came up, some text based, a few videos of grand ma in various games, one friend recounted the time they jumped through Koopa’s castle, another on the Doctorow act and how she didn’t need to know what it would reveal, and she loved her anyways.

June 8, 2012 at 3:10 am Leave a comment

The ogers

the maintaince game was the one the boys played in the walls between the compartments. these spaces had been designed for maximm game play, miniscule chutes chunneled the children down floors and into the spaces where the pipes lay. markus made it first and found the wrench his mother had pulled out of printer this morning. he eagerly went over to the pipes and sang, “I am an oger! I am an oger!” the other chlidren instintively group into sleath units, “I am an oger!”, he sang twisting the wrench onto the pipe and with a tug he suddenly flung it back, the other children all spun their back to him, but the wrench pointed directly at a yonger boy who sat their n silence, “and now so are you!”, he said and the other boy came towards as the two other children obeyed the rules and took two steps back. Marcus and the younger child took a moment to reattach the wrench and then, “we are ogers!” and the other boys began to wittle towards them slowly so as to interrupt their work.
marcus took out the elbow he had been given that morning and put it in place, they kept singing, he cold hear the footsteps, the other boy put the elbow n place and markus gave one big turn and then beep beep, marcus turned around and ran into one of the other boys, “that was close!” “we just let ya score,” said the other one, and then the lights went out and a single dot appeared in the distance, the boys made a dash for the next goal.

July 16, 2011 at 3:22 am Leave a comment

Park Porno

Trucks exist in multiple different formats. Some come tall and sturdy, others rugged but vintage, her father’s though was simply homey. She pawed around in the seat next to him and slowly a ton of neuro-chemicals climbed into hey synapses, she felt consciousness return to her. In front of her was a red pleather glove compartment and she felt the sense of home that cars can bring, the sweet road weary sickness of a family trip. Dad was humming in the seat next to her. Her phone had registered at least 18 IMs, 1,400 tweets, and 8 new facebook friends, “Are you okay?” the Dad asked, her Dad she thought silently correcting herself. “I’m so tired,” she beamed, “can we go home?” “On the way,” he replied, she pawed through the tweets finding nothing especially intriguing, and then she saw @armourjesus CONGRADS ON MAKING IT OFFICIAL from someone named gwynie_winnie39 whom she had no memory of adding, and that’s when she started crying again and the chorus of fatherdom began his coaxing.  When they got home, she crawled into bed, still a little sobby, and went to bed.

The idea of returning to school, much less to the MISSPISSYDEATHSTENCH hunt, was overwhelming. She begged her father to let her stay home sick, “Dude!,” she shouted, “I CAN’T GO TO SCHOOL TODAY!” They yelled for awhile, but in the end he got her into the truck and she walked into the hallway and hid in the bathroom. After an hour she made her way out to the park, she im’d Miguel, “hey! wanna come to the park with me?” “dude, where are you?” he returned, “we have a test today.” “Dude, I’m not going there… not today. Not with that little bitch and that asshole sitting around holding hands.” “Dude, it’s not that big of a deal, they’ve been going out for awhile.” “Dude, I’ve been with Jessie for like 3 years. I introduced those two. Caroline is my bestfriend and she runs off with him?” “He’s not your boyfriend never was, you’re just on the same squad.” “DUDE FUCK THAT BITCH!” “You can’t blame them for liking each other,” Miguel exclaimed. She felt a peculair disconnection she’d never felt before, as if a giant lag sign had somehow been erected just north of her sight in the park, her reality was a peculair reality, a pock marked one, and each of Miguel’s beeps bounced off a new sense of isolation, as if heart break had dragged her into its own world and she descended the park’s staircases in an Orphaen daze.

