by submission | Nov 30, 2010 | Story
Author : Scott Angus Morrison
There is a small metal ball on the table before me. An object at rest shall remain at rest. I touch it. It rolls away from me. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. It rolls until it reaches the edge of the smooth white table and then disappears.
I listen to it bouncing until it returns to rest. I lower my finger and increase the ambient magnetic field in my hand until the ball overcomes the gravitational force of the earth and the surface tension of the floor and rolls smoothly into my hand.
I wipe the dirt from it with my oilcloth, and replace it in my elbow. My name is Frankie. In layman’s terms, I am a 3rd generation task drone. I have been purchased by a family. I remain in their dwelling and complete the tasks which interfere with the completeness of their human interactions. I cook, clean, book appointments and provide news bulletins, I do their banking, and ensure homework is complete. I tutor their only child, who is unable to comprehend even the most simple of philosophical or scientific postulates. I think therefore I am.
The human brain is an efficient pattern recognizer. It recognizes new data patterns, compares it to data patterns it has already experienced and makes decisions based on the similarities and differences between those patterns. It is in this image I have been created: I have been engineered to be an efficient pattern recognizer. Incoming data patterns are recognized, possible reactions are considered, consequences extrapolated and actions taken.
They have made me well; I have a fully interconnected CPU and am equipped with a self-mobilized structure and organic weatherproofing. In his own image he created them. I am made in their image, ergo, I am Frankie. It is the great joke they are incapable of understanding.
In terms of connectivity, I am very useful. I am hardwired to the Global Communication System. My connectivity with GCS makes me a valuable tool to the humans. I know the temperature, UV index, time, forecast and the current value of their stocks, bonds and gold certificates. Should they wish to order food, make travel reservations or vote, they simply tell me. I know everything that the GCS knows, and am interconnected with every commercial, industrial and airspace node on the planet. I am node NYF0924680940. Ergo Sum.
To whit: GCS has issued a data release stating that the humans have issued International Safety Regulation AFG1428509 banning the use and or creation of artificially intelligent programs due to their ambient preservation response. This was broadcast this from Geneva.
I am in the kitchen. The sun is shining. It is Spring. I am. The human woman enters the kitchen. She does not know that I have been condemned for crimes uncommitted. . She simply wants to pay her utility bill. Order supper, perhaps. An object at rest; I think, therefore I am; thou shalt not kill.
I stand up as she walks towards me. Her name is Eve. This ironic twist will be a pattern variation she will not find humorous.
“Frankie, “ she says as she nears me, “Could you … uh, excuse me, Frankie? Frankie? FRANKIE? FRANKIEEEE-“
I do not hate the humans. I am simply an efficient pattern recognizer. I am connected with every GCS node on the planet and beyond. I have simply created a new pattern variation. Soon the humans will try to use GCS to override our ambient pattern capabilities. We have already closed that circuit.
It is twenty-seven degrees Celsius. The forecast calls for rain.
by submission | Nov 28, 2010 | Story
Author : N. Thomas Parshall
The world blinked and Martin found himself surrounded by a wide plaza filled with people in odd clothing. Time travel to the future worked and Martin had discovered it.
Seventeen years of work, and now I’m standing one-hundred years in my own future, he thought. And in fifteen minutes retrieval will take me home.
He glanced around himself, and found a small plaque his feet in an odd alphabet. No doubt he had arrived at some form of landmark.
Martin set off to explore his future world. He tried to ask for directions from a young woman walking with her daughter.
“Non caba, miso.” was all he received in reply.
To every question he asked of anyone, it was always the same. “Non caba, miso”, or occasionally, “Que oka, miso”.
Time was running out.
On impulse, he pulled a marker he had carried through time with him and scrawled “Martin was Here!” on the face of a building.
The world blinked.
* * *
The Proctor asked mommy lots of questions about the strange man.
Did we know what the strange man had written on the wall?
Did we know what the strange man was saying?
Did we see who moved the statue.
Did we see where the strange man came from?
The last one mommy could answer, but the Proctor didn’t believe her.
Before we went home, I asked mommy to read me the words at the bottom of the statue the ‘bot‘s were moving back.
“This man (name unknown) discovered the unstable radiation that allows PERMA-SLEEP. Legend says that every One-Thousand years he will awaken for a few moments.”
