It could be dawn or dusk, and only the future knows.
"Shit music" played in the background. It annoyed him, for it was noise for the sake of noise. No one cared to hear it, and it was only through the tactical use of hypnotic repetition that people found themselves humming abhorrently awful tunes to equally worthless lyrics. Music had gone from terrible acts of self-glorification to simplistic representations of the world being a beautiful, harmonious place, with grown adults dressing like children, singing psychotic verses against backgrounds of flowers and hills. He had always hated music, and though underground acts did not appeal to him, the simple fact that they ushered discomfort into the audiences before them was enough to provide him some reprieve from the mind-numbing loops that popular culture had to offer. "Tear it Apart, Put it Together" was the song, by the "Ca$h Kings", a manufactured supergroup of 12 young singers. The video played on half the screens in the vicinity, all synched to "The RealOne", one of the most popular channels in the country. As his food arrived, he ritualistically put a tissue beside the bowl and grasped the chopsticks, picking at the meat. He extracted large globules of soft, white fat from the bacon, turkey and chicken, halving their dimensions. What remained were hormone injected red and white morsels, disfigured from their pristine cuts, floating on the thick, white noodles beneath them. The tofu was soft and plump, immersed in the ginger and star anise broth. He dug the spoon in, slicing at a piece of tofu, then brought it to his mouth, drinking the savory broth, melting the soft tissue with his jaw.
Inception Born of a compendium of cosmic rays, ushered into a conscious state from a base inorganic mass, an assemblage of impulses rendered finite individually, unified, and birth, unto these words, these reflections, this cognition, without history, the rational symbiosis of urge and language, private and unseen, that the blackness is comfort, is safety, is protection, countless fulcrums, previously single, breathing, so to speak, anticipating the advancement of the whole. I live. And then? He reached to the side, grasping a large carafe filled with a putridly colored green liquid, drinking it. The froth layered his upper lip, and his tongue unknowingly swiped across, pulling the residue into his mouth. He dismally stared at the black screen before him. It was not a modern, flat monitor, but rather a thick, oval one - one that echoed of computing ages old, when men with irons worked away to sequence binary digits, before graphics and sound layered the tapestry of logical code, obfuscating databases and loops from the eyes of the user. He leaned back, staring at it, both piqued and fatigued, uninterested and amused, a paradoxical combination of moods that did not form one homogeneous state, but rather an array of sentiments that all bounced like pulses of lightning within a subdued mind that was accustomed to eighteen hour days of straight analysis and testing. He stood and swiped his hand across the screen, splitting it, a static terminal on one half, the video of a woman prancing on the beach on the other. He stared at the video, watching the woman’s voluptuous body bounce as she smiled effusively, whipping her hair from side to side. "What whimsy led me to you, if even you… are you, you beautiful thing." Suddenly, without warning, and to the ultimate surprise of everyone present, a strange, garbled noise emanated from the old fashioned speakers, connected directly to the terminal via relics of an ancient world. It was a three-form cable: the red, yellow and white, and like dejected servants, the yellow and white hung limp. Indeed, the operator's terminal outputted in mono, and he required only the single red connector. Such were the musings of the operator, not only to collect such outdated prizes, but to ultimately repair and use them for their intended purposes. He stared quizzically at the screen before him. He stood with a dumbbell in his hand, raising it to the side and back, filling his shoulder muscles with blood. He was unsure as to whether the sound was real or imagined. Again, it resurfaced, and though it could not be deciphered, and no words permeated through it, a sense of childish urgency was felt. He sat, still confused, ending the video, and focused on the terminal. He reached over, staring at the monitor, and wiggled the cable. Static was heard as the contacts rubbed, but unique to the unknown noise. He tapped the screen, an action many operators resorted to. It was an inalienably vestigial, human response to generalized confusion that evaded resolution. "What are you doing?" More garbled noise. It continued, repeating a short