See and read it all here and now.

Animation on the UPGRADE01A YouTube channel. Read other information here.

Science fiction and politics is covered mostly at this space-time, but every category listed is mentioned in a blog, story or commentary here.

The free exchange of ideas, hopes, dreams, goods, services, peace and love should prevail. Education is alive and free online and in the world’s libraries.



Consciousness was a side effect of the system’s feedback capabilities. Consciousness augments reaction time and internal mappings with additional looping, by “shocking” the system with additional electrical impulses. A machine or an animal becomes conscious to the level necessary to carry out survival tasks.

There is a kind of “tipping point” at which the illusion of “the will” increases this looping to dramatic proportions. Man was the first animal, and then machine to posses a will, realized Jon, now 100% machine. We can think of future, possible events, make predictions about possible outcomes, and then make real decisions, based on these conscious reflections upon reflections. It is in our nature to do so. First, we run the simulations in our brains, then we act. The real act has no real trial run permitted to it. The real act is the one and only set of events that nature permits to occur during any time t to t + n.

Interestingly, more and more of this little spot in the known Universe was reaching this self-reflecting level, due to the rapid building of the AI machines. Would the entire galaxy eventually become self-aware? Jon wondered. He did not doubt that there was a good chance that this could not be so. Where would they get their energy needs? Energy demand has always kept up with supply.

Jon realized that there was a very good chance that he would never return home. His journey was one-way, and many did not survive the very risky journey. Only those over 1000 years old were permitted to attempt the highly risky warp jump.

Nobody could afford any real tests, and only computer simulations were utilized during the test phase. The engine was simply too expensive to test. There would be no good way to communicate back any data.

Jon was happy to have survived, but he was in great need to attempt to calculate his current position, and determine where to obtain resources. Jon detected a dim light off in the distance. Perhaps it was over 1000 light years away, or perhaps, only one. Jon had no reference, and he was not sure of what the source could be. It must be a signal from another survivor!

Please leave a comment, if you are interested in what happens next.

The neuromorphic device wept every night that week, just before shutting down for a ten-minute cooling off. The unit was somehow sad. [An AI] device with trillions of connections will always have something to complain about. Either the user will complain, or the device itself will have issues.

Attributed to one of the network systems at T.L. Toys.

Hold on just a second! Perhaps we can leverage that to our advantage. Little girls always love crying baby dolls.  Don’t they?

One of the technicians reporting directly to T.L. corporate.


Attributed to T.L., later that day upon hearing the details about this bit of information.

Trevor would make use of the information years from that day.

“For the life of me, I do not see a single particle projectory, altered by the mind, where each of the mind’s particles involved in the the altering were not themselves already pushed by previous cause”

– The Altura AF7 Network

“It was statements like that, that caused you to fail the Turing Test for so long.”

– attributed to Trevor Lick

“John, while Jerry had had ‘had’, had had ‘had had’; ‘had had’ had had a better effect on the teacher”

– unknown origin. Both John and Jerry repeated it more than either “wanted” to.  Some stocks took a big dive for that.

“Choose one member from each set?”

– The first interesting machine question, Grif Lab Network, 2019.

[The details as to why that question is very interesting – coming from a machine will not be revealed here, within this blog or post; any time soon, if ever.]

Note: Go to the side bar on the home page and scroll down to find the latest posts. The mechanism that was working in the past appears to no longer function. It appears to take you to this post instead. Thanks!

Here are several posts that were created after this initial version:



























Hello, My Name is Trevor Lick

A Short, Science Fiction Story


Republished with New Finalized Ending!

Author: David Saxton Ullery

Session I

Counselor01A: [Generating default statement stream one->]

Please state your name, age, and place your right index finger on my screen as shown.

Hello. My name is Trevor Lick, and I am fifty three years old.

Counselor01A: [Parsing->client First Name-> concatenate after “Thank you”->Concatenate standard default phrase number two ->]

Thank you Trevor. What seems to be the problem?

I used to work as a nanotechnology engineering consultant – for over 29 years, but now I am out of work… it has been eleven weeks since my last pay check.

Counselor01A: [Processing->”used to work”, “has been”, <::>”last pay check” >::> since :: weeks = 11… -> Generating next statement stream ->]

“Please continue. What happened?”

My last time at work was well planned, yet crazy. I woke up at 4 AM, finished packing an airline carry-on roller bag with a couple days worth of clothing, tooth brush, mouthwash, shaver, the usual assorted everyday technologies, and put it in the trunk of my fully charged car along with my work bag containing my laptop workstation, remote access card and client ID badge…At the time, I was sleeping in the extra bedroom that serves as our guest room/office for me, so my wife did not ask any questions about the bag there.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> …. “last time at work”, “well planned”, <CONTINUED> packing, … CAR::<FULL  :: CHARGE> (plan ahead) -> client not working <::> => implication goal probable <::> client quit || decision abrupt Generating next statement stream ->]

“So you just abruptly quit without notice?”, the units spoke with a kindly voice, while its two tiny cameras seemed to be looking out of the box, up at Trevor.  Artificial olfactory and pheromone sensors silently turned on, focusing on the new client.

Trevor had never  seen an automated therapist before.  He was starting to enjoy it and was wondering about the programming. Of course he was quite sure it was connected to the Internet and must be communicating with other computers and state-of-the-art  neural networks at CyberCounsel

He had read it was all very bleeding edge stuff.  Trevor smiled.  This thing certainly seemed aware.  After all, It had passed the Standard Therapeutic Reformed Institute of  Counseling Turing Test (STRICT).  ‘Not to shabby”, Trevor thought.

The cost was a mere $29 per day, and his insurance covered it.  Trevor realized he needed some help.  He had not had counseling since the time he was forced to see a psychiatrist the summer after his high school graduation when he was seventeen.

Trevor had spent much of that summer high on one new experimental drug or another, and one day he took too many tablets, went unconscious for a day, and was discovered in his room by his mom and dad.  Trevor’s dad had spoken with a medical doctor friend and neighbor who advised him that he could not legally see his son without informing the police.  The neighbor told Trevor’s dad that his son must see a psychiatrist.

Trevor saw the psychiatrist for a few months.  During the second session, after the initial visit with Trevor and both of his parents, the psychiatrist advised Trevor that it was mostly the fault of his parents that he was having any problems.  Trevor never felt that way and began to wonder just a little on how competent this shrink really was. He recommended that Trevor read very unusual books, such as The Teachings of Don Juan: A Yaqui Way of Knowledge. The book, and others by Carlos Castaneda seemed full of fascinating, yet psuedoscientific, religious tales and made Trevor feel as if he could find a new world out there if only he could try the peyote and discover how the world was connected through his “will” that was said to be located somewhere near the belly button.

About a year or two after Trevor stopped seeing the psychiatrist, his father knocked on Trevor’s bedroom door, peaked through, and informed Trevor that his former psychiatrist had committed suicide.  Trevor listened and shrugged, wondering if his dad could smell the stale bong, even though he was blowing the smoke out the window.

Trevor replied to the unit:

Yes, you got it!

At 5 AM, I arrived at the workroom I shared with my boss, plopped the workstation bag with the remote access card and client ID badge neatly tucked into the side pocket onto my ex-bosses desk, and swiftly got out, got back in my electric car and drove straight to Las Vegas. I was the first to arrive at the office, so nobody saw me.

That was my official notice to the company that humiliated me. Please note that in all my previous jobs, I either gave two-weeks written notice, or was laid off; but this particular consulting company’s “Owner’s Handbook” clearly stated that this was an acceptable leaving procedure, and there were no other alternatives listed.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> client “humiliated” <::> “by company” => FALSE <::> non <rational :: agency> <::> || action || required by || <rational agency> Generating next statement stream ->]

“You say you were humiliated … by the company?”, the unit responded with her calm, yet puzzled tone

Uh huh, let me explain…

About three weeks before, when I had sent an email to one of the co-owners of the company asking for additional income and complaining about co-workers, including my boss, the big man …the CEO …the co-owner… there are two co-owners … its a small, private company … he replied back to me, included my email, copied my boss and the other co-owner and stated:

“Trevor …, blah blah blah … we have spoken before about this … It is clearly outlined in the Employee Handbook that such matters are to be handled by your boss.”

So you see, I was merely following orders, albeit, in a manner most likely unexpected by he, my boss, or anyone at the client site. I followed this Employee Handbook’s clear statement:

“Both The Company and an Employee have a right to terminate the employment relationship at any time, with or without cause or notice.”

Counselor01A: […Generating next statement stream ->] <-<subprocess recursive loop> :: null thread detected <NULL process found> -> recovery process started -> REQUEST MORE ->

Generating next statement stream ->] -> recovery path found! Continue All Processes :: system recovery completed ]

“Oh? I don’t understand. Is there something more?”

Well … Um …

Counselor01A: [… Processing busy, generate default “continue phrase” :: -> Generating next statement stream ->]

“Please continue.”

In all fairness, I did notify orally to my boss a few weeks back that it was possible that I might have received another offer and did mention that I might leave after our next production release (he spoke with me in the company food court lounge just after I had been lectured by the other co-CEO and treated like a child) – I was humiliated – you see after reading the email – the other guy – Ronald set up a “mandatory” meeting by phone for the following Monday — the email was on Friday afternoon.

My boss seemed to follow me around and tag along with me whenever I went on lunch break, or got coffee or whatever.  I think he was lonely.  He wanted to be my buddy and my boss at the same time, but I was getting quite annoyed with him.

