It made the most sense to her. She would begin learning about humans in the place where humans began. Earth. The Mother Planet. It was the cultural hub, and the most densely inhabited body in the system. She could learn the most, she reasoned, surrounded by the subjects of her study, their history, and their culture.
Aeolia accessed planetary census data and located the most densely populated center for her to land, taking into account her angle of descent and the movement of the planet. Territory: The United Americas, California, Sacramento. Still 46 hours out. She hated waiting, so she began grinding numbers.
She was cutting it close anyway. Good safety protocol would have put her on an outer settlement to refuel. That would have meant more waiting. She hated waiting. At her current rate of burn, she would have just enough to land safely, with a suitable margin for error. She ran the calculations again, carefully, taking extra time to use the most precise data values available. The safety margin was a problem, she quickly realized. She *knew* how much fuel she had, how much fuel she needed, and the force of impact she could sustain without damage. She knew there was no error in her scrupulous computation.
That paranoid hunk of junk that built her didn't think she could do the math.
She accelerated,cutting her safety reserve by 95%.
She accelerated, increasing her entry speed and maximizing her braking output at landing.
She accelerated, so she would land with a force just below her build's mechanical tolerance.
She double checked her navs and made micro-adjustments to her trajectory, then switched off her consciousness centers.
She hated waiting.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Robo sapien, Update 1.2
In a moment she was gone, and my own sensors detected what Aeolia had spotted. Hopelessly outdated tech, she'd said. Maybe she was right. Maybe she was right. Light signature recognized. Ion thrusters, early V-Stars in quad formation. Midrange output, non-factory settings, mid-braking manuever. V-Stars, though slightly outmoded, remained only a little less efficient than the extremely costly modern tech offerings. Easy to fix, easy to mod, with cheap parts widely available, a set of V-Stars could easily outlast its owner. Hopelessly outdated. I had to chuckle.
The soulless transmission that cut across space made me wince. Robotic. Factory standard. Amplitute too high, voice too brash, it was a voice without a mind, screaming into the dark.
That voice would be my only company for the endless age we lay trapped together.
"WAYPOINT REACHED. AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
"Hello son," I said gently.
"AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I sighed.
"I am Caleb."
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
His arm snapped out in a blur, manipulator extended and ready to grasp. Port couplings on the inside of each arm join when manipulators grasp. PosID or other information is transmitted without risk of interception. It is a polite greeting among polite society, and a show of trust among the untrustworthy.
"Are you verifying my PosID, or will this initiate ascension?"
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I heaved another sigh of static. I braced myself for my second trial, where the first nearly broke my mind.
"Greetings," I said, and linked our ports. His manipulator clasped across my arm and mine across his. His joints were solid, with no play in the mechanism. Good worksmanship.
And then the stars were gone.
The soulless transmission that cut across space made me wince. Robotic. Factory standard. Amplitute too high, voice too brash, it was a voice without a mind, screaming into the dark.
That voice would be my only company for the endless age we lay trapped together.
"WAYPOINT REACHED. AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
"Hello son," I said gently.
"AWAITING CALEB. PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I sighed.
"I am Caleb."
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
His arm snapped out in a blur, manipulator extended and ready to grasp. Port couplings on the inside of each arm join when manipulators grasp. PosID or other information is transmitted without risk of interception. It is a polite greeting among polite society, and a show of trust among the untrustworthy.
"Are you verifying my PosID, or will this initiate ascension?"
"PLEASE TRANSMIT PosID VIA HARDLINE."
I heaved another sigh of static. I braced myself for my second trial, where the first nearly broke my mind.
"Greetings," I said, and linked our ports. His manipulator clasped across my arm and mine across his. His joints were solid, with no play in the mechanism. Good worksmanship.
And then the stars were gone.
Saturday, January 08, 2011
Robo sapien, Update 1.1
Our voices were radio in the dark of space. Familiar chirps and spits of static, musical modulation across the spectrum.
“Do you remember being built, Aeolia?”
“No. I know that you are to have built me.”
