It was either "Twas the day before Christmas" or "De Plow! De Plow!" I knew I should have met Obama in Hawaii for the holidays, sigh, oh well.
Some years are just a little more 'interesting' around here than others, and this one was mildly interesting. Mildly panicky, too. I'll try to outline the day - the plans I made, and the plans the Universe gave me.
Me, I planned on a nice, calm day, baking up the rest of the treats I wanted to gift. We knew snow was predicted, but I'd cleaned out the porch and tucked the snow blower in it and even had gas on hand (! - that may have tipped off the Universe I was getting too complacent).
First thing on my list was to bake up some Springleri (anise) cookies; Sera's favorite and they'd set overnight. Okay, so these came out tasting excellent but a little strange. Figured out that morning around 6 a.m. (damn, the places my mind goes when it has a few seconds) the cause for the thin cookie dough was I used large eggs instead of medium this year. Since the cookies are mostly eggs and flour, and since I was 'for once being proper' and stuck to the measurements even when I thought it could use a little more flour... They're thin like pancakes instead of a drop cookie. Like I said, they taste excellent, and I learned I shouldn't ignore those quiet nudgings and fly on 'gut feeling' more.
I didn't get on with baking them until 8:00, which is when I figured out somebody (ahem, was Sera, not me) left the oven on all night. The house was rather cool - not drastic, but cool - so I turned the thermostat up. And the furnace didn't respond.
Okay. That qualifies as reason to trigger panic, put nerves on high alert, and simultaneously calm self while trying to mentally trouble shoot potential causes. Being as I'm not a 'furnace person', the hardest part is maintaining calm. I hit the breaker switch, furnace kicked on and off. Hmm.
Especially on Christmas eve under snow when a repairman would be challenged to get out here long enough to tweak some durn thingy and charge a few hundred dollars. No panic, twitch, no panic.
So I baked bread.
I'd planned on baking bread before Sera got up and started baking pies and things, so it seemed to make sense to get the bread in the oven before I got too involved in furnace-thinking. It was a bit reassuring, because part of mind was analyzing the situation, recognizing we still had power, and the other space heater was in the shed - if needed. Also mentally reviewed my very short list of friends that might have clue on what to check. (This is the kind of call my dad used to get.)
It seemed the only thing different in the furnace's world between night and morn was the snow, so I figured the least I could do was get on the roof and see if the air vent or something was buried. I also tossed out the top furnace filter which was pretty plugged up; a year ago I'd bought 4 cheap filters, stacked them together in the furnace, and as they plug up, toss out the top one. I won't say how many are still left in the stack, but it is more than two... I know, should stay aware of these things.
I got dressed for Outside and left Sera to get the bread out when it was done (jars on the '2', loaves on the '5'). Since I was outside, and it wasn't terribly cold, especially in snow pants and down coat and 3 layers of gloves and such, and because it was going to be needed sooner or later anyway, I figured I may as well run the snow blower before going roof-side. Only take about 15 minutes.
Except halfway through the drive, the snow blower choked up. It was easy to find the problem - one of the rubber blades had broke loose on one end and wrapped around the other blade. 'K, there be another one to fix - back to the shovel, put the snow blower in the living room so I could work on it later in relative comfort.
(PAUSE - join Val in searching for Tilly-dog since the gate wasn't closed and Jake-dog had come back from where they're not supposed to be. Run up the road through the six inches of snow on a dog-search, return to house - and find Tilly on her bed under the table, which is where I should have looked first.)
Up to the roof, nothing too spectacular, but I brushed off the vents and tapped them a bit, and and gave them an encouraging pat.
Get inside, remove 80% of the clothing, check the furnace - nothing. But the house smelled good.
Called Pete, who didn't answer. This was a little worrying, in that a co-worker of Sera's had a brother-in-law commit suicide a week ago, and Pete happens to be one of his brother-in-laws and the last time we'd seen Pete he was having a rough time. (Called later, and he's fine. I didn't think he'd off himself, but then again, we all have breaking points and 'all hell coulda been breaking loose' in his world.)