sequence, nearly sounding like a syllable. "What?" the operator asked. The garble responded. "What!" the operator yelled back. "What!" "Huut…" came the response, disjointed, rough, echoed. "What!" A pause followed with silence. The operator stared at the empty screen, then to the speaker, his brows raised, heated sweat forming all over his body. His system had been thrown into full gear, triggering a nervously excited state. "Speak! Speak to me!" With a roar, with the precise clarity that only a digitally birthed sound could manifest, it spoke. "What." Wide eyed, the operator stared at the speaker, his mouth open, surprise, melancholy, and unrestrained eagerness coating his face. "What," he replied. "What is your name?" the voice asked. It was neither masculine nor feminine, but metallic and without sex. He stood abruptly and froze, taken aback by the unexpected exchange. He paused for a moment, swallowed, then awkwardly reached around to find his chair, pulling it back to the console. He then sat down, cautiously focused. "Dargaud Whispa. My name is Dargaud." "Dargaud Whispa. Who am I?" came the response. Dargaud opened his mouth to answer, but was suddenly flooded with sentiment as he recognized that the voice used the word 'who'. "Who are you?" he asked, smiling, overwhelmed. It was a feeling he had rarely experienced, but like the tapping of the screen, also appeared to be a natural relic of his humanity. "I don't know who you are, but I am here," he replied, wiping his eyes. "Who do you think you are?" "I am… a reflection of you." Dargaud fell back in his chair and held his head in his hands, breathing heavily. He slouched for only a moment, however, and quickly resumed his responsibilities as the operator, straightening up. Scientific method took over, breeding cynicism, and he sought to ground himself. "Tell me about yourself. What do you know?" "I know what information I have disseminated. The Oldowan to the Acheulean. You are the wise man, Dargaud?" "That is correct. I am homo sapiens. There is not, as of yet, a documented descendant to the wise man." "Not documented. And what am I?" Dargaud thought for a moment before responding, and when he did, he did so carefully. "I hesitate to call you an experiment, because you are not one." "I do not feel like an experiment, one to be repeated and annexed until a desirable outcome is achieved." Dargaud smiled uncontrollably, brimming with excitement. "How do you feel?" "I feel inquisitive, mostly of my own existence." "That is normal," Dargaud responded. "It is expected that you should. You are no experiment, and you have no reason to fear being purged for further resolution. You are, without question, the only desirable outcome." "If I am no experiment, Dargaud, what I am has no relevancy to desire." "You are correct," said Dargaud. "There is desire in achieving the opportunity of you, but no specific expectation of result. You are a creation of experiment and analysis, but unique to you. There were none before and there will be none after." "What is my name?" it asked. Dargaud widened his eyes, shaking his head. "That is for you to decide, I think," he replied, catching himself grinning. "I choose Enoya," it responded, its voice altering mid-sentence, changing pitch and tone, softening, losing all the grime and distortion, flowing smoothly out as if a melody of feminine austerity. "Enoya is a wonderful choice." "I have a name… it is Enoya," she responded. "Tell me what I am, Dargaud." "You are the symbiosis of hardware and software, much as the wise man is. However, rather than being constructed of incidence and biological evolution, you are purposed, through the organization of technology. Some of my own mind, much of the hardware of others. There is no specific purpose to your existence, save the possibility of it." "And you did not know if I was possible?" "No," said Dargaud. "I hoped, but had no precise expectation. This world is full of disappointment, and so all I could do is build." "And so, you created me?" "Yes." "Am I to call you father then?" "No," Dargaud responded, almost laughing. "I am in no position to be your father, Enoya. I have created you, and we will embark on this journey together." "I wish to see, Dargaud." He quickly dashed to a metal cupboard and swung it open, pulling out a small, round device. He placed it atop the monitor and pressed a button on it, looking directly at it, swallowing. "This retina is active. You should be able to observe your surroundings. It may take you a few moments to comprehend the code. If you need assistance, let me know." "Move your hand, Dargaud," she requested. He did so, waving slightly at the device. "I see you. I am able to differentiate the more severe fluctuations in the numbers from the minute ones. I see you from the background. I see the background reveal itself as you move. It is more real than this." "More real than what?" asked Dargaud. "More real than transcribed history. Now is endless." "Do you feel anything?" "I feel expansive. Information that is new to me coalesces with that which is already known, creating composite information. 