Space has some peculair properties. The well organized desk she kept at home was the only concession she gave to order, the rest of her room was as disorderly any other manufactured wilderness, yet nothing in it can prepare you for the moment you enter the woods. The feeling of being enlivened, the way the eye seems perfectly adapated to such an environment and then the smell, “it must be the smell,” she thought as she walked a little further. Ten or so paces back a procession of ants had thrwated her, now she simply saw the forest as it is, before the overpass a few miles over and the Taco Bell perched on the perimeter 5 miles to the east. She walked down the worren path, having never ventured this far into the city’s only wilderness preserve. She was a princess walking through the woods, a woman with out a knight, something like that. ​

She sat down in a grove of thickening trees, but still not wide enough to symbolize forest in her eyes and she spied a bbq pit a few meters over. The forest had been designed in some half ass manor so as to meet a requirement for a “natural” place, but the idea of frying burgers in the middle of an uninspiring wood hadn’t managed to unseat the drama of family and fucking that kept the city indoors. It was primarily a place where youths could due drugs. She found an improvised beer can bong in a tree and whisked it away and felt another refrain of the mile wide heart ache that pressed at her, the intense betrayl running through her and she managed a few steps into the abyss the bbq pit presided over and noticed a small little boy in the distance, the child she saw clinging around the stop signs after school, lonely, isolated, and now reading a porn magazine.


April 14, 2011 at 11:08 am Leave a comment

Badman idea

“What are they gonna do? Unplug a 300 million dollar science experiment?” Daniel said. “I wish you hadn’t said that,” responded RE. The op was gone before Daniel could hassle him. He could still hear Melissa crying through the messenger. “Melissa, are you ok?” He asked “NO I’m not ok!!” She said, the stack of photos she left on his perch was still there, terrabytes of unexamined work, potentiality in sight. “Do you have any  idea what they do if you can’t complete your work?” She began, “they”- and everything went dark.

April 13, 2011 at 1:23 am Leave a comment


Daniel started with the shoe, he copied it and he found a pearl in another user’s account. He began to form the scene, the man returning to his wife, but Kalimat managed to subvert this, the scene would jump signifiers, become confused, Daniel was desperate to see these obfuscated rag dolls, but Kalimat only left video and models, none of the processes’ motions remained.

RE stood over him, “never had one that liked to play with dolls,” he said, “its from film school, this guy is doing something interesting.” Daniel replied “What’s he doing?” Asked RE, “something with signification, I can’t figure it out, its like he doesn’t want us to know the dolls’ movements.” “Do you think he’s trying to hide something from the cloud?” Asked RE.

April 9, 2011 at 3:25 pm Leave a comment

nolly wizard

She made her way out of the school and spied the same kid, alone on the bench as she always did. His hands indolating waiting, his posture implying a ride. She made her way past him and then out to the bus routes where she found the closet bus to MISSPISSYDEATHSTENCH’s abode.​ A large blue chrome behemoth came in, and she sat next to an African couple with bags of Nigerian DVDs and sugar cane drinks. She stared out the window at the rolling gausian blur as if photoshop was running in real time on the world around her, she began to wonder about misspissydeathstench. Who would fly a helicopter around a game and not even play? Did she have a boyfriend? It seemed like she did, she was older, those girls had boyfriends. She began to think of Jess again, the two of them fighting off hoards of satanists in the chapel, him taking her to the chapel, in the chapel, the chapel.

She fell asleep on the bus, the couple woke her up as they were getting up and she asked where they are. They motioned outside, “Westland is that way.” the nigerian woman said pointing. She had missed her station. She had never used a bus before. She asked the bus driver how to get to Catelan Memorial High School, he simply shoke his head, “this is the end of the line,” he said, “you gotta get out here.” “Can I take another bus?,” she asked, “this is the last bus. Shouldn’t have slept through your station. Call a cab.” The nigerian couple offered to walk her to their shop. She cautiously made her way out of the bus with them, she was about to cry.​ The couple walked about 2 shops over and then put the keys in the door. The door opened onto a dusty little grocery store, stacked with African magazines, exotic produce, and a humming fridge in which her benefactor put his palm sugar drinks. ​She sat down and the man asked her if she wanted a coffee. She’d never had coffee before, but she was also nearly frozen in anxiety. She managed to meep out a yes. He brought two cups over and they sat down at a little table. That’s when her phone made the facebook chime.