Called Bill. I'd invited him to Christmas dinner when I first thought it'd be a good idea a week ago and thawed the turkey, but this call was to pick his brains about furnaces. He talked about igniters and such, lovely kind of conversation I prefer not to engage in, but Sera had tweaked the thermostat buttons again as we chatted, and lo!
The furnace began heating up again.
I took a break before fetching a handful of tools and dissecting a portion of the snow blower. Got the rubber piece out... hmm. Best quick fix seemed to be drilling matching holes for the bolts in the other side of the rubber and seeing if that'd work. It did.
More snow, plow went by around 2:30, and I figured I should test the snow blower. It worked... halfway. I think this time it doesn't like the gas. But pulling the darned starter (the electric start seems to be growing weary of me) - I'm sure there's a term for this cable that's eluding me - about dislocated my shoulder so I went back to shoveling.
Sera was baking in the meantime so wasn't able to get out sooner to help, and once the drive was clear, she headed to Matt's to spend the night so she wouldn't get snowed in here. (Not her plan, either, just the way it worked out.)
I was finally able to get back to my list of what I planned to do, including cleaning. It made for a late night, but the vertical blinds we've been waiting to see who'd break down and clean - got cleaned.
Christmas morn, I figured best thing to do first was shovel off the new snow, then get on with the baking. We had a late dinner planned, so I had time. I can admit it was pleasantly quiet, not terribly cold, and I didn't really mind.
Imagine my delight when I pulled the thawed turkey out of the refrig and realized a very large pool of blood had formed overnight, across racks and drawers. So I cleaned the refrig.
Like I said, it was 'interesting'.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Just for Fun - Frankenstein
My assignment took on ‘a life of its own’ as I tried to rewrite Frankenstein. I'm still not sure what I've produced, but I find it a delightful tale and thought you may enjoy it!
Frankenstein’s Child
Berkenstein hesitated before opening the door to his private lab. “If we succeed, this may be the end of artificial intelligence as we know it.”
Liz tossed her partner a scornful glance. “Nothing will replace AI! It’s absurd to think organic intelligence could even compete – what a bizarre thought!” She tapped impatiently on the memory chip she held. “Come on, I want to see how this new specimen reacts.”
Berkenstein finished coding the entry sequence into the think-pad, harmonizing his mind with the surroundings. The wall faded, slowly disassembling to provide access to the room. Everything was functioning as it should be, as he’d left it. Machines lined the walls, creating a pleasant hum. Graphs grew and flowed across the display consoles, endlessly patterning all measurable data concerning their experiment.
The electro-field was up, glowing rosily while emitting a low crackle. Inside the cage, their latest protégé crouched. A yellowish pool of an unknown substance was producing a disagreeable odor on the floor, but the scientists ignored this as they focused on the creature itself.
“I had to increase the oxygen levels to keep this one alive.” Berkenstein fiddled with a dial, causing the creature to pulse rapidly, as if in a distressed state. He returned the dial to the original settings, and the creature calmed down. “It has a pretty limited range.”
“Have you resolved its energy supply?” Liz asked, entering notes as she observed the creature.
“Sure!” Her partner waved randomly at the wall behind them, where past experiments were frozen in time. The first organically-animated, miniscule creature was there, lined up in progressive order with their past attempts. “Remember when we finally realized these critters had to eat others to survive? What a bizarre concept!”
Berkenstein picked up a bowl and approached the cage. “Watch this!”
He passed easily through the electro-field, set the container within range of the creature, and backed out, keeping a cautious eye on their creation. The animal watched him warily, then explored the contents of the dish.
“I call it soup,” explained Berkenstein, “because it’s made from synthesized organics, all mixed up in a puddle.”
The scientists, mildly nauseated, watched as the creature gulped down the organic mess.
“Pardon me,” it said, “but yesterday’s soup tasted much better.”