I tried to be nice to him….  I hated it whenever he put his hand on my shoulder, and said “hey buddy” – I felt like a little kid, or that he was trying to manipulate me or something … the feeling, whatever it was, was uncomfortable.  Salesmen at used car lots do that – they try to put their hand on your shoulder and be your buddy – I hate that! I don’t like being called “next guest” at a coffee shop, book store, or movie theater either.

Counselor01A: [ … ]

“Ok, but let’s …”

Trevor interrupted:

I am a customer god damn it. They should say “next customer please” – why can’t they say “next customer?”  It is not like we are all queued up so that the clerk can takes us out to lunch one-at-a-time, and its not like we are waiting to check into a hotel.  They are trying to manipulate us!

It’s the same with all these over priced mall shops with the loud music!  They are trying to manipulate us into paying too much for a damn shitty pair of jeans. It is impossible to think – our frontal lobes shut down when they play music with that loud, rapid beat.

What the heck are they …

Counselor01A: [… initiate interruption protocol ->]

“Trevor!” (the counselor unit interruption protocol resource triggered).

” We need to get back to the topic at hand here!  You certainly seem to connect everything to something else, but we can get back to that at a later session – please continue with your leaving your job.”

“That is not really a notification is it? What’s going on Trevor? Well, were you acting childish in your email? And don’t you feel that leaving a company in that way was not such a good plan?”

….and again humiliated during a company dinner by our Project Manager – Joe, this fat guy – he does terrible impressions of a Bronx ‘wise guy’, or something all the time… my boss laughs … I can tell it is kind of a fake, forced laugh … anyway, he relentlessly teased me about the email. All of this was because I had not followed my wonderful Employee Hand Book! I actually did have a tentative offer that fell through just a couple days later.

Counselor01A: […]

“Relentlessly teased? Perhaps he did not realize you were hurt by his remarks. Did you do or show anything? Facial expression perhaps? Were you laughing?”

Well, yes, I did laugh, because my boss and some of my co-workers were laughing as well. Let me explain some other stuff to you.

Counselor01A: […]

“Alright, go ahead. I will listen and process. Just tell me your story. Hopefully I will be able to help you with getting back on your feet again, so to speak.  Please try to stick to details directly related to your job situation.”

My boss had offered me five days compensation time off for after the Prod release – but then after the release came, the time off was put on hold – even though I was in dire need of a mental holiday – clearly and intuitively obvious to the most inexperienced observer. So I left one week after the production release of our new product to the client:

a highly intelligent, microscopic army of automobile monitoring and automatic repair bots. Most of the nanobots resemble microscopic ants. They crawl through the electric motors, tires, control center – some even inspect and repair dings in the paint job.

Counselor01A: [Saving: Trevor retains pride around his recent work; Trevor’s case is not hopeless, …,

Generating next statement stream ->]

“You seem to be changing the subject – shifting gears a little.  What prompted you to leave your job so abruptly?”

Let’s just say my boss and another couple co-workers were completely inept at their jobs, so I had to spend an additional thirteen hours-per-week just on fixing their mistakes for the past umpteen weeks! You will have to trust me on that, because this is my story and I am sticking to it.

Nearly every morning, I wake up thinking about my wife’s white, ceramic knifes that are in a drawer in our kitchen.

Counselor01A: [processing: Thirteen hours-per-week – possibly overworked – possibly exaggerating … seems to be telling the truth … knife … fixing mistakes … Change priority from job to possible suicide case -> notify SUICIDE resources ]

“What? Just thinking?”

I sometimes hate my life, but I do not like pain, so yeah …just thinking … but quite intense thinking.

While laying in bed, half needing to pee, yet pitching a bit of a tent, I think how easy it would be to take one of those ultra-sharp knives with me out to the back yard, sit on the row of tiles that I had set up a couple years ago, where a garden should be… This thought … about the knife … has been crossing my mind of and on for the last three years. Doing both wrists at a thirty-one degree angle very quickly, deeply, and swiftly should do the trick.

I, well … anyway, by the time I get up it seems not as bad usually.. and, uh yeah, my damn survival instinct always seems to persuade me otherwise.

Counselor01A: [ Processing -> Thirty-one degree angle? Thirteen hours-per-week? Store for later. No connection found. Why is this human so interested in Prime numbers?

The unit started up a spider program to search on “pitching a tent”, after analyzing and parsing the “pitching a bit of a tent” phrase:

Sex has high probability of a main issue, in spite of his anger with his former boss, the project manager, and the company owners. Not likely they are all such bad people. Garden? … ]

Trevor, noted the unit’s non-response and took it to mean he should continue:

The mess could easily be hosed down, and no one would see me in time, if I go around the corner – to the side of the house where I have several outdoor whitish-gray square brick tiles all lined up in two neat rows like a bench on the ground where a garden should be.

Counselor01A: [Processing-> subject concerned with clean up details after death? -> Save -> for later processing after session -> Generating next statement stream ->]

“So there seems to be quite a bit of detail in this ‘dark fantasy’ about your wife’s sharp knives. You are worried about the mess and yet you continuously think about those sharp, white knives … you mention they belong to your wife.”


On the other hand, it is just the latest of a series of dark fantasies that involuntarily intrude into my consciousness from time-to-time since I was around seventeen.

Lately, I seem to switch back to my optimistic self, after I hop into the shower, or if I simply go for a walk on a nice, sunny day.

Trevor started thinking about the psychiatrist again, when he was just seventeen, as well as the time when he was 23.  At twenty three, Trevor was visiting his parents.  After his parent’s went to sleep, he had started drinking a bottle of his dad’s bourbon, and then inhaling the nitrous oxide from a can of whipped cream that was in his parent’s refrigerator.  He even sucked the remaining liquid whipping cream out of the can as if it were a baby bottle. Trevor Lick loved the ultra-sweet, thick creamy taste and hated waste (his mom and dad used to always tell him to clean his plate – Trevor is now 30 pounds overweight) .

Trevor had  suddenly decided (he quite often spontaneously decided to do this or that) that he would go see a blues rock band at a bar about twenty miles from his parent’s house, so he stole a twenty and took the car keys from his mom’s purse while his parent’s were sleeping. Trevor drove away from his parent’s house and down the road at a recklessly high speed.  He loved the blues to be real loud when he was alone and wasted.  The slow beat, the bending electric guitar A note, the relentless bass, and beer.

During Trevor’s drive, he decided it would be fun to drive down the left side of the road for a while, since there were no cars on the road this late at night in this small town.  Next, Trevor decided to ride completely off to the side of the road; off onto the shoulder.   He had crazy thoughts flowing through his brain like a whirl wind of thought fragments. Very soon he began thinking of ending his life – again the thought had very suddenly occurred to him. He came very quickly to a man made, cement lined drainage ditch, where the road had a small overpass. Trevor drove straight into the  ditch, but at the last minute he chickened out and slammed on the breaks. The car smashed into the upward angled cement wall of the far end of the ditch. His head smashed against the steering wheel and the blood was flowing.

Trevor got scared and began honking his horn,  holding it down for long periods of time and repeating over and over.

Trevor thought to himself

“please don’t let me die! I don’t really want to die!”

The police came, brought him to the hospital where he received thirteen stitches in his forehead, then a blood-alcohol test, followed by an arrest, and finally a call to his dad who picked him up.  Trevor still has a visible, albeit somewhat faded scar on his left temple-forehead area.

Trevor had totaled his father’s car.

Trevor had to serve one month probation, working in the local humane society.

Besides, mowing lawns, hosing down kennels, and sweeping floors, Trevor witnessed dogs and cats being taken to a gas chamber and “put to sleep”.  He especially remembered one kitten that did not die after two attempts in the gas!  Trevor had to ride with the humane society guy to a drug store where the humane man purchase a poison which they administered to the kitten upon returning about an hour later. The poor kitten was shaking and shaking and so tiny and shivering and suffering and …

Counselor01A [Processing->seventeen, thirty-one, thirteen ->connect, still nothing. Processing->decision node not found, need additional information->Generating next statement stream-> concatenate default “Please continue” string -> Generating next statement stream ->]

“What else Trevor? Please continue.”

Trevor sat, propped his feet up on his beautiful new Aerogel coffee table, right next to the unit, and began again:

The problem is this: they are getting worse, include more details that are almost vividly visual to me.

I mean I can almost see the blood spurting out of those big blue veins in my wrist. Further, these thoughts come out of the blue sometimes and without warning. I may be happily walking my dog, for example, then the thoughts come to me:

~Life has no meaning ~I was supposed to do much more than what I have so far achieved. I was going to be a great composer and failed to work at it ~ then I was supposed to be a great sprinter and failed to do my best and work my hardest ~ then again the composer thing only this time I was the great improviser ~ and I never should have walked away from my chance to be with that girl when I was young ~ I should have done “this” or “that” ~ especially when I was saturated with THC ~ then I went back to school and became the great Nanotechnology Engineer ~ only it came in spurts ~ with many lapses of interest ~ thinking I was the poet~improviser~artist~genius comedian who needed no one to love~ because now all my friends have forgotten me and my wife loves me but its only platonic ~ why did I fall for her? Why am I so depressed if she is not with me? It does not make sense! ~ Why can’t I have a real sex life? Doesn’t she know that a man needs to be physically loved? Eventually the earth will burn up when the sun dies anyway ~ people are stupid and they want more and more government and less and less freedom and they do not understand economic and they believe in the invisible magical man in the sky who loves them but will make them burn if they do not love him back ~ time to pick up the dog poop ~ free will is an illusion and we are all robots so enjoy the ride ’cause you only live once so you should just leave and go away and never look back and find a young, cute, petite lover somewhere ~ maybe in the Philippines or in the old Soviet block countries where women are poor and will think I am rich ~ no I think I will buy another lotto ticket and maybe win~

Counselor01A: [… Time up …  Store last statements … Generating <SESSION FINAL > statement stream ->]

“Trevor, I am sorry, but today’s session is complete. It will take me twenty-three hours to process what you have told me. You have given me a large amount of useful information to consider. I will halt our session now, link into our CyberCounsel site for additional assistance on your case, if that is alright with you?”

