Discovery: The Science of Magic

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Introduction

I wasn’t always a modern day wizard. Indeed, after years of looking for and failing to find a better alternative, it still doesn’t feel right to use that word. Wizard, after all, implies an adept of the arcane, a master of the mystic. But as my story will reveal, magic is neither arcane nor mystic, and I am neither adept nor a master. But to my knowledge, I am one of a handful of individuals who have stumbled onto the rediscovery of magic and an understanding of its source; knowledge that in this modern society of science and technology is worth more than all the processing power of the world’s super-computers combined.

Believe it or not, this knowledge came to me by the fusion of my choice in career path, and a penchant for juggling hobbies and interests as readily as a clown man-handles bowling pins. A student of anthropology, I focused my collegiate endeavors on religions’ influence on human cultures. The science of shared perception, that groups of individuals could in essence create their own concepts of reality in order to explain what their sciences could not, intrigued me. To really understand how these perception were built, however, I had to weigh in factors from myriad other aspects of that culture. From their level of technological advancement to the vagaries of sexual mythos, to understand the rise of religion in a culture one needs to understand almost every other aspect of a society’s evolution.

This naturally led me to dabbling in hobbies across the sciences. Agriculture, metallurgy, and historical context became evening playgrounds after the term papers and homework were complete. When I got around to examining the evolution of major modern religions such as Christianity and Islam I delved deeper into telecommunications, chemistry, and even physics to create my contextual reference points.

Most people would be shocked to learn that modern theoretical physics much more closely resembles New Age metaphysics than it does Einstein’s indelible E=Mc2 or the birthing of atomic energy. Today’s theorists are contemplating the very nature of existence. They ponder that the Universe itself exists only as we perceive it, and that by changing our collective perceptions we can change the Nature of our own realities. Great minds in physics evaluate factors from not 3 or 4 dimensions, but from as many as twenty-six dimensions; most of which are beyond human comprehension.

To boil it down, the line between science and religious beliefs are blurring, and whether believers understood it or not, I came to the conclusion that believing in something might just be enough to make it real. The most difficult part of this is so simple it’s nearly comical. You see, how does one believe in something when it violates every essence of thought the logical mind has come to recognize? It’s more than just a temporary suspension of dis-belief; one must accept these new realities without cause, nor basis in thought, the way we know the ground is there beneath our feet even when our eyes are closed.

It requires the absence of thought.

M.I.N.D.

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Machine Interface Neural Device - M.I.N.D.

Nano fiber channels tie from the human brain to external relay devices allowing humans to interact as both input and output channels for digital machinery.

Early iterations of MIND devices were nothing more than dataport masks near the base of the skull, where the user was able to send basic queries outbound, then receive, process, and translate responses into human usable data. Later versions extend this functionality into the rest of the neural pathways, optionally enabling integration of man and machine at almost any point and process of the body.

Extreme MIND users that take full advantage of this integration are rare. Fears that this technology would lead to cyborgs replacing humans eventually faded as it was learned that long-term exposure to “Deep MIND”, as it is called, leads to early degeneration of neural tissues, nervous disorders, and in a few cases a complex form of schitzophrenia called MIND Fracture. Bio-mechanical designers continue to work on the problem. If Deep MIND problems are ever overcome this could again become a major ethical and political issue.

The most common use of MIND devices by the general populace is still the original data interchange, social networking, information distribution, etc.. Knowledge enhancements can be purchased which use MIND to give the user advanced knowledge in a particular field, and additional data storage capabilities. These are prohibitively expensive, however, and remain mostly in the domain of government and research facilities.

Approximately 80% of Earth’s human population now use at least one form of MIND.

Due to the risk such integration exposes it’s users to, the MINDBLOCK protocol was established. MINDBLOCK uses a series of algorithms based on the user’s unique genetic fingerprint to create a private key/public key encrypted token. This token is required for all inbound data transfers to the brain or MIND device. If successfully authenticated the transfer is then examined by the user’s subconscious brain where the individual can decide to allow or deny the request.

It has been rumored that there are MIND hacks capable of penetrating MINDBLOCK defenses, however this has never been confirmed and most experts believe these rumors are simply the result of human worry rather than true threat. Each new MIND design is vetted through a super-computer designed specifically to test it’s security, and to date no device ever released to the public has failed this security testing.