Liz froze, her lips stunned open. Berkenstein jolted backwards, knocking an instrument loose from its pedestal. A split second later, they collided as they tried to exit the door at the same time.
“What was that?!” Liz demanded.
Berkenstein gave her a guilty look. “I tweaked the vocalization program yesterday without telling you. It made some grunts, but nothing intelligible!”
Admittedly, his behavior had been reckless. He had switched signals and audio ranges without testing the results. The creature had only reacted slightly, and he’d given up hope that they would be able to verbally communicate with it on any level. Now it seemed his conclusion had been wrong, and the results surpassed anything they could have hoped for.
The mechano-maid rolled smoothly toward them and faced the door. “There is an atmospheric odor inappropriate to our well-being. It is in our best interest that I remove the source as soon as possible.”
“Not now,” Liz said. “It’s part of an experiment and we have it contained. We will alert you when we’re ready for your services.”
The scientists locked eyes with each other, sharing the same thoughts: What was this new creature, a creature they had designed in crude fashion after their own image? What was it capable of? How far could Organic Intelligence develop?
Liz’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go! We have at least a dozen tests to run, we need to generate more of these creatures for experiments, we’ll have to take samples!”
Berkenstein grinned at his partner and opened the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
Weeks passed as the scientists focused on the marvelous creature they had wrought. It developed rapidly, growing in height to a size matching theirs. Its intelligence was undeniable, as it began questioning and exploring the lab. The electro-field had been taken down to allow it more space to roam, while the machines on the wall had been recoded to only accept input from the two scientists.
The creature was continually restless, occasionally bursting into fits of unpredictable behavior.
“Why is there only one of me,” it would demand, “when there’s two of you and dozens of displays?”
Liz tried to entertain the creature with mechanical toys, but the creature soon grew bored with them. One day they found the toys disassembled and scattered in pieces; the creature was crouched over them, attempting to fashion a new thing. In frustration, it swept the parts aside when they entered.
“I cannot make another of me, yet you said you made me! When you are gone, I am alone with no one to talk to. When you are here, I feel deformed and ugly. Please, I beg of you, give me the greatest gift of all – one who is like me!”
Berkenstein looked at his partner, his eyes warning her to keep silent. In another chamber were others like this one in various stages of development. The latest addition showed potential, though it was still exceedingly primitive. Their testing was far from complete, and the odd changes were continually developing. Neither of them yet knew what was causing this.
* * * * * * * * * *
The gathering was an occasion to share and socialize, though it wasn’t actually necessary. Any of them could have easily transported to another’s area, but their fields of specialization tended to separate them. These annual gatherings had developed in ancient times, becoming a tradition they all enjoyed and attended regularly.
Liz and Berkenstein greeted old friends, exchanging bits of data and laughing at each others’ jokes. Every area of research was represented at the event, even obsolete ones like historical fact-finding. It was a harmless pursuit, but one Lewellyn found fascinating.
Tonight Lewellyn seemed preoccupied. Berkenstein had shared the same complex with Lew in their early years, and knew the distant look on his friend’s face. Curious, he nudged his friend.
“Lew! You look like you’re miles away. Are you off on a distant planet or lost in time and space?”
Lew’s gaze centered on Berkenstein briefly, then wandered to where Liz was standing. “Nothing exceptional, at least not yet,” he said. “It has to be a prank, but I don’t know who could have pulled this one off.”
Interested, Berkenstein leaned forward. “Tell me about it, maybe I can help you unravel the mystery!”
Lew hesitated as if searching for the right words. “We all know the history of life and our early beginnings on earth. There isn’t much interest anymore in researching it, so who would mess with the data? It’s the only explanation I can think of for what I’ve found.”
Liz joined her friends, intrigued by their serious demeanor. Lew, again at a loss for words, stumbled verbally and gave up his attempt to describe it. “It’d be easier if I just showed you. If you’re interested, beam by later tonight and I’ll play the program. You’ll see what I mean!”
