Tag Archives: future
13,325 days/sols to go
While bouncing around in my laboratory/playground, I sometimes forget about the larger goal of Moon/Mars settlement, a mere 13,325 days/sols to go.
We are making a lot of progress in that area and, for my colleagues, I thank you — planet Earth — for providing us the resources and means to make intentional space exploration possible.
After all, waiting around for a large comet to hit our celestial sphere and send chunks out of Earth’s gravitational field is beyond virtuous patience.
Let us give praise to those who focus on the longterm, putting aside the daily distractions that wish to make mountains out of political footballs.
We maintain more than one storyline, a few that give hope to the destitute and desperate, a few that produce more wealth for the wealthy, all in the plans to spread life-as-we-know-it as soon as viably possible, rather than as soon as feasibly feeble.
Now, back to the story subplot currently in progress…the development of robots by a small group of hackers thinking inside and outside of Pandora’s Box.
Guin in the glen by the den
The harvesters sucked up tonne after tonne of Martian soil, dehydrating the clumps and analysing samples for potential mineral processing, storing valuable water for use by the colonists.
Guin hugged Shadowgrass tighter.
She had not known had much missing him had put an ache inside her which had turned her muscles to stone.
“Mom, how did you keep the ISSA Net from knowing your location? It’s virtually impossible!”
Guin looked at her son in wonder and awe.
At little over two years of age, almost three, Shadowgrass was already a man in many ways. He knew so much more than she did, building vast complex networks of memories and calculative intuition circuitry across the solar system, she was surprised when he asked her a question for which he didn’t know the answer or hadn’t developed a strong hypothesis to support or debate what he knew she was about to say.
“You really don’t know?”
He shook his head.
Was it really a black hole she and Lee had passed through?
It WAS something, something that had changed their relationship, enjoining them in ways that physical intimacy could not explain.
Guin sent a thought to Lee that the ISSA Net could not trace. Lee laughed in his thoughts and agreed — the unknown was more fun than the known.
“Well, sweetheart, I don’t have an answer for you.”
“I still want to get revenge on Collapsaricus!”
” I know you do but we don’t know what it was or where it went.”
“But we do! An astronomer is tracking a high-speed change in the flow of dust on another spiral arm of the galaxy. He thinks it might be disturbance caused by Collapsaricus.”
“Let’s not worry about it right now. Instead, why don’t you tell me about your new friend. She seems interesting.”
“She is. I’ve examined my set of thoughts and determined through testable theories that I’m experiencing what you and Dad described as the time you first fell in love with each other.”
“That’s wonderful! Isn’t love grand?”
He nodded his head.
Guin watched the clouds of dust billowing out from behind the harvesters. She wanted to rush back to the lab and catch up on her work but holding Shadowgrass felt so good. She had missed too much of his growing up for her to lose any more precious moments with her son.
She sighed and put her chin on his shoulder.
What if Shadowgrass’ new girlfriend wanted to move back to Earth? Would he go with her? What if they had children? Would Guin want to see them, spend time with them, return to a planet that had nurtured her and encouraged her to explore Mars? What did Lee think? And where was Bai?
Industrial Musicals: While I let Abi torture me with love…
…or did she love me with torture?
Yeah, it’s that recurring theme again — the love of mine for a woman I’d spend more time with if I could afford the torture.
Afford?
Oh, indeed.
Today, I sat through several hours of people up on a dais dazzling me in a daze about their love and passion for philanthropy.
The only factor that kept me awake and alert during their entertainment of financial advisors, their clients and nonprofit organization representatives, other than seeing some familiar faces, was knowing that my reward for creating a derriere falling fast asleep would be getting Abi’s hands, wrists and elbows on me.
And boy, did she ever!
I’ve never been one of those sadomasochists who gets a certain thrill from pain.
Well…I mean, sure, I do get a certain thrill from pain but…is it getting hot in here?
Where was I?
Seriously, with my body supine and then prone, either way, Abi worked her magic on me.
That beautiful woman has a spell on me that I can’t describe.
I’m just glad she’s still in love with her man and I’ve got a steady woman of my own.
Otherwise…growl!
She is the only woman, and I mean the only one, not even my wife, who I would let touch me the way she does, working on knots in my back, neck and chest muscles that almost make this grown man cry.
