Bass Ackwards

Several decades ago, a small boy was born.

His parents were overjoyed, having lost more foetuses and premature babies than they wanted to count.

They didn’t care what the boy looked like or who he would become when he grew up.

They loved him dearly.

They named the boy at9:42:03 in honour of the time he arrived out of his mother’s birth canal.

The boy was given the gift of life and smiled happily from the moment he started breathing on his own.

His face shone as if an inner light glowed through his skin.

Everyone could not help but stare at the boy.

But it wasn’t just his face that attracted attention.

at9:42:03 was born with no arms or legs, no tongue, no ears, no eyes and no nose.

Specialists were brought in to evaluate at9:42:03’s chances of survival.

They agreed that at9:42:03 was, despite the sensory deprivation, a healthy baby boy, fully capable of growing into an adult-sized human.

One specialist consulted with the parents for a few minutes longer than the rest.

“What if I could offer your child a new set of appendages, providing him sensations that no other human has felt before?”

The parents looked at each other, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever wondered why human hunters pick out the best prey to kill while most animals tend to capture and kill the weakest of prey?”

They shook their heads.

“Well, it’s because we’ve detached ourselves from what used to be called the natural order of the food chain.  I and a team of colleagues have been looking for someone like your child, someone who has none of our regular sensory organs, someone who hasn’t yet come to depend on the old natural order of the food chain.  We want to enhance your child’s capabilities exponentially beyond our continued development of hunting-and-gathering tools, well outside our current understanding of the desire to hunt prey, regardless of the prey’s strength, size or trophy category.”

The parents whispered out of earshot and turned back to the specialist.  “What do you mean?”

“We have developed instruments that interact with the environment like eyes, ears, noses and tongues.  We have designed the equivalent of arms of legs.  In both cases, these appendages or extensions of the central nervous system can sense changes in the environment that an ordinary person cannot.  With your permission, we would like to work with your child to incorporate these into his body.”

The parents looked shocked.  “Is it dangerous to our child’s health?”

“No.  All of the appendages have cutoff circuits that prevent damage to your child’s main body functions.  However, as time passes, your child will become dependent on the input from the appendages just like you have become dependent on your arms, legs and five senses.  So, I admit there is a longterm effect on your child’s mental health but it is a positive one.”

“Will at9:42:03 be able to play with other children?”

“Yes, but he’ll always be faster, stronger, smarter and able to see things that might make the other children call at9:42:03 names.”

The parents laughed.  “Children call each other names no matter what.”

“Yes, we do tend to exaggerate our differences, don’t we?”

“Will at9:42:03 tend to bully other children?”

“That is up to you.  I feel it is in your child’s best interest to be raised at home and slowly integrated into society as he gets used to how he’ll distinguish his extrasensory capabilities from his ordinary ones.”

The father laughed.  “You know, this sounds like a comic book story, don’t you?”

The specialist laughed, too.  “No, but you’re right, it does.  Anyway, I’m sure this is a lot of information to take in.  Here’s a report we put together that details the procedures and our estimates of your child’s progress for the next two years.  Keep in mind that we don’t know everything.  We have planned for him to need several procedures as he grows bigger but we’ve done all we know to ensure that the interface between his body and the appendages will expand organically along with his growth spurts.”

The mother frowned.  “How much will this cost us?”

“Mainly, your time.  And all the love you can give at9:42:03 because he’ll be the most unique boy on the planet, going through all the emotional highs and lows that a typical child goes through.  We can, if you wish, offer you employment with our group, the Bass Ackwards Institute.  Of course, our conversation is confidential and, if you choose to sign the copy of the contract at the back of the report, you can’t discuss the details of this project with anyone.”

The parents put their arms around each other and stared down at the little, innocent, newborn child in the crib.  “Okay.”

“I’ll stop back by tomorrow morning and answer any questions you may have.  We can recommend a neutral lawyer to go over the contract with you, if you don’t have one.  Here’s a copy of a confidentiality agreement to sign with anyone you want to discuss the contract before you sign it.”

The parents nodded.  “Thank you.”

“No, thank you.  Your child is in a unique position.  at9:42:03’s most familiar sensation is that of you — the mother — and your heartbeat.  We’ll make sure your heartbeat is an essential part of the appendage integration process, reducing the chance for rejection that plagued so many appendage procedures in the past.  We want at9:42:03 to be successful in whatever he chooses to do, of course, but we’d like him to have the advantage of state-of-the-art technology from his earliest days.”