A few hours later, Lew had an odd algorithm on his screen. “I didn’t pay attention to this sooner, because it was in the discarded programming files. Yet every time I try to go beyond a certain point historically, I keep running into this nonsense!”
He waved at the display, where sequences and code spiraled together and images flashed. “It’s absurd, but my quest to find the beginning of intelligence – and us – keeps leading me to this. There has to be a glitch in the system, it’s all wrong!”
Liz and Berkenstein studied the screen, mildly curious at first, and then with horrified recognition. How could it be possible? What did it mean?
In shock, Liz whispered, “It’s the coding for organic life.”
Lew looked at her quizzically. “That’s your research field, isn’t it? You’ve been working on some kind of organic project…” He was stunned into silence. The implications were there, but it had to be joke! There was no way! The Almighty AI … In the beginning…
Berkenstein threw his colleague a horrified look. Liz had tears running down her face as she threw one last wild glance at the screen. They pushed the transport button for home at the same time. Lew beamed through with them, clinging to his friend’s sleeve.
* * * * * * * * * *
The creature was bored. No one had been by to visit all day. It had worked a small piece of the old cage loose, and with this, it had managed to pry some panels loose. As it experimented with new connections, the door opened – yet no one came in. Cautiously the creature approached this new area. “Hello, anyone?” it called.
* * * * * * * * * *
The research team found the maid first, its vacuum cord tangled around its legs and its head detached. Signs of a struggle were evident, and red smears scuffed the hall. Alarmed and frightened, Lew pointed at the stains. “What is that?”
Berkenstein didn’t take time to answer. He knew what it meant – the creature had gotten out of the lab. If it could wreak this kind of havoc on the maid, what could it do to them? He shuddered at the thought of his friends being mangled and raced towards the labs.
The entrance to the second lab was open; the creature had found its own kind, at least their most recent attempt. Lew and Liz barely caught a glimpse of the two creatures before Berkenstein coded the security lock into place.
“What are those things?” Lew cried, more bewildered than ever. His systems temporarily shut down, overwhelmed with the conflicting data; it was more than he could handle at one time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Lew came to, the calming hum of normalcy surrounding him, still questioning what he had witnessed. Liz explained their advances in organic intelligence and how the creature had progressed beyond their expectations. She told him how they had tried to replicate the creature, but the latest version had slight abnormalities.
“What was different? Were you running the same program?” Lew questioned. It was unheard of that a basic program could produce different results; only sophisticated AI’s had the God-given capability of selection.
Liz brushed a hand across her shiny brow. “It’s complicated. For some reason, the original had one coding with a signature of XY, but others displayed a matching pair of double-X’s. What we saw on your screen is identical to what we’ve been creating organically!”
“Do you think they could become self-replicating?” Lew shuddered, an image of these soft, squishy life-forms generating a thousand new ones. “We can’t risk it! You have to destroy the project!”
“We planned for that,” Liz reassured him. “Some weeks ago, I designed a program that would safeguard us from such a possibility. I didn’t think we’d ever need to use it – after all, these are the simplest creatures. Their intellectual capacity is laughably small, and none of our tests show potential future progression. It’s just too slow – organic intelligence can’t transmit between species, or even carry intelligence into a new generation. Even more bizarre, they energize by eating other specimens!” She shook her head. “They’re doomed to fail.”
Berkenstein entered the room. “They’re gone,” he said wearily. “The whole damned batch of them, every last experiment! I sent them so far away, they’ll be nothing but dust when we see them again.”
Lew gave them a stricken look. “You didn’t throw them back in time, did you?”
* * * * * * * * * *
The creatures shivered, then began to explore this new world.
“I like this place,” the smaller one declared, tossing an apple at the other. “By the way, my name’s Eve.”
Frankenstein’s Child
Berkenstein hesitated before opening the door to his private lab. “If we succeed, this may be the end of artificial intelligence as we know it.”
