inhabited the tunnels and spaces deep in the bowels of the shining city above their heads. They provided the services robots weren't able to. Sewage techs. Toxic waste disposal specialists. Anything the ruling class of net-addicted "light bulbs" were too busy, distracted or dainty to do, and robots could not due to the hazardous atmospheric conditions. It turned out, as technology progressed, that there were certain things only a human could manage and survive. Go figure.
The Non-techs were not Luds. They were the remains of a society that grew silicon light-tubes into the very fetuses of it's children as they developed -- more often in a lab than in their mother's stomachs. The tubes infiltrated every portion of the infant's brain. There were literally hundreds of thousands of filaments in the brain of every Techie who walked the passageways in the the shining world above.
But here, here were the Nons. Those whose unborn bodies rejected the intrusion. Whose brains were, for whatever reason, unable to connect to the Net, even though the implant of light-tech took. Those who found they could not handle, mentally or emotionally, the nightly flood of information that Mother Net poured into their brains. The rejects. Doomed to the depths of the city. Outcasts, merely afterthoughts in the minds of the Techies above them, a necessary annoyance to Mother. They lived. They had spaces, down there, their own rudimentary self-government, which answered to the Net, schools, children who ran, laughing and playing. And they waited.
They knew the "Heads" were leaving. They knew that the orgiastic spewing of chemical waste into an already destroyed atmosphere would stop once the society was finished hurtling itself into space, searching for other planets to rape. They knew that the meek would, indeed, inherit the Earth, and that they could then begin the process of healing the planet humanity had put so much misdirected effort into destroying. And they would live unmolested, and would learn from the mistakes that Techs had made - mistakes so grave that they had soiled their own nest, and were "forced" to find other planets to colonize.
Jackson knew that it was only a matter of time before the heads were gone and the Nons could move to the upper levels and begin cleaning up the mess society had made of the planet, but that did not stop him from chafing at the way society treated him and his people simply because their bodies could not accept the silicon embrace of Mother Net. Second class citizenship was not his idea of how to live, but he had to admit, it was better than being a non-entity like the Luds. They were living, if you could call it that, outside the walls, in the blasted artifacts of the technological civilization that had both destroyed the planet and enabled escape because they chose to - they and those who had gone before them had rebelled against the technological advances - the had not only refused the infraskulls for themselves and for their children and actually left the enclaves. Left the cities. The only hope for humanity was the cities. Even the Nons knew that. Instead, the Luds chose to crawl through the ruined, blasted surface of the planet, irradiated, foraging for food, stealing what they could, fighting border skirmishes with the Heads over every inch of ground, every piece of scrap likely to be useful for recycling into a tool or a gun.
they scrape just to exist Jackson thought. We live, we work, it's poor, pitiful work, but at least we have something. At least we have a place to lay our heads without being shot at.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Awakening
Morning was never really Tamar's favorite time. Leaving the wonders of his night time paradise was always difficult, but even here, in the city, readying to travel off-world, he was required to maintain a physical schedule of some sort. He always felt like it would be so much simpler just to stay jacked in - just to keep traveling the byways of the Net, keep "riding the light."
Slowly but surely, Tamar began to surface from last night's vivid network-inspired dreams. Jacking in every night allowed the network to tap unused portions of the brain for processing. On any night, or day for that matter, as there were really no shifts determined by something as ethereal (or generally invisible in all the smog and pollution) as sunlight. Different sections of the populace walked the corridors and streets of the city on different shifts,that was all. So, on any given shift, at least one third of Gaspar City's 12-million residents were jacked in - their fiber optic infraskulls glowing through their scalps, eyes spinning in the depths of REM sleep while Mother Network gave them sweet dreams and used their brains as a kind of living RAM drive. It gave the network virtually limitless processing speed and memory - the only limitation was the speed of light its self.
As his consciousness raised through the layers of awareness the Net guided him through to waking, Tamar began to recall bits of what he'd been dreaming. It was often this way - one of the side-effects of the spending nights in the Net was that the sleeper came away with vivid dreams, often related to the bits of data their synapses has been processing. If one chose, Net could wipe the memories away, but Tamar had always enjoyed knowing - remembering. It gave him a sense that he had control, in some way, of the Net's use of his brain.