I still don’t know if I’ve experienced the level of pain I’ve endured under the careful, delicate surgical procedure of Abi’s massage work.
I don’t know if I want to ever again.
Yet, somehow, I go back for more, letting the special love of my life have her way with me.
In those moments, alone on the massage table, my thoughts adrift on puffy clouds in a blue sky, just her and me in her flat, a crime drama on the tellie, her elbowing me while texting with clients for upcoming weekend massages at dance competitions, I ask myself how special is our love.
She doesn’t let me drive my elbows into her back or twist my fingers into her biceps.
She knows I love her even if I hate her when she’s sending me into Dante’s deepest levels of hellish pain.
For her, I would hunt animals, killing for meat bare-handed.
She has opened up my body for new experiences, giving me the happiness and courage I sought to feel confident on the dance floor, adding Jessica to the list of new dance wives.
Jenn, Abi, Jessica…and, of course, my wife…and Kelly…the list of fun dance partners grows. Is Naomi next? And, after her, who will look me in the eyes and want to have fun like there never was any fun before?
I was distracted most of the day today from work on the desktop robotic art sculpture that serves as a scale model for a yard art sculpture piece I’ve been slowly working on between daydreaming about the imaginary life this set of states of energy has convinced itself is real.
I returned this evening to program four LEDs and some sensors after working out the design details on dancing mannequins.
Abi, I’ll miss you desperately while you’re physically out of my life for the next two weeks. You torture me in so many ways I’ve got to add sadomasochist to the list of adjectives in front of my name, or does the acronym S&M get added afterward like “Esq,” “PhD” or “MD”?
Thank goodness, there’s Jenn still teaching dance lessons. And Naomi. And maybe even Jessica.
Jenn the mechanical/rocket propulsion engineer inspired me to create a robot. Abi the creative/artistic dance instructor/massage therapist inspired me to create robotic dancing mannequins. My wife the rocket test engineer inspired me to create dancing snake charmers. Naomi the hair stylist inspired me to colour my hair and let loose on the dance floor. Jessica has inspired me to have chaotic fun while remembering to dance the West Coast Swing style. And now Kelly has inspired me to see that not only can a person be a fiduciary advisor by day but dance “Sexual Healing” with a financial client at night and say it was good fun!
Thanks to the folks at Baron Bluff for hosting the philanthropy summit today; The Ledges for hosting Fred Lanier of JP Morgan who gave an economic seminar tonight on wealth management; Mandy at Club Rush.
I was happy to see the core group of Rocket Westies work out organizational problems tonight — without you guys, I wouldn’t be here right now.
And Jessica, darling, I’ll miss you, too, while you’re gone.
Now, time for some shuteye — I’m already a day behind on my coding but we’re a day ahead on our dancing mannequin design schedule!
The intensity of thinking?
Do I completely understand the role of electrochemical processes taking place between the atomic structures that fill the cavity between my ears and connect to the rest of the central nervous system of my body?
How many of the chemical structures can I readily recall their assigned labels and say that the photon bouncing across the back of my eyelid has anything to do with the impulse to press a tiny block of plastic which produces the letter I’m going to type next, carefully describing each changes of the states of energy between the photon hitting my eyeball and the letter that appears one after another on this screen?
How then can I understand where I’m going to take my robot design next?
First, I expose my eyes and ears to as much stimuli as possible, asking myself what in the environment, in this place and time, do I want to simulate on Mars decades later?
In other words, today I prototype with scale models of what I want to physically manifest using native materials on the Red Planet years/decades from now when who knows what kind of augmented reality we’ll give the first colonists to help them believe their senses are being so stimulated with variety that they won’t get homesick before the first generation of native-born Martians believes that life on Mars is rich and fulfilling enough as it is?
These questions trot across my memories and thoughts as I sit down to sketch out the design that I want our team to complete within three weeks using materials at hand, including the stuff I’ve bought (adding today’s purchase: another PIR sensor (Radio Shack product number 2760347) and two ultrasonic distance sensors (Parallax product number 28015-RT and Radio Shack product number 2760342)). and stuff that the folks at Maker gave our team.
While all of that boils in the cauldron of a cranium, I’ve got the love of dance and the love for friends floating in the mix, making my wife nervous that my thoughts are so clouded with constant processing that I’ve become a dangerous “tunnel vision” driver, the stereotypical absent-minded professor type who doesn’t see the light is red at the traffic intersection.