Liz tossed her partner a scornful glance. “Nothing will replace AI! It’s absurd to think organic intelligence could even compete – what a bizarre thought!” She tapped impatiently on the memory chip she held. “Come on, I want to see how this new specimen reacts.”
Berkenstein finished coding the entry sequence into the think-pad, harmonizing his mind with the surroundings. The wall faded, slowly disassembling to provide access to the room. Everything was functioning as it should be, as he’d left it. Machines lined the walls, creating a pleasant hum. Graphs grew and flowed across the display consoles, endlessly patterning all measurable data concerning their experiment.
The electro-field was up, glowing rosily while emitting a low crackle. Inside the cage, their latest protégé crouched. A yellowish pool of an unknown substance was producing a disagreeable odor on the floor, but the scientists ignored this as they focused on the creature itself.
“I had to increase the oxygen levels to keep this one alive.” Berkenstein fiddled with a dial, causing the creature to pulse rapidly, as if in a distressed state. He returned the dial to the original settings, and the creature calmed down. “It has a pretty limited range.”
“Have you resolved its energy supply?” Liz asked, entering notes as she observed the creature.
“Sure!” Her partner waved randomly at the wall behind them, where past experiments were frozen in time. The first organically-animated, miniscule creature was there, lined up in progressive order with their past attempts. “Remember when we finally realized these critters had to eat others to survive? What a bizarre concept!”
Berkenstein picked up a bowl and approached the cage. “Watch this!”
He passed easily through the electro-field, set the container within range of the creature, and backed out, keeping a cautious eye on their creation. The animal watched him warily, then explored the contents of the dish.
“I call it soup,” explained Berkenstein, “because it’s made from synthesized organics, all mixed up in a puddle.”
The scientists, mildly nauseated, watched as the creature gulped down the organic mess.
“Pardon me,” it said, “but yesterday’s soup tasted much better.”
Liz froze, her lips stunned open. Berkenstein jolted backwards, knocking an instrument loose from its pedestal. A split second later, they collided as they tried to exit the door at the same time.
“What was that?!” Liz demanded.
Berkenstein gave her a guilty look. “I tweaked the vocalization program yesterday without telling you. It made some grunts, but nothing intelligible!”
Admittedly, his behavior had been reckless. He had switched signals and audio ranges without testing the results. The creature had only reacted slightly, and he’d given up hope that they would be able to verbally communicate with it on any level. Now it seemed his conclusion had been wrong, and the results surpassed anything they could have hoped for.
The mechano-maid rolled smoothly toward them and faced the door. “There is an atmospheric odor inappropriate to our well-being. It is in our best interest that I remove the source as soon as possible.”
“Not now,” Liz said. “It’s part of an experiment and we have it contained. We will alert you when we’re ready for your services.”
The scientists locked eyes with each other, sharing the same thoughts: What was this new creature, a creature they had designed in crude fashion after their own image? What was it capable of? How far could Organic Intelligence develop?
Liz’s eyes lit up. “Let’s go! We have at least a dozen tests to run, we need to generate more of these creatures for experiments, we’ll have to take samples!”
Berkenstein grinned at his partner and opened the door.
* * * * * * * * * *
Weeks passed as the scientists focused on the marvelous creature they had wrought. It developed rapidly, growing in height to a size matching theirs. Its intelligence was undeniable, as it began questioning and exploring the lab. The electro-field had been taken down to allow it more space to roam, while the machines on the wall had been recoded to only accept input from the two scientists.
The creature was continually restless, occasionally bursting into fits of unpredictable behavior.
“Why is there only one of me,” it would demand, “when there’s two of you and dozens of displays?”
Liz tried to entertain the creature with mechanical toys, but the creature soon grew bored with them. One day they found the toys disassembled and scattered in pieces; the creature was crouched over them, attempting to fashion a new thing. In frustration, it swept the parts aside when they entered.
