First came language. Then the written word. Books evolved on every subject. There were funny books, angry books, sad, and romantic books. Sagacious and deceiving books. Then came the digital age. And things changed as things do. And with it came the algorithms. The Algorithms. Bots to create the stories we read, the histories we believe, the opinions we share, and the news we trust. Crime became the expression, and self-expression became the crime. But laws only prohibit, they don’t prevent. And so follows this tale I tell from the grave.

Tuesday, October 15, 2019

I set the biosensor on the iWatch to publish the story two minutes after my heart stops. Two minutes to cover any technical anomalies that the Almighty Apple might incur.

Day begins like every other, plain fucking shitty. Then, it turns miraculous. I should have known then shit was up…


    1. … stuff was pretty danged analog when Asimov was scoping out his laws of robotics. Algorithms proceeded at the pace of a slide rule. I recall reading about the limitations inherent in all possible future computers — something about requiring a computer the size of the known universe to simulate the intelligence of a single brain “mechanically.”

      Bots to create the stories we read, the histories we believe, the opinions we share, and the news we trust.
      Are deep fakes being manipulated by deeper fakes?
      Has anyone seen my slide rule?

      Liked by 1 person

          1. Got it in one! At the end of the day, I love getting on down with the Goats & Tigers, whilst having a Gin & Tonic. I have a better conversation with them, with a G&T in hand, than I’ve had all day. Seeing as I work from home, that’s not hard, actually.

            Liked by 1 person

    1. I thought I had, Esme. But it was only a dream. Did I write this in my dream? Um, strange possibility. Anyway, speaking for myself, it’s always the mushrooms that make my eyelashes twitch. So, there are shrooms on the cloud, then? Fess up, girl.

      Liked by 2 people

      1. Things are a bit mouldy round the back entrance, but the less said about that the better.

        A dream within a dream Peter . . . I give you Poe (not a potty the writer)

        Take this kiss upon the brow!
        And, in parting from you now,
        Thus much let me avow —
        You are not wrong, who deem
        That my days have been a dream;
        Yet if hope has flown away
        In a night, or in a day,
        In a vision, or in none,
        Is it therefore the less gone?
        All that we see or seem
        Is but a dream within a dream.

        I stand amid the roar
        Of a surf-tormented shore,
        And I hold within my hand
        Grains of the golden sand —
        How few! yet how they creep
        Through my fingers to the deep,
        While I weep — while I weep!
        O God! Can I not grasp
        Them with a tighter clasp?
        O God! can I not save
        One from the pitiless wave?
        Is all that we see or seem
        But a dream within a dream?

        Esme sat with the ravens and Shitakes upon the Cloud waving

        Liked by 4 people

  1. Things have gone terribly wrong if shit was up . . . Reminds me of a Martin Amis novel called Time’s Arrow in which everything happens in reverse, including the quotidian phenomenon of shit ascending from loo to anus. Anyway, tell me, I’ve always wanted to know — is it boring being dead or can one float around going wo—oo and so forth?

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Hariod, I wish I could offer some insight. Turns out—unless we’re all speaking from the grave—mine was but an Apple’s glitch in Time’s Möbius (see Bill’s comment above).

      Now, as chance would have it, (BTW, it’s terribly unsavory to imagine loo to anus.) I’ve just finished the fourth installment of Martha Well’s Murderbot series and struggling to look for my next fictional(?) adventure. I’ve gone through several samples only to end up—once again, trapped in Time’s Möbius with nothing to unbore myself. Time’s Arrow (Vintage International), however, from the first few pages at least, seems rather promising (well, except for the, you know, loo to anus part). I must thank you for the suggestion.

      Liked by 3 people

  2. Thanks for that ya deep thinker, you make my poor simpleton brain sweat.
    After we’re dead, all of our online writings, etc., will live on for as long as the internet lives or as long as possible before some program or something/one discovers our inactivity. Then our stuff will probably be killed too, but not in the minds of those we’ve infected…with compassion or other good things. Can’t allow that stuff to fester for too long, now, can they.
    Hey, I’m an Apple person too…don’t get pc users, haha.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. A simpleton’s brain? I hardly think so. I read your writing. I just came from the eloquence, wit, and wisdom of your post and rebuttal comments over at Total Quackery. You’re not fooling me.

      And for anyone interested:

      Now I hate to say this, for this will shatter any image you may have had of me, any favorable image anyway, but I own a PC. Now, if it’s any consolation, I’m not brand loyal. To anything. Well, mostly anything. And I admit, Macs are nice machines. And maybe, just maybe, someday I’ll own one. I’m not opposed to that.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well there you go, I’m a nincompoop for assuming you have an Apple because of your, “Two minutes to cover any technical anomalies that the Almighty Apple might incur.” I’ll forgive you having that PC there, because Macs are simply the best. Mine’s been being abused for hours almost daily for over 10 years and still humming along flawlessly like on Day One. Oh, thanks for the undeserved praise and for sharing that link, so kind of you!

        Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s