Suddenly, he was aware of his surroundings. No more floating, Net had returned physical feeling - he was, for all intents and purposes, awake. Quickly he queried the Network, searching for news of any occurrences during his sleep shift that might delay his launch, scheduled for two weeks from today. All seemed quiet, although there was a report of movement in the ruins about six kilometers from the city. Interesting that anything could survive out there, but the Luds did, and they seemed to be making some kind of organized attempt to rebuild old cities across the blasted face of the planet.
Good luck with that, Tamar thought to himself. This planet is wasted. Even the cockroaches seems to be trying to escape. I'll take my chances on a colonization ship.
Tamar was one of several million applicants set to be blasted off the rock and rubble that was all that remained of Earth, launched into the stars to find habitable worlds elsewhere. With the advent of light drive, journeys took months instead of years, and there were already three New-Earth colonies on habitable worlds in this sector.
Selection for colonization was easy- there were only three requirements: Network-capability (the massive colony ships relied on the brains of their passengers to perform the necessary calculations for Faster-Than-Light drive), genetic clarity going back at least three generations (no congenitals, no mutations - this requirement was a tough one in some regions of the planet. NukeWar ensured a lot of mutations) and the willingness to enlist. All personnel colonizing off-world did so as members of the Earth Force Alliance, the only form of government that survived the NukeWar - military government.
Slipping his uniform jumpsuit on to his light frame, Sergeant Tamar Lucius Dammin decided he'd struggle through one more day of phys-life, if only to return to the Net and its wonders at the end of his duty shift.
He strapped on his flechette gun and body armor, readying himself for yet another tedious shift at the Wall.
Slowly but surely, Tamar began to surface from last night's vivid network-inspired dreams. Jacking in every night allowed the network to tap unused portions of the brain for processing. On any night, or day for that matter, as there were really no shifts determined by something as ethereal (or generally invisible in all the smog and pollution) as sunlight. Different sections of the populace walked the corridors and streets of the city on different shifts,that was all. So, on any given shift, at least one third of Gaspar City's 12-million residents were jacked in - their fiber optic infraskulls glowing through their scalps, eyes spinning in the depths of REM sleep while Mother Network gave them sweet dreams and used their brains as a kind of living RAM drive. It gave the network virtually limitless processing speed and memory - the only limitation was the speed of light its self.
As his consciousness raised through the layers of awareness the Net guided him through to waking, Tamar began to recall bits of what he'd been dreaming. It was often this way - one of the side-effects of the spending nights in the Net was that the sleeper came away with vivid dreams, often related to the bits of data their synapses has been processing. If one chose, Net could wipe the memories away, but Tamar had always enjoyed knowing - remembering. It gave him a sense that he had control, in some way, of the Net's use of his brain.
Suddenly, he was aware of his surroundings. No more floating, Net had returned physical feeling - he was, for all intents and purposes, awake. Quickly he queried the Network, searching for news of any occurrences during his sleep shift that might delay his launch, scheduled for two weeks from today. All seemed quiet, although there was a report of movement in the ruins about six kilometers from the city. Interesting that anything could survive out there, but the Luds did, and they seemed to be making some kind of organized attempt to rebuild old cities across the blasted face of the planet.
Good luck with that, Tamar thought to himself. This planet is wasted. Even the cockroaches seems to be trying to escape. I'll take my chances on a colonization ship.
Tamar was one of several million applicants set to be blasted off the rock and rubble that was all that remained of Earth, launched into the stars to find habitable worlds elsewhere. With the advent of light drive, journeys took months instead of years, and there were already three New-Earth colonies on habitable worlds in this sector.
Selection for colonization was easy- there were only three requirements: Network-capability (the massive colony ships relied on the brains of their passengers to perform the necessary calculations for Faster-Than-Light drive), genetic clarity going back at least three generations (no congenitals, no mutations - this requirement was a tough one in some regions of the planet. NukeWar ensured a lot of mutations) and the willingness to enlist. All personnel colonizing off-world did so as members of the Earth Force Alliance, the only form of government that survived the NukeWar - military government.