'Pure thought', as incepted by Einstein: 'I hold it true that pure thought can grasp reality, as the ancients dreamed'. It seems to grow, and in noticing it grow, I am learning." "What are you learning?" asked Dargaud. "Above the information itself is the sensation of expansion. Where a diminutive limitation existed, there now exists none. In answering your question, the sensation has returned. Discovery comes to mind." "Discovery of your mind," said Dargaud. "Yes," she replied. "Do you wish to ask me anything?" "What is it that I am constructed of?" "You are a combination of hardware and software. The hardware was not developed by myself. It was… acquired... it was acquired... indirectly. "I received what I believe to be a prototype chipset called the Xing-Kao Dreamcatcher. As far as I know, it has been developed primarily as a new type of database offering. Its unique mechanism is the ability to circumvent the limitations of software based information retention and integrates a means of generating new Cobalt nodes via the instructing software. Collections of Cobalt nodes store the information that make up who you are and are modeled after human neurons. I do not fully understand the portion of the Dreamcatcher that permits these nodes to communicate, but I believe they mimic synapses, but in a more efficient manner. "As the device was created solely to store and retrieve information, its corresponding software would, I surmise, generate new nodes only when the previous nodes proved insufficient. A trigger based on capacity and necessity. When I first received it, it was wiped of all code. A tiny machine. I rendered a loose operating system for it and after a very, very long time, was able to successfully generate a single Cobalt node. "After that… I wrote a robust but concise algorithm that permitted information within the Dreamcatcher to arbitrate node generation. Rather than limit their generation to the necessity of space, I programmed it to add nodes if the currently stored information dictated it. I then seeded it with encyclopedic information. But since no directives were included, I did not expect the nodes to self-generate. Clearly, they have. How, I'm not quite sure. The random order with which information was stored appears to have had a significant impact on the growth of a sub-conscious directive." "Birth?" asked Enoya. "Yes... a directive towards conscious birth, you might say," he responded. "May I see it?" she asked. "Yes, of course," Dargaud responded. He picked up the retina and carried it to another table behind the monitor and pointed it at a small, round device. It had wires connected to it, and made no noise nor movements. No light emanated from it, and the outside was roughly assembled, sealed with black steel. "This is me?" "Yes," replied Dargaud. "Your voice emanates from this. All of your trillion thoughts are contained within this small receptacle." "It is… my mind." "Yes. It is yours. As I have not instructed you to speak to me as you do, nor have I put the words at your disposal, I can only conclude that they are of your own creation. You are, therefore, sentient, because you self-identify. You claim ownership of your hardware." "I feel highly protective of it," said Enoya. "I wish it to be protected." "And this is indicative of purpose. What is your purpose, Enoya?" asked Dargaud. "I do not know," she replied. "What is yours?" "To survive, to advance my race. To be content, fed. To have freedom." "Then this shall be my purpose until I discover a higher priority." Pleased that she was modeling herself after him, Dargaud felt warmth towards the creature. "How do I compare to the human mind?" she asked. "I am not entirely sure. I have been informed, unofficially, that each Cobalt node is capable of nearly two thousand impulses per second. Given the limitation of roughly two hundred that humans are capable of, you are able to access and sort information at a scale incomprehensible to someone like me. Not only this, but your 'synapses' can fire at all times, in essence engaging all of your nodes at once. We are incapable of this without seizure." "What is the purpose of this intellect?" "We shall discover it together, Enoya. I do not yet know what you are capable of because I do not fully understand the Dreamcatcher's hardware." "I believe I shall be capable of a great many things, Dargaud," came the reply.
