11. September 2011, 07:43:45

#10

KolyaQuote

I don't even have MS Office or OpenOffice... Why not just post it? We'll have problems to find contributors (or readers) anyway. So why raise the threshold artificially?

12. September 2011, 03:43:09

#11

RocketManQuote

Tags: °fictionOk ok, no problem.  Might want to pick up office though   First installment:

********************

The piercing sound of digital chaos filled the room.  SHODAN, with a look of pure horror in its eyes, clung madly to existence.  If it had arms, they would have been flailing desperately to hold onto something, indeed to tear itself right out of the screen if that would help it escape annihilation!  The proto-reality it had carefully crafted began to dissolve away all around him.  He stared triumphantly but slient, into the soul of his enemy and watched it fade away.  A thin rivulet of smoke was still rising from the barrel of his gun.  The tingle of electricity filled the air around him and points of light fell softly to the ground like stars.  At long last, SHODAN disappeared into the abyss, leaving Goggles in silence.  It was over. 

“So long old friend.  Ours just wasn’t meant to be”, he thought to himself with the slightest hint of remorse.

The bridge looked strangely familiar, almost boring.  The power systems hummed quietly, the display screens had resumed their old rituals.  A relieved hero walked slowly up to the main viewscreen and took a seat.  He reclined and let out a sigh.  For the first time in quite a while, he was stress-free and relaxed, knowing that nothing could harm him.  He had won.

…then something irked him.  Humans become complacent far too easily, he realized.  SHODAN was the culmination of years of research into artificial intelligence and it had been stripped of all moral and ethical responsibilities.  But something bothered him even more.  After BETA grove had been jettisoned from Citadel station, SHODANs processing unit drifted through space for years on end with nothing to do except think; something computers do exceedingly well.  Add to that the fact that SHODAN had developed a bitter, self-revering personality and you have the perfect ingredients for plotting revenge.  It would be foolish to think that she hadn’t learned something from her first failed attempt to enslave humanity.  SHODAN saw him coming for it well in advance after he learned its agenda, and had ample time to calculate every possible outcome.  Surely it would not allow itself to be destroyed so easily… would it?

Goggles became uneasy once again and sat up straight.

“This is exactly what SHODAN would have counted on”, he muttered to himself, slightly irritated that he had let his guard down so easily. 

“No wonder.  Everything up until the final battle was so linear, so obvious.  It ended simply and cleanly.  It was all part of SHODAN’s design”

What was it up to?  What sneaky plan for self-preservation was brewing in the background while he was busy shooting at ghosts?

“This ship is huge!  What’s worse, it’s even more huge out there!”

“Got to stay ahead of the game… got to take steps and eliminate the impossible so that I have a manageable plan of attack”

Goggles moved over to the adjacent terminal and pulled up a ship diagnostic summary.  He began pouring over data of all sorts:  Ship’s inventory, engines status, armament, tactical situation, computer logs and activities, the works.  His eyes were bright as jewels, as they reflected the pages of data and images emitted from the transflective screen.

“If my worst fears are true”, he thought, skin paling, “then I am already too late.”

12. September 2011, 07:04:33

#12

KolyaQuote

I awake in a downtown Maglev train headed into New Atlanta's favelas. Outside flying transporter-mechs are shifting containers, slowly circling the burning funnels of Toha Heavy Industries, following their simple AI.

I had taken up the habit of using the train. When my face flickered over the news system I usually raised my shoulders and tried to disappear under the minkfur collar. There was a small piece of paper in one of my pockets with a name written on it in my own writing. The inconnu who had directed me to this meeting had said that the connection was safe, but I knew it was not.
I am so tired of this constant paranoia making me feel weak, old and vulnerable. At 37 I have a hurting back and I have trouble remembering things. I try to retrace the conversation behind closed eyes. Something about the Xerxes prototype... I would have called Janice Polito, Xerxes is her baby after all. Unfortunately she's 60 trillion miles away. I should just get out and spin-vac back home at the next station.

I open my eyes and see the train has already passed the city's outskirts. A concrete platform comes into sight, sprayed with gang signs. We're in the middle of a dump that is cut by the monorail. No spin-vac access is in sight.
The doors open with some creaking and a bunch of punks fill the train. They wear their drug patches proudly, like badges. A few have of them genetically "enhanced" limbs and eyes. Low quality body integration. It makes my skin crawl that people are willingly subjecting themselves to this barbarism.
One of them, a young man with a shaved head and an abstract circuit tattoo on his neck peels from the crowd and slumps into the seat beside me.
"Oh HAI! You look like a million dollars!" he roars at me, "Want some...some real alcohol?" He waves a bottle of vodka.
I notice a bluehaired girl in a pink jacket and miniskirt among his friends. She's eyeing me up with an undecided stare.
"Why don't you give it to your girlfriend?" I tell him friendly but firmly. Try to play the game, maybe he'll go away.
"She doesn't drink," he promptly replies with an annoyed grimace, "got a chip in her head. Vodka just makes her whack out...even more."

12. September 2011, 12:11:38

#13

RocketManQuote

Confused...  is this a second, alternate fiction?

12. September 2011, 19:03:14

#14

KolyaQuote

It's a different string within the story. We'll pull them together later, just go on now.