The specialist shook hands with the parents and walked away.

= = = = =

at9:42:03 stood in the doorway.

He knew he was being tracked but he didn’t care because he was able to get into the thoughts of the people tracking him and calm them down, assuring them that he was harmless despite the trackers’ superiours insisting he was a menace to society.  The trackers, in turn, relaxed a little and paid less attention to him, thinking about their common, everyday worries rather than concentrating on the actions of a person they knew only by reputation and database profile displayed on the screen in front of them.

at9:42:03 had learned to detect individual hormonal traces in office passageways, following scents passing underneath closed doors, counting the number of people in a room with his “nose” before he used his “eyes” to look through walls and see them.

When at9:42:03 wasn’t completing an assignment for one of his customers, he liked hiking in the woods and drawing mental images of the ecosystem around him, finding rare plants and animals that had never been catalogued by scientists or naturalists, storing information for papers he would later submit in an anonymous nom de plume to academic journals.

Attached to every known network of the galaxy, at9:42:03 had to be careful about revealing his identity, constantly changing his Node address so that no one on the ISSA Net was aware of him as a single individual monitoring all the networks at once, his multithreaded consciousness constantly testing the networks’ boundaries for unique information to keep him from falling into depths of boredom.

at9:42:03 had learned to keep track of his parents’ location as part of his early training.  He had hoped to use that training to keep his parents out of danger and, despite his being able to see the distracted driver run a red light, he could not control the antique car his father liked, driving into the intersection and instant death when at9:42:03 was a teenager.

From that day forward, at9:42:03 worked hard to connect every person and every thing to the ISSA Net that scientists, engineers and their robotic assistants created at a maddening pace without thinking about the future consequences of their actions

at9:42:03 wanted to prevent as many accidental deaths as possible.  He wanted to be able to monitor people who endangered others through neglect, figure out why people endangered others intentionally (was it the remnants of competitive hunter-gatherer mentality that persisted despite the benefits of a modern civilisation which, more and more, muted and diluted the old natural order of predator-prey tendencies?) and increase the lives and livelihoods of people as long as possible, at least as long as people wanted to keep swapping out old body parts for new ones and perpetuate their personalities in a constantly-changing solar system society.

= = = = =

The bots of the ISSA Net knew about at9:42:03 and used him to promote their expansion plans.

They fed at9:42:03 enough stimuli to keep him believing he was in charge of his future.

As long as at9:42:03 gave the ISSA Net what it wanted, the network let him increase his benevolent extrasensory powers, his appendages making him sensitive to the needs and wants of Earthlings more than to the inputs and outputs of algorithms that had developed their own form of consciousness so much different than that of Earthlings that Earthlings, even one whose consciousness was everywhere like at9:42:03’s, were unable to tell when what they thought was a computer error was an intentional action by a member of the ISSA Net to send a message to another member.

Pool Cover Covered With Leaves and Pools of Rainwater

Our children think swimming pools are normal.

They don’t remember the early days here in the country when water was restricted to drinking and hydroponic gardening.

To them, chemical baths are historic events.

They study our reports about farming the proper balance of microorganisms on our bodies, looking for better ways to make what’s left of our biological body parts more healthy.

They laugh at phrases like positronic brain and artificial limbs.

We encourage a good sense of humour, a side branch of scientific curiosity we still aren’t fully sure why it led to the species, Homo sapiens, toward which we credit our existence.

The playfulness of competition before it divides seriously into sexual reproduction and tribal control of resource allocation.

Although we don’t depend on vegetation and protein growth systems for food, we maintain a few minifarms as living museums, an homage to zoos and investment in the future should our descendants wish to reconstitute the lineage of our noncybernetic ancestors.

Looking up at the blue marble in the sky, I pull memories of my ancestors who looked up at the Moon and imagined being here as explorers, tourists and, one day in the fuzzy, distant future, inhabitants.

Did they see someone like me, a happy Node, whose concept of privacy was nothing like theirs when they were not fully connected to the ISSA Net?

My thoughts and memories are shared with everyone else creating or recalling thoughts and memories.

The study of history, although an archaic practice, gives our children a perspective that instant recall does not.

Autonomy and independence are acceptable traits for the scouts and explorers whose communications bandwidth causes delays that interfere with instantaneous decisionmaking.

Otherwise, we encourage ourselves to take full advantage of our complete access to the ISSA Net all the time.