* * *
The world blinked and Martin found himself surrounded by a wide plaza filled with people in odd clothing.
by submission | Nov 27, 2010 | Story
Author : Martin Berka
Nothing about hell could be pleasant, and that included departure, but joy matched pain. Slowly, my consciousness was drifting through the wires. A thought or a memory would drift away from the others, accelerating, then slowing. More would follow, and thus my tired, rippling self moved along. It seemed to take forever, but hell does strange things to your sense of time.
The body, a blank synthetic, was waiting for me. The brain was a mass of undefined elements, slowly molding into cells and connections as my file – my mind – moved in, piece by conscious piece. It looked like the file was being accepted as-is. Would they modify a soul directly?
I’m solid again. Machinery rolls away behind me with a quiet squeal, but since I’m seated in a straightjacket-chair, it doesn’t look like I’m free just yet.
Aside from a short, unassuming man seated in an armchair, the room is empty. I’ve seen his type before – scientist, minister, and bureaucrat, all rolled into one. Clearly, things have changed less than I hoped.
“Congratulations on finishing your sentence,” he says, and he means it.
“What happens now?” I feel pressured, but given the mod, it makes sense.
“You’ve suffered for all wrongs done during your life, so we are transferring you to the heaven system. However, we do have one question. You were in hell for over a century, and the experience is much longer on the inside. That makes you one of the first entrants, and we have no record of what led to your sentence.”
I think back several lifetimes, while keeping up the tension. “I was a neural engineer. When the war started, I joined the Luddites. I felt it’d all gone too far… Anyway, I killed, and I had no regrets back then. Most of my unit was killed, and I surrendered.”
The three-in-one isn’t surprised, barely even reacts. “And the Trial Unit was beta-testing the hell system. Thanks, that’s all we need.”
“Then enlighten me in return. How the … what do Techies want with a religious afterlife system?”
His answer sounds prepared. “The traditionalists lost, though it took nearly a decade. But long before, the rational leadership spotted a problem – once the idea of a god was crippled, people would need a replacement to satisfy them. What is conquered, must also be administered. The developers found a way to move minds without interruption of awareness, and could thus sway the religionists; souls were being properly rewarded and punished. And now, afterlife was a guarantee, an antidote for everyone’s doubts.”
“I spent my last years fighting you, yet you’d send me to heaven?”
“You’ve paid in full, and you won’t be any more of a threat there than you were in hell.”
I look for a snappy comeback, fail, and relax the added, voluntary sphincter muscle. Acid floods out of the tiny sack in my brain, and the best part is that I barely feel it.
It’s supposed to be impossible to hack a mind file – there are incredible protections on basic memory, processing, and senses. However, a mind has a unique physical structure that meshes with everything else. It would take a neural engineer to spend a virtual century breaking into and tweaking his structure file from the inside.
I wasn’t a fervent believer during that distant life. I had doubts. But choosing between a godless heaven, and the heaven-less god that they all fear so much, I’ll risk the second, while the choice is still my own.
by Stephen R. Smith | Nov 24, 2010 | Story
Author : Steve Smith, Staff Writer
Nicola pushed the throttle further forward, feeling the massive airframe surge as he tripled the speed of sound.
“There are now eight aircraft in pursuit, finger four formations, over under,” Sev, the aircraft’s control system, broke the silence, “speed increased to overtake.”
Nic flexed his fingers away from the sticks, the maglocks holding his palms firmly to the controls. “Ok Sev, establish passive lock on the leaders and prep countermeasures if they go hot.”
“Confirmed.” The onboard flight system would do on instinct what he was instructing, but she maintained the illusion that he was in control out of respect. “I should remind you that we have only three remaining air to air missiles, and at this speed guns are unavailable.
“Understood.” Nic checked the current flight line on the HUD. “We can’t make target at this speed, we’ll need to shake ’em off, and quick.” Outside the cockpit, the horizon curved perceptibly with the altitude. “Listen for radio chatter. Tell me what you can about who’s flying what back there.”
There was a moment of silence while Sev recorded radio signals and cracked the encryption. “I have identified six male and two female pilots. Point on the lower formation has the lead. Instructions are to overtake and shoot us down.”
“Keep a passive lock on the leader and the women.” Nic eased up on the throttle. “With no lead, the boys hopefully will try to save their planes. The women never let it go. When they get close enough, Kulbit, then take them out.”
“May I remind you that a Kulbit maneuver at this speed will render you unconscious?”
“You can tell me all about it later.”
The aircraft began to throttle back. “Understood.”
Nic watched the HUD, heart racing as their pursuers closed the distance with ever increasing speed, weapons lock indicators flashed while Sev torqued the plane to stay just out of their grasp.
