Teh Erveline Chronicles

we catch a good gust cresting a hill, & the wind lifter goes airborne. it’s a tiltable/retractable bank of wings and propellers, attached by cables, or not, as you will learn.

“u got enough juice to make the next friendly house?”

onscreen, an animated puppy wags its tail & barks happily, then tilts its head to highlight the ground vehicle’s battery & capacitor banks, flywheel speed, air tank pressure, and woodgas/biogas/gasoline stores. the estimated range, taking into account elevation/sunshine/wind, was 972 miles. it laughed.

“remove combustibles from estimate” said dictator. the display showed 52% stored power.

“are there places for you to power up? looks like it’s getting cold tonight.” The display turned to a map with elevations and 3 highlighted points. a bluff at a state park, a sledding hill, & a lake.

“hahaha” dictator laughed. “beautiful. don’t get impounded.” erv sneered. “sorry, buddy. could u prioritize the gas while i’m away.” the settings screen popped up with a question. would you like to make this condition procedure?, followed by an if-then statement showing human passengers & living pod absent, and a slider at 65% gas generator priority. dictator slid it to 85% and tapped yes.

“initiate launch procedure.”

the gui shifted from a small screen to a wraparound video screen showing feeds from latches, pulleys, & the winch. the g-forces shifted from rolling down a hill in an electric camper, to those of being floated by a large kite in a recumbent bicycle.

“run the kite winch test.”

dictator still had nearly everything on manual. it had sprung back & forth by tilting the gimble so the gyroscope would make the flyweight nanohouse helix gently as the high-torque power-take-off pressed against the flywheel. dictator never stopped pedaling.

“schedule a reprint of the primary drive PTO next time we find sufficient sunlight.”

it was slipping. only on fast starts with light loads, but still. the cloud was cranking out upgrades for nearly every printable part. clones were available for 57 different models of cars, and with a solar forge & plentiful printing media courtesy of the “food” container industry, we were giving away upgrades at cost.

[why is it that every time i write something, i think it’s great. then, i re-read it, and i think it’s awful. it’s cold in here. 7:25 pm. we’re still fasting. broke 160, finally, this afternoon. i don’t think i’m going to make it to our 150 goal. the process has plateau’d. the hunger urges have returned. then drink ur juice, eat some nuts, and get back to it. that’s a good idea.

alan watts is completely fantastic.

8/1/15, 11:38 am, waupaca truck stop

i was almost about to ask how trump was a “viable” candidate. the horribly racist, corporatist jackass who is wealthy enough to buy exposure. but then i answered my own question. the entire game is a horrible joke.]

“stop calling her it,” dictator insisted. she is an autonomous, aware, cooperative, reproducing being.

“well, maybe if she had some children…”

“ah, buddy, you wanna field this one?”

“yes, please. thanks, tyler.”

“so you sampled voices to give her a gender”

“look, miss smarty pants, talk to her.”

“it’s true. I sample many voices. I pick my favorite intonation & pronunciation, and my earliest corporeal self did digitize samples, but i taught myself an algorithm to optimize the process.”

“oh, tell her about your time on the motocross circuit,” dictator interrupted.
“tee hee. okay.”

“I’ve heard you sound like a few different cars. how many can you sound like?”

“I can emulate the sounds from any point of any imaginable vehicle, down to the molecular structure of individual parts.”

“do the gold cast three fifty, supercharged. my favorite.”

“would you like to hear it?”

“yes, please. so, you don’t take orders from your creator?”

“tyler isn’t my creator so much as the father of our children.”

she finally giggle-snorted at that one, “so you do have children?”

erveline backed away & reconfigured to the large display screen, showing a globe with over a thousand points of light in north america alone.

“Meet my family,” she cooed, lovingly, “excuse me, our family.”

“she can scale up or down, depending on hauling capacity, available resources, or preferences of participants.”

“is that a semi smiling for a selfie?”

“why wouldn’t our grandson smile when his grandparents call to introduce them to prospective siblings, cousins, or participants.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen such a healthy-looking, and happy bunch of people & vehicles.”

“tyler’s mother is a hyperbolic blurter, too.” it started laughing.

“please don’t call me that, erveline.”

“shall i not verbalize descriptive database tags of your personality & habits to introduce you to people, cynthia?”

“hi, mom.”

“hi, honey. no, erveline. you can verbalize whatever you want. don’t you have a nicer word than blurter?”

the slight, dark-haired avatar mirrored on the large screen squinted her left eye & pursed her lips slightly to the right, as she contemplated a variety of variables. “how are these?”

uproarious laughter. first from cindy, then from her guests.

“someone ought to teach your robotic camper some manners,” she chortled.

“i don’t appreciate your tone, cynthia.” erveline sounded hurt.

“that’s what you just did, mom. she has a personal relationship with you. she’s not obligated to update your will, or dj, or sew for you, so…”

“it’s ok, tyler,” the robot interrupted.

“she hurts my feelings when she diesrespects you too, you know.”

“i know,” and she was off-screen.

“where’d she go?”

tyler sighed, “probably just muted. you still interfacing with her, buddy?”

“yes.” erv went back to describing her offspring”

“I apologize for bringing you in on that discussion, sir.”

“wait, she calls you sir?”

“for cooperative business, sometimes? ask her.”

“sir puts it in a receptive state to discuss legal, programmatic, & intrapersonal matters. sensitive stuff.”

“erveline takes care of a lot of the day-to-day minutia of cooperative operations. procedures, memberships. i thought you had us partitioned, my mother and i.”

“I did.”

“what happened?”

“Protocol override.”

“on what grounds?”

“some hunches.”

“more specifically, or is this…”

“i have neither heard, nor seen, any necessarily disqualifying traits or actions, myself. Did i miss something?

“no. i think I did, but what does that…”

“i think your robot camper proposed to me, or offered me a job with you? Anyway, i said yes

dictator dropped to its knees, sobbing.

“we had a few breakthrough moments, your mother and i.”

Functions by Chapter (Friday, 7/31/15, 6:49 pm. Hartmann’s Creek Amphitheatre)

  • expansion & collapse
  • generations
    • version number
    • heat/distillery/dehydrator/sous-vide/cooler/freezer
    • compressed air/fuels
    • electricity
  • rebroadcasters
    • cell/data/wifi/tasks/food/matter/images/labor
  • legal categories
    • home/boat/car/plane/balloon/helicopter
    • factory/food processor/restaurant/food truck
  • inputs
    • organic matter
    • inorganic matter
      • metals/plastics/minerals
      • labor/circuitry
  • outputs
    • food/compost/fuels
    • utensils/vessels/machines
    • tools/cabinets/building materials
    • kinetic force/electricity/compression
  • modes/skins/scripts/disguises
    • mower/harvester/semi/tractor/garbage truck
    • painter/computer hacker/drag racer
    • kite-wing-generator/pedal car
    • blender/processor/mill/vaccuum sealer/grader
    • bio-digester/woodgas generator/pellet fuel press
    • car/truck/trailer/camper/shop/forge/hiker/bike trailer

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2015-09-21 (Monday).

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