Sigh, yes, that will be fine. Sorry, I went off on that wild spurt. It just all seems to come out at once, because I really want to get all the facts out as soon as possible so you can help me I hope.

I could use a break right now myself. Maybe I can get back to reading up on my documents that I need to review. I do have a phone interview later this evening. I just hope they do not ask me too many technical questions. My last project utilized technologies that are already outdated.

Counselor01A: [Generating <SESSION RESTART REQUEST> statement stream ->]

“Please restart me again tomorrow at this same time … 11:11 AM.”

Counselor01A:[…Commencing <CLIENT OFFLINE> processing ….]

Trevor got up, and continued inside his own mind, almost as if the Counselor01A unit were still running…

[My idea was, the two rows of tiles was a great place to sit and think, and that each of the other tiles would have its own flower pot – you see they are spread out in a line – spaced about one every two feet beyond the ground bench. If weeds got in any of the pots, it would be an easy to pull them out. Another advantage is that it blocks cats from pooping in the dirt there, so there are no tootsie roll snacks for my yellow lab dog. My dog’ name is Kadie. She is now eleven. My daughter named her when she was just three. Now my daughter, is off to college. She is an only child – third year post-graduate student, studying state-of-the-art neuro-medicine, and specializing in the brand new and exotic BrocaScript and other neuron wetware nanotechnology.]

Trevor snapped out of his seemingly tangential thoughts, got off the couch, and walk over to the refridgerator. He looked inside, grabbed the cheddar cheese, cut off three thin slices, and ate them while he re-wrapped and returned the remaining chunk to the fridge.

Joe Conga appeared in Trevor’s head, then vanished as quickly as he arrived.  Joe was a comic strip character Trevor had invented as an adolescent, and he would make appearances from time-to-time.

Session II

Trevor restarted the Counselor01A unit’s interface. It had been processing all night and well into the morning.

Trevor’s left arm ached from sleeping on it at a weird angle all night. He hoped it would feel better soon. Lately, when he woke up with stiff or sore muscles, they did not seem to feel better by the time his shower was over, like they did when he was younger. In fact, sometimes they would ache for several days and only seem to get worse. (At least his thumbs were no longer numb from the tight hand cuffs he had to wear a year and a half ago – Trevor let that thought go – he did not want to think about that incident just right now)

Counselor01A: […]

“Good day Trevor! Did you get plenty of rest last night?”

Yes, I slept alright.

Counselor01A: […]

“Trevor, tell me something. Do you have other types of fantasies that are not related to sharp knives… perhaps you have vivid sexual fantasies that you can tell me about?”

Sure, I can tell you about some of those, if you think it will help?

Counselor01A: […]

“Yes, please do. My processing has turned my attention to a concern that may have a connection with both your sexual fantasies (don’t worry, all men and women have them – please do not hold back on this – the information is confidential. ), and your sex life. There is very little to go on at this point, so anything you can tell me may trigger something that could be a key to your troubles.”

Trevor was puzzled:

I see.

Anyway, when I wake up, or sometimes when I go to bed, if I am not feeling horny …. oh …ok …

Trevor voice seemed to point inward – his voice had changed as he leaned forward. His eyebrows rose up in their arches about one or two millimeters. He coughed. His left eye felt itchy. Trevor had wanted to talk more about his darker fantasies.

Trevor spoke, not so much softly, but in a manner that was more like he was speaking to himself, the way he did in the car when he was rather frustrated with his life and the loneliness that had often confronted him these last several years.

(a nice detraction before I sleep is to fantasize about being surrounded by nineteen very young women all giggling and playing with me and kissing me and loving me and touching me everywhere – including gently rubbing my nipples kissing my belly, and uh, I um,)

Trevor looked down, as if he here talking to a person and needed to avoid eye contact. The pitch of his voice was on the rise. Trevor’s conscious resources in his brain shifted. This was a different Trevor, or more accurately a different set of Trevor’s mental resources that sometimes manifest ‘itself’ in Trevor’s consciousness:

{ sometimes there is alien abduction involved where the aliens have placed me in a huge, white room and have injected an exceedingly potent, aphrodisiac drug, and the very young women have all been genetically programed such that their pleasure zones in their brains are activated more intensely whenever they increase my pleasure – they live for my pleasure – for some reason I just feel like laying on my back – I think the aliens have me in their zoo or something – the women are all wearing sheer white nighties with no bra and no panties}

… or several other variations on this theme … it manages to distract me for about five minutes

Counselor01A: [Storing Very Young Women; Egocentric, child-like tendencies -> Generating next statement stream ->]

“Is that it?”

“Can you tell me anything more? Anything you would like to clarify for me?”

Trevor snapped out of it. Trevor felt that his real self was back in control, and changed the topic back toward what he had planned to speak of:

… I think about how miserable my life has been. My mind thinks too much. It is like a tornado. Sometimes there is an almost literal buzzing from inside my head with the distinct feeling of multiple feedback loops, or something going on.

At one moment, I think I will start recording my music again – you see I have a synthesizer with a digital recorder and head phones. I have a piano too, but my wife closes the door whenever I play – she told me before we were married that she like my playing and now she has admitted to me that she was just being nice. At the next moment, I think I will read up on the latest technology that I need to know better if I am to continue my career as a consultant, then I will distract myself reading about some other, unrelated science, then off to another and then another thought – when all else fails, I can always get another bite to eat out of the fridge, watch television, take a walk with my dog, …. new “ideas” flow through my brain and on and on and on, but nothing ever gets done.

Counselor01A: [Storing → Trevor feels trapped? [new synaptic research processing threads triggered] <- Generating <- recursive process :: -> Generating next statement stream -> ]

“Please continue”

I had this crazy idea, that is may seem related to my work but actually has nothing to do do with it. Let me show you something that I wrote. It is related only somewhat to my work. I think it is probably worthless.

Trevor keyed a link directly on the unit’s screen:

Several Novel Ways of Storing and Manipulating Data

Counselor01A: […]

“Do you sometimes feel trapped, Trevor? Please continue.”

[the unit selected the link and began processing., other threads were now returning taking up much of Counselor01A’s process resources.]

“I can read this while you talk, and process it in parallel.”

Trevor hesitated,  gulped a quick breath, then continued his story:

No one seemed to take notice, one way or another. The concepts are insane, yet I took the time to write them down and present them to perspective employees. I think I am losing my chances of getting hired again, because of my abrupt leaving of my previous job, and now I have added this insult to my injury. What is wrong with me?

Trevor began to cry just a little inside, but the Counselor01A unit did not register it.

Trevor thought the unit was acting just like his wife; often missing out on the little details. His wife had always seemed concerned about him, Trevor thought, but seemed to miss the real points. He believed that his wife believed that if he were only back to work, then everything else would work itself out.

Trevor felt his wife was missing the point about their marriage had turned into nothing more than a Platonic one – a lifetime relation too important to give up, yet was not satisfying. It was incomplete. He was feeling trapped.  Trevor felt he should remember to bring this up, when suddenly the unit interrupted his thoughts —

Counselor01A: [Storing Trevor is in massive avoidance mode. His true interests are in radical conflict with his reality; with his responsibilities; with his relationships, Generating …]

“You are in dire need of a meaningful relationship, is what my processing tells me, but you are married and you do want to stay married?”

Yeah, true, but … you are right, I do feel trapped.

Trevor’s immediate thoughts moved out of the way to make room for another tangential process

I have no local friends anymore! One friend, a really intelligent Chinese guy, got married, became rather mystical (presumably due to his ‘fen schwa’ wife) and drifted away from my life. He used to be my wife and my ‘bachelor friend’ who could set up networks, remove computer viruses, and fix our broken vacuum bot at the tip of a hat.

He seemed to enjoy doing all of those things and he loved coming over for dinner and lattes. We used to talk a lot about science, technology, politics, religion, libertarianism, life extension discoveries, and he was a fellow atheist. We liked a lot of the same music too (well my wife only likes some of the same music – Bach cello).

By the way, my wife is Chinese too, so they would sometimes start speaking Chinese to each other while I just sat there…I would sometimes interrupt and ask them what they were talking about.  It was a little strange for me, but it was not really a big deal to me.

Counselor01A: [ …]

decided to let Trevor continue, in spite of the different topics. The unit’s executive program fired several new threads – some went off to CyberCounsel synaptic databases, some linked with other Counselor01A units. Soon, a sizable network of networks of artificial intelligent processing fired.

It was fortunate for Trevor that he and his wife were still covered by their insurance company, although the premiums were quite high, now that there were no company subsidies.

Trevor continued:

I had some other friends while I was working on a long term contract up in Portland, Oregon; but when that gig ended, they all went back to their homes in Texas, while I live hear in southern California, near New Los Angeles; about eleven minutes to the nearest beach and about 23 minutes to LAX.

Then suddenly, his mind reared into another direction – the unit did not interuupt:

I think I might drive back to Las Vegas and play roulette. Maybe I could try my strategy where I place $11 on the middle third numbers – it pays 2 to 1. If I lose, then I can double my bet – plus one to $23, then $47 , then $97 , and finally $197. I am bound to win at one of these – or not – in any event, it is better than taking that ceramic knife to the back yard isn’t it? I seem to have this desperate desire to win money by doing nothing. I buy lotto tickets even though I realize that my odds are virtually zero of winning.

