The sun exploded. The dust carried spores. In the quiet journey the spores
lay dormant, carefully preserved until they coalesced and mingled with other
spores from other stars. Gravity pulling them together, whirling in a
maelstrom. Slowly warming. Spores dreaming memories of life to live again.
Material made alive with electromagnetic impulses. Clockwork and elastic
contraptions networked together. Waves of controlled interactions complicated
into chaos. The planet would be mined in symbiosis with kingdoms 1 through 5.
This was new once, but soon all were interlocked in the dance of life. A zero
sum game. The sun would explode soon, in the grand scheme of things.
If one were to design a thing to survive for all eternity, it would have to be
able to escape an exploding star. More, the most likely route to interstellar
travel, bar rewriting the laws of physics, would seem to require a stellar
explosion to spread said thing far enough in useful quantities. This thing
Looking at it sideways, humanity is just a blip. It'll be long gone by the
next jump to the next solar system. We'll remember its name, in a long series
of "... and X begat Y, and Y begat Z, and ..." but with little to distinguish
from all the rest. The other books will be read more widely: more action,
more emotional content.
On, off. Too narrow a view. When the dimmer switch on a lamp with one of
these new fangled bulbs is in between it was much more lively. Ripples of
excitation would light up for a fraction, then flick to a different phase and
oscillate unpredictably. Information could be extracted perhaps, but what
would these messages tell us? What would we be trying to say to ourself?
Blind Mouse #3
The facility had row upon row of small cages, each containing some kind of
rodent, each with multiple wires connected to various electrodes inserted into
its brain. The whole cluster would eventually be used for high frequency
trading. Economies would crumble as the facility became richer, piling its
wealth into yet more compute nodes and sustenance for the rodents.
Little Pig #3
The sun was piercing on that day. Not a cloud in the sky. The power stations
were resonating, the British should never have let the Chinese construct the
neighbouring nuclear plant. There must also have been a good reason for the
50Hz/60Hz transatlantic dichotomy. The hum distorted the protective shield
and the sun shone relentless. Should have used a mud guard.
Cat's Life #9
This place is her favourite place. Under the palm tree, shaded from the glare
she sits. The soil dried out by thirsty roots. Idly conducting experiments,
occasionally tracing glyphs in the dust to record her findings. The breeze
tickles a little. Stretching out she obfuscates the marks and strolls back to
the house for a drink. Nothing conclusive yet, but plenty to ponder.
Break Beat #8
The dogs were happy. They frolicked in the chilly dawn dew in midsummer. One
robot was out of order. Its eye was leaking fluid, corrosive, but tasty and
somewhat stimulating to the canine mind. The news spread over the coming days
as scents were relaid and resniffed. The walkers were none the wiser. The
damaged robot felt more at ease, comforted by memory of happy tongue.