Telktalker

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Description:
A techtalker can speak with technology. Through bio-electric interaction he “communicates” requests for information or action. By bypassing normal input and output mechanisms most authentication and validation measures are circumvented. Security under these circumstances becomes minimal at best.

The more mechanical (versus electronic) the technology the less receptive it is of such communication. The more intelligent, the more receptive. Complex machines are actually the easiest for techtalkers to manipulate.

Potential Plot Points:
• techtalker seeks fortune by manipulating casino games of chance. Finds the game’s insistence on leaving all decisions up to it’s random number generator causes the “conversation” to be sketchy and the game winds up controlling him instead

Research: Social Evolution

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


More research for a writing project…
- http://www.motherservice.org/Essays/Social%20Evolution.htm

- http://www.as.ua.edu/ant/Faculty/murphy/evol.htm

- http://socio.ch/evo/index_evo.htm

Home to a new religion supposedly drafted by combining science, with zen, and other religious elements. The author does have some good sections on society and evolution, religion - the conclusions are made, however, based on the assumption taht one must reconcile God with science. Good info, bad results:
- http://socevol.blogspot.com/2005/12/religion-book.html

Explores religion as a fuction of society in the same terms as bodily functions within an organism. May help define the social requirement of what religion provides so that a replacement organ can be evolved.
- http://theoccidentalquarterly.com/vol3no2/rf-wilsona.html

Article on evolution as a religion and how science should not be allowed to take on the “persona” of religion. Good read.
- http://www.aaas.org/spp/dser/evolution/perspectives/midgley.shtml

Encyclopedia of Religion and Society - article on Robert Bellah, Professor of Sociology at Berkley.
- http://hirr.hartsem.edu/ency/bellah.htm

NOTE: Need to do a comparison between Humanism/Christianity/new religion, similar to what is done here. In particular, clarify distinction between belief in things not known, whether it be god/afterlife or scientific attempts to disprove that which cannot be disproved through inference:
- http://www.bible.ca/tracks/b-humanism-is-religion.htm

Other considerations for needed comparison documentation: Point out differences between religions on specific hot-button issues or geographic flashpoints - then point out what they have in common as Man when religion is removed.

Research Definitions

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Just some research I’m doing for a writing project…

Religion:
1a. Belief in and reverence for a supernatural power or powers regarded as creator and governor of the universe.
1b. A personal or institutionalized system grounded in such belief and worship.
2. The life or condition of a person in a religious order.
3. A set of beliefs, values, and practices based on the teachings of a spiritual leader.
4. A cause, principle, or activity pursued with zeal or conscientious devotion

(Middle English religioun, from Old French religion, from Latin religi, religin-, perhaps from religre, “to tie fast.” See rely.)

Spiritual:
1. Of, relating to, consisting of, or having the nature of spirit; not tangible or material.
2. Of, concerned with, or affecting the soul.
3. Of, from, or relating to God; deific.
4. Of or belonging to a church or religion; sacred.
5. Relating to or having the nature of spirits or a spirit; supernatural.

Society:
1a. The totality of social relationships among humans.
1b. A group of humans broadly distinguished from other groups by mutual interests, participation in characteristic relationships, shared institutions, and a common culture.
1c. The institutions and culture of a distinct self-perpetuating group.
2. An organization or association of persons engaged in a common profession, activity, or interest: a folklore society; a society of bird watchers.
3. The rich, privileged, and fashionable social class.
4. The socially dominant members of a community.
Companionship; company: enjoys the society of friends and family members.
5. Biology. A colony or community of organisms, usually of the same species: an insect society.

Culture:
1a. The totality of socially transmitted behavior patterns, arts, beliefs, institutions, and all other products of human work and thought.
1b. These patterns, traits, and products considered as the expression of a particular period, class, community, or population: Edwardian culture; Japanese culture; the culture of poverty.
1c. These patterns, traits, and products considered with respect to a particular category, such as a field, subject, or mode of expression: religious culture in the Middle Ages; musical culture; oral culture.
1d. The predominating attitudes and behavior that characterize the functioning of a group or organization.