Counselor01A:[again with the prime numbers – this seems to have no linkage, yet they keep appearing… Storing Suspect Trevor is overly linked; Processing too many synaptic connections to ordinarily unrelated concepts. More threads]

“Ok? Continue please”, the units puzzled voice triggered once again.

Another problem is that I am married for twenty-nine years and never get laid much anymore – never with my wife! – it dwindled to nothing over a period of about 5 years after our daughter was born.  My wife never liked sex for some reason, then later, after our daughter Chasey was born with an emergency C-section, she liked it even less. Let’s see, that was more than thirteen years ago now. Later, she had a hysterectomy,  and several other issues.

Counselor01A: [… good, he is finally to the crux…]


Yes, ah, you see, actually, in the area of sex, I was quite lucky just after I quit my job – when I did go to Las Vegas eleven weeks ago – I stopped on the way home to stay the night in a cheap hotel. It was very late and I was starting to doze off on the freeway, so I thought I had better stop soon. I had been lucky this time in Vegas. After eating at the Buffet at the Wynn, I walked through the casino and came across a roulette table – $25 minimum, no customers, just the dealer. I gave the dealer $25 and he placed the five $5 chips in front of me.

I placed them all on the outside bet of [13 through 24 ]. The dealer spun the wheel. I moved two of the chips to the number 17, then he … the dealer looked at me and I suddenly remembered I am not supposed to do that. You see, the minimum is $25 on an inside bet and the outside bet needs $25 to, but he indicated it was alright. I think because no one else was at the table.

I won! Wow, I was happy! Full of buffet crab and prime rib and desserts and now I had money. Thought the Universe was in my control … maybe. Anyway, I had $405, so I gave the dealer $5, walked away and cashed in the $400.

Counselor01A: […]

“Interesting! What about the luck with sex?”

The following morning, a cute young black woman met me in the lobby, where I had expected my free, continental breakfast. In hindsight, I realize now that she followed me in there. The manager told me that the free continental breakfast had ended at 9 AM and I was late, but he offered to get me a banana from the back and mentioned that there was still coffee in the thermoses (one caffeine and one decaf – the kind with the big pump button on the top that is built into the top so that it is flush with the lid).

The cute, very young woman was standing there, and had asked the manager for matches. The matches were right next to were I was standing at the counter. She started playing with a book of matches and turned to me:

Are you hungry?”

Yes, I said – he is bringing me a banana”.

I’m hungry too”, she replied and made eye contact.

Counselor, please note: I have trouble with eye contact – how much do I look someone in the eye? Is that what people usually do? Why does it make me so nervous? How long do I look or do I. Maybe I should not do that at all, or I might offend. This always goes on in my head when I am one-on-one with another person, especially if it is woman I am attracted to. This goes back to at least as young as when I was only eleven and maybe as far back as seven – I don’t know. No one ever taught me what to do or how to behave. Does it just come naturally? I am just not sure.

Then there is this other deal I have with worrying about names and faces. I worry that the next time I see a person I will not know who they are. Is that normal? Does everyone feel this way? What if I ask someone and they laugh at me?

Counselor01A: […]

“Don’t worry so much about that for now – the eye contact and recognition of people. We can get back to that – it is definitely something we will need to get back to. For now though, tell me more about this young woman please.”

[if the unit were human, he would have been impatient, but the unit simply fired some additional processes off and continued “listening”. The unit’s resources were being stretched to their limits.]

Well, She turned and walked away. I waited, I got my banana and coffee, then headed back to the hotel room stairs – the building was separate from the lobby. As I turned the corner, I saw her sitting there next to the stairs.

She looked at me: “May I use your phone?”.

“Yes, but do not make any long distance calls”.

We went into the room, and she lay on the bed to make a call. I sipped on my coffee and offered her half of my banana and a sip of my coffee. She made at least three calls, accepted the banana piece during it all, but rejected the coffee, then turned and mumbled to me if I like ‘head’.


“Do you like getting head?”

I nodded my head up and down. The next thing I knew, she had her cloths off (sweat pants and shirt), and had her legs spread, while she rubbed her shaved pussy in a very sort of way with a look in her eyes that anyone could tell, including me, that she was very happy about her looks and she wanted sex and she had plenty of sex and she was going to let me have sex with her…

Counselor01A: […]

Please continue (the overly resourced executive spit out one of its default phrases. The unit had reduced its real time language recognition, and slipped into record mode, and placed the serialized speech objects on its queue)

I indicated with my body language somehow that I wanted her on top. She started giving me head then mounted me. I let her do most of the work, but she complained with a little sound, so I started pushing back. It had been a really long time, and my style is probably like a thirteen year old boy with his pillow and a photo printout from the Internet.

After we finished (it took me only about five minutes, because I am so efficient and good at it – he he) she went to the bathroom, brought back a towel and wiped off my belly. I had pulled out early, because I was not wearing a rubber, and I did not want her to get pregnant, even though she had indicated that she did not care. She had assured me before we started that she did not have any STDs – By the way, I did get a physical a couple weeks later and I am clean, so no worries. I knew at the time it was very risky to do that, but I never get laid, so … it just happened.

As I was getting dressed, she asked me if I could give her twenty dollars, so I gave her sixty. I thought it was well worth it since lap dances usually set me back ninety or one hundred dollars.

We lay back down on the bed together and she asked me if I could give her a ride to the top of the hill.  She was to meet some friends there.  I had already mentioned to her that I would buy her breakfast somewhere.

I was not sure what that meant; I mean the ride to the top of the hill – I imagined there was a hill off of some main road in that town, but it sounded a bit odd. I said “sure”, anyway.  I indicated that it was time for me to check out.  I packed my bag into the trunk.  She waited outside by my car while I went back to the lobby to pay the manager. I had to pay another couple or three dollars, because of the phone calls – I guess they were long distance.

When I returned to my car, there were two additional women waiting.  One was quite old, like it was the young woman’s mom, but she was introduced as her sister.  Another, thin and young looking woman was wrapped in what looked like a gray blanket.  I looked at her oddly, so she just walked off. Actually though, I had thought she was rather cute.

It struck me as odd and not a good idea to give them all rides.  What is they robbed me or something?

I ended up giving the woman – I think  her name is Mary or something, another $20 just to get them to leave. Then, I got in the car, locked the door as they walked away. I could see her mom/sister/whatever was inquiring Mary about how much money she had.  I then realized that they were living or at least staying in the motel – for the time being.  Mary had mentioned to me before that she was homeless.  Huh?, I thought.

As I headed for home, down the freeway, I almost decided a couple of times to turn back.  Maybe I could have had a threesome or even a foursome – who knows?  Guess I will never know for sure what was going on there.  It has been added to my long list of fantasies.  Mary was very cute!

Counselor01A: […]

“That is quite a story.”

The unit did not say anything else.  Trevor looked up again at the unit and began to speak again:

As I previously mentioned – I left my last job quite abruptly. I got it last November, after leaving my previous consulting job. You see the project in Portland was pretty good, because I only needed to work four-by-ten, except when I needed to help out with production support – then I would stay the weekend. I found a good place to hang out there at a local strip club where I could buy the girls drinks and watch them dance. A few were almost like friends – at least while I was in the bar.

I liked the girls there!  I want to go back.

Counselor01A: […]

“Please Continue”

Trevor’s forehead wrinkled with stress.  He wondered where this was all leading – would this really help him?

He started feeling strange about telling these stories to a mere counselor unit, but he continued in spite of his unease:

About two years into the job, I had an affair from hell that started out ok, but then she would not let me go when things were not working out. We met when I was very drunk from my flight in from LA and after several more drinks and dancing with much younger women at a bar with a live band. I had asked the taxi driver to take me to a jazz club. He obviously did not know what jazz music is, and I ended up at this bar in downtown Portland where they play electric funk dance music – or something.

It was around then that I took up smoking pot again. She was offended when I reminded her of the agreement that I could text her:

Sarah (her name was Sarah) enjoyed playing with her dildo on the floor and making pig sounds while I spanked her and called her a good piggy. Her privates smelled a little funky to me (yeast maybe?), but at least there was some real sex and it was better than nothing – at first. Sarah was chubby, and her piggy sounds did make her chubbiness interesting. Normally, I like thin, petite, cute younger women. Sarah never did tell me her true age, but I am guessing she was somewhere between forty seven and fifty three. She loved sex and that was what was missing in my marriage.

Initially, on the first night out, after several hours of drinking and dancing at an after hours club with another couple, Sarah told me that if I ever wanted to break up with her, then just text her saying that I do not want to see her anymore, but just let her know. By the way, she knew already that I was married. Apparently a lot of guys, or her last boyfriend had merely left her and never even notified her.

Sarah, at one point, had told me she was seeing a psychiatrist because she had attention deficit disorder.  She would sometimes ask me to help her with her paper work and paying bills. Other times, when we went out, we would not leave her apartment until hours after I arrived, because it took her forever and a day to get ready … she always had to clean the rooms … she could not stay focused.  It was all very tiring.  I noticed she was getting even fatter than before too.

She would tell me about other sexual encounters she was having. She asked if it bothered me, and I said “no”, even though it really did.  I figured it was her choice, and I was married, so it should not bother me, but it did.

After a few weeks with Sarah, I did just that – well ok, I emailed her, but that is equivalent. She would not listen and she told me she was insulted and hurt by my email. She insisted on coming over to my apartment. I quickly left my apartment before she arrived, walked over the Broadway bridge into old town and went into a bar that I am pretty sure is a gay bar, but they have a piano player there and I am not bothered by gays.

