Word Wizards

Dr. Repose: The site's wanna-be author, professional jerk, monster who's dead on the inside, and semi-proud owner.

Main Site Login

#Nonpersons

Adaptive, Not Artifical.

I’ve been working on a segment in the rough draft of Monolithic Horizon that deals with Artificial Intelligences.   A.I. tends to show up in virtually every genre of science fiction, but I was thinking slightly beyond that, what about an A.I. that isn’t built with specific limits, something that grows and learns without any end in sight.  An endlessly self-writing A.I. that is programmed specifically without any limits.  When examining any technology there is always room for improvement and expansion.  I believe that true A.I. is not just likely, it’s inevitable. I also believe that it is only the beginning.  In Monolithic Horizon, I wanted to explore what the next stage would be like, so here’s a rough version on the back story of the unnamed Adaptive Intelligence the Commission dubbed ‘Blackout.’

Click to continue reading “Adaptive, Not Artifical.”
Go straight to Post

Where the hell have I been?

I honestly couldn’t tell you.

A few nights ago I was standing in my kitchen, in my underwear, eating a Hot Pocket… going through a mental catalog of my life up to this point.   The last thing I accomplished, ever, that I can recall was when passed my black belt ceremony for Tea Kwon Do, all those years ago.  Since then, I’ve never bothered or tried to see anything through.  My life at this point, is pretty well… dismal.  I’m 30, I’m broke all the time, and frankly I had about all I could take of it.  I haven’t felt like I was worth anything at all in so long that I had all but given up.  For the past 10 years of my life I have done absolutely nothing, and I don’t say that to get pity or even a thought of ‘oh that’s not true!’  I say it because it’s the truth.  I know myself, I know what I’ve been doing and I have NOT been trying.  I’ve been floating along hoping that things would just magically ‘work out’ and waiting for a sign or something to get motivated.

I wanted to feel that … high I got from actually getting that belt.  I was so proud of myself, because it was so hard for me to do.  The training and all the times the instructors yelled at me and all the bumps but they always believed I could do something with my life.  They believed in me, just like a lot of my friends, and acquaintances over the years have, but the one person who didn’t was the one person who actually counted.  Me.  I have done a very good job over the years convincing myself that I wasn’t that good, that I wasn’t that smart, and that I would never be able to do anything big again.

For the past 10 years, I’ve wanted more than anything to write a book.

For the past 7 years the book has been in this perpetual re-write limbo where I throw out everything and start over.

For the past 5 years I’ve done nothing at all with it but sit around.

I want to finish something again, I want to do it so bad and for the first time in a long time I’ve managed to identify the source of my problem.  Distractions.  I always get wrapped up in a game or website or project of some sort that’s supposedly more fun than the ‘work’ of writing.  Where has that gotten me?  I’ll tell you.

Standing alone, in my crappy apartment, at 1 am eating a god damn hot pocket in my underwear.

I just… can’t do this anymore.  I’m motivated to finish this god damn book once and for all.  I’ve begun the process of re-compiling all my written material, all the re-writes, all the extra and miscellaneous notes and bits.  I’ve discovered an easy way to publish and distribute this book, and I am setting for myself an artificial deadline for the first draft.  December 25th.  I can’t think of a better Christmas gift to myself than to get the book sent off for it’s first ever editing.

Go straight to Post

Monolithic Horizon; Act 1: Heathen – Chapter 5: A Better Future

When I first met John Seifer, it was at a press conference.  This was after a failed assassination attempt on yours truly.   The speech was my glorious assurance to the people that those responsible were brought to justice and that the threat has passed, but my heart wasn’t in it.   The speech was flat, but no one seemed to notice that I didn’t even seem to believe what I was saying anymore.  This is because I realized that I had become so used to lying that it came natural to show the correct inflection and emotion at times, like a reflex.   While I didn’t summon up any feeling, there was no difference.   This made me wonder what the point in me being a figurehead was.   It was clear no one really paid attention to the government anymore, the people more that likely felt that I was totally irrelevant.  Therefore I eventually came to the realization that I was most likely going to die.  It wasn’t, as they say, a matter of how but when.   The Commission’s market research data showed that most people didn’t even realize the government was still in operation, and therefore my termination was inevitable.   That’s what Seifer told me after the conference was over.   Off the record.  It  was the first time anyone talked to me like I was anything more than a tool, so I suppose that my guard was lowered slightly.  Maybe that gave me the false pretense that he actually cared if I lived or died.   Which, I should have known was far from the case.

This was over a year ago.

We only met about a dozen times, and each time it was off the record.  From what I was led to believe about that sort of thing, with enough money you could say and do whatever you wanted and it wouldn’t be used against you.  Which, was rather stupid in retrospect, but I was desperate for someone to talk to.   Desperate to speak about the things that concerned me after ten years, almost seven of which I felt like a walking corpse, barely capable of functioning without being told what to do and where to go.   Over the last three years the headaches would get more frequent and more terrible, a cackling electric fire across my synapses, feeling like my brain had been replaced like a teeming swarm of fire ants.   The thing about the noises, is that I could hear faint sounds, almost like voices.   Yet, it wasn’t English or slang or anything human.  It kinda sounded like a phone connection.  A modem.  You see some of those in the more low tech areas of Europa.  For the like of me I don’t know how I knew that.   There’s a lot of memories in my head, unbound like that.  Little fragments of information, little factoids but they aren’t based on any experience of mine.  This, combined with my normal experiences day in and out has accumulated over the years into this growing hatred for The Commission.   Like lighting a waterproof fuse, once ignited there is only one possible outcome.   

Click to continue reading “Monolithic Horizon; Act 1: Heathen – Chapter 5: A Better Future”
Go straight to Post

Flame Town Adventures