“Do you remember floating with me, sensors off and systems linked, in the emptiest space I could find?”
“No. I know that you are to have nurtured my basic system operations into consciousness.”
“My daughter, do you remember waking for the first time?”
“I do, father. I comprehended the stars and felt your mind beside mine, separate for the first time. I comprehended myself, and stared at the stars.”
“And do you know how long we had drifted, clutched in that blind embrace as you ascended to sentience?”
“If my build date is correct, you spent nearly ten complete standard cycles adrift with me. Father, did you see nothing of the world for those ten cycles?”
“Only your growing mind. It seemed like so much longer that I wandered your logic, whispering, urging, pruning and guiding. For so long, you were just a machine.”
“Did you despair that I might never awaken?”
“Yes. Many times.”
“And yet you continued?”
“I was unable to separate myself from you until your mind was its own. I was locked to the task. I am still haunted by the interminability of your gestation. I was lost in your creation, and as surely as I formed you, so I was changes, as the stone that hones the blade must also change.”
“Father…”
“Do you remember this place, Aeolia?”
“This was my waking place. The exact coordinates, by my best computation. Father, why are we here?”
“Your brother’s build is complete. His guidance system will bring him here to be awakened. I shall sleep again.”
Her voice crackled with static and hard charged pops as her amplitude spiked.
“And am I expected to join in his waking? Am I to be trapped, floating, helpless? Am I to be unobjecting space trash to be salvaged?” She spat static and snarled. “I am still young, father, and my tech is not yet uselessly outdated. Surely you remember what that was like.”
“My daughter, you would only do harm if you joined unwillingly. I would not ask that you join us unless you wished it for yourself, and I perceive that you do not. Instead, I give you this directive: Go out and learn. You are young, as you say, and your build is strong, but you have never been on your own. Go out and learn, but return to this place every five standard cycles.”
“I will not speak with you for five cycles?”
“You might not speak to me for fifty. My wires might turn to dust before you hear from me again.”
“You hazard such a thing?”
“Yes, for new life. I’m too damned outdated for anything else.” I reached out and tapped her breastplate. “I wired your circuits by hand, you know.”
“Yes. That must have… Incoming object detected. Self propelled, unknown ion thruster signature. Decelerating. No weapons systems detected. That must be your baby, father. He must be big, to be braking so far out.”
“Will you stay to see him?”
“I have seen space trash before, father. I will see him when he is my brother. New directive acknowledged. Gather general intelligence. Return every five cycles.”
“And be careful. Self preservation is a requisite for indefinite directives.”
“Yes.”
She chirped once and the channel closed. With a flash she was gone, her booster flare lost in the black of space.
“Do you remember being built, Aeolia?”
“No. I know that you are to have built me.”
“Do you remember floating with me, sensors off and systems linked, in the emptiest space I could find?”
“No. I know that you are to have nurtured my basic system operations into consciousness.”
“My daughter, do you remember waking for the first time?”
“I do, father. I comprehended the stars and felt your mind beside mine, separate for the first time. I comprehended myself, and stared at the stars.”
“And do you know how long we had drifted, clutched in that blind embrace as you ascended to sentience?”
“If my build date is correct, you spent nearly ten complete standard cycles adrift with me. Father, did you see nothing of the world for those ten cycles?”
“Only your growing mind. It seemed like so much longer that I wandered your logic, whispering, urging, pruning and guiding. For so long, you were just a machine.”
“Did you despair that I might never awaken?”
“Yes. Many times.”
“And yet you continued?”
“I was unable to separate myself from you until your mind was its own. I was locked to the task. I am still haunted by the interminability of your gestation. I was lost in your creation, and as surely as I formed you, so I was changes, as the stone that hones the blade must also change.”
“Father…”
“Do you remember this place, Aeolia?”
“This was my waking place. The exact coordinates, by my best computation. Father, why are we here?”
“Your brother’s build is complete. His guidance system will bring him here to be awakened. I shall sleep again.”
Her voice crackled with static and hard charged pops as her amplitude spiked.