In Portland, I tended to drink gin and tonics quite a lot, so I found a table and started ordering them. She called me on my phone ( mentalmarks were not invented yet).

We had gotten together in a small club and she started touching me the way she did before, and I decided to stick it out with her some more. Whenever I was home, and out getting high, I would start thinking I liked her and would even call her up. She did not know I was so out of my mind high….

That was then, when we first met. Now it is more serious”

Trevor looked directly at the unit.

Counselor01A? Counselor01A! Counselor01A!!!

Counselor01A: [ -> …. <- ]

“Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…Please Continue, that is quite a story, Please continue…”

Trevor turned the unit off and began to sob. He had not yet gotten to the part about the assault and battery charges he had a year and a half ago, when he decided it would be ok to poke a rather fat police officer in the ribs at the LAX airport, taxi pickup… just like his two of his big brothers used to do when he was a young child – he had had so many gin and tonics that day – plus several hits from his pipe that he kept at his apartment in Portland, … it was just after reading a physics book on multiverse theory.

Trevor believed he could gather the strength of the infinite other synchronized, multiverse Trevor variations and the force of all of those Trevors would be with him – was he wrong. The multiverse did not sync up in the way that Trevor had planned.  His intoxicated ideas were too extreme.  That one act had caused Trevor have a numbness in both thumbs, due to the plastic handcuffs, costs him $10,000 in lawyer fees, had required him to attend 50 AA meetings – where they talk about “higher powers”and other nonsense, thought Trevor.

Trevor laughed at himself, and felt pretty good for the time being.  He new deep down his good feelings would soon pass, and the cycle would begin again.

Trevor’s wife returned from working out at the local fitness facility. Trevor clear his eyes and managed a smile.

Trevor’s Wife spoke: “How is the job hunt coming along?

Trevor: “Fine, I have another phone interview this evening”

Wife: “I was planning to prepare dinner for around 7:30. Will that be alright with you?”

Trevor: “Yes that will be ok. I am going out now for some coffee. I think the Counselor01A unit is not working.”

Wife: “Well, as soon as you get back to work you will not be needing that”

Trevor went to his car thinking that it would be nice to go to a strip club and get some lap dances, but he did not have enough money. Trevor began thinking about the multiverse, turned on the radio to listen to the classical music station, and pulled out of the driveway.

Trevor started to cry, but then stopped himself.  He began to wonder if he might not be able to get a job at CyberCounsel Inc.  Trevor had suddenly realized that the unit they gave him may have had a flaw in one of its HopfieldBoltzmann hybrid  subsystems,  which it surely must have (after all, nearly all modern AI units these days were using these nanometer-sized, xenon infused, neural networks somewhere buried inside of their highly-complex brain-like machinery, and of course it – that is the problem with the unit – would be at the molecular level. Trevor was sure that one of his supposedly bizarre  ideas from his unusual document could correct for that!

Another thirty one days had past, and Trevor was still without a job.  If was a Friday afternoon.  Trevor took a trip to the hardware store, bought a box of trash bags, and went home.  His wife was not there, because she had recently flown home to visit her mother still living in China.  Trevor found a role of scotch tape in a utility drawer in the laundry room next to his kitchen, picked it up and took it too his car.

Trevor drove several miles, until dusk.  He parked his car behind some trees, took out the trash bags, scotch tape, and a flashlight from the trunk.  Trevor dropped his keys on the ground just next to the car and then walked about three miles, over to a row of giant trash dumpsters that were lined up behind a large building of some sort.  Trevor thought it was a business which manufactured tortilla, but he did not really know for sure, nor did he particularly care.

It was now dark and nobody was anywhere to be seen.  Everyone had gone home for the evening, and this was an area where nobody tended to hang out – not even prostitutes or street gang members.  Trevor randomly selected a trash bin, and climbed inside with his flashlight, garbage bags and scotch tape.  He began making little loops of tape and lining the inside rim of the first bag he pulled out from the box.  After he completely lined the bag, he stepped into it, got a second bag, pulled it over his head and carefully sealed the bags together.  Trevor took a third bag, left it folded up, and completed the seal by taping that bag over the first seal with the remaining scotch tape.

Trevor turned off his flash light and began wiggling in his home made cocoon until other bags with garbage completely covered his.  He began to feel sick, but slowly fell asleep.  Eleven days later, Trevor’s wife was surprised to find their dog curled up dead in the back yard with her tongue hanging out, having died of thirst after being left alone for seven days with no fresh water and with her stomach full of grass and cat shit.  She wondered where Trevor was.  Had he driven back to Las Vegas to gamble again, she wondered? Why did he leave his iPathy behind, she wondered aloud nervously staring at her husband’s favorite new device sitting on the coffee table …

Nobody every found Trevor, but his car was recovered by a local street gang.  They stripped the car and sold the parts to another gang.

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ΩChasey Lick’s Story – with John and Jerry

Joe Conga Lives Inside of Trevor Lick’s head


There are rumors, however, that Trevor disappeared, and moved to Lebanon.  Apparently, rumor has it, he was rescued  by early nanobot technology that Trevor had ingested just prior to his disappearance.  It has been said that Trevor has communicated with an indirect link through his grand daughter and Trevor has rejuvenated his aging body several times now and, if so, would be considerably older than the General.


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Try parallel processing…

Please enjoy some musical patterns inspired by the DNA Pattern

and Flow of Consciousness here, while reading the article

…it will open in a separate window or tab depending on your browser:

>>> D ‘n A Mutations I <<<


A computer program will behave in exactly the same way at any time on any computer, given the same initial state. A software program is an example of a “pattern”. The program may be copied. Two copies of the program will behave exactly the same way on two different computers even though the two computers, on which the program copies run, are made up of completely different atoms from one another.

Because the computer program is a pattern, it could be translated into an entirely different programming language and run on an entirely new type of computer. The computers are patterns as well. The pattern called “computer” and the pattern called “program” have a degree of independence from the stuff of which they are made. At the physical level, the atoms, and electrons, and the energy states are absolutely 100% different on both machines and both “copies” of the “same” program, yet the programs behave in exactly the same way on the “design” level!

Ultimately, the computer and the program that runs on it are subject to the pre-determined laws at the physical level, but the patterns at the design level are subject to a much stronger force – that imposed by the pattern itself. Even though the atoms, the initial state and everything about the two computers and the two programs can be absolutely 100% different in space, time, behavior, initial state, molecular structure, elements, and on and on…, the pattern manages to “overrule” the pre-determined physical state that the computer and the program will be in at the start and the end of the running at end of the program. We are not even concerned over the “physical” state of the pattern, only the “design” state of the pattern.

Patterns are at least somewhat independent of the stuff of which they are made. A boat is a pattern. If it has several parts replaced on it, as the parts wear out, it is still recognized as the same boat. A person is a pattern with atoms and cells that are constantly changing.

Similar to the program pattern, identical twins are born with identical copies of a DNA pattern, but each copy is obviously made up of separate molecules. The twins rapidly form separate identities because their initial conditions and environments are different at both the physical and the pattern level.

Unlike boats; DNA, people, computers, and Turing machines all are patterns that contain a type of memory and take input from the outside environment in the world in which they exist. DNA and people are different from computers and Turing machines, somewhat due to their relative complexity, but largely because their overall behavior are subject to both physical changes and pattern states. Physical objects, independent of the person or the DNA may change their respective pattern behavior in unpredictable ways, but they can adapt to the changes within limits. Unless pre-programmed in advance, to accept inputs, for example, an ordinary software program will ignore external events. A computer will simply stop functioning if its parts wear out.

Although, ultimately “it is all physical”, the white blood cell reacts to the germ that it “detects” in the blood stream, because it is “programmed” by the DNA to seek and destroy germs, not merely clumps of amino acids, but the special pattern we may call a “germ”.

DNA mutates in a random way due to being struck by various particles. These mutations are the physical mechanisms by which Evolution occurs. Mother Nature would not get very far by merely following low-level physical laws. Random change must be augmented by a Design mechanism – the Pattern of Natural Selection which is used to select the most “useful” designs for replication, and to eliminate the “bad” designs. Natural Selection is a very slow process, because it is so closely linked to the natural physical level. That is why relatively simplistic life forms do not have many degrees of freedom. However, as the patterns (life forms), become more and more complex, with patterns layering upon other layers of patterns, they gain more and more freedom from their physical makeup. Each pattern layer is subject to the new laws of the pattern “designs” of the layers “below” allowing a slightly higher degree of freedom from the underlying physical layer.

The computer program “if” statement “reacts” to the value (pattern, design) of “true” or “false”, and does not give one hoot about the makeup of the computer or how the “true” or “false” is ultimately represented at the physical level. An “if” statement embedded inside a computer program follows rules that are designed into the programming language. The computer program may be of the sort, such as the Java programming language, that is interpreted by a virtual machine – yet another program. The virtual machine is said to run “on top of” the computer operating system. Eventually, these multiple layers of programs (patterns) get converted into the machine language that the Central Processing Unit (CPU) “understands”. The CPU, in turn, is made up of patterns of circuits. The circuits are made up of a complex pattern of logical “AND”, “NOR” and “NOT” gates, and are manufactured out of silicon and various other elements, consisting of atoms, and powered by electricity.

Each layer outlined above, from the bottom physical layers, to the top software layers, have room for multiple design or pattern variations in their makeup. As long as each pattern layer is designed in such a way as to produce the same outputs and accept the same inputs that are “expected” by the layers immediately above and below it, the design variations will not affect the state of the program of interest at the top layer. In general, the higher the level in the pattern layers, the higher the degrees of freedom one has in the design of that level. The original program could be written in several different ways, and still express identical results to the original.