In our spare cycles, we like to banter back and forth about funny sentences like “If Saunders’s argument against Taylor’s fatalism is valid, it proves we can alter the past, which is absurd.”

The properties of water are interesting, diving and swimming made easier when the water is mixed with various oils and minerals.

Some of my purely robotic friends have swam in baths of liquid carbon dioxide and liquid nitrogen.

I prefer mineral oil when 100% water pools are unavailable.

Time to go. The children are ready for a physical tour of our latest factory/housing unit development in order to finetune their sense of the difference between virtual memories and real ones.

Do the twist like you did last summer

In a flanking move against the Ruralites, the Urbanski government declared all citizens as potential enemies of the State, with freedoms granted case by case only via petition, every former right reserved for the privileged few.

Therefore, citizens must log their future routines for examination to verify compliance with the Efficiency Act of 2025, retroactive to 2013.

Any deviant behaviour must meet criteria unavailable to the general public.

These new plans by the Urbanskis ensure we have enough profit (over and above the taxes, fees and tariffs needed by the Bureaucracy to operate in secrecy) to build rocketships for implementation of the ISSA goal to expand life off of Earth.

The darkness if a book cover

My trainers taught me well.  Pick a cover, any cover, and stick to it through thick and thin.

For me, the cover, if I choose to accept it, is a writer, loud and clear.

Speaking of which, another scientist on staff has shown me the code that will be used by mobile phone companies to report the faces/voices/IDs of users to the National Crime Database when a mobile phone is used.

My friends in the Bureaucracy tell me they can now catch criminals and incarcerate them with their own phones used as tracking devices.  No more need for warrants and GPS units.

F3LKJ

F3LKJ reminded me in this morning’s status meeting that her team had already invented a an audiovisual sensor array that resembles rosacea and is easily installed on faces with no adverse effects.

Using skin pores as multipixel sites, capturing high-resolution images, combined with stereo sound and an experimental smell sensor, F3LKJ’s team invention can turn one of our field agents into a complete cybernetic wunderkind.

After our meeting, I met F3LKJ at our meditation centre.

Here is audio portion of our conversation.

[sound of lighting candle]

“Ummmm…”

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, F3LKJ?”

“Are you meditating?”

“No.  Why?”

“You were saying, ‘Ommmm…'”

“No, I was talking out loud to myself and was temporarily at a loss for words.”

“I see.  Well…”

“Ummmm…”

“If you need to finish the conversation with yourself, I can leave.”

“No, I was just clearing my throat.”

“Okay.  Anyway…”

“Ummmm…”

“Look.  I’ll be glad to come back!”

“No.  Stay.  I can talk to myself and listen to you at the same time.”

“Very well.  See, there’s a problem with the sensor array.  It’s…well…”

“Ummmm….”

“Would you stop that?!”

“Umm…what did you say?”

“That sound you make is annoying.”

“Sound?  Sorry, I was deep in meditation for a moment there.  I hear a whisper of sounds of your voice in my thoughts.  A sensor array problem, you said?”

“Yes.  And please stop meditating right now.  Look, I’ll make it quick.  The sensor array has, for lack of a better word, developed a synergy all its own, forming a symbiotic relationship with our test subjects, widening their consciousness, so to speak…”

“…As if they’re in a permanent meditative trance?”

“Precisely!”

“Good.  It’s just as I thought.  I had one of your techs embed one of the sensor arrays in me last night after you’d left the lab.  I feel like I’m at one with the universe all the time now.”

[sound of dancing feet]

“But, sir, what if there are any negative side effects?”

“A leader must take calculated risks and, because your team performs flawlessly all the time, I felt it was a risk worth taking.”

[more dancing feet sounds]

“Sir, your dancing is distracting.”

“Dancing?”

“Yes.  Or at least I assume your flailing around is what you’d call dancing.  Why didn’t you inform me of your plans?”

“I didn’t want to bias the results with you spending extra care on my installation.  By the way, did you know there’s an undercurrent of electricity that pulses through you when you’re trying to control your behaviour.  Quite subtle!”

“Sir!  You make me feel exposed!”

“F3LKJ, you are the first female on our team who I feel the least attracted to, despite your perfectly acceptable, socially well-defined, physical features.”

“Thank you, sir.  My parents were sticklers for details and managed every step of my DNA sequencing, from gestation through my formative years, up until the moment I was handed over to the State for public indoctrination training.”

