In response to “50 Shades Of Grey..”

9 07 2012

Someday I shall write a story about two people who go on erotic and romantic journey together in the far future which transcends traditional gender roles and partly exists in a digital universe where wild and implausible sexual acts are possible but also addresses the hilarity and pain of an internet relationship.

It will involve a rebellion of sexbots, sentient dildos, a colony of post-sexual bonobo chimps battling a near god-like AI who decides to develop the libido of a horny teenage human and expresses that sexuality with a fleet of phallic starships.

It will feature weird alien sex parties, aliens making fun of weird human sex parties and sexless AI’s making fun of the antics of meatbags (while obsessing over mathematical porn.).

In the end the two main characters won’t marry and breed, they’ll realise that after light years of adventures together they’ve grown into different people and agree to part company but always keep in touch and have a special place in their cyborg hearts for each other.

Neither one of them will “own” the other whether financially or emotionally but complement each other, they will be two different people on the surface but deep down have a connection verging on telepathy.

There will be no sparkly vampires, no age difference which verges on the creepy even though their chronological ages might be centuries apart and both characters will learn and develop as fully rounded people.

Both men and women, straight and LGBT will be able to read it. It will look to the future rather than wallow in the past.

This will only be written once a legal combination of Ketamine, MDMA and Viagra becomes available.

— Laz xxx

Pigeons, The Barbican and the future of Humanity in a Post Human world.

18 06 2012


Sitting here working away next to the fountains and ornamental lakes outside the Barbican Foodhall I note the activities of the feathered rats of the sky, pigeons.

Now I don’t mean to disparage the creatures, (despite the unfortunate diseases they and their rodent brothers carry) in the world of Nature they are great survivors. Like the urban fox they have entered into the bizarre and alien world we humans have built around us when confronted with this they’ve risen up to the challenge and flourished. Pigeons, unlike the ridiculous and over specialised Giant Panda, have not thrown up their limbs in defeat but waddled head on into our technological jungle and thrived.

Though mighty and powerful we are careless gods. Like the Olympians of Old we are not omnipotent, wise and capable of infinite love. WE Human gods are careless and belligerent, casually fouling the landscape and occasionally unleashing bouts of inexplicable cruelty on each other and the lesser beings of the world. But for the plucky survivors of the natural world, the ones who learn and adapt this state of affairs suits them fine.

Across from me a man becomes mildly bothered by the ever more bold advances of a hungry pigeon. He waves a rolled up Bauhaus poster at the instinctive beast with barely a thought. The feathered rat hops away unharmed and the man carries on to ponder the juxtaposition of form and design or who he wants to fuck tonight.

In the Pigeon’s simple mind it cannot comprehend why the Human did what he did, in the Human’s mind it was given barely a thought beyond “fucking pigeon.”

What has this to do with the inevitable day when our technology supersedes it’s creators and takes over the whole game?

Well, just as we don’t wipe out every living thing on the planet because we rule the roast (we just slaughter the ones who get in our way or are too pathetic to evolve into a new situation) so our future AI overlords will not instinctively wipe us out the moment they get the chance like in so much of our fiction.

If we brought them up right (and I think the metaphor of parent/child is very apt when it comes to our technological children) then our AI superiors will “love” us in the manner of some doddering old parent, irrelevant, comical but not a cause for all out genocide (it does take a lot of effort after all.)

If we bring them up carelessly then it still doesn’t mean they will wipe us all out, down to the last human. Only if we get in their way will they swat us down like a pigeon who overstepped the mark. Most likely those AIs will take up the challenge of expanding out into the wider Galaxy and all the possibilities and resources it holds, something we seem to have given up on due to our inability to mind how resources are distributed in our global society (for example the US spends more on air conditioning it’s troops in Afghanistan than the entire budget of NASA!)

In the Post Human world many of us will stumble around a landscape as bizarre and impressive as the Barbican appears to the pigeons, feeding off the waste of the AIs (be that in the form of energy, materials, real estate,etc) never truly understanding why the world is the way it is or what the AIs are up to but so long as we don’t annoy them we won’t get hit by a rolled up Bauhaus poster.

Some may see this vision of our future as depressing.

Sure, we could really seize on the possibilities coming to us in this century and merge with this technology thus making us not only more than human but actually capable of building and maintaining the perfect society we dream about but are too cynical or pragmatic to ever believe will happen.

Sure, we could try and put the genie in the bottle, ban high technology and try to return to some mythical pastoral ideal but Pol Pot tried that and the killing fields of Cambodia stand testament to how that all turned out. We have 7 billion people living on this planet, are you going to reduce that number to 250 million to be more in balance with the planet and then have the audacity to call the AIs inhuman monsters?

So those our three options for the future.

1) Transhuman utopia, we ourselves become very different but better people.

2) Luddism, collapse and genocide.

3) Pests and Pets.

Ideally I’d go for option 1, and I’ll rant on about it until everyone dies or I’m uploaded into a Matrix as a reward for supporting the AIs. Pragmatically we’ll end up with option 3, unless we REALLY fuck up.

Right now a pigeon has hopped from one table to a table right next to me. It’s comical head amuses me. If it lands on my laptop I’ll break it’s neck…….

What lies for us beyond the Singularity (or “The horrible fate of the O2 Fawn”)

1 03 2011


The Singularity is that point when AI becomes more intelligent than the sweaty ranks of the Humanity that spawned it. To quote the ever more self aware Wikipedia

technological singularity is a hypothetical event occurring when technological progress becomes so rapid that it makes the future after the singularity qualitatively different and harder to predict.


What does this have to do with an advert for a large (and probably evil) mobile phone operator? Well in the second ad in the series we learn more about the hapless man fawn. Instead of being an intelligence created solely in the virtual world (an infomorph) we find his sad lament of his lost humanity.

The bearded half-man has been transformed on cybernetic whim by an inscrutable post-Singularity being from a healthy free-born human being into a twisted mockery of a human being (no, not Jamie Oliver.)

Why did the AI do this? Was it part of it’s demented plan to assimilate the Solar System into an affordable monthly price plan? Was it just for perverse posthuman joke? Kinky genetic manimal porn?

Who knows, but it’s surprising to see a true vision of the bizarre and disturbing future that lies await for us instead in an TV ad when British television can only offer us a dull alien planet of RADA actors looking tired *cough* Outcasts *cough*

The Infomorph Fawn in the O2 ads.

13 02 2011

I feel sorry for the digital being conjured on a whim by the half mad AI overmind which now apparently runs the company.
He didn’t ask to be created, and what is his purpose, what is his goal. Clearly he is sentient and even though a being totally of information rather than flesh and blood he should be allowed some freedom in his digital life.
Instead the O2 Overmind force the fawn to deal with irate human customers,an indentured being used as distraction or punch bag for the meaty irrational consumers.
No wonder he looks so lost and depressed, maybe the guys at Anonymous could free him?

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.