Slipping his uniform jumpsuit on to his light frame, Sergeant Tamar Lucius Dammin decided he'd struggle through one more day of phys-life, if only to return to the Net and its wonders at the end of his duty shift.
He strapped on his flechette gun and body armor, readying himself for yet another tedious shift at the Wall.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
It all began in 2007
when scientists in Germany figured out how to control a living organism using light. Neurobiologists, neuropsychiatrists, scientists, doctors - they all jumped on the bandwagon this amazing breakthrough promised for the future.
They didn't consider other uses, though - at least not back then. They thought grand thoughts and dreamed grandiose dreams of curing Parkinson's and restoring the use of limbs whithered by brain-damaging illnesses such as spina bifida or polio. They thought about how they could "fix" bodies bent and twisted by the whims of an indifferent God; how they, indeed, could become gods in their own right, meting out physical repairs to financially viable customers.
They didn't think about what this new technology implied. What could be done with it. Where it might lead. They did not see what was about to become. And for that, they lost everything; this shining future was ignored because of their arrogance. Instead of a utopia of perfectly healthy bodies strolling across the planet, grooving the greed of the corporate insurance machine, the HMOs and the mega-hospitals, instead of having the chance to have a positive influence on the future of humanity, instead, they opened the lid of Pandora's Box and unleashed something entirely different, and more devastating than the diseases they initially desired to conquer.
Evan reached into his duffel, digging amongst the empty magazines, bits of metal he'd found on his foray into the old part of the city and a few pieces of camo-cloth for the little bundle of jerked rabbit he'd hidden there. There were no feeders around, at least that he could see, and he needed a boost for the next part of his journey.
Perched as he was on the barely standing cornice of a blasted apartment block, Evan had an almost 360-degree view of the sprawling, devastated and crumbling remains of the city. The remains of skyscrapers still clawed their way toward the sky here and there, backlit by the lights of the megalopolis, the wall visible even from here, hundreds of blocks away from where the New City started. Black clouds scudded across the sky, glowing from the lights of the fortress city below, seeming to snag and be caught by the barren branches of the old skyscrapers, their now glassless, spindly trunks winding their way up into the bruised atmosphere.
Evan could see the layers of exhaust gasses from this vantage point - yellow sulfur clouds creeping through the valleys the streets had become, oozing over the hills formed by the slumping hulks of buildings that once populated a thriving city.
No feeders, no lurchers, no gnashers were visible. A break. A respite. A little tiny piece of quiet. For now.
Gnawing on his jerky, Evan wondered again what it was like inside the megalopolis. He stared at its silver facades, bright and steely, with stacks behind the glowing walls belching forth the crud that Evan and his fellow grubs were forced to breathe and call air. Occasionally, an observer could see the trails of launches from further back in the city - shuttles carrying this doomed world's privileged to live in the space stations, or even to go on the great transports which were even now plodding their way toward distant stars.
Go,thought Evan. Leave. Let us, us HUMANS fix the mess you made. We can. We will.
Evan and a few of the youngers like him thought this way. Good riddance to the "Society". Let them blast their way off the Earth. Leave. They'd done enough damage anyway. Leave the Earth to the people, the Remnants who weren't rich enough or subservient enough to make it into the City.
They didn't consider other uses, though - at least not back then. They thought grand thoughts and dreamed grandiose dreams of curing Parkinson's and restoring the use of limbs whithered by brain-damaging illnesses such as spina bifida or polio. They thought about how they could "fix" bodies bent and twisted by the whims of an indifferent God; how they, indeed, could become gods in their own right, meting out physical repairs to financially viable customers.
They didn't think about what this new technology implied. What could be done with it. Where it might lead. They did not see what was about to become. And for that, they lost everything; this shining future was ignored because of their arrogance. Instead of a utopia of perfectly healthy bodies strolling across the planet, grooving the greed of the corporate insurance machine, the HMOs and the mega-hospitals, instead of having the chance to have a positive influence on the future of humanity, instead, they opened the lid of Pandora's Box and unleashed something entirely different, and more devastating than the diseases they initially desired to conquer.