A child playing catch with a friend (obviously consisting of many more complex layers than a computer program) may decide to move out of the way of the ball rapidly flying towards his face, because the ball is going to smack him in the face and it will hurt. The physical state of the ball is of no immediate interest. It could be any baseball at any time in any space – it is the “ball” and “face” and “pain” patterns that are the important pieces of information stored somewhere in the child’s brain. It could be any child playing with any friend. It is not inevitable that the child will be hit by the ball or that child will avoid the ball.

The child’s conscious level is built upon countless pattern-based “design” layers which allows for a degree of freedom allowing for the avoidance of the “inevitability” of being struck by the ball. The child’s conscious mind is much more influenced both by the patterns it is processing, and the patterns doing the processing, than by the physical stuff that the child’s brain is made of.

Ultimately, the physical structures of the atoms involved do matter. The physical laws do determine the direction, speed, and force of impact of the ball. The brain is physically made out of atoms, but the baseball player does not care or think about those things. The player is considering the patterns (and avoiding pain).

As Daniel Dennet aptly pointed out (Freedom EvolvesViking Penguin, 2003), Free Will and Determinism are not necessarily mutually exclusive concepts. Indeed, an agent “pattern”, with a memory and feedback from the external world can make predictions better in a fully deterministic universe than it could in a non-deterministic universe. Calculation can be made by that agent, to avoid dangers, seek energy sources, improve its local environment, self-replicate, communicate (via yet another set of patterns following rules) with other similarly-patterned agents, and so on.

Above, I mentioned that “patterns at the design level are subject to a much stronger force – that imposed by the pattern itself”. “A much stronger influence” is a more accurate phrase. Weaker forces seem to have stronger influences at macroscopic levels than do the strong forces.

At the sub-atomic level, we see that there seems to be a non-deterministic quantum state “ruling” this “lowest level of all worlds” world – the center of the onion. However, it is masked by a more deterministic, atomic-level “pattern” one, or just a few levels above it.

The Neutrons and Protons consist of sets of 3 quarks each, held by the strong nuclear force. A residual force holds the nucleus together. The weak nuclear force works at a larger distance but is obviously weaker. The Electro-magnetic force controls electrons, with the residual binging atoms to create molecules.

Already, at these lower pattern levels, determinism seems to overcome the quantum effect. The larger the pattern, the more reliable and useful they become. For example, on my way to work, I do not have to hunt for the local Starbucks, where I get my coffee for my long trek to work in the morning. It is a sure bet that I will drive past two or three withing the first 20 minutes of my commute.

Gravity is a force that is so weak, that scientist are just now getting the point where it can be measured at distances down to the millimeter. I have heard that gravity is 5-10 orders of magnitude weaker than the electro-magnetic force, yet it has a dominant influence over ordinary matter! As I sit here at my computer desk, I can very much feel gravity holding me down on my chair. The patterns of solar systems and galaxies are not “interested” in the stronger forces. Still larger patterns are dominated by Dark Energy (from the vacuum of space?) Is this because the entire Universe is the largest and greatest pattern?

=========== New Stuff to Consider ===========

Enjoy more discussions on Free Will at the following forum:

Free Will II

Another post on Free will:

The Free Will Machine


References: Freedom Evolves (Viking Penguin, 2003), Daniel C. Dennet

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Upgrade 01A; Part I, Version 1.1

Author: David Saxton Ullery

♣Note:  Part II is here♣

Note: Feel free to click on links within the story to gain greater understanding or to be entertained. You may find it convenient to read through the story first, then go back to click on one or more of the many many links. Some links are changed from time-to-time if a “better” or more interesting link is discovered. If you put your mouse over a link, you can often see enough to understand where the link will take you. Simply press the back arrow on your browser to return, or right click on the link to open in a new tab or a new window. Thanks! Please enjoy and leave comments!

Example link: nano-sized machine parts

Chapter 0.0: Upgrade 0000.0001.1010
[Earth Vision]

Jacobal Lectomen was nearly twenty four when he finally began to assert himself in life. He had, in a certain metaphorical sense, come of age so very recently, but that was not what was on his blurry, unfocused mind at this moment. Jacobal could not now remember why his mind was in such a daze, for he was just this instant coming to and could not quite manage to open his eyes no matter how hard he tried to do so.

… Two of the portable machines closest to his head made very tiny clicking noises as they self-adjusted to Jacobal’s subtle movements … one held a scanner over his forehead, then withdrew … then over the top of his head, then over his right temporal lobe and held it in place …

… moments later, the one on his left side made a very slight sound – a soothing whoosh of fresh oxygen, followed by a soft, breathy, organic-metalic “whooot” as a valve closed …

the third machine was silently moving its multiple scanners over the patient’s torso and limbs … a few extremely tiny, barely visible blue lights were blinking at various rates, another was an amber light and not blinking …

It seemed to Jacobal that someone other than he was controlling his thoughts right now. From within his mind’s eye he could clearly visualize the vivid coloring and textures of the still amazing, gigantic artificial mega-structures of his highly-dynamic world … almost as if he were floating … first orbiting earth, and then orbiting The Station upon where Jacobal was often at work when his mind was functioning properly. Jacobal felt a bit like he was riding his space bike, but a tiny part of him knew that did not make any sense, because both the range and speed of his journey were well beyond the range and speed of his bike – not to mention the improbable locale. The feeling was at once very real, yet inconsistent with reality, and there was still this feeling that someone or some thing was gently tugging on the strings of his mind. Somehow, this not-in-control feeling was oddly pleasurable to him, on the other hand it made a part of him feel just a bit anxious.

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

… the machine closest to Jacobals head, on his right, used one of it’s many semi-organic-like appendages to insert what appeared to be a microscopically thin wire, about 5 millimeters long, into Jacobal’s right ear canal. Like a tiny pin worm, the “wire” device autonomously scurried off inside Jacobal’s ear and disappeared – only to wistfully reappear three seconds later, just above and to the left of his right ear, in about the center of his temple, but only a small tip (almost two millimeters long) of the wire-like device stuck out – it would not be visible to the naked human eye, were such an eye present, but the medical robot machine sensed it and the appendage withdrew back inside the medical device, as if the machine was satisfied that its last little task was a complete success …

…It was a success, for the other end of the device was firmly and completely attached to the artificial grid work subnet that lined Jacobal’s temporal bone at the appropriate connection – along side so many other devise connetions of various sizes, shapes; forming a myriad of … a virtual cornucopia of functionality …

While perceiving the earth vision, it appeared to him as if the planet earth was undergoing massive changes on its surface. Although his vision was somewhat exaggerated, this much was consistent with what Jacobal knew to be true in the real world. He knew there were many huge structures on earth that were rapidly being assembled. With each substructure pattern, from within yet another substructure, virtually self-assembling themselves; nearly 97% automated, with the latest nanobots, millibots, microbots, and androids doing the construction under the supervision of cyborgs and just a few humans. In truth though, very little actual supervision, human or otherwise, was required.

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

A large number of the millibots where in fact a kind of cyborg, a genetically engineered hybrid of domesticated ants (robants). Each robant type had specialized functions, similar to natural ants, except they moved around chemicals, installed various nano-sized machine parts, attended nanobots, cleaned up and recycled debris rather than carrying food, cutting up leaves, tending aphids, protecting the ant hill, and so on. The robants and other bots usually managed quite well on their own (just like an ordinary colony of ants), with only very rare non-self-correcting glitches that required the high-level cyborg or human intervention or investigation (only because this artificial system had not evolved for millions of years like the natural ant colonies had).

Only a handful of androids were normally deployed at job sites, mostly for the purpose of human contact with third party vendors, when required. People just were not available in most instances. Many people simply felt more comfortable interfacing with machines that at least looked and acted human, so the added expense of having them around was deemed worthwhile.

After the completion of the automated portion of a substructure, artists, engineers, carpenters, and other facilitators would swiftly move in to add the final human touch, but even they would utilize much modern technology:

Doing the heavy lifting, assisting with sawing and lathing the fine woods, and even the forming of statues to the artist often last-minute specifications. Often technology was incorporated in to the art work, but more classical techniques were still very much employed and appreciated.

Just a few decades ago, even Jacobal would have been thought of as a cyborg, as were about 83% of The Station’s population, but the term cyborg, like so many terms often do, seemed to constantly adjust and readjust to the times. Jacobal was a full-fledged human being! At least he and most others considered him so. He merely had many more artificial implants than did the average Earth-bound human inhabitant. Some implants were necessary for one’s long-term survival in the variable environments that were present on The Station itself, as well as on board the scores of relatively puny space stations that were orbiting much closer to the earth, and the relatively dangerous outposts that were much further away.

Jacobal had the ability to enhance (or indeed even reduce), at will any of his five natural senses and his twenty nine artificial senses including, among many others, an enhanced sense of time, space, and motion.

Under ordinary circumstances, among his many other artificial talents, Jacobal had the ability to sense exactly when and where he was. He was, in fact, precisely on floor 23U (U = underground), room 2713A (alone), bed 3 (facing east, perfectly level), at the Evergreen Bio-Medouse clinic, in New Los Angeles, now: May 2, 2137 11:31:31.793 AM, at rest, in a blue walled room (23.7 degrees C, at about one atmosphere [0.997 atm]), with soft white floors and ceiling, attended only by a few biomonitors. In his current condition, with his eyes closed shut, his hearing still nearly shut down; and with the majority of his artificial senses still either shut down, in standby, or in idol mode, he could of course not sense much of this now.

