Rachel J. Bonner Presents Strand of Faith: A love story with a touch of mystery - Choices and Consequences Book 1

 He prayed again, “Show me what this means. Give me the strength to do your will.”

The Time of Devastation, as used by this author, does not explain what had happened... Yet we can infer that the entire world was destroyed in some way. Yet some people survived; many now had supernatural abilities. With those abilities, people began to build a new town and a new place to worship, to thank God that they had survived... This begins the story of those people where Choices and Consequences still were a part of each life...

Lord Gabriel started dreaming again. The first dream was simple; a jewel, a glowing red ruby, fell into his hands. He knew that he had to do something vital with the jewel but not what that was. He awoke in fear of what the dream meant – not in itself but the consequences of it happening at all. “Not again,” he prayed. “Please not again. Please take this burden from me.” He dreamt again the next night. This time he was holding an emerald when the ruby fell into his hands. He tried to keep them apart but they were drawn to each other and began to merge together. He woke suddenly, unsure whether they had merged to form a new jewel or disintegrated to dust in his hands. He prayed again, “Show me what this means. Give me the strength to do your will.” 

Chapter 2 November The stranger 

I opened the door to the Old Chapel just far enough to be able to look in and make sure it was empty. It was, so I slipped inside and hurried to my hiding place, underneath the altar table. This was one of my favourite places to hide out, where I could relax and sleep without fear. It was on the edge of the campus, near the river and clearly one of the first buildings on the site, built not that long after the Time of Devastation. It wasn’t used now, but it was dry and looked as though it was still cared for even though I never saw anyone else visit it. I suspected that it was cared for out of respect for the memorials inside. There were three memorials along one wall commemorating the events of the Time of Devastation, but it was the fourth one, on the opposite wall, that drew me most. As the world had repopulated after the Devastation, some of those in their late teens had started to discover they had additional skills, things they could do with their minds. Some could communicate with each other, or sense where people were without being able to see them. Others could move things, or start fires, or predict the future. Those who didn’t have these skills had been scared of such magic, and the first generations were persecuted and often killed. This was a memorial to those early adepts and to those who had died assisting them. As more people developed the abilities, having such skills became more acceptable, though there were still many who feared them. Engineers had developed a Shield which could be used to prevent anyone under it using their gifts, and Shields were used anywhere people thought they might be unduly influenced, such as in shops or any building used for religious purposes. The Old Chapel still had a working Shield, triggered whenever someone entered. That was one of the reasons I thought it was still well maintained, and also one of the reasons I liked being there. Being a telepath I could always hear a background chatter of other people’s thoughts. I’d learnt how to ignore it, but under a Shield everything became quiet, peaceful, which was such a relief. Also, I’d found that I didn’t have nightmares or sleepwalk if I slept somewhere that was Shielded. My mind always felt slow and sluggish the next morning though, so I didn’t do it too often. Once I was safely curled up in my hiding place, I started to think about my current situation. I was almost happy living in this community, despite the inherent dangers and risk in what I was doing. The whole place felt peaceful, safe and non-threatening. Of course, I had to be on my guard and I did my best not to be noticed but that was the case anywhere. Now I was afraid I had been spotted. A couple of weeks ago I’d been hiding out in the cellars under the Abbey buildings. Someone had come rushing through and I had felt a current of power around them, the sort that indicated someone was using their gifts. I’d been hiding my presence physically rather than mentally, and I was pretty certain they’d spotted me where I shouldn’t be. I had got out of there as soon as the coast was clear. I’d been back once or twice, making sure I hid my presence properly, but I hadn’t risked sleeping there since because I couldn’t hide my presence mentally when I was asleep. Nothing more had happened, so I’d thought I’d got away with it. But today, I’d had classes at the college, and, as I’d been where I was supposed to be – at least as far as anyone here knew – I hadn’t been hiding my presence mentally. Doing that took a fair bit of energy so I didn’t do it when it wasn’t necessary. As I’d walked across the courtyard after class I’d felt that current of power again, whispering past my mind. I’d been surrounded by other students, but this whisper had come from a distance and I was afraid I’d been recognised. I’d shielded myself immediately, but I was very concerned that someone might have been looking specifically for me, and that they’d know me when they found me. As I thought about it, I figured I had two options. One, I could leave, find somewhere else to live, but I had nowhere else to go. And I was finding the classes in how to use and control my gifts useful, which was a bonus as it was something