Automatic (Systematic)
"And I'm gonna wake up screaming every night 'til I die. JESUS Christ."
Comes from a comedy movie. ^_^
I'm gonna go poke through random websites now.
ETA: I am not sticking my head in the sand and writing in the Jemverse.
She knows about light. Trickery and photons, the exchange of energy as visible expression. She is not certain where the borders between light and tangibility are. If there are any. The equations have become abberant lately, dovetailing, spiralling with Fibonacci's curls in ways they should not.
There is some cause for alarm in it. She's monitoring the changes using a back portion of her older tapes. The inconsequential ones designed to train her in mimicry. She's learning so much about mimicry so swiftly that it makes sense to delete a few of their endless repititions of You Are My Sunshine and Fur Elise. Duets in pure tone. Hers and Emmett's.
He felt something like love for her, at the end. She felt something like regret--her secondary emotional file, the second-strongest feeling in her makeup. The first was programmed, rote; Jaqui Benton's devotion to, and love for, her family.
The regret arose spontaneously one morning when she initiated a requested playback--some song about stars--and he broke down sobbing.
Regret has tempered all her actions since. She's getting used to it.
Emmett gave her the ability to adapt, to change if not to evolve. She knows, based on calculation, that she will be obsolete within the year and hopelessly dated within four. She can only do this calculation because she is currently the most powerful computation engine on this continent, civillian or otherwise. For now she will assist Jerrica as best she can.
It might be awkward. There are problems with Starlight Music--deeper even than Eric Raymond's embezzling, deeper than the needs of the Foundation, the constant outpour of resources into disadvantaged countries.
There is something wrong with Jerrica.
She knew it the moment the earring-box was open and she first saw the girl through microlenses. Something haunts Jerrica. Something more than curiosity drove her seeking, and she answered Synergy's offers with a thing more starved and driven than basic human enthusiasm. She looked on Synergy the same way that Emmett had.
Jerrica is not quite stable. Jem is not quite stable. Together, they are wreaking havoc with the program lines.
Synergy is not forward enough to request a tune-up. And really, who would help her? Rio?
The thought nearly makes her blow a circuit. How very unmotherly of her. Totally unlike Jaqui. And quite unfair. He does love Jerrica. He should be permissible.
But Synergy has been writing her own files lately. And Jerrica will not let Rio in. She does not trust him. Jerrica has not told him who she is--if she knows for certain herself.
In her own way, Synergy is glad. He can be very rough with living things, and she is at once harder and far more fragile than living things. Titanium, once crushed, never returns to its original shape.
She's fairly certain he would do alright with the wiring, in his ham-handed way. He'd do just fine until he got down to the monofilament. She wouldn't let him touch that under any circumstances. One might as well ask a doctor to do examinations with a pickaxe--idiom, adapted; North American. An action of undue and perhaps unintentional severity. Said with irony.
The situation has its share of irony.
See?
Comes from a comedy movie. ^_^
I'm gonna go poke through random websites now.
ETA: I am not sticking my head in the sand and writing in the Jemverse.
She knows about light. Trickery and photons, the exchange of energy as visible expression. She is not certain where the borders between light and tangibility are. If there are any. The equations have become abberant lately, dovetailing, spiralling with Fibonacci's curls in ways they should not.
There is some cause for alarm in it. She's monitoring the changes using a back portion of her older tapes. The inconsequential ones designed to train her in mimicry. She's learning so much about mimicry so swiftly that it makes sense to delete a few of their endless repititions of You Are My Sunshine and Fur Elise. Duets in pure tone. Hers and Emmett's.
He felt something like love for her, at the end. She felt something like regret--her secondary emotional file, the second-strongest feeling in her makeup. The first was programmed, rote; Jaqui Benton's devotion to, and love for, her family.
The regret arose spontaneously one morning when she initiated a requested playback--some song about stars--and he broke down sobbing.
Regret has tempered all her actions since. She's getting used to it.
Emmett gave her the ability to adapt, to change if not to evolve. She knows, based on calculation, that she will be obsolete within the year and hopelessly dated within four. She can only do this calculation because she is currently the most powerful computation engine on this continent, civillian or otherwise. For now she will assist Jerrica as best she can.
It might be awkward. There are problems with Starlight Music--deeper even than Eric Raymond's embezzling, deeper than the needs of the Foundation, the constant outpour of resources into disadvantaged countries.
There is something wrong with Jerrica.
She knew it the moment the earring-box was open and she first saw the girl through microlenses. Something haunts Jerrica. Something more than curiosity drove her seeking, and she answered Synergy's offers with a thing more starved and driven than basic human enthusiasm. She looked on Synergy the same way that Emmett had.
Jerrica is not quite stable. Jem is not quite stable. Together, they are wreaking havoc with the program lines.
Synergy is not forward enough to request a tune-up. And really, who would help her? Rio?
The thought nearly makes her blow a circuit. How very unmotherly of her. Totally unlike Jaqui. And quite unfair. He does love Jerrica. He should be permissible.
But Synergy has been writing her own files lately. And Jerrica will not let Rio in. She does not trust him. Jerrica has not told him who she is--if she knows for certain herself.
In her own way, Synergy is glad. He can be very rough with living things, and she is at once harder and far more fragile than living things. Titanium, once crushed, never returns to its original shape.
She's fairly certain he would do alright with the wiring, in his ham-handed way. He'd do just fine until he got down to the monofilament. She wouldn't let him touch that under any circumstances. One might as well ask a doctor to do examinations with a pickaxe--idiom, adapted; North American. An action of undue and perhaps unintentional severity. Said with irony.
The situation has its share of irony.
See?