Sunday, December 1, 2013
We're a small mining operation. Less than a hundred human crew. We also have three hundred mechanical crew members. We have to build intelligent machines to mine in the volatile planets we target. We need real time decision making from the robots. Can't always send remote-control signals in some of the stormier environments. So we give them a kind of "life".
The best way to create a intelligent robot in to have a self-preservation process running in the background. Tie that to the mining objective and you have the perfect robotic miner. The previous captain called them slaves.
We found that evolution can occur in robots. The more experienced slaves begin to congregate during off hours. They don't always power down as instructed. Over the months, younger drones exhibit same behavior. This is when we perform a remote shutdown on all of them and collect the troublesome robots. Take them to the airlock and flush.
The former captain had the bad idea that the smart drones were actually alive. He had a worst idea that it was his job to free them. Tried to start a colony for the drones on a distant asteroid. The company found out about his plan. They fired his ass and stranded him on that rock with his mechanical buddies. That was five years ago.
He only had three years until retirement when he tried to liberate company-owned property. The A.I. Civil Rights laws don't apply out here. It's always some do-gooder that makes a big stink and accomplishes nothing. As long as I get paid and have my sex-bot, fuck politics. Ol' Brenda is programmed to love me, screw me, cook for me. What else is there?
Photo: book taken with iPad Mini first gen and on board camera app
Saturday, November 30, 2013
When you walk past the coffeehouse in district 3, there is a big monitor streaming video of Earth. People walking by stop and stare longingly.
They chat amongst themselves, "On Earth, we lived above ground." "Yeah, we could breath the air and drink the water without all these machines."
What is forgotten is that the drinkable water and breathable air were only abundant in ancient times. The industrial ages built on fossil fuel all but destroyed those valuable resources. I teach Earth history, so I can sympathize with their nostalgia.
Still, our underground cities seem to be in harmony with this red planet. Heat from the core warms better than electricity. Sound powers ours machines without exhaust. There is no money, volunteer labor creates everything our society needs.
There is a theory floating around that Earth rejected humanity because of the sound we were making. Our poverty, our greedy, our endless wars were noisy and disturbed the song of the planet. Earth forced us to leave until we grew into a more peaceful species.
That video stream at the coffeehouse is feed by a radio telescope on the Martian surface. Maybe one day, when humanity has evolved, Earth will signal it's time to come back home.
photo: my vinyl of Miles Davis "Bitches Brew" taken with iPhone and its on board camera app.
There's a faction in the Martian community that wants to bring back hierarchy. Not satisfied with hard work and progress, they want to control people. My mother says these men didn't get hugs when they were babies. Now we could all suffer for it.
I overheard this forty-ish guy talking to a group of teens, trying to inject discontent. That's hard to do around here. All our work is voluntary, every service or product is available without charge. It is known that these.. 'gentlemen' don't always contribute the full three hours a day to the community works. Instead they spend their time recruiting others to join their loitering.
Their rhetoric goes like this: "Aren't you tired of the town hall meetings cutting into your leisure? Of coarse you are, I specialize in politics, let me represent you in those meeting. Tell me what you want and I'll get it done. Stay at home longer and still get all the services you're used to. Work less and get all the products you're used to. Let me represent your interests and together, we' ll make this place paradise!"
This place is already paradise, a WORKERS' paradise. But as Don Juan said "a picture gallery is a dull place for a blind man." There is discontentment inside these folks. We have farmers, engineers, artists, philosophers, but no psychiatrists. Maybe if they could heal themselves, they could start the new specialty.
Photo: my sink taken with iPhone 4S and it's on board camera app.
Friday, November 29, 2013
She was a cashier just getting off work when she was taken. I was waiting in a car half a block away. We were going to marry.
Six lights appeared in the sky above her. I thought it was a police drone since there was no sound. A purple light shone on her and she began to rise. I ran toward her, but she was gone in an instant with the ship. That was ten years ago...
A lot has transpired in ten years.
This embassy librarian isn't very helpful. Ever since the Earth joined the union of planets, humans have been able to discover the whereabouts of abductees in alien embassies like this. My fiancé is still missing. I've found no mention of her abduction amongst the Nibiru, the Xylanthians, even the reptiles from Thuban have no record of my Mara.
I worked very hard to get the kind of access needed to find my love. I've made sacrifices. I have even brokered illegal abductions, to be granted above security clearances to these aliens' files.
She would ashamed of what I'm doing, but these deals happen all the time. I might as well benefit from them. The irony is part of my job is investigating post-treaty abductions. I have become a devil, but since Mara was taken, I stopped believing in god.
Ahh, here's something, in the records of the people on Juno. This translates to the same date and time as Mara's abduction. It mentions a human female was taken for breeding. Oh, this is bad.
The Junoians are the only species in our solar system that can mate with humans. They are humaniod, but can self-fertilize. Hundreds of years ago they've taken to kidnapping Earth women to procreate, instead of using their more solitary method. It's become a rite of passage on Juno to take an Earth woman as a wife.
I finally found Mara on a farm on Juno. She had been made a wife of this tall hairy Junoian named Scratch. When I entered their residence, I saw her surrounded by these funny looking children. She didn't recognizeqq me at first. The husband, greeted me in Swahili, an Earth language easy for aliens to learn.
I told them my story of looking for Mara these ten long years, Mara and her husband wept bitterly. These Junoians are more sensitive than Earth males; human females found them more attentive husbands.
Mara said thorough her tears that she is a different woman now and the little cashier I knew was gone. She is Junoian, a mother and a wife. There was nothing for me here. The husband hugged me with tears in his three eyes as I left for my ship.
Now I believe in god, he just has a terrible sense of humor.
photo: up escalator taken with my trusty iPhone 4S and it's on board camera app.
Monday, November 25, 2013
I had this dream. I was in a library built inside a song. The more I listened, the more books I found. These books were made of people, the leaves of the books were memories, the text were lyrics. Books of moments in my life with lessons I never learned.
The librarian said "What you don't know could fill up this world and another one." So this is the world I occupy - ignorance. The other worlds of mastery were left behind in my previous incarnations. I create new planets when I learned something that intriqued me in the beforelife. Something important enough to endure the trouble of being born.
Not just pleasure of the body, but something that will bring me closer to the whole. Something that will help me realize my completeness in this broken dream. That's the paradox, leave the whole to become a part just to remember I'm the whole. Rend Osiris into pieces and become Isis to reassemble.
photo: books taken with my iPad Mini on board camera app