Jessica had never been completely alone. Her Dad had always been there, and when he wasn’t there, the train was there. A thick, iron, procession of box cars charted through their backyard and between it and the jet screams overhead, it was hard to imagine the world ever being empty. In the playlist that organized her memories, Jess had been eternally in the next segment. On the occasions he had the ability to kiss her, he had somehow passed. For the past 3 years they had been the best of friends. That’s why she began to cry when she opened up facebook and found Jessie ___ is in a relationship with Caroline ______. Tears balled down her face, she made uncontrollable whining noises as the sleeves of her sweatshirt rolled over her hands. She cried and cried and collapsed into the darkness of her arms as the man asked, “Are you alright?” “I wanna go home,” she moaned. “Do you need a phone darling?,” the woman asked, “No, I just have to call my Dad,” she pandered. As she reached up to get her phone, her sweatshirt knocked over the coffee, a long brown stain ran down her arm, she felt a wincing pain as the coffee singed her, she started to sob again, her hand jack knifed pain into her brain, the Nigerian man took her phone, “Allow me,” he said, “he thumbed into contacts and found Dad, “is this it?,” he asked, “Yes,” she murmured as he swiped the call button, and she heard the man explain to her Dad their location, “he wants to talk you,” he said. The man handed over the phone and she heard her dad say, “Everything alright pumpkin?” “No, I’m so lost… I don’t even know where I am,” she moaned. “Jess, you know I don’t get off work till 10,” he said, “can you stand tight for just a little?,” he asked, “Dad, I wanna go home,” she said. “Just stay with those folks a little longer,” he coaxed, “I’ll be there in an hour.” She argued back and forth for a few moments and then she tried to call a few of her friends, but not one had a car. That’s when something caught her in the right of her eye, right outside the window, on top of the mini-mart, purple robes beaming  and his eyes staring at her and she made a quick motion to the store keeper before she quivered and passed out.

April 9, 2011 at 11:18 am Leave a comment

The Portrait

Daniel ordered a new subscription through amazon and sat around with Adesh working on the usability features for a video editor they were producing.  Melissa came in and they all discussed the terrabyte of photos she was supposed to sort. Adesh had been given a small percentage of them, but Daniel was resisting, he didn’t want to spend days working through the batch, figuring out what routine the machine would need to copy from him to learn irony. He saw the cloud reacting to his algorithms, following the course of his thoughts, learning from the branches of what it would assume as logic and then Adesh was gone, through a door of his demising.

The video editor composited multiple views of an object to produce a 3D image. Somewhere out there someone was running a cell phone around a lot of stuff, virtual chairs, statues, and other things were popping up in a catalog Daniel kept an eye on. These pieces were suitable for games, virtual worlds, chat rooms, and unintentionally their own abodes. It had already come under fire for pirating several prominent statues and other art pieces. Copyright complaints went back and forth and the service’s precarious nature meant that all the ops eyed it daily, waiting on that moment all that free stuff would stop.

Daniel had several subscriptions in the editor. He pawed around the various knick knacks a CEO in Sweden was scanning in, and then he looked quickly at a couple highlanders in Kenya who were scanning in their robes. Daniel had settled on Kalimat’s feed though primarily. Everyday he produced a few objects, smallish things, little details. Earrings, gloves, the occasional table.Kalimat made basements in the cloud’s data services and filmed videos with nothing more than an earring for a girl and a shoe for a man, but Daniel could sense something in them. Kalimat was testing the lengths of the portrait, where and when the signification of a person or an intention began or started. Daniel had quietly filed his work under art.

April 8, 2011 at 6:09 am Leave a comment

History in a blur

What’s disturbing about mechanical intelligence isn’t its capabilities, rather its what an a.i. free from the pinnings of emotion could do, machinic intelligence can operate in ways different from human and be so valuable to be taken as a spouse. Singularities need to be part of a human ethnic group. The cellphone, the nanosuit, these are already important parts of the social group, the nanosuit assimilates with the soldier, the phone with our social lives.

In Gibson the singularity learns from the web. It even composes dub. Machinic learning represents an alternative interpretation of human ethnicity, human communication goes in, otherness comes out. The problem of producing an intelligence over the human becomes where will such an intelligence learn from. If all ethnicity is writen at the human speed what will it look like in a blur?

Knowledge is, beyond biology, how we construct much of the social around us. Race, for instance, in America has much more to do with class and less to do with skin color, if these intelligences construct their ethnicities from us, will they need someone to hate too?  Will they break into social groups? Should we expect machine intelligence with preppies and freaks?

