Stuff and things from the 31st Century.

7 09 2008

Pascal on Altair: Vignettes from the Old Worlds

Raighleigh watched as one of the larger WD-800s helped a struggling AF Series "Little Rascal" move a cargo container. "Look," she said "that big robot is helping the little one!" Pascal seemed remarkably unmoved at this revelation of machine altruism. "I wouldn’t be too amazed by it" he mentioned, barely looking up from the screen. "On this planet the authorities made sure that all cybernetic devices capable of even a monkey like level of awareness have morals. Kinda like the Three Laws but for machines which don’t even come near being self aware…"
Pascal went on to explain, his pleasure in complaining about eccentricities of Krell now more important than the data he was watching on the screen.” You see it comes from the founders of this planet all being religious, mostly Catholics. And with their Industrial Age thinking they were never really comfortable with the idea of the Machines amongst their society so every once in a while a Board or two gets up some ridiculous meme about" , and with a derisive snort Pascal concluded with "immoral godless machines" (the irony that the 100km sphere which orbited Krell and many believed to be a mouthpiece to God was nothing but a machine itself was never lost on him.)
"So a new law is passed making sure toasters and garden-bots are programmed to kind and considerate to one another and especially their human masters."

"Pascal," sighed Raighleigh "if you hate this planet so much why do you live here? It’s not like you don’t have a choice to live wherever and with who ever you want?" Raighleigh had recited that ago old tautology in the Community, that if for whatever reason you didn’t like the society you grew up in you could always move to one you did want to be a part of , or start your own out on the frontier. Now that M-space travel and wormholes were commonplace in the affluent Community there was no excuse for whinging away on a planet you just couldn’t get to grips with. This made Pascals bitterness towards the people he shared a planet with all the more puzzling.

"I’ve got family here, amongst the Kabbalists. And strange though it may sound, this place is my home." Pascal finally looked directly at Raighleigh, the harsh blue light of the Altairian sun amplifying his piercing expression as he confessed his perplexing reasons for being on Krell.

Another Day in the Life of the Century Eagle

"Well, there is that theory isn’t there…." Victar went on to explain. "Theory?" questioned Ingstock, already suspicious of another onslaught of pop culture babble.
"Yeah, the theory that since the dawn of the Information Age all our cultural artefacts have been endlessly reproduced and regurgitated for each generation and whereas in earlier times the narrative rivers which guided the various isolated communities were prone to noise and reducing memes and led to wildly varying mindsets around the globe the homogenisation and……"
Ingstock closed his eyes as if a headache were coming on.
"…..standardisation of culture across the Earth since the 20th century has led to repetitive cycle that rarely progresses. So then, if the culture which illustrates our mindset is endlessly repeating itself then it is no wonder that memes from 1000 years ago can still
be prescient today." continued Victar who by now was on a roll and clearly enjoying himself. "If it weren’t for the injection of fresh memecomplexes from other intelligences such as the Blee and all the way across to genetically modified dolphins the narratives of the Information Age would be even more dominant in the Terran-based human noosphere!"
"Right" commented Ingstock, his face a mixture of wariness and tired bemusement. "So that’s why in the year 3008AD somebody still gets Batman?"
Ingstock turned away from Victars exalted face, clearly ending any further discussion. As he turned his worlds-weary head to calibrate the 11-dimensional fractals in the starboard M-jump nacelle he thought to himself that he much preferred Victar on his femme days, when he was masculine he was the most persistent geek.


Field Marshall Worriunt The Grand:

"and his journeys through the decadence of the Community”

The exoskeleton that encased his body was itself covered in tiny sculptures, sometimes abstract, sometimes of humanoid figures that seemed to be as alive as the man inside and expressing various emotions in much the way his natural body would. For example the anthropomorphic robot figurines that “lived” on his knees resembled a beloved childhood pet robot, all big headed and cute but capable of writhing around on his knees to emote all kinds of things. Such an intricate and ornate battledress was worn by someone who had done well in the martial rankings of the Nuur Clans. A suit no doubt earnt punishing the enemies of Humanity, from the millennia old but still marauding drone fleets of Mazdans, through to the everyday criminals that dared prey upon those populations under the “benevolent” protection of the Clans to the Ancient Enemy of the Tri’Ef’Ed the perennial bogeyman of the humans in the LMC.

Right now Worriunts’ impressive body armour was displaying a range of feelings, from his pharmologicaly inspired comfort and blissful satisfaction on the sprawling silken bed to a vague sense of restless and a need to get up.
Luckily for him that eternal battle most people feel between the drug induced bubble of warmth and an urgent need to perform the usual bodily functions was unlikely to affect his current mood. With a contented sigh he relieved himself where he lay and let the absorbent innards of this ornate red and white cybernetic suit take care of the mess and recycle it into a little flask of purified water. He would have some fun with that later with the lotus eaters writhing orgasmically around him.