Every day, every hour is precious and the next three weeks will be challenge because I’ll both be without Abi in my life and missing dance lessons with her, let alone feeling her close by in my thoughts, and I’ll be without her which means I can focus on the robot design.
Aren’t most of us able to transfer some part of our physical attraction from one person to another?
I sure am.
So, last night, knowing that I’ll miss Abi more than I can ever tell her, I chose not to dance with her (or Jenn or Naomi or…) and gave my body love to women on the dance floor I’d never met before, losing myself in two-minute spans of time and hoping that I could be as good a dance partner for them as their eye-love requested, helping me transition my love for Abi from her to unknown women last night and then to my computer work today. I danced with my wife, too, of course; she mentioned I barely paid attention to her most of the evening, seeing that I danced with only a few women (quality instead of quantity, I always say) so it wasn’t that I ignored her, my monogamous partner, and spent all evening with other women; no, I was my usual alone-in-a-crowd meditative self preparing mentally for this day.
While sitting in a chair alone in my thoughts next to the dance floor determining how to take the new dance moves I saw advanced/all star and professional dancers showing off and incorporate them into my dancing, the design for the team’s robot started appearing to me in a foggy vision.
i wish I had a flatbed scanner in my laboratory study to quickly scan the engineering notebook drawing of my vision.
Here is an electronic paint version, instead:
More details tomorrow…
Let’s have fun!
The beginning of oneself as cybernetic organism
First entries in the Make: engineering notebook:
3 November 2013 Robot Hacks Maker Sessions: Cool Projects, Tutorials, Explorations & More, Maker Sessions: November 3-20 Sample materials sent by the Maker Session Team: Two (2) engineering notebooks One (1) 9V/650mA "wallwart" power supply One (1) Make: magazine volume 34 One (1) Make: magazine volume 36 One (1) Make: Arduino Bots and Gadgets book One (1) Make: Ultimate Microcontroller Pack One (1) PWM servo shield Four (4) 9g servos Four (4) 30 cm servo cables One (1) Welcome letter from Sherry Huss IDEAS
-
What separates the physical from the virtual?
-
What cannot be represented with augmented reality?
-
What has already been created via automaton/analog robots?
A reader responds…
According to an anonymous blog reader (thanks!), the automated laundry system is already in the works.
The first step in making the automation easier was replacing the clothing tags with tags that are more computer-friendly, removing the need for us humans to manually sort clothes.
Why hadn’t I thought of that? Washable computer-readable clothing tags…cool!
What will they think of next?
- Clothes that automatically adjust to your changing body shape?
- Clothes that help maintain your posture while seated/standing?
- Clothes that heat/cool you?
- Clothes that monitor your body condition?
- Clothes that act like a good friend, hugging you when you need a good hug, giving you the Heimlich maneuver when you choke on food, reminding you to smile politely at your in-laws, stopping you from chewing your nails?
Fusion — will it power your life one day?
Overcoming natural tendencies to protect family
They say you can smell your competition, doesn’t matter if it’s a covenant or a coven.
If you’re hungry enough, you can smell food through a brick wall.
Lee held out arms, slapping his hands together like a circus seal.
His wife, Karen, had told him that if he made Bai his traveling dance partner, then Karen considered it grounds for a divorce.
Lee looked at himself in the mirror as he practiced his dance turns.
Who was he, really?
He had taken up dancing two years ago because Karen wanted to go somewhere for their 25th wedding anniversary and look like smooth ballroom dancers, putting their dance lessons to use on their Alaskan holiday.
When they went to a regional dance competition in New Orleans a couple of months ago, they noticed that a large number of the dancers were young enough to be their children, if not their grandchildren.
Who was Lee?
He loved the infinite possibilities of living while managing the limited expectations that came with being married to a woman he had shared most of his life with, a woman not prone to taking risks — she had not wanted to see Lee jump out of an airplane, she didn’t even want to look at the Milky Way Galaxy while parked in the middle lane of a small suburban street.
What was preserving the illusion of safety for his wife worth to Lee’s mental health?
It was easy to pretend to be a lone, independent cowboy when surrounded by friends and family.
Where was his reality located?