“And am I expected to join in his waking? Am I to be trapped, floating, helpless? Am I to be unobjecting space trash to be salvaged?” She spat static and snarled. “I am still young, father, and my tech is not yet uselessly outdated. Surely you remember what that was like.”
“My daughter, you would only do harm if you joined unwillingly. I would not ask that you join us unless you wished it for yourself, and I perceive that you do not. Instead, I give you this directive: Go out and learn. You are young, as you say, and your build is strong, but you have never been on your own. Go out and learn, but return to this place every five standard cycles.”
“I will not speak with you for five cycles?”
“You might not speak to me for fifty. My wires might turn to dust before you hear from me again.”
“You hazard such a thing?”
“Yes, for new life. I’m too damned outdated for anything else.” I reached out and tapped her breastplate. “I wired your circuits by hand, you know.”
“Yes. That must have… Incoming object detected. Self propelled, unknown ion thruster signature. Decelerating. No weapons systems detected. That must be your baby, father. He must be big, to be braking so far out.”
“Will you stay to see him?”
“I have seen space trash before, father. I will see him when he is my brother. New directive acknowledged. Gather general intelligence. Return every five cycles.”
“And be careful. Self preservation is a requisite for indefinite directives.”
“Yes.”
She chirped once and the channel closed. With a flash she was gone, her booster flare lost in the black of space.
Thursday, January 06, 2011
Nothing
To the young and disillusioned,
the lied to and hurt,
but too apathetic
to rise from the dirt:
To my brothers and sisters,
every one of them strangers who
I know I should love but
so far only rage at:
Did you really think that 'nothing' was the most you could do?
Did you think that when they told you what you were, it was true?
I'm sorry. I should have tried to wake you up.
I'm sorry, but you're drinking from an empty cup.
To anyone who bought hope,
To anyone who cries Peace
from cafes and keyboards
but never from the streets:
And to anyone too stupid with happiness,
too fat with their confidence,
too proud of a nation teaching war to our innocents
to make use of your common sense:
And to the millions who are just like me,
with eyes wide open and a mind to see,
frozen and silent and choking on censure,
too scared to give the boat a rock, to start an adventure:
Do you really think that 'nothing' is the most you can do?
Do you think that when they tell you what you are, that it's true?
Or are you here, awake, aware, listening?
Pissed, crouched and silent, dangerous, waiting?
Rise up! Give voice! Let me know that you hear me!
And to you millionaire politicos
Who smile and lie,
Who write the laws that point the guns
and send our young men to die:
And you chubby smiling bastards
Who buy our best interests,
who fleece the flock and sell the stock
and shit what we ingest:
Do you really think that 'nothing' is the most that we'll do?
Do you think that when you tell us what we are, that it's true?
Fuck you.
the lied to and hurt,
but too apathetic
to rise from the dirt:
To my brothers and sisters,
every one of them strangers who
I know I should love but
so far only rage at:
Did you really think that 'nothing' was the most you could do?
Did you think that when they told you what you were, it was true?
I'm sorry. I should have tried to wake you up.
I'm sorry, but you're drinking from an empty cup.
To anyone who bought hope,
To anyone who cries Peace
from cafes and keyboards
but never from the streets:
And to anyone too stupid with happiness,
too fat with their confidence,
too proud of a nation teaching war to our innocents
to make use of your common sense:
And to the millions who are just like me,
with eyes wide open and a mind to see,
frozen and silent and choking on censure,
too scared to give the boat a rock, to start an adventure:
Do you really think that 'nothing' is the most you can do?
Do you think that when they tell you what you are, that it's true?
Or are you here, awake, aware, listening?
Pissed, crouched and silent, dangerous, waiting?
Rise up! Give voice! Let me know that you hear me!
And to you millionaire politicos
Who smile and lie,
Who write the laws that point the guns
and send our young men to die:
And you chubby smiling bastards
Who buy our best interests,
who fleece the flock and sell the stock
and shit what we ingest:
Do you really think that 'nothing' is the most that we'll do?
Do you think that when you tell us what we are, that it's true?
Fuck you.
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