Evan reached into his duffel, digging amongst the empty magazines, bits of metal he'd found on his foray into the old part of the city and a few pieces of camo-cloth for the little bundle of jerked rabbit he'd hidden there. There were no feeders around, at least that he could see, and he needed a boost for the next part of his journey.
Perched as he was on the barely standing cornice of a blasted apartment block, Evan had an almost 360-degree view of the sprawling, devastated and crumbling remains of the city. The remains of skyscrapers still clawed their way toward the sky here and there, backlit by the lights of the megalopolis, the wall visible even from here, hundreds of blocks away from where the New City started. Black clouds scudded across the sky, glowing from the lights of the fortress city below, seeming to snag and be caught by the barren branches of the old skyscrapers, their now glassless, spindly trunks winding their way up into the bruised atmosphere.
Evan could see the layers of exhaust gasses from this vantage point - yellow sulfur clouds creeping through the valleys the streets had become, oozing over the hills formed by the slumping hulks of buildings that once populated a thriving city.
No feeders, no lurchers, no gnashers were visible. A break. A respite. A little tiny piece of quiet. For now.
Gnawing on his jerky, Evan wondered again what it was like inside the megalopolis. He stared at its silver facades, bright and steely, with stacks behind the glowing walls belching forth the crud that Evan and his fellow grubs were forced to breathe and call air. Occasionally, an observer could see the trails of launches from further back in the city - shuttles carrying this doomed world's privileged to live in the space stations, or even to go on the great transports which were even now plodding their way toward distant stars.
Go,thought Evan. Leave. Let us, us HUMANS fix the mess you made. We can. We will.
Evan and a few of the youngers like him thought this way. Good riddance to the "Society". Let them blast their way off the Earth. Leave. They'd done enough damage anyway. Leave the Earth to the people, the Remnants who weren't rich enough or subservient enough to make it into the City.
Saturday, July 14, 2007
Back in 80916
And DAMN! It's freakin' 90?!!?!?!
At least, in Alaska, a HOT day is, like, 72 and the trout are biting!
We missed you wankers, but not enough to go Hash with you today. We were on a plane all night - I got 2 hours sleep, the wife got none. Naps were the rule today. We have to go shopping and refill the fridge in the morning (shudder).
At least, in Alaska, a HOT day is, like, 72 and the trout are biting!
We missed you wankers, but not enough to go Hash with you today. We were on a plane all night - I got 2 hours sleep, the wife got none. Naps were the rule today. We have to go shopping and refill the fridge in the morning (shudder).
Tuesday, July 10, 2007
Monday
Even on a cloudy, drizzly day, Alaska is gorgeous. This is near the salmon-slaying spot Dad and I went to Monday to pit our intellects against the wily wild salmon of the North.
Vistas like this were the rule of the day. We had a few thin spots in the clouds, not any real sunshine, but with the canopy on the boat and the salmon biting (occasionally), we were plenty warm.
This little cove was full of coho getting ready to run up the creek beyond this neat little outcropping. We caught two of the four silvers of the day here.
This outcrop was at the mouth of the creek. All the views were amazing. I couldn't take enough pictures to do it justice.
The results of a day of beauty and fun in the Prince William Sound?
Dad and me - 8; Salmon - 0
Four Chinook (our limit), three coho and a sockeye.
The smoker is going RIGHT NOW!!!!!
Friday
Monkey Boy, nephew and I went canoing through the lake, and were forced to see things like this Grebe on her nest. It was a rough day ...
We portaged to another lake and fished there as well. The boys rowed very well, but it still took four of their strokes to my one, so I had my hands full keeping the boat going in the right direction.
The Monkey Boy set the tone of the day by catching the first fish. Both the nephew and I caught one as well, but this 21 1/4 inch rainbow (about four pounds!!!) is a trout of a lifetime.
He didn't really clean it, though. That task fell to me. You know that a rainbow trout big enough to fillet is BIG.
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