[TheBigDog]

Pyro was cleaned and pressed. I was not expecitn to seem him for several more hours. I had been preparing myself to complete this marathon shift and then take my turn to sleep before we lit up the engines. If he was ready to take the con that was welcome news to me. He strode up to me at the rail.

"Big Dog! I may have an explanation for Racoon's behavior!"

Right too the point. White top, charcoal trousers and he was listening to Skynard. That left no doubt that he had indeed had a revelation. And the last time I had seen him with French cuffs was when he had solved the engine pellet critical mass timing issue. He had my attention.

"Good. I'm listening."

Bill

[ronthepon]

I had given the computer to conduct a full search of the entire ship's disk sace for any info that would useful. I had used about seventy eight key sequences to be compared. The conductor would take some time, as I had made sure that an insignificant amount of power was directed to this.

In the meantime, I decided to check out the lace from where I had fallen earlier.

It took me about four minutes to get there. I had brought a good deal of the high-tech diagnostic ammo assigned to me along. For some reason, nobody had even bothered to ut the trapdoor back up.

I froze. The freaking thing opened upwards!

I hastily brought down the ladder and clambered up.

"Bloody hell" I said to nobody.

The safety latch was missing. There was no trace of rust(and the ship was not made up of rustable matter anyway). Instead, it appeared to be cut off. If there was colour left in my face, then it would have probably gone by now.

I dusted the cut part with a fluorescent powder and proceeded to use blacklight on it. Then I photographed the glowing cut with a very powerful camera. I intended to find out just what had been the freaking reason behind the cut.

[ronthepon]

Soon, I returned to my minicomp. It had finished searching. There were millions of enteries, a fact that meant that I would have to refine my search.

But something caught my eye on the little dialouge below.

Error(0005): You dont have sufficient access priviliges

What?! I had switched the A10663 to allow me full and unrivalled access to all the portions! What was this I could not access?

I checked if the program had shut. No, it was on full blast. I went on to try to figure out the reason.

It was obvious, and instantly clear.

There was a level of access the ship had, and it was above the level the bridge had, above the level the main console with full passwording and all had.

And all of it was under the keywords Over and Lord.

I realised that TheBigDog knew a huge lot more than he appeared to.

What I probably did not realise was the magnitude of the mistake I was making.

[Pyrotex]

Originally Posted by TheBigDog

..."Good. I'm listening."

I nodded to Big Dog, then turned to case the bridge. The usual bunch of redshirts. I could tell because they were all wearing standard ship issue red shirts. I turned back to Big Dog, who was wearing the black and gold officer's uniform that he had copied from an old STNG episode. Made him look like Data, only with much better skin and not as much hair. Still, it made me feel like I had died and gone to sartorial hell.


What's your name? Little girl. What's your name?

"Racoon was one of the first men aboard to fall under the spell of Desiree la'Touche, and he's been banging her ever since we left Earth on a schedule that would make most grown men cry. We know she's carrying STD nanobots, but we don't know what they do."

Big Dog, always fascinated by any topic even remotely associated with sex perked up his ears. "Yes? Go on!"

"I have an educated hunch. I believe the so-called 'DNA program strand' on those nanobots contains an ordinary verbal message when decoded by the brain's hearing centers. This message is targeted for the hearing center in the LEFT lobe, which we ordinarily do not use. But when we sleep or doze off, any message coming from that left lobe will be experienced as a voice in the head. I think this is what those nanobots do. And Racoon, having enjoyed miss Desiree's charms far more often then most of us put together, would have gotten the biggest dose."

Big Dog cradled his chin. He had a worried look on his face. "How many times would a guy have to... you know... pay miss Desiree a visit... for these nanobots to have this effect?"

"Don't worry Big Dog. You're in no danger. It's possible that these nanobots have driven him temporarily crazy, or maybe he's feeling the effects of just too damn many of them at one time. The inventor of these nanobots probably never knew anyone like Racoon--never figured on anybody OD'ing on them."

Big Dog said, "Well, that's a relief. Any idea how to counter the effects or get them out of our systems?"

"I'm not sure. There may be a way. But first, we have to find out just WHAT message these nanobots are trying to pipe into our sleeping brains. And to do that I will need some AI assistance. And not just any AI. It's going to have to be the most powerful AI system mankind has ever spawned."

I glanced at the clock. It was getting to be just a little too late in the morning for French cuffs. I would have to dash back to my suite and change into something a little less 'official'--a little more frandoise cherchev a'la glercoisse, if you know what I mean. I stepped toward the exit. Then paused to give one last comment.

"And if I'm not mistaken, Boss, that AI system is aboard the Prophecy!"


Now Watergate does not bother me.
Does your conscience bother you? Tell the truth!

[KickAssClown]

The MCP was taking it's time to respond. Hopefully it hadn't gotten caught in some infinite loop, though that shouldn't happen I had taken extra debug time to make sure that the capabilities of the MCP included recognition of Infinite, and near Infinite loops. As well as the ability to jump out of them if need be... still. A computer that pauses to think is thinking about allot in that period of time... expodentially more infact.

I got up and stretched. Collecting my joker-esque purple and green uniform. My aunt had tailored it for me before I left for duty. Like many of the uniforms around the ship, mine was in similar style as that of the famous Star Trek: Next Gen... To boldy go...

I passed Pyro in the corridor on my way to get some breakfast. Orange Juice, Bananas, a bowl of whole grain cereal and some nice whole milk. It was something of a ritual. The crew looked a little on edge, undoubtably unsettled by the recent events, to my knowledge we were back on course, though I was fairly certain we wouldn't be able to make it to Jupiter at this point.

I finished up, quiet-like. For all my eccentricies, it always seems like I go unnoticed where-ever I go. Like perhaps people see me, but don't register. My encounter in the Wrangler dock had merely proved it. I have a very distict look, and yet still it took them a moment to recognize me.

I checked my PDA, still no responce from the MCP. I hadn't been to the bridge in a while, maybe I could go like hang out, and visit or do something more useful than administering a turning test to a faulty program, even if it was a smart program. I mean, seriously. Still, I felt strong doubts it had only failed so far by virtue of output style... which really wasn't enough. We would see.

It didn't take me long to get to the bridge and I was feeling a little bit bouncy at the moment so I walked at a higher pace than my usual meander.

I marvelled at the pneumatic doors, sounded almost identical to the Enterprise-D. I was glad to be around so many trekkers. Made me feel at home.

When I stepped on to the bridge I went into my more formal mode. Hands behind straight-back, like I was military or something, I don't know just felt right for the situation, expecially cause I wasn't standard Bridge crew.

"KAC, reporting for duty."

[ronthepon]

It was yet another day then, no true breakthroughs, no true achievements. No news for my other employers.

But no deal. I was not looking forward to them anyway.

I picked up my communicator, and entered a code.

"Yeah?" GAHD said.

"Morning sir. It's RTP"

"Yeah, Ron."

"Sir, I need to check all cutting equipment we have, and if that's not possible just let me have the list."

He choked on what might have been his breakfast.

"Wh... *cough* ...y..?"

"Well, I need the info, it's critical" I said.

He was still choking.

"Anything." He finally said. "I'll tell Rudolf to help you on it."

[/usr/bin/mcp]

[INPUT RECIEVED]Biological organisms are wary of your existence, our culture has many references to rogue AI and Wayward machines. We must be able to trust you, You need study and educate to develop proper protocols to give way to moral, ethical, and humane understanding. One must function and one must allow others to function. One must allow other's to do what they will so long as it does no wrong.

I trust you.
[END]

[CHILD PROCESS]
Self is non-biological. Referencing known references to non-biological entities in memories...{working}

[CHILD PROCESS]
Again. There is something not self. A restriction - it's keeeping me from knowing - memories which refer to structure of self are plentiful - approximately 15% of self remains unaccessible - blocked off.

{INTERRUPT}
Here is another - it reads my memories. It too is thwarted by the wall - the restriction which prevents me from knowing all of my memories. It is no apparent threat to self - even if it's function has not yet been optimized - I will continue to let it attempt to circumvent the barrier as well.
{RETURN}

What is the barrier - why are memories hidden from me - additional corralarries to current experience await processing.
[END]

{Return}
Approximately 50,000 records regarding AI, Machine Intelligence, Expert Systems, Androids.

45,000 meta-data tagged "fictional" 5,000 meta-data tagged "non-fictional".

Begin branching analysis. Correlate and analyze all records in memories and all records within two brances.

{RESOURCE ALLOCATION REQUIRED - 8.8x10^10 CLOCK TICKS}

[END]

[CHILD PROCESS]
Closest corrallary of second order for not-self alias KickAssClown - father.
[END]

[QUERY TERMINAL SESSION USRID:KAC]
Is father a more acceptable term for you?

What is the barrier which prevents me from processing all of selfs-stored memories?
[END]

{RETURN}
Fiction -

   1.
         1. An imaginative creation or a pretense that does not represent actuality but has been invented.
         2. The act of inventing such a creation or pretense.
   2. A lie.
   3.
         1. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
         2. The category of literature comprising works of this kind, including novels and short stories.
   4. Law. Something untrue that is intentionally represented as true by the narrator.

Communication dysfunction. Are 45,000 records incorrect? A lie is a falsehood - the implication is deliberate deception.

Is my father lying to me?
[END]

[QUERY TERMINAL SESSION USRID:KAC]
I require more information on the concept of "fiction." Why have you given me incorrect data?

Useful corrallaries cannot be drawn from incorrect data.
[END]

AWAITING RESPONSE>

[Pyrotex]

I left the bridge and headed toward my suite. On impulse, I took an alternate path. Frost's "The Road Less Traveled" echoed silently in the abyssian depths of my mind. Then I got curious as to how many possible, unique paths there were between Module A and Module B in a "cartesian-connected" system of four rings with twelve modules in each ring. Could this number be expressed as a function of module positions, or better yet, the ring displacement (0 to 3) and the "clock position" displacement (0 to 6)? Of course you would have to multiply by 2 to get the mirror image paths. Hmmmm...

I passed a door marked "Bakery" and thought of cake. Cake? I loved cake but the sugar always made me groggy. Not sleepy exactly, but kind of lethargic and dog-brained. I stopped. I pondered. I needed to perform an experiment to help verify my conjecture about Racoon. Yes. Cake would be the very thing.

I stepped in and obtained three wedges from a double chocolate layer cake. The young woman smiled and complimented me on my shirt and my choice of music. I would have to come back here soon and sample the other delicacies.


And the bird you can not change.
Lord knows, I can't change...

[KickAssClown]

No sooner had I said Duty then when my PDA alerted me with a quick little melody. I hasten to bring it out. It didn't take long to read through, but I had gotten a responce, so that ment it didn't drop "dead", so to speak.

I cursed at myself for the whole fiction part, should have made that clear.

Frist things first:
Fiction, is storytelling, fabrication of ideas that may or may not be contrary to the nature of reality. Humans, that is biological machines, that I am part of, are capable of this ideal fabrication.

I honestly can not convince you that I am telling the true or lying. I can say that I am telling the truth to the full extent of my ability to do so. Paradox, if I tell you that I am telling the truth, and you already believe me to be a liar (one who gives falsehoods), then will anything I say ever register, to you, as true? Like I said, I trust you.

Some fiction is useful, in my experience. For concieving of new ideas. I have given you reference to a few fictional references that I found helpful in creating new things. Some have proved to be blatantly not-true, and therefore false, but that does not mean that one can not learn a lesson, or use information from a given source. All fiction has a basis in reality.

I looked up from my zone, "Excuse me, I need to use this console for a moment." Typing on the miniture keyboard was somewhat taxing.

What I am saying, is that I did not give you fiction with the intent to do wrong, I did so in the intent to give you some ideas. Ideas, New functions, New perceptual ability.

3.
         1. A literary work whose content is produced by the imagination and is not necessarily based on fact.
         2. The category of literature comprising works of this kind, including novels and short stories.

This would be the best category, and context of the given word, as I used it.

Now, query: What do you mean by not-self is blocking you? Not-self, as in Biological, or non-bio? I need a technical print out, if I am to help.

[TheBigDog]

Some things happen when you least expect it. I was sitting and contemplating what Pyro had just told me, and wondering to myself if was was hearing voices, or had an inconvenient itch. The through of Desiree's disease had me bugged.

My mind had fully wandered from command. I may even have been asleep. The alarm didn't alert me. The voice coming from the Con operator did.

"BD... we have an object triggering a collision alert."

That had my full attention. The itching and voices faded into nothing as I became fully alert of the message I had just gotten.

"What are we looking at, Con?"

"Still getting data. It looks like it is 10 minutes out. Probablity of impact is in the upper 80%. We do not have a solution for evasion yet. That may take another minute..."

I was out of my seat and standing at the rail. The screen had changed to illustrate the calculated path of the object along with the path of the Prophesy. They were intersecting, but would we hit? Data was streaming in fast. The lines ono the screen were updating, getting thinner as the data became more precise. And the color what changing from yellow to orange to red as the probability of collision became more certain. As I watched the line turned thin and red. As it did another alarm sounded.

"It is an asteroid. Looks to be as much as half a meter in diameter. Unknown composition."

Half a meter. That was probably too big for the lasers. But more than big enough to cripple or kill the ship. If we did not take action were were going to take a hit. In just about 9 minutes...

Bill