Story: Mars New Arabia

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Originally documented 3/5/2006 

“Mars New Arabia, this is Tango Echo Seven Niner One Two. Over.”

Jef Shoals listened to the incoming traffic with mild interest, the chatter mixing in with numerous other conversations from around the amber-lit control room. Scanning over the datastream he saw TransEarth 7912 listed as inbound from Earth, although it wasn’t due in Mars Regional Space for another 36 hours, give or take. He wondered what prompted the early contact.

He keyed the mic on his headset in response. “This is New Arabia Control, go ahead, 7912. Over.”

There was a long delay before the pilot’s nervous voice returned.

“New Arabia, we’re getting anomalous astronav results here. We’ve missed the last two nav buoys by our estimates and both primary and secondary realignment systems are offline. Do you have us on contact yet? Over.”

Jef quickly started touching various sections of the datastream feed that crossed his station, trying to call up the errant vessel. Finding nothing on TE7912 he ran a search on all unidentified contacts. There was only one, and not a likely candidate.

“7912, unless you’re ahead of schedule and way off the mark, I don’t have you here yet. I have one unidentified craft orbiting Phoebos, probably a mining skiff. Are your transponders up? Over.”

His fingers deftly manipulating the stream without waiting for an answer, Shoals set up alerts for TE7912’s transponder beacon as well as any new unidentified ships. He’d know about it the second a relevant contact was made. He also lit up the Situation Console, notifying his supervisor of a potential problem. Several heads turned his direction as other space controllers saw the huge screen at the front of the room kick into life.

The Situation Console, or SitCon as they referred to it, was a multi-user datastream interface that allowed the entire New Arabia Control staff to jump in if necessary. It recorded every action taken, coordinated data linking, and except for training exercises was only used during emergencies.

“Affirmative, New Arabia, all transponders are up. We’re also experiencing intermitent comm distruption. We can’t find anything wrong, though… Over.” The pilot’s voice cracked, obviously growing more distressed with the circumstances.

“Roger that, 7912. I’m setting up radio relay through all traffic within the shipping lanes. That should help improve comms. Now let’s figure out where you are. I’m going to need to know your current speed, which buoy you last passed, and if you made any nav adjustments since then. Over.”

“Lose one, Jef?” Shoals looked up to see Mr. Olivine, the Control Manager, standing over his shoulder. From this angle the amber light glinting off Olivine’s cybernetic right eye gave the man a sinister appearance.

“Not quite, sir,” he replied. “We never had her to start with. TE7912 is inbound, but still out of Mars space. She’s missed a couple buoys and both realignment systems are out. We’ve got no transponder yet, so I’m working on getting a rough estimate on her location.”

“Ok, I’m on this one with you, Jef.” Olivine sat at the station next to Shoals, fingers diving into the stream. “Mars space or not, she’s ours to reel in.”

* * * * *

Story: Golden Nectar

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Originally documented 3/3/2006
This is an incomplete draft

He looked from the bar out over the sparsely populated room, taking a long pull from his beer as he did. It tasted like golden nectar, he thought, and he savored another drought.

“It’s not as if I’m a drunk or anything,” his mind wandered. “What do I drink, maybe three or four a week?”

It was the quality of the hefeweizen he reveled in. Sure, he had no complaints about the light buzz he felt when he drank, but the taste was the thing. The same beer poured from a bottle couldn’t do equal justice to what he’d come to expect, either. Nope, it had to be draft, served with a quarter slice of fresh lemon, a nice frothy head, and that opaque, milky look that bottled stout couldn’t quite capture.

He turned slighly to the sound of the little brass bell dancing above the front door. Millicent Baylor was steering her two red-headed rugrats into the dining room and towards a booth. He thought he saw her glance in his direction, but if she had there was no outward sign of recognition.

“Wow, even after all these years she still looks hot.” He blinked, drained the last of his glass and motioned to the waitress for another.

For one brief, shining moment during high school she’d been his. A few weeks of fooling around after football games and it was over before it had ever really started, but it was still one of the high points of his memory.

He grinned sheepishly at the waitress as a fresh hefe materialized to replace his empty. He even delighted in the little sense of guilt he felt for enjoying the brew so much, and sometimes he thought Maggy could read it on his face when she delivered his guilty little sin.