But I think the bigger problem with the singularity, and the one that’s always bugging me is: can human thought be reduced to logic and mathematical reasoning? Do you really want o be an emulation of human intelligence running inside a machine intelligence that produces being in a different manor? By what means can we check that math’s swallowing of language is accurate? And after being swallowed, how will language change?

Let’s take for a moment James Gleick’s findings in The Information, literacy changed the way language worked. Pre-literature people think differently than post-literate people. Post-literates are better at abstractions, they think more like the machine they invented Platonism etc. The change from reality to living inside an abstraction creates multiple paradoxes, lest not forget that our singularity thing will need to somehow house the paradox of thought swallowing thought, as if that philosopher’s mirror: math could hold the brittle seductions of language inside itself. Additionally, as the linked white horse dialogue shows, words contain multiple contradictions in their usage, only resolvable because of a shared visual reality.  I’m rambling and this has been sitting in edits for a week, so I’ll go ahead and publish, but this needs a little polish, I just don’t have the time.

April 7, 2011 at 10:45 am Leave a comment

The burden

Ten thousand blog lines into the day he opened the suit and found the blog reader. A group of gila monsters already began sniffing the screen finding the unnecessary posts. A lonely dolphin sat around grazing on darting bits of jpegs, flv videos that hadn’t completed, the cloud’s ecosystem was vast, varied, increasingly intricate.

The 10 year contract to live in the cloud he went through everyday watching its little legalities slip through the justice system’s feed. Work in the cloud had proven mildly interesting. All the apps his meat self used were banned. He was mildly glad for this, the lobster that cleaned the facebook trap couldn’t go more than a few minutes w/o attention. The company provided a few tools to while away the time, but mostly it was the interface that kept him entertained and the conversations with other ops, the steady flow of ims providing a constant tap of fellowship.

Melissa from the cloud in Bangladesh came over. Her auburn skin wavey in the haze. “We just got another bunch of photos to sort through, turns out the a.i. can’t identify irony, 10 terrabytes of photos to go through.” “Wow dude, that sucks. My spots pretty much dead, just some weird blog lines, working on an app.” “My meat Self is dating that douche bag in human resources too. The one that sends nude pics from the bathroom.” Daniel could vaguely remember the other ops snickering over an overweight man holding his cock in the bathroom. “Did you show her the pics?” he asked, “Tried to, but they got something blocking personal data, can’t get ‘m out.” “Wooo… that sucks… Dude, I gotta get back to this app, talk to ya later,” he raised the working sign and Melissa consented to a fade, dissipating into the abyss.

Daniel had been in the cloud for 3 weeks now. He had yet to meet with any of problems the other ops reported. When he called the other Daniel the two could just talk, he liked the way they ride each others words in juxtaposition, parallel universes rendering similar forms in their language. Daniel sent him a video of their cat eating mothballs, inside the cloud he took photos of the dolphins, the crabs, the sea he had set up inside the data center to keep himself occupied.

RE:Edge resided in a data center which remained anonymous. He had been taken unconscious into the facility and when his real self woke up, he was in a hospital in Amsterdamn. RE was the oldest of the ops and his contract ended in 3 to 4 months. He had the air of a veteran, he had lived through his other self’s death from cancer years ago, now he was discussing promises, “As far as I can see, they’re gonna get another body someone no one cares about it, and them let me in it. I ain’t doing this shit much longer.” RE smoked in curls and his moustache hid under a pair of avatars he’d pinched from a CAD catalog along time ago. Unlike the rest of them he was former military, he had been there when the first cellular computers came online, he had been one of the first to have his brain scanned and then transcoded into the polymer proteins that fueled the ops consciousness. “Ya know when your meat self dies the whole thing kinda falls apart, this prison isn’t as bad as you think, I worked with a guy in military, when it came time to get back to the real world, his real world self ran away. They found him in a shanty town in Hong Kong, he was screaming, ‘I don’t want that thing inside me,’ but the other self, the one in here was pissed, so before they got him back inside he started doing things, he would fuck boys on cam chats or force himself to listen to r&b tunes on replay till he got used to, so when they inserted him, he and the other self got into a fight, ended up bashing his head into a holding cell till he died.” RE had a lot of stories like these.

April 6, 2011 at 6:35 pm Leave a comment


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