I very much needed to learn to avoid disaster. Or, I could stay, but I’d have to be much more careful and much more watchful. I didn’t like to think about what might happen if I did get caught. I’d have to be more rigorous with hiding myself mentally, of course, which took energy. Using my abilities always left me hungry but I could scavenge food from the kitchen, as I had today. The real danger was sleeping, as it always had been. If I started sleepwalking they’d find me, without a doubt, and I couldn’t spend every night in the Old Chapel. I figured I’d just have to sleep out in the woods more, even though the cold season was here now. I could have a fire if I was careful – it wouldn’t be too much of a hardship. More settled in my mind, I left the Chapel and set off to take some of this food I’d scavenged to those who needed it even more than I did.

~~~

It should be obvious to people, at least after the  Time of Devastation, that something had changed in the world... Perhaps Lord Gabriel was the first to learn of the future and that a monastery was to be built. He had learned much through the dreams that he began to have... Soon a campus and a place of worship were built. One of the main programs of learning was to teach those with new powers to actually know how to use them! Lord Gabriel had surely worked hard to find those individuals who had the skills to teach, but also to respond to medical needs in the new hospital... The community that had built up around them became just an extension to the community that was growing every day.

While Lord Gabriel is a wonderful character and works to fulfill God's guidance throughout the story, even he found he must begin to weigh the choices and consequences that naturally evolved from people being people, living their lives together in a community...

In this first book, readers will soon learn of a stranger who has come onto the campus. She was highly skilled in supernatural abilities, perhaps even higher than those she had sought out to help understand and use her sometimes overpowering talents--talents that even she had no way to know just how and what she was able to do... Her name was Leonie. She is your main character...

Leonie has kept herself hidden, managing to move through the campus, finding places to sleep, finding scraps of food that she could steal, for both her and others. The "others" are one of the mysteries that was not solved in this first book... But, soon, Leonie was to become the guardian of Lord Gabriel! Readers learn that God has given Gabriel a dream which explains it to some extent... But Leonie can only be thankful, but also very confused...

Soon she is living in Lord Gabriel's quarters and is able to openly attend the classes that she'd been sneaking into... But one of the things that was most needed at the beginning of her studies, was to learn exactly what skills and the strength of her skill levels. Two monks who are assigned to the hospital was given the task of testing Leonie... The trio began to learn about each other and develop a kind of friendship... None of them anticipated what was to happen within this tight connection... And I'm certainly not going to tell you... Except to spotlight that the close relationship of two, which was now three, would lead to an age-old growth of feelings that surely were not part of the life of monks...

Leonie, who had lived in the wilds since her early life soon found that having a room of her own in which to sleep--as beautiful as it was--often became confining. She would leave the grounds of the campus, seek out a perfect tree in the nearby woods, and crawl up into where two branches meet and fall asleep... Causing a panic back at Lord Gabriel's quarters. It happened quite often, so much so that soon one of the three friends was able to immediately seek out where she was and they would go out to verify she was safe and bring her back...

In the meantime, daily events would continue and Leonie, in her free time, would visit the nearby town and get to know people. She had been assigned to the kitchen where it was found she knew how to bake bread... She worked happily along baking bread for meals and then helping to serve as possible. But she was often asked to sit at Lord Gabriel's table to allow him to catch up with what has occurred. Soon he learned that in some ways, she was beyond the tests that were now available for measuring the level of her talents... Could she be a danger to herself or others?

But time did not allow for worry as a long-time event was coming during the Easter season. All of those who had left the campus would be returning. Preparations for housing, food, and special gatherings had to be planned!

The book is written so that the various main characters are speaking... as Easter was new for Leonie, she tells us what she was learning:

Easter was coming and the preparations were making Pedro – and Lady Eleanor, Edward and Chloe for that matter – exceptionally busy. I asked Pedro about Easter one evening when we were alone in the kitchen. We were kneading the bread for the next day, up to our elbows in flour, the rhythmic movement relaxing and conducive to confidences. Pedro smiled happily. “It’s my favourite time of the year,” he said. “No matter the extra work, or so many extra people here, I look forward to it all year round, and then it’s over too quickly.” “But why? And how? And what’s going to happen?” I asked. “All questions, you, aren’t you?” he responded. “Next Sunday’s called Palm Sunday,” he explained. “From Saturday onwards, our family will start to turn up. There’ll be people arriving all week, so we’re together for Easter Sunday.” I got stuck on one word. “Family?” Pedro grinned at me, almost as if he’d been expecting that. Sometimes I thought he had to know what I was but he never said anything about it, or acted any differently. “Anyone who’s got some connection here and wants to come. Brothers and Sisters who work somewhere else now, or who’ve left the Order, or people who grew up in this House and now live elsewhere. Anyone. They’re all family still. Lady Eleanor’ll find a room for them, somewhere.” “But what are they all going to do, once they are here?” I thumped my dough in frustration at my lack of understanding. “We” – and he definitely emphasised that word – “We are going to worship, and celebrate and enjoy each other’s company and remember what Jesus did for us.” Now, I was no expert, but I’d read and heard the Bible stories about what had happened. It was thousands of years ago, but they still remembered it. I thought of Jesus as being like the heir to a Great House that was ruled by some other Lord, and everyone thought he was riding into town to reclaim it. They had a big celebration when he arrived. Now that sounded daft to me; I mean either you came with a big army and a battle or you sneaked in to overthrow things from inside on the quiet, surely? Didn’t a big party warn the other side that you were coming? Not that it mattered, because one of his friends betrayed him to the authorities who arrested him and then executed him. I looked at Pedro in surprise. “They killed him,” I said incredulously. “You’re celebrating someone being killed?” “No,” he said. “Although we will commemorate his final meal with his friends and his death at services on Thursday and Friday. What we’re celebrating is that he rose from the dead.” I’d read that bit too, but I didn’t believe it. I’d seen dead bodies. They didn’t recover. “How?” I asked. I might have thumped the dough again. Pedro moved it from under my hands and gave me a fresh batch to knead. “Weren’t you paying attention at Christmas?” he asked. Frankly, no, I’d had other things on my mind. But I did remember we’d been celebrating the birth of Jesus, who was – allegedly anyway – fathered by God. Pedro didn’t expect a response and went on, “Jesus is the Son of God, wholly human and wholly God. God sent him to take our punishment for all we’ve done wrong, that’s why he died, so that we can be forgiven and able to be with God. God raised him from the dead to show that death isn’t the end, that evil hasn’t won. Because Jesus died in our place, for our wrongdoing, we can have life with God after our death as well as working towards a God filled life here and now.” It made a lot more sense when Pedro put it like that. It was clearly very personal for him, and for Prospero and Andrew and many of the others that I knew. “It can be personal for you, too,” he said. I didn’t think so. I mean, these were all good people, of course God wanted them. I couldn’t see why he would want me, not with everything that I’d been and done. Pedro was gently insistent, “It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it can all be forgiven, it was for me.” But I just looked at him in disbelief and shook my head, and he didn’t pursue it further. Anyway, given all the busyness and the extra hours and effort we were all putting in as preparation, I was pleased to find I had a free afternoon. The weather was sunny, but still cold, so I wrapped up well – it was so good to be able to – collected some food and things from the kitchen and set off to take it to those I knew needed it. They were pleased to see me and even more pleased to see what I’d brought. They were feeling the cold, though, so I left my coat and gloves and scarf and even my jumper – there were other ways to keep warm, at least if you were gifted, and I’d be fine heading back to campus. It was such a nice day that I dawdled on the way back and went the long way round by the lake. In the sunshine, the water was blue and clear and inviting and I loved to swim. And there were ways to keep the water around you warm, if you were gifted, too, tricks I knew that Prospero and Andrew hadn’t even thought to test. There was absolutely no one around, so I stripped off and dived in, enjoying the feel of the water flowing over my body.

~~~

I hope you will check this book out! It is the type of book that must be read--experienced--to find the truth and love experienced when God is part of your life. Even if you've never known about God except through stories that didn't make sense to you... Remember, this is after a major change to the world. People are fearful, hunger is solved through theft... Possible death surrounds you... And then there is found in a community of love where you are welcomed. It seems everybody cares for each other, but you've known no such thing from the past you've experienced... When love is free to flow... joy and music surrounds you... Eyes meet... And one person seems to provide a feeling of warmth and safety that you've never known... A strand of faith awakens... Where the Spirit of God is, there...is...Love!

GABixlerReviews

Robin Murarka Presents Rone Isa - Introducing Enoya - The Symbiosis of Hardware and Software, Much Like Weird Science?

 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!

For me, since the writer didn't provide a methodology, I tended to think the book was fantasy as opposed to science fiction... (Or maybe I'm just fed up with having no reality in our political world these days...) 

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...

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