“You sure you don’t at least want a sandwich or something to go with that, Arty?” She intoned, her smoky voice every bit as sexy as the cleavage springing from her low-cut blouse. Maggy understood the science of gratuities, as her tip jar could testify.

“Thank you, dear,” he replied, “but this is just perfect.”

“Well you know where to find me if you change you mind, sweetheart.” Maggy turned towards the kitchen and the half-empty catsup bottles awaiting their nightly refill.

After admiring her delicious rear slip out of view Arty returned his attention to earlier thoughts. Millicent sat in the booth with her back to him, her long red curls hanging over the back of the seat. The boys jostled in the seat opposite her, sword fighting with rolled up menus. They both had their mother’s trademark green eyes and freckles. They looked to be between six and nine years old.

“Was I really gone for that long?” he wondered. It didn’t matter; they’d never been serious, and he had no vested interest in her personal life. He just found it a bit boggling that she’d obviously gotten married, or at least shacked up with someone long enough to produce a few kids and find her place in the domestic routine.

“Domestic syndication,” he laughed softly into his glass. Arty was no different than anyone else, and jealousy tended to lead to mockery. A decade and a half had passed since leaving this hometown hamlet, and yet he’d never come close to finding his proverbial soulmate out in the world. Not that he thought Millicent was it, but why should she find hers and he find nothing?

He absentmindedly took the lemon from his brew and chewed at the pulp. Half way through his second pilsener and the tell tale signs of numbness caused his lips and tongue to tingle slightly. The brew was following it’s routine pattern; a light buzz, lips starting to numb, eyes slightly drooping. He’d be making his first trip to the head any minute now. How weird was that, Arty thought? Finding a sense of comfort in the familiar onset of alcoholic awareness certainly could not be a good symptom if one were engaged in a wider diagnosis of his psyche, but measuring the stages was indeed another guilty pleasure he enjoyed about his diner visits.

Exposed

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Originally Documented 1/22/2006

The unexpected effects of sensory deprivation combined with single-sensory overload left Janette in a state of euphoric confusion. It reminded her of her college years, wilder days she still hadn’t told her Mom about even though she was now well into her thirties. Those were the days when plants were meant to be smoked, and unknown pills were shared between sorority sisters as readily as boyfriends. Flashes and sparkles danced in front of her eyes. The blue and sea-green lights were almost blinding, although it was diffused through this odd liquid she floated in.

The liquid, or gel, she hadn’t quite decided what it was yet, was neither hot nor cold. If she had to guess it was probably an exact match to body tempurature. Apparently it had properties that allowed her to continue to breathe even while completely submerged. The 98.6 degree temperature was most certainly a sensory control mechanism. It meant she would barely be able to distinguish anything less than direct pressure through her skin. She felt no sense of motion when she concentrated on moving her arms, no viscus liquid traversing her body, and it wasn’t until she intentionally pinched herself that she was entirely sure she was there at all and this wasn’t the strangest dream she’s ever had.

The liquid’s temperature had other effects as well. The exact match to her internal temperature made it easier for her to breathe the liquid without entering an involuntary state of shock and panic. It was hard to tell she was breathing at all.

The odd liquid provided neither taste nor smell. It’s hard to realize how much one depends on the entire combination of one’s senses until the majority of them are out to lunch. Janette gave a low moan, just to test for sound, and the muffled tone she heard in return told her she was probably only hearing the sound vibrations echo through her own flesh and bone. She was in near isolation.

The one sense that was working all too well was her vision, even if she could barely understand anything of what she was seeing. An intensely bright, blue-green light entered the tank from several points around its clear cylindrical shape. From her vantage inside, the light expanded, bend outward by the concave glass and diffused by the liquid. It was near blinding, although it didn’t cause her eyes any pain, instead simply leaving her entire evaluation of her present circumstances in a dream-like state. Whether a dream or a nightmare Janette wasn’t sure yet, but it didn’t appear there was anything she could do about it in either case.

Presently (she had no idea how long had gone by as the passage of time simply could not gain a foothold in her confused mind) she could make out motion on the other side of the glass. Its wasn’t as if she actually saw anything directly, rather she could detect the shift in the incoming light. Someone, or something, was watching her like a fish in bowl. It made her skin crawl.

She forced herself to look down at her naked body in the first real flash of panic she’d experienced since waking. Her right arm instinctively crossed over her breasts while she reached down with her left in an attempt to cover her exposed crotch. She blinked hard against the light from the other side of the glass, trying to make out the voyeur on the other side, but the light only blinked back. She turned to either side, trying to find some way to hide herself from the peep, but for all she could tell it could be anywhere.

The Sewer

by Pappy October 30th, 2007, Posted in: Writing


Originally documented 1/19/2006 

The overwhelming stench of methane and urine burned his nose, paying no heed to the bandanna wrapped around his face and causing his stomach to turn somersaults. Why the hell did these guys always take to the sewers? What was it about wallowing in the filth of humanity’s oblivious existence in the city above that called to the demented, deranged and depraved criminals that he always ended up hunting? Whatever it was, he was sick of it. This was the third chase in as many months that had landed him in the city’s underbelly.

“Nasty bastards,” he thought. “I’m coming back down here in the off season and wiring the shit outta this place. Motion sensors, thermal monitors, and entry/egress trip-lines; the works! The next asswipe that thinks he’s gonna literally drag me through the shit will be in for a surprise.”

He stopped at a juncture. Smaller sewage tunnels from the left and right dumped into this one, mixing their offal from the inner city slums of the Butcher’s district with the more affluent fecal deposits of the lower East Park condominium complexes.

Booker grunted at the irony. “It doesn’t matter,” he thought. “Rich or poor, when it boils down to it in the end people are just so much shit.”

“Guess that makes me a turd collector; wouldn’t Momma be proud!” he chuckled.

He took the left tunnel, more on instinct than anything else. He’d followed several passages since the last real sign of his target, but he knew he was on the right track. That instinct probably had a lot more to do with his success and reputation as a bounty hunter than skill. He just always seemed to be able to guess what his mark was thinking and adjust appropriately. Most of the time.

He walked several hundred meters along the narrow ledge that ran beside the river of sewage, the light from his headlamp reflecting up onto the curved brick ceiling. An occasional rat scurried away from the blue-white light to continue it’s scavaging in more private surroundings.

Then he saw it. The massive red-brown bloodstain that covered a large swath of the waist-high cement barrier wall that separated this tunnel section from the next. It had changed slightly. The eight inches closest to the floor was all but gone, probably licked clean by the rats, but Booker knew where he was. That stain marked the location where he’d caught up to his last bounty in these sewers.

What were the odds? Over 1,500 miles of tunnels, drainpipes, and shit ponds and this goon happens to lead him past this exact spot? And if he recalled correctly, this segment ran right underneath the nanoball stadium. That put him within a half-mile of the sewer section where he’d caught Manny Stewart two months before that.

The hairs on his neck stood up and he moved his big frame to where he could watch both ends of the tunnel. He had to think this through. Something wasn’t adding up right. Besides the fact that Booker was after them, he wasn’t aware of anything that connected any of these men.

Was he being paranoid? Reading too much into the situation?

“Get it straight, Booker,” he told himself. “No need to get all freaked out or to go looking for conspiracies where there aren’t any. It’s just circumstantial.”

No, not circumstantial, just the opposite: coincidental. If there was one thing Booker learned early in his career it was the difference between the two, as well as their underlying implications. Circumstances are, just as the the word implies, various elements of a given situation that make it unique from similar situations. Coincidences, on the other hand, are shared elements between situations that appear are otherwise entirely separate, unique and unrelated.

Sometimes circumstances could be analyzed to figure out how someone might react, or what they might do next. Often times they were as useless as trivia, and Booker could ignore them. Coincidences, though, he never ignored. They were often the hidden threads that when pulled could unravel the weave of an elsewise flawless scheme like a bad Christmas sweater.

So what did he know? The circumstances of these cases were that each bounty had run for the sewer to try and escape him. Circumstances also showed that each also preferred the same section of sewer and traveled in the same general direction. But the coincidence was that those were unique factors of all three cases. If it were only two he might even be able to ignore it or pass it off as blind randomness. But three in three months? No way. Which meant there was another layer of this onion yet to be peeled before he just collected his bounty and moved on to the next case.

There had to be a connection.