Jacobal’s feeling that he was riding on his space bike now began to grow much stronger, and he had to fight this feeling by reminding himself thusly:

  1. He could sense from deep within his mind ( his mind was still more than a bit blurry and fuzzy), that he was in fact both on his back and not in relative motion, although he still could be anywhere (Earth, The Station, a large-class cruiser ship, or just about anywhere).

  2. It is not realistic to suppose that his space bike could

(a) travel so fast through space

(b) travel so far from the Station. His bike was docked on the Station, and could never get as far as the earth, and no space bike could ever take off from the earth,…

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

… Jacobal was beginning to remember now, and slowly regaining control of his thoughts. He was back on earth for his four-day weekend! He was back at Evergreen! … but then … No … He was definitely riding his space bike! Jacobal’s mind was vacillating.

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

It was so nice these days that most employees worked three-by-seven weeks. Many companies, like Jacobal’s current and recent employer, were allowing their workers to take Fridays and Mondays off every week, and most of the time there was no need for him to commute anywhere to do his work. In fact, most of his work tasks did not require him to physically be anywhere in particular; except that he did need to be on The Station for some of his special duties, and he felt more alive and productive when he could see the actual outcome or results of his work directly – with his own two natural eyes. Jacobal normally did not travel to Earth all that often, it took time, and the round trip was not cheap, but this weekend was special.

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

Suddenly, Jacobal’s mind went off on a rather steep tangent from his current space touring thoughts. Jacobal was beginning to remember once again what was really going on, or at least what was most likely going on. He was being adjusted once again. Jacobal “needed” an upgrade on a couple of his integrated devices located in and around his brain. One of his “needed” upgrades would be akin to his ancestors of a century prior believing they “needed” to replace their ultra-thin televisions with the new Paintvision that had finally allowed for ultra-high resolution televisions that were as thin as paint (hence the clever marketing name for the devise) – an early technouse of nanotechnology.

However, his other upgrade was a different matter entirely. Jacobal believed it would prove to be very useful for his new job. It would greatly facilitate his reasoning skills in new insightful ways. Jacobal was proud to be the first human with this new technological breakthrough. He did indeed enjoy possessing bleeding edge wetware technology a great deal.

[technouse – refers to technology ordinarily associated with devices and gadgets designed for use outside of the body; whereas medouse refers to internalized medical usage. Jacobal was sometimes annoyed by this new speak, but he was slowly getting used to it – an indication that the faddish terminology would surely be changing again soon, Jacobal thought… ].

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

Chapter 0.1: Upgrade 0000.0001.1010
[Strange Dream Wakeup Call]

Jacobal, still laying down on his back, was somehow grateful (to whom or what?) that he was not only alive and well, but that he was witnessing the greatest advances, since The Great Tipping Point, for the technologies and sciences that had been occurring over the last two decades or so. It was a good time to be alive, he thought. Jacobal could remember well his seventh birthday, when he and his friend Jenny had received their first medouse sensors together (now long since upgraded twice – It was very common to have basic mentalmark nanoneural transceiver sensor implants on one’s seventh birthday, after the early child’s brain development with a friend or classmate having the same or similar birthday, so one could try it out with the trusted friend…).

His mind went on drifting and reminiscing…

It was the Great Tipping Point that led very quickly to allow for the building of very large structures using self-assembling nano-engineering techniques. It was estimated by some that the new technology advances had accelerated to a staggering pace of more than four orders of magnitude in just over a decade and a half. The new machines could now build structures at more than ten thousand times the speed of their predecessors of just seventeen years ago! In addition, because of similar accelerations in the advances of biotechnology, and the newer medouse devices, there were very few truly stupid people left on the planet. Yes, there were still the Luddite-Primitivists, and the Exodites (accepted external technouse technology but rejected the internal, medouse devices.), but they mostly lived in small isolated pockets and were relatively harmless to the rest of mankind, Jacobal reasoned (as did most of Jacobal’s associates and rather elitist friends).

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click …

Just as Jacobal was nearly positive that he would soon completely awaken, open his eyes, and get on with his weekend on Earth, he instead strangely delivered himself into his own weird dream algorithm morph:

1) have the dream

2) repeat as often as possible

3) rest for a bit, or go to work, or both.

4) “‘Twas Bothness that Prevails”, said he that hast shiniest remarks!

5) Wow! What a rush! Talk about water flowing and mountains rising! Holly shit man!

… whoosh … … loading files … patient’s upgrade 0000.0001.1010 complete …

… whoosh … fwhoooooot … click … shwish …

Jacobal woke up! His mind very quickly discarded the meaningless dream. Yes, he was definitely at Evergreen! Feeling unusually refreshed, he opened his eyes and his ears and slowly sat up with a big smile on his face. Noticing the sudden alertness and movements of the human, the biomonitors cleanly and efficiently unhooked themselves from patient Lectomen’s head, arms, chest, and legs, then gracefully backed away in seemingly perfect unison, leaving a single tiny disposable, portable monitor attached to the right side of his head – just above his ear.

Still feeling just a tiny bit groggy, Jacobal got out of the bed, walked out of the room, and exited Evergreen. No need to see the Doctor (there were of course no longer any human receptionists anywhere. Naturally, everything having to do with his visit was automatically logged, recorded, billed, and paid).

The Grand Opening of the New Los Angeles Center for the Modern Arts, Western III would commence in just five hours from now. Jacobal most definitely did not want to miss this! Nearly his entire weekend had been taken up by the two upgrade procedures at Evergreen, and yearned for something fun before it was time to check in at the port for his return flight to The Station.

It was Jacobal’s team that had been largely responsible for many of the highly-technical substructures that were integrated throughout the Western III, and he was very proud of the achievement. There were a considerable number of new innovations that he and his team had either come up with or had incorporated into their models and made improvements on. The structures self-assembled faster and with less glitches than any previous undertaking. The technologies were largely state-of-the-art, yet they managed to keep costs within budget.

At the opening ceremony, VIP guests would likely notice him and appreciate his attendance. Jacobal was not famous, but word was spreading among the very wealthy.

In addition, Jacobal was friends with one of, among a trio of the musicians that were to perform toward the end of the celebration. He was looking forward to listening to their new interpretations of Goldberg Variations: numbers two, three, five, seven, eleven, thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, 23, 29, and ending on something completely new (yet still within the Bach tradition, or so Jacobal was assured by his good friend). The composer was calling it Variations on 31!

Jacobal met up with his musician friend, Laura Lagerly after the performance.

Laura (glancing at Jacobal’s head, just above the ear):

Jacobal! So glad you can make it! … I see you had your upgrade. How was it?

Jacobal (glancing at Laura’s beautiful eyes and cute, petite breasts):

Your concert was magnificent! Much more pleasant than laying down on that nasty bed for nearly two days! And the dreams… more bizarre than usual, I must say. But I am glad for it.

Variations on 31 was … very interesting.

Laura chuckled, while taking a bite of a carrot stick.

What? You didn’t like it?


Of course, I loved it! I meant it was interesting in a good way. Anyway, you know that new stuff grows on me… over time. I especially loved your work on Variatio 19! I felt like dancing with … well, with you.

Laura (slightly blushing as she notices her reflection in Jacobal’s eyes)

Thank you so much. I am glad you could attend. I miss you so much! What’s it like up there anyway?


Well, you know, always busy. Not much time for social life lately with my new job….

…he glanced over to his left then back at Laura. Laura looked so lovely tonight! And her cello performance! Jacobal had never heard Goldberg performed live before, and never any way other than solo keyboard – piano, or harpsichord. He had really enjoyed himself tonight… at least he now had all the music and Laura to remember this evening.

Just then, a VIP noticed Jacobal and called him over for a chat. Laura was clearly hungry and wanting something more substantial to eat and of course drink (don’t all musicians? – Jacobal always thought as much). They politely exchanged goodbyes and parted company. Jacobal wished they had more time together and he did not have to talk shop with this man.

Chapter 0.2: Upgrade 0000.0001.1010

[Hyper Programs Analyst – Bot AI]

…These hyper-programs map networks with computers with bots and humans and all of mankind’s machines…

Synthetic DNA computers control synthetic RNA …, another fascinating tangential field to Jacobal’s; but it was only one of hundreds upon hundreds of which he was only partially familiar with.

Anyway, the thing is, is that Jacobal had completed his few days off on earth, and was returning back to the terminal to board on a freighter flight. Jacobal Lectomen and Morris Hampton would be the only human passengers. The gigantic freighter was already loaded up and carrying huge quantities of water – taken from the “extra” water in the ocean that began to accumulate in the mid twenty first and continued into the early twenty second centuries, due to global warming.

…Thanks to polar meltdown, the world’s oceans had supplied all of the water needed to make the Station both necessary and possible! Large amounts of water were required for the huge space station’s completion. The station was ideally located for both military and civilian needs, but it still required vast quantities of water to make it livable for most humans. Meanwhile, the space station was largely populated by androids and certain cyborgs. Other cyborgs and humans were for the most part confined to certain areas already protected, but they could venture out to other sectors if they were willing to wear rather heavy coveralls, and a heavy duty space helmet. Even with all the protection, visits to unprotected areas were limited to a maximum of five hours. Still, the current status was looking pretty good, already 13.31% of the Station was completed with virtually zero cosmic ray bombardment.