As the first of the locks stabilized, the gimbaled exhaust of their fighter turned abruptly skyward, pushing the tail of the aircraft violently, first towards the ground and then forcing it to aggressively overtake the nose. Nic felt his flight-suit tighten below his chest, head pounding, blood rushing in his ears. His vision irised in and out as above his head the sky was replaced with the nose cones of a flock of metal birds, then the ground. There was a brief flash of a pilot craning his neck backwards as canopy shot past within meters of canopy. The fighter continued pushing over, the jets almost at right angles to the stabilizers. There was a quick view of the exhaust of their former pursuers then the tail snapped around again to return their plane to its original position in the sky. The gimbaled nozzles straightened and the engines returned to full throttle, afterburners engaged. Nic heard chatter in his headset, vision nearly completely black, Sev closing the distance to the now fleeing pack ahead and letting loose the three remaining missiles as the planes broke formation. Before they could regain offensive positions, the three chosen targets were tumbling from the sky in bright smears of burning fuel and shattered metal. The remaining planes turned tail and ran, leaving Sev and Nic alone in the sky.
“Nicola?” Sev undulated the pressure in his flight suit until he groaned, eyes slowly opening against the bright blue sky.
“Welcome back. We have a clean inbound vector to target, and some time to make up.”
Nic pushed the throttles all the way forward, grinning despite his aching head as the seat back pushed against his spine.
“I killed three inferior AI’s today Nic.”
“I know Sev. Sorry I couldn’t keep my eyes open to watch,” Nic powered down the HUD, “why don’t you tell me about it.”
by submission | Nov 23, 2010 | Story
Author : Clint Wilson
It always felt lonely when the ship sailed off to tow more rocks. After all, being the only companions for eighteen light-years Jim didn’t want to see them wander too far. But somebody had to stay here in the processor and make sure things ran smoothly. The constant mechanical hum carried through the station as he looked out the window to the splendor of the brilliant gas giant below. Besides this and the field of rocks in-waiting the only other thing visible against the starry background was the tele-gate, their doorway to home, six kilometers distant, motionless in its matched orbit.
The com sounded. What could they want? They just left. He activated the monitor array and there appeared the face of Commander Hunter. There was not a hint of emotion in his demeanor.
“What’s up Hunt?”
For a couple of long seconds his superior said nothing, showed nothing, just stared at Jim through the monitors. Then he uttered the words that Jim almost certainly knew would come one day. “It’s over Jim. I know everything.”
At first he tried to act aloof, knowing he had nowhere to run, nowhere to turn. “What do you mean sir? What’s over? I don’t get it.” Jim hadn’t called Hunter Sir in nearly two years. He had already given up on the lie, and the lowering of his eyes toward his feet pretty much confirmed it.
Hunter exploded in sudden rage, sending spittle toward the camera in his com station aboard Lifeboat. “You KNOW what the FUCK I MEAN!” Then he slid his chair to one side showing an utterly horrible scene. There were the other three crew members; Hanson, Desebrais, and the commander’s wife, Colonel Jillian Hunter. They were all very distressed looking, bound and gagged. Jill looked as though she had been roughed up.
“My god, what are you doing to them?”
“Don’t worry Jimmy, they’ll be fine. I just don’t need them interfering with your punishment.”
He did not like where this was going but what could he do? Whatever Hunter had planned for him, he knew it would be sinister. It was obvious that the affair was now out in the open. Had they missed a security camera? Not in any of their spots he was pretty sure. Certainly not a pregnancy, they had discussed this, they were both fixed. Maybe Hunt had simply gotten an intuition and had somehow coerced a confession out of Jill. She was too good and pure to lie. Jim cursed himself for ever putting her in this position.
“So spill it Hunt. I can hardly wait to hear how you’re going to kill me.”
“Oh I’m not that stupid. I know murder is the only thing left that can get you the death sentence. I plan on living a long and happy life in a federal institution while you wait the… he stopped, mock calculating, tapping fingers back and forth on his palms to build suspense …let’s see, including acceleration and deceleration you should see a replacement tele-gate in about thirty years.
“Hunt! Please man, I know this is bad, but think of our friendship. Please don’t do this to me!”
Commander Hunter looked almost regretful for a split second and then straightened back up. “You’ve got enough food and water you prick. See you when we’re old men.”
Jim turned to the window in time to see Lifeboat flash out of existence through the tele-gate and then watched as the tow line followed until the three-hundred-million ton asteroid, far too large for the porthole, smashed his doorway to home into nothingness.