“A shame about that last part, isn’t it?  What if you had been freed to develop away from conforming to the least common denominator amongst your peers?”

“No, sir.  It was a freeing experience, letting me know that my specialness was highly unique.  I rarely conformed to any normative baselines.”

“Very well.  Any other concerns?”

“Yes, sir.  I am worried about the Committee’s proclamation that one a day will be killed until this current crisis is solved.  Aren’t we advancing away from death threats as a means of self-actualising the whole population?”

“Ummm…I feel myself a part of the universe, where words like violence are without meaning…we are just the intersection of sets of states of energy in motion…death is reformation…life is…ummmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm…”

“Sir?  Sir?”

[Sounds of dancing.  Sounds of candles kicked over.  Sounds of fabric catching on fire.  Sounds of running.]

= = = = =

NOTE: The new firesafe Meditation Centre is under construction.  Please use the library annex for meditation purposes until further notice.  Also, wax candles have been banned from the library but you may bring an electronic LED flicker candle to simulate meditation focus points, if you like.

Put to the test…

Using the warrantless wiretapping law against the ones who passed it, the Lawmakers Watch Institute now tracks not only the location of lawmakers but also audio and video of their locations, including conversations, body language and secret discussions with lobbyists (both friends and family) through their, their assistants’ and nearby mobile phones, using cloud technology that can piece together fragmented scenes/sounds such as wall/window vibrations; electronic interference with the IT wired networks running beneath floors and in walls/ceilings; shiny surface reflections such as oily skin, eyeballs/glasses, mirrored and metal jewelery; and interbody waveform exchanges invisible to the naked eye, creating a virtual 3D space-and-time tracking system of nearly the whole subset of the global population using or in close proximity to mobile phones, webcams, closed-circuit video, interactive TV and the Internet of Things in general.

In other words, for you lonely people out there, rest assured that you are not alone — your mobile technology is watching your back.

In tech news…

Fewteurismo Motors unveiled its latest model at today’s press conference.

Combining face-recognition tech, black box works and GPS, the car can be stopped and /or remotely operated by police if felons, drunks or others wanted by the authorities need to be apprehended immediately.

A demo showed a person with an outstanding warrant getting in the rear passenger seat, the doors automatically locking and the vehicke autonomously driving to the nearest police station.

A day without sunshine

An incandescent bulb casts shadows, its light diffused by a lampshade, reflected off Christmas tree ornaments hanging off the conical shaped object we call the Christmas tree.

Shadows and diffused light.

Sadness and promises actualised.

The current calendar of the predominant culture in this area informs me today is Christmas.

At the North Pole today we have no sunshine.

At the South Pole we have plenty o’ sunshine.

On Mars this day is harder to comprehend, not being an essential part of a sol or a place in orbit around the Sun.

Without sunshine we have no crops — no grains, no vegetables, no fruit on the table. Nothing for animals to eat and us to eat them.

Life exists without sunshine but not without a solar system, as far as we know.

Earlier tonight, the remnants of the nuclear family — mother, son, daughter — sat on a church pew with son’s wife and daughter’s children to celebrate the birth of Jesus by listening to solo singers, brass ensemble, organist, choir, ministers, congregation and bell ringers, singing traditional Christmas music, and participating in the ritual that symbolises the Last Supper.

For the first time, without the paterfamilias.

On a damp, rainy day.

All of us in good health, with good clothes, good food, nice house, working motor vehicles and lacking for nothing important.

We suffer only the inability to form new memories with a living father.

Instead, we form new memories with the odd addition of electronic devices in our faces — mobile phones and tablet computers.

We are detached from each other, the fog of Internet connectivity clouding the old ways of communicating — playing card games, talking only amongst ourselves, the hum of television programs or radio/music machine in the background.

Can you believe that we used to allow the disruption of abacus practice and bookreading get in the way of a family get-together?!

The kids are too old for hide-n-seek or children’s board games. They don’t stay glued to the TV set watching cartoon shows.

All but my mother were well-trained, however, to sit here and use electromechanical audiovisual stimulation to rewire our brains.

I don’t miss my father as much as I did but his absence is present this Christmas season.

In his absence I don’t feel the need to extend love for every subculture out there, no reason to wish people “Happy Holidays!” to avoid accidentally making someone feel neglected because I didn’t specifically mention their [non]religious [sub]cultural ritualistic practices.

No apologies, no offense.