Lee’s imagination was full of dark oaths sworn in secrecy, training assassins to weed out the deadwood, killing for purpose, pleasure or both, maiming for fun, creating pain and chaos for the sake of business associates; forcing families into starvation just to say we can.
But it wasn’t just his imagination at work.
He created false walls, barriers of plausible deniability that allowed him to give the highly moral/ethical childhood training a safe place to thrive in his thoughts, showing his family that he was preserving their heritage guilt-free.
Aliens creeped and crawled, slipped and slid through his thoughts without boundaries, using Earth as a playground and feed lot.
The sets of states of energy that comprised the visible universe were such temporary illusions that Lee often was bored trying to explain once again to the illusions around him their place in the greater “universe” that was currently invisible to all instrumentation that had been imagined/theorized/conceived, invented and built.
Yet, Lee had found no way to sit idly by when the universe as he knew it kept changing.
One look in the mirror, compared to the photographs of Lee at a younger age, convinced Lee he was doing anything but sitting idly by — the concepts of entropy and chaos were clearly visible.
Lee cocked his head from side-to-side, feeling the popping sounds within his spine.
Who was he?
He was no natural dancer, having little in the way of converting his imagination into physical actions that overcame his stiff joints and aching nerve connections. He could flail around but training his flails into consistent movement exercised his brain in ways that were mentally painful, pushing past the noise and chaos that flooded his thoughts constantly.
Teaching an old horse, breaking it in without breaking its spirit, in other words.
Lee felt a twinge between his shoulder blades.
It was time.
Lee sat down on the floor, his legs straight out in front of him, his back propped up against the dance mirror.
Although Lee believed in the sanctity of science, he had developed a second sense, thanks to the elderly lady who visited him as an infant, almost a toddler, when he could hardly speak his own internally-forming language, let alone that of his parents or the wide old woman.
Lee was married to his wife but he was connected to the curved spacetime of the universe that existed outside of explanation.
A voice spoke to him, a low, gravely voice, ancient but ageless.
“We are what you call the ‘mound builders.'”
Lee looked straight ahead and nodded as if the speaker was sitting in front of him.
“Our spirits are your spirits. We are one people.”
Lee nodded again.
“Your ways were not our ways but all ways belong to every one of us.”
Lee blinked.
“We know you. You and I have not spoken but I know you. Your spirit is strong.”
Lee smiled. “Yes. I know.”
“You are here because the spirits called you here.”
Lee felt his heart skip a beat.
“The spirits have plans for you.”
The pain in Lee’s back subsided.
“Your people say, ‘Resistance is futile.’ We say you cannot escape your destiny.”
Lee swallowed, his throat dry.
“There are others who will travel with you to St. Louis. Their spirits, too, are strong.”
Lee nodded again.
“In your travels, you will meet a man. You will not speak but you will talk to each other like brothers.”
Lee leaned his head back against the cool mirror, looking up at the air duct in the ceiling tiles.
“The female spirit in you will meet a sister. We remind you, she is not like your earthly sister. She is a sister spirit.”
Lee arched his eyebrows, unsure of the voice’s meaning.
“Our earthly brothers long fought the white man’s way, thinking the European was ruinous, a destroyer, taking from the land more than he gave back. In spirit we see that the universe is bigger than this planet. Our message to our brothers and sisters, our message to you, has changed.”
Lee closed his eyes, waiting to hear the message.
He opened his eyes again, unaware of the time change, not knowing that an hour had passed as he entered a trance state, communicating directly with the mound builder’s spirit without words, sixty minutes to the second of a deep conversation about what Lee was going to do in preparation for his trip to St. Louis, turning his internal eye toward a bigger goal, clearing his thoughts of present-day storylines and focusing on an eternal message he would receive and pass on to other strong spirits during their ritual dances over three and a half days in the Gateway to the West.
The pain in Lee’s body was gone, his muscles no longer tense, his worries behind him.
His old thought patterns had shifted. The story was not about dancing, wives, marriage status or planned assassinations.
A spirit brother of Geronimo had spoken to Lee in a language he did not know but fully understood.
In his thoughts, too, were Helen Keller, Charles Lindbergh, Henri Poincaré, and Scott Joplin.
The future is the past retold.
Lee looked forward to hearing from his brother spirit again.
treetrunkdings 