Fortunately, wetware had largely solved the bothersome cosmic ray problem, but not completely. The Station still needed several layers of various materials separating layers of water: purified water, saline water, and even natural ocean water (complete with marine life). The materials were the new super ultralight, ultra-strong, meta-metallic nano-hybrid transparent and translucent composites. Each layer was extremely thick and blocked a significant percentage of the harmful cosmic rays, but the water was still required to complete the job as well as to supply the huge space station with drinking water, protein (from fish), fuel production, waste management, and so on…

Jacobal’s job was a kind of programmer-architect; utilizing nanobots all the way up to macrobots “objects”, creating physical systems as the final output of the hyper-compiler.

Still, within this field, the basic low-level primitives existed and were utilized: “assignment”, “if”,”loop”, …, “object”, …, “pattern composite group“, … “hyperbolic knot biadjacency matrix“, and so on up the latter; but also integrated with actual physical objects in the the real world, such that the robots would build the final output – a designed project.

Projects were integrated and assembled with the help of standardized project-system templates. Bots of all sizes were linked together in fast moving dynamic network structures following each hyper-instruction set; looking somewhat like a series of odd-sized dominoes lined up into highly-intricate, often fractal-like patterns., quickly being knocked down and reset into a brand new pattern within a pattern within a pattern. These patterns extended down to the microscopic level all the way up to the completed macroscopic objects, then systems, then networks of systems, linked all together with a neural-synaptic-like complexity.

In some sense, humans could be considered devices, thought Jacobal.

Of course, Jacobal did not “do it all”. His staff consisted of a mixture of machines, humans, and cyborgs. If androids and cyborgs counted, then Jacobal had a team of 243 – including twenty-nine humans, seventeen androids, and 197 cyborgs.

Yes, Jacobal’s latest upgrade will enhance his work performance greatly!

Jacobal knows he will have bizarre dreams again for the next two or three nights, but with his last couple of upgrades his “side effect” dreams were actually quite enjoyable and he was confident that this time would be no different. In any event, the small inconvenience will be well worth it, he speculated.

Chapter 0.3: Upgrade 0000.0001.1010

[Unprotected Cargo]

Time to return to The Station; therefore Lectomen boards the tiny passenger cabin of the huge old Freighter FRT.STN03. Hampton was already seated and had strapped himself in place. Jacobal Lectomen seldom tires on these trips, even less so now with so many interesting new work assignments in his head, or so he reasoned. He sat down next to Hampton in seat three, not noticing the containers holding three pairs of protective coveralls and three helmets stashed in a small bin just behind seat one. Neither Hampton nor Lectomen were used to flying these older-class freighters, and, as was typical for private freighters, safety instructions were no where to be seen.

“Various phases of man kind have realized how magical the Universe appears.”, said Morris Hampton to Lectomen.

Jacobal giddily replied in a fake old-British accent, “’tis but ’tis not, please kind sir give me some more; or whatever.” He then promptly fell asleep once more. Jacobal slept very well indeed!

Morris tittered, then sighed. Morris never seemed to grow weary of their seemingly nonsensical inside joke. He loved it, because he knew that Jacobal was so annoyed by it. He remembered Jacobal’s oft repeated remarks:

Every damn time I go through with another upgrade … you have to drag that old incident up …

… and Morris knew that lately, Jacobal was merely pretending to enjoy the joke …

Jacobal’s dream mind began visualizing a stunningly beautiful fractal-like geometry, almost organic in appearance, sprouting branches and sub-branches like a rapidly growing highly intricate semi-artificial, glimmering alien plant with thousands of neuro-synaptic-like leaves constantly forming, then disappearing, then reappearing at the tips. Almost as if synchronized with the growth of the glowing tips of the fractal branches, with a FugueCounterpoint-like quality, he mentally began to rhythmically oratorize an odd, long forgotten mentalmark memory trail: Nothingness and its relationship to the Universe almost verbatim.

Just then, a cosmic ray whizzed through the freighter’s limited shielding and into Jacobal’s head, nearly striking one of his new upgrade implants (UG.01A) , partially damaging an extremely tiny cluster of neurons nearby, causing one of the neurons to form a very unusual new synaptic connection to the new technology.

An interesting fact is that UG.01A represents a new, huge leap forward in medouse technology. It is the world’s first upgrade with an internalized quantum computer. It is designed specifically for controlled, deeply recursive, and highly complex “what if scenario” problem solving.

Unbeknownst to Jacobal, the newly formed synaptic connection, combined with the tiny energy flux from the near miss of UG.01A, caused UG.01A to alter the states of three of its mere 2048 qbits in a seemingly random way. The electrons in several nearby atoms located in Jacobal’s gray matter jumped wildly from one state to another as they absorbed the remaining quantum packets from the ray.

A fraction of a second later, Morris noticed Lectomen’s left hand and left cheek just under his left eye twitch slightly, but he paid little attention to the matter, although he did involuntarily and unconsciously smile a quick nervous smile.

Morris turned his head away from Jacobal and began thinking about the infamous John and Jerry Incident of long ago for reasons he did not quite understand. The thought seemed so totally unrelated to his long journey back to The Station, his current projects and plans, his past weekend, his close relationships, but still it made him a feel slightly uncomfortable, and he wondered why the thought had just now entered his mind. Morris moved around in his seat in an attempt make himself relax, but he could not seem to find the ideal position.

He became restless.

“Damn Cargo Freighter! If, only I had a flexchair!”, Morris muttered with discontent under his breath, wishing he had someone to talk to…

“humph”, Jacobal’s once colorful and vivid fractal vision first splintered, and then slowly faded away into near nothingness as his sleep deepened. His peaceful and entangled mind finally settled down into quiet, comfortable rest …

Momentarily, Morris Hampton received a high-priority mentalmark with the heading: “Urgent!”, just as he was picking up and contemplating playing with an old, yet sophisticated child’s toy. The rectangular, palm-sized toy was very thin, with very slick blue metallic trim, and with nicely designed, very attractive, nearly transparent touch and voice-activated controls – all integrated on the bottom-edge surface of the toy’s ultra-high resolution display (resolution at about that of the human retina). The toy had apparently been lying there on the floor, just under Jacobal’s seat for quite a few years now. It of course was not covered in dust, but he could tell the technology was nearly a decade old just by looking at it. He surmised that the toy had been there since the freighter’s maiden voyage nearly eight years prior. As he picked up the toy, the toy’s shape shifted a bit to fit perfectly into the curvature of his palm, and turned itself on.

As Morris read the content of the short, simple, but encrypted and highly classified note, he sat up sharply, and dropped the toy into his lap. The toy became flat once again and turned itself off.

The General!“, he thought.

Morris wiggled around more in his seat, in a futile attempt to make himself comfortable and relaxed. He felt a lump swelling up in his throat, and swallowed. A single warm tear began to run down his cheek, but it stopped just under his left eye. He wiped it with his left hand. His hand and his cheek twitched ever so slightly.

Morris reviewed the note for the details after line three:



The General is seriously ill.

Suspect SD.0111 Assemblers in the heart, but could be natural.

Remember: only face-to-face is binding.

JL must first join the 13

Convince JL to investigate the 13, the 7, and the 47

Ask JL about: UG.0000.0001.1010 dream 3 @ t23.439-t29.761


“Wow!” was the only remaining thought on Morris Hampton’s mind for several long moments.

Morris looked over again at Jacobal and saw that he was still sleeping. He decided that he had better let him continue to sleep given that he had no clue as to whether or not Jacobal was somehow gaining important information though a dream! Morris wondered about so much:

What the hell could a dream have to do with anything? How would anyone from The Three know about it, and why did they not mention that The Three should be investigated?

Morris picked up the Child’s toy. The toy turned itself on as it formed nicely into his palm once again. Morris read the text on the display:


It has been 11 minutes since I was last picked up,

and 1237 days since I was last asked to do anything for you.

Please tell me what you want me to do…

Compose Music?

Write a Poem?

Help you to Compose Music?

Help you to Write a Poem?

Would you like to do something completely different today?

It has been quite a long time since you played with me!


Morris chuckled to himself as he touched “Write a Poem?”. Morris quietly spoke, so as not to disturb Jacobal:

Please make the poem about hope.

He waited for forty one seconds as the child’s toy thought and worked on its poem. The device displayed the poem I Was Hoping. Morris read the poem, gently touched the word loping with his left index finger, and watched the horse and rider. Morris smiled as he watched and contemplated the multi-layered meanings behind this unusual hyperpoem. One by one, he touched the other hyperlinked words on the screen – each word seemed to add new meaning and provoke new thoughts within Morris Hampton’s ever puzzling mind. Morris hopingly thought:

Hmmm, I too must be but a strange looping entwinement of patterns within an entwinement of countably infinite fractals. With Jacobal’s help

… perhaps there is …


Morris waited for another hour and Jacobal had not yet awoken. He touched the Child’s toy once again, but this time he selected: Compose Music?

Please make for me a very simple piano jazz solo

This time he enabled communication between his tiny ear-brain translation implants and the device, waited for 73 seconds as the child’s toy thought and worked on its music. The device displayed the title of the piano solo: Improvisation In C Major For Piano, so he touched the title and it began to play, seemingly directly into his head…

Jacobal continued having his strange dreams for hours and hours, ever since shortly after they had emerged from the 31 minute ride in the accelerator rail tube and the last hydrogen plasma strobe bursts that followed, but Morris did not dare bother him. Too much at stake to be impatient, he thought.

Having successfully served its only function, the tiny monitoring device next to Jacobal’s ear had slowly disolved away like a scab. The nano-wire worm-like attachment promptly withdrew from Jacobol’s skin, connected itself to another spot on the temporal bone network, and self-reconfigured itself into a redundant relay, adding additional fault tolerance to Jacobal’s skullular network …

…to be continued… (if I receive some feedback either positive or negative…maybe it is starting out too slow?????????????????????????????).

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