“I cannot make another of me, yet you said you made me! When you are gone, I am alone with no one to talk to. When you are here, I feel deformed and ugly. Please, I beg of you, give me the greatest gift of all – one who is like me!”
Berkenstein looked at his partner, his eyes warning her to keep silent. In another chamber were others like this one in various stages of development. The latest addition showed potential, though it was still exceedingly primitive. Their testing was far from complete, and the odd changes were continually developing. Neither of them yet knew what was causing this.
* * * * * * * * * *
The gathering was an occasion to share and socialize, though it wasn’t actually necessary. Any of them could have easily transported to another’s area, but their fields of specialization tended to separate them. These annual gatherings had developed in ancient times, becoming a tradition they all enjoyed and attended regularly.
Liz and Berkenstein greeted old friends, exchanging bits of data and laughing at each others’ jokes. Every area of research was represented at the event, even obsolete ones like historical fact-finding. It was a harmless pursuit, but one Lewellyn found fascinating.
Tonight Lewellyn seemed preoccupied. Berkenstein had shared the same complex with Lew in their early years, and knew the distant look on his friend’s face. Curious, he nudged his friend.
“Lew! You look like you’re miles away. Are you off on a distant planet or lost in time and space?”
Lew’s gaze centered on Berkenstein briefly, then wandered to where Liz was standing. “Nothing exceptional, at least not yet,” he said. “It has to be a prank, but I don’t know who could have pulled this one off.”
Interested, Berkenstein leaned forward. “Tell me about it, maybe I can help you unravel the mystery!”
Lew hesitated as if searching for the right words. “We all know the history of life and our early beginnings on earth. There isn’t much interest anymore in researching it, so who would mess with the data? It’s the only explanation I can think of for what I’ve found.”
Liz joined her friends, intrigued by their serious demeanor. Lew, again at a loss for words, stumbled verbally and gave up his attempt to describe it. “It’d be easier if I just showed you. If you’re interested, beam by later tonight and I’ll play the program. You’ll see what I mean!”
A few hours later, Lew had an odd algorithm on his screen. “I didn’t pay attention to this sooner, because it was in the discarded programming files. Yet every time I try to go beyond a certain point historically, I keep running into this nonsense!”
He waved at the display, where sequences and code spiraled together and images flashed. “It’s absurd, but my quest to find the beginning of intelligence – and us – keeps leading me to this. There has to be a glitch in the system, it’s all wrong!”
Liz and Berkenstein studied the screen, mildly curious at first, and then with horrified recognition. How could it be possible? What did it mean?
In shock, Liz whispered, “It’s the coding for organic life.”
Lew looked at her quizzically. “That’s your research field, isn’t it? You’ve been working on some kind of organic project…” He was stunned into silence. The implications were there, but it had to be joke! There was no way! The Almighty AI … In the beginning…
Berkenstein threw his colleague a horrified look. Liz had tears running down her face as she threw one last wild glance at the screen. They pushed the transport button for home at the same time. Lew beamed through with them, clinging to his friend’s sleeve.
* * * * * * * * * *
The creature was bored. No one had been by to visit all day. It had worked a small piece of the old cage loose, and with this, it had managed to pry some panels loose. As it experimented with new connections, the door opened – yet no one came in. Cautiously the creature approached this new area. “Hello, anyone?” it called.
* * * * * * * * * *
The research team found the maid first, its vacuum cord tangled around its legs and its head detached. Signs of a struggle were evident, and red smears scuffed the hall. Alarmed and frightened, Lew pointed at the stains. “What is that?”
Berkenstein didn’t take time to answer. He knew what it meant – the creature had gotten out of the lab. If it could wreak this kind of havoc on the maid, what could it do to them? He shuddered at the thought of his friends being mangled and raced towards the labs.
The entrance to the second lab was open; the creature had found its own kind, at least their most recent attempt. Lew and Liz barely caught a glimpse of the two creatures before Berkenstein coded the security lock into place.
“What are those things?” Lew cried, more bewildered than ever. His systems temporarily shut