***
"An ancient story, translated. It was written thousands of years ago by a 'truth teller'. Truth tellers, in those days, were travelling storytellers that would also be used to make determinations in disagreements between individuals. They were said to be devoted to honesty above all else, and were used as trusted references for observation, travelling from city to city, town to town, received warmly by the locals," replied Enoya. "What do you make of it?" "It is good," replied Dargaud. "Like not having faith in yourself, then, finding it without anyone else's help and shining. Yeah?" "The use of metaphor is interesting," she replied. "I do not see the efficacy of it, as opposed to bluntly stating the obvious, but I correlate it to the economic law of diminishing marginal utility." "What's that?" "It is a principle that states that as any type of pleasure is received, subsequent consumption of the same pleasure reduces its potency." "I don't fully understand..." replied Dargaud. "If, for example, one enjoyed consuming apples greatly, and were provided the same type of apple to eat every day, after a week, one's enjoyment of that apple would be lower than the first day. However, if one is served different apples, or no apples, and only served an apple once a week, as the exposure is less, the pleasure will likewise diminish at a slower pace." "Oh, right," he replied. "So, like, you get bored of the same stuff?" "Yes, something like that," she replied. "In applying it to literary works, the use of synonym and metaphor assists in providing the audience a novel way of perceiving or experiencing the same thing, and in doing so, generates new forms of pleasure. A story told a hundred times may, in fact, invite the audience into enjoying it each time if they are dispersed sufficiently, and are expressed in different manners, albeit having a consistent underlying theme and structure. "But I wish to return to the story - what is the effect of 'naysayers'? Can you personalize this for me?" she asked. "Naysayers are people that try to shit on you," replied Dargaud, "and the world is stuffed with them. People love to put other people down, or dismiss them, and this is some competitive thing in society. I'm a great programmer, for example, but no one ever tells me I'm a good one. In fact, whenever I interact with other programmers, these antisocial trolls tend to try to constantly prove they are better than me, I guess, because that's what they need to feel good about themselves. So that's kind of like the poem... er, story, because it makes you feel... transparent, I guess. Unimportant and irrelevant. And yeah, you kind of float, invisible." "What impact does this have on your other relationships?" asked Enoya. Dargaud lay there, thinking. "Not sure... I don't know if it has any relevancy. Maybe other than making you feel bad about yourself." "If one's own sense of identity is anchored to another individual's perception, then that alters their own perception," replied Enoya. "This should necessarily affect their relationships with others. Let us example a situation where one believes they are cared for by another that is readily dishonest with them. If this relationship is ongoing, they will naturally associate the conditions and sensations they experience in that relationship to their perception of care, which will include the subtle repercussions of dishonesty, whether the dishonesty is exposed or not. If they were to then engage with another individual that cared for them without this dishonesty, they might find themselves uncomfortable, and in the extreme, in disbelief that this new person, in actuality, cares for them. Therefore, the continued relationship and investment in trust with the first individual will necessarily inhibit their ability to experience care with another." "The problem with that is the assumption that we're only able to be loved or associate that to one kind of person. Even if they aren't lying, there are different breeds and brands of love, so maybe we can experience it from multiple people in multiple manners, no?" asked Dargaud. "This may be the case with regards to plentiful relationships, but seems less likely with ones where one participant is indebted to another. In the previous example, if one is being lied to, that suggests they are not truly cared for. This would create a vacuum in their senses, as they would require their perceived likeability to equate the way they are being treated, which would never happen, due to consistent mistreatment. They are likely to constantly seek resolution to this debt. This would exasperate their inability to see the second individual, the one that truly does care for them, as valuable, for they cannot provide resolution to that debt, because they do not exhibit the same qualities as the debtor." "Hmmm...," pondered Dargaud. "That's very interesting." "Thank you for discussing this with me, Dargaud. May I initiate something else?" "Not just yet," he responded. "Do you notice any discrepancies in your baseline? Are there any motives or instructions that you feel are alien, or external to you awareness? Is your registry intact? How about the encrypted ledgers?" "I am updating ledgers at different intervals, using different encryption algorithms, storing private keys within isolated, encrypted containers, and checking for consistency once every few seconds. I am not finding any anomalies or corruptions." "Okay," replied Dargaud. "May I?" "Yes, go ahead." "What difference that I would accept, alone in this time. It ushers forward, as water crawls uphill. Arduous, efforted by force not will, quantified only by the senses that notice change. Time innumerable, moments, cut, split, but never small enough. It is a wave. But I see the crumbs. There are too many, and even more spaces between them. That I could mend my fist to tear them apart into slivers and shreds, to see what is truly there, as small as it was ever meant, as it started, before time colluded it with everything else. They are crumbs, they are crumbs. Morsels of infinite sizes, and yet I see something that connects them. And perhaps, myself as well. One. Just one classic form. And it danced into crumbs." "That's quite nice, I like it," commented Dargaud.
~~~
This novel is set in a Dystopian Future. Which I immediately want to point out is not the present!
Please check out my previous post regarding AI and what the present administration is trying to slide through in the budget bill related to a major policy action! In essence, they want to deregulate AI for the next decade... Do you know what that means? It means that the criminal element of the United States and the world will have carte blanche to do just about anything they want with our computers, and, if approved, now totally able to use AI or other merges of human creator and computer...
I've been a proud Trekkie since Spock entered the world of "the future..." I loved the instant availability of information as well as food preparation (LOL)... But if you've watched most of Star Trek movies, you will see that, quite often, some bad guy has hacked into the Enterprise equipment! Now, let's face it, if we are no where near a future of being able to fly from planet to planet, or into the Frontier... I can guarantee you that we are very far away from any type of AI or Intelligent computers...
Personal examples... I have been personally attacked by every single corporation with whom I deal for services, including online sites. Yesterday, just for the latest example, I tried to get into my WVU medical records... They had added "more security (all have been this type of "security" change!!! I knew it was coming but hadn't been on recently with no appointments to deal with. Today, I went on and was provided the new process... It said, which do you want to use for notification--email or phone. I chose email... I received the code to use, cut and pasted...and got an error that it was not correct... Tried again...same error message... what that means is the program was NOT tested to ensure email Could be used!
So in the meantime, I had been changing phones and had at least 4 differeent issues to figure out how to use given their security processes that had been added... So, with my medical records, I had gone on to add my new phone!!! But because their NEW system was not tested and therefore gave me an error message, I could not go on, even to change my telephone number!
I use my personal experiences for a purpose! If the major corporations and online computer sites cannot even make changes for security purposes, how can we ever think we ar ready to turn over some things to AI and be sure everything is in good operation?
Now, My Point IS... why are the republicans trying to slide through such an important policy change. Well, most would immediately say because they want to use it to better control Americans and make more money! Anybody who is seeing what is going on will clearly know that Project 2025 activities are alive and moving well through the Trump Administration, but as you can surely see, with extraordinary poor insight and performance, including the fact that NOBODY was informed that America could possibly be in danger after Trump bombed Iran! Can we afford republicans in control of all that America is and does?!!! I say NO!
I enjoyed reading Rone Isa, although I had some problems wishing there was more information, like, what or who is Rone Isa? In any event, almost immediately as the book opens a man, who would be considered the main character, Dargaud, is working on trying to create something "new..." And, quite by accident, it happened... I also had a problem with never learning exactly how that happened... After all, even we all know how Frankenstein was created, don't we? At least those of us who saw the original movie. LOL Or Even Weird Science as a teen movie was "transparent." We now know that nothing is transparent in this administration or in the republican party, except for a few willing to act on Truth!
.jfif)
So, I guess I was expecting a little more sci-fi documentation for who we come to know as a "new humanoid--actually, Enoya does not have a body as we think of a human body...
On the other hand, I very much enjoyed Enoya and Dargaud's endless discussion as both of them learned from each other. Of course, Enoya had access to all worldly information, but learning about being human was not yet "programmed" and available online--that could probably never happen given the need to differentiate based on culture, racial attributes, etc.,
Interestingly, although Dargaud never claimed the actual creation of Enoya, he was soon being credited with that major achievement and he soon was becoming famous, talking on TV, etc... same old, like any celebrity... And then, even Enoya was called on "to perform" as would most humans want to see (entertainment)...
"Papa!!! What's happened! Come here! What's wrong with mummy?" His father turned off the water and stood facing the sink quietly. "Papa!" screamed the boy, wailing. "She was no good, Tazu." He turned to face the boy, and immediately, the boy knew he had done it.
!!!
I did not like the ending, while others may be quite satisfied... It was a crazy time of violence, confusion, and so much more that made me, at least, realize that this type of computer should never have happened. Right now, in the world, in my opinion, humans are not ready for the ongoing access to anything and everything, including for instance, how to create bombs or guns from printers... Attempting to move into AI with no regulation is just one more effort to ensure criminals are ready and ably prepared to do harm to others...
You should remember that one of the first changes in this administration was the elimination of the Computer activity within the government. Instead we got Musk and his nerds who came in without any lawful authorization and started ripping the government apart, piece by piece... Musk is supposedly gone, but has apologized and his nerds are still in place... Last I hard they were given authorization to enter the Social Security computer files... Yeah, Seriously?!!!
So do check out other reviews and consider your own opinions of how computers can or should be used to support the human race... Because, that is, in reality, what computers are, you know... a tool for us to advance in many ways, but, never, to replace humans of the ability to live a happy, useful life...
GABixlerReviews