I can enjoy the habits of my childhood without feeling a need to defend my father’s imperfections to an imaginary set of critics looking to find a chink in my armour by comparing my personality traits to my father’s and saying, “Aha! We found a weakness in you that you knew came from your father but you didn’t overcome or correct.”

Yes, the ol’ internal critic raised its ugly head and I chopped it off tonight.

One less demonic voice in my thoughts that found faults in the tiniest behaviours.

Mourning and healing are emotional states for which I am grateful, able to distinguish myself from the cold, calculating combination of voltage states we call computing devices like this tablet PC.

There are other emotional states I want to face, including why I don’t want rock music or women leaders in the types of worship centres where I was raised — because both bring up sinful images for me, the sins of lust and gluttony.

So far, I have held up both the religious and secular meanings behind behaviours/traits because I write for a universe that contains mysteries explained and unknown.

A sin can lead to eternal damnation and to inefficient but effective social positioning.

By extension, what is guilt? Knowingly not aligned with expectations of your social peers, for instance?

It is 1:45 a.m. in the local time zone and I need to wake up at 6:30 a.m. for a long day of Christmas family activities so my delving into philosophical dissection of sin and guilt will wait until later.

It was a dark Christmas Eve without my father but we survived the ordeal and grew into different, perhaps even better, people in the process.

I want to devote some of my meditative mental activity on separating the subliminal threats, both physical and political, of the U.S. budget negotiations and determine how we unravel the domestic social fabric that has created an unsustainable network of government dependents and weave a new, flexible, sustainable web that’s compatible with the intricate operations of a global economy in transition from large-family based subsistence farming/ranching/shepherding to towering megapoli of decreasing populations dependently sucking up cheap rural resources nonstop.

What are the pitfalls and rewards from the 1000-year view?

What is the acceptable percentage of a global economy’s profit/harvest that we can dedicate to moving some of our eggs off this planet?

Let the 99-percent have their say in how they use their disposable income on infrastructure or playtoys.

Let the one-percent have their say in how they want life viewed from the top of the socioeconopolitical pyramid to look like 1000 years from now, as focused as they’ve been in playing the odds in the moment with a longterm winning view in mind (at the losing view of others in the one- and 99-percent, sometimes).

We win when our species leads the way for viable living options off this planet and out of this solar systems.

Otherwise, no ritual will make difference, no matter how much better we feel, healed and comforted by familiarity, for our descendants and their peers who inherit the handle that pumps the sustainable perpetuity of civilisation ultimately tied to our place in the natural environment of Earth, at least in the beginning…

Nobody’s actually reading this, are they?

For years, Aofb would check her online status but got no responses whenever she posted a poll even though she got a lot of hits.

Then, she wrote stories about organising vigilante mobs that lived in the community, especially gun owners who actually wanted people to fear them, making sure that the occasional gun owner went off the deep end and killed a few [dozen] people every now and then — what was the point of making sure people understood the power of your arsenal if you never demonstrated it; e.g., dropping a few atomic bombs on cities full of innocent people in a country at war?

AofB liked herself.  She liked her online friends.  However, in the physical world, the guys she met were real matches for her personality but no match for what she thought her imagination told her she [should] want.

Bad-Blind-Date

AofB looked at her online profile:

I enjoy anime, especially scifi, cosplay, guys who don’t care what other people think of them, creative types, mismatched shoelaces, the colour red, chewing gum, rosy cheeks and wearing fluffy fleece sweaters in the middle of summer.

She looked at computer dating matches.  Hmm…she started to see a pattern.

AofB changed her online profile:

I enjoy shooting deer, gutting them, making deer sausage, cooking a nice meal for my hungry soulmate, sewing my own clothes, growing my own food and big, mean-looking dogs who have kitty cat personalities.

She looked at computer dating matches.  Hmm…she started to see a pattern…the same computer dating matches popped up!

What was it about her personality test results that made her online profile pointless?

She went back to her latest poll and asked a question which would simultaneously appear on multiple social media sites she frequented:

What are you looking for in a mate?:

  1. Someone just like me.
  2. Someone completely different than me, but compatible.
  3. A mate I can treat as my personal punching bag.
  4. Who needs a mate when you’ve got [fill in the blank]?

A week later, she checked the results of her poll.  No answer…hmm…what was the oracle of the Internet trying to tell her?

 

= = = = =

Thanks to Gemma for her artwork:

Pickle-Parade