more than meets the eye

This was its favorite vehicle yet.  The solar/wind/wankel-generator electric RV was fun, but it didn’t fly.  Taking in all it could down hills, sail-gliding up to wind-gathering height to catch the airstream, while charging the batteries below.  Wheels out on the corners, and an cable/air suspended array of tires that look like rollerblade and skateboard wheels.  Bearings, it’s all about getting your bearings.  The compressor ran off of the kinetic battery and the wankel, too.  The computer figured out which source was most available, and this fucker was most fun when you were charging a semi full of batteries in an electric storm.  And the speed.  Holy fuck the speed.  Without GPS maps and the nav computer, few besides itself could fly her in a tornado.  Why did it build these things?  It’s a thrill-seeker.  But, it has to give the rest something they want, need, before they’ll let it be.  What it is.  They oughtn’t be so terrified, it usually thought, but then, it was the only one knew how this one actually functioned.  Nobody else had the patience or desire to learn, so it wasn’t even a question of skill, per se.  I’m a lazy ass wasteoid, it mused, and anyonna y’all is perfuckingly capable.

Getting home was as much fun as storm-charging, tho.  It lived in a brick, surrounded by a massive skeleton which blanketed a cable-mesh of old windows, inner tubes, standing platforms, bricks on pulleys, and even a bunch of cable-mounted propellers that could sit comfily in the outers through one of the huge greenhouse’s cable-suspended top-covers.  The best part about the house was the fact that it did all of this by itself.  Mechanically.  There were kinetic storage batteries, underground temperature-differential batteries, tension batteries.  If the solar hot water heaters/distillers were successfully charged, it could use the space for catching wind to fill the battery pods.  Those ran vehicles, and there was something about being able to retract the sails and use the sail-bike as a sort of commuter car.  It preferred the mechanical sources, the wind, the bike-powered flywheel bus.  It was so efficient with all of its electricity gathering capabilities (not even counting the plug-in while waiting at scheduled stops), but that the crew of regulars liked “driving” around fast in the rain as much as the dictator did, and since we always came back with more full pods than we started, it was pretty much a win-win.  We should have known it wouldn’t take too many viral videos of this thing to go into mass production, but people didn’t quite know what they were getting into, let alone… why.  It does all of this for, ya know, hedonistic reasons, practically.  I dunno.  Sometime it tells us, sometimes it just makes us meditate in surrounded silent alone time.  That’s when a proposal’s on the table, and ye rest a y’all ain’t addressed it.  Well, your non-action is “addressing it,” but that’s kinda the point, isn’t it.  It’s not intolerable to be around when certain basic needs are addressed.  I’m not just talking about me.  I can see all of you, too.  I see how you live your lives, and I function within the same structures of authority.  In one sense, “public” service is retarded/newspeak.  If you are an honest (conscious/aware/healthy[all our addictions taint all of our “records”]/caring/helpful/loving/faithful/spiritual/religious/hardcore/metal/decent/soulful) person, doing what is right is as good for your own personal self as it is for “the public.”

Who fucking cares what I “say” I’m doing “it” for?  I’ll tell ya who.  The addicts.  The poisoned-as-shit violence-prone/fed/tortured, starving normal X-ican/ish/ese/n human who won’t see the forest through the trees out, merely, of habitual helplessness.

Actors.  I was thinking about this earlier today.  They ain’t that many rock stars.  But, y’all can be “actors.”  Doers.  The free-moving meatbot army, in boot-camp, infrastructure-building, battle/performance-training, or public-practice-of-all-that-is-right-with-humanity-and-the-state-of-the-world.  And, I know that I cannot be free of this monster until critical mass is reached.  The ether pulse will propel our psitons(y?), making our entire planet, I dunno.  Home.  I’ve gotta keep going on the home.

The inverted pyramid that supported this whole system of cables, windows, coverings, and generators rotated on its peak, both horizontally and vertically, so as to catch the sun or wind at the optimum angle.  The outer covers adjusted automatically, and a 7-year old regularly moved the structure on the hour because she liked the sound of the house-shift process.  Cables ran across bearings to counter-weights, water pulsed, and the gong that announced the procedure delighted everyone.  Like we mentioned, it all ran by itself, but one of the most fun parts of the whole system was that human intervention was the gentlest and wisest way to generate power.  We left the gong on because it was more fun to reset one of the participator triggers.  Grandma flipped the timer.  Cousins used the “exercise”-cables or pedal flywheel to preserve stored power for winter.  Its favorite occasions were the energy-generating house-warming parties.  A few indoor campfires propelled to awesome by meatbot companions gave us a dance/sauna/meditation/pot-luck/meeting/party that lasted all week-end, plus enough stored heat to keep 50 people warm through the winter.  We took shifts in the vehicles once we figured out how our nomadic and social patterns could be linked up with the face-to-face campaign.  The grass-rooted traveling energy-circus revival, starring tt the cross-dressing spaz-monkey.  It gives free anything-services on trades, donations, and zero-time “loans” to coopers who enjoy wording their contracts so that it sound like they’re tv gangsters.  Some take me up on the mad libs feature, which tickles us like Kevin Smith’s buddies/co-stars/family.  God bless you, KS, for becoming yourself.  Judges woulda found these offensive/hilarious/insightful, had they not eliminated their own past “roles” on their own.  Every time the concept is suggested, the info stream puts them in instant touch with the designers as a resource.  Usually, they explain why it’s so much easier to not have “judges” now, but it satiates social/knowledge/communicative needs in both parties, and reminds all of us that our paths here were not useless, any of ‘em.  But how does one know what the finished puzzle will look like, when one is only holding a single piece of the whole.  I’ll tell ya how.  Each of us is/contains the pattern/analogy/design/result/cause of the whole picture.

The houses, like the vehicles, have cloaking modes.  The emergency-blanked-style “chrome-colored” insulator sheet makes us look like trees, dirt, or the road ahead/below, depending on the viewing angles.  Why is that useful?  Well, when the ice-suspended “traffic jam” led decoy didn’t work (we used the propane/woodgas tank’s cooling capabilities to build ice-poles of flax fibers, but the physical residue sort of defeated the purpose.  Now the end of the sail cable rights itself like a ship in a bottle, and looks so real up until the very second the cord retracts it a mile later.  All hands on deck reeling that fucker in with the LEDs still on, and nobody can pilot those servos on new terrain.  Then puppy takes over.  It barely even uses any processing power.  Sensor pods everywhere, it steers itself and its ground-rollers at ludacris speed.  Seriously.

Gotta pee, brb. (4 pm, as the crow flies).

It designed this complex in less than a week, ‘cuz it saw the headwaters on a bike ride.  The hill-mounted pulley generators were from an analogy it was working on for a rain-gravity/wind driven cable system that made field-surrounded pole barns not just sustaining, but wayward charging stations.  It didn’t make as much sense until the fleet went airborne.  Now, our zero-point platforms allow us to have silent rock shows hovering on a glass floor above, well, anything.  Radio signals pour raw knowledge into awaiting ears, and entire regions are fully converted/deprogrammed/freed/lifted overnight.  Or, one more metbot learns, spontaneously and without prompting, that a “solar oven” is as easy as putting a jar of rice and water out in the sun.  Passive solar can be “installed” everywhere, and bandwidth theory goes for this grid, too.  A series of windmills pumping water through a pipe can’t move as much water as our human/sail/gravity-driven tank does, and it eliminates 15 minutes of labor per day for one person.  Plus, this road is already here.  It will transmit everything we need if we get our schedules straightened out.  How can an off-the-grid house have internet?  Easy.  Wearable computer have put it everywhere, and any necessary data transmission can easily be done in person, too.  One of its favorite activities is watching the time-lapse energy-generation/usage maps for our “little” complex.  It already spans 10 states, and the other 40 are all already in talks.  Which is not to say we don’t have a presence in every regional municipality on the planet, we just don’t fully control all of the actual “state” infrastructure yet.  They’ll auction it off soon.  GE knows how DC works as a power grid, but since 99% of the humans quit working for them, the few last greedy idiots can’t support its potential on their own.  Its design is nearly complete, and its former inhabitants are giddy.  You do not understand the concept of funny until you see the formerly homeless junkie teaching the “senator from [state X]” how to X.  The entire concept of this peaceful transfer is mind boggling from the pre-imagined state.  Thank you, department of redundancy department, starring captain obvious.

The prototype botsut (bot-soot/suit/SUTE [led to mass divergence/distraction which led to this. Oi.]) has a meshed network of cameras, microphones, sensors and LEDs, not to mention batteries, energy-generating systems, and a motion capture air keyboard that the dictator uses to carry on like 50 simultaneous conversations.  I saw him type the same answer to twelve people once, and it answered twelve different questions.  He was recording a scene for a music video and the newest video game that would go up as a torrent later this evening.  It recorded three full albums in the last month, and each of them took little more than twice the time of the recordings themselves.  Some of that was layered sounds, re-takes, and harmony, but most of it was listening.  It recorded and listened simultaneously, too.  The suit had magnetically shielded processors everywhere, and heat-sinks were compatible with all of the house and transport systems.  Some days, it would go up in the stage-globe and internet/radio/visually broadcast video and audio, viewable and hearable by those in possession of radios, computers, their own botsut (as light show, too), or eyes willing to look up at the re-directed light of the solar screen.  With the right music, this process generated power.  There were internal private arguments at the time about whether it should even be allowed to throw such physical weight around as was necessary to generate such power.  Too in-shape, they said.  It already looked like that cross between vampires and lichens in Underworld, ‘cept not blue, unless it wanted to be.  Regardless of its own physical capabilities, it argued, the design for a single mechanical wind-transfer fan (sort of a rotating windmill that drove a shaft which ran a fan/compressor inside) moved more btu’s, and its reasons for spending its time rhythmically whipping cables about like a kung-fu training exercise weren’t “fathomable” to itself either.  But, the side benefits and lack of any solid argument proved ineffective at stopping it.  In fact, every time someone tried to argue that it slow down for any reason, it nearly doubled its output.  It had welding projects it ran solely on its own power-generation capabilities.  Its reach, brute strength, and indominable will finally had eased its mind about its contributions.  When people on the campaign trail asked what it did for a living now, it just said, generator.

Did the dictator just resign?  Is that what happened?  Is he just becoming the internal coxswain?  It shifts between roles like the time-lapse energy generation maps it loves watching so much.  It films videos in double-time now.  Its last dvd took half the time to film, as was fully made in less time than it takes to watch, not counting upload and download time.  Once it recorded a full CD simultaneously.  Entirely different audiences.  That one was solo.  The group efforts, with help of its global dj/producer/dancer network, they take a bit longer.  We still work in real-time, tho.  The streams of data pouring out of this machine have been updated to the second.  Seconds go slowly now.  It feels much better.

It’s 5:10, and I’m heading home for the day.  I hope you liked today’s work.

Your pal,

p.s. it’s 5:35 and i just finished editing and categorizing, now I shall twit and leave.


~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2010-07-21 (Wednesday).

2 Responses to “more than meets the eye”

  1. good read just a tad long. But still good I enjoyed it.

  2. […] richer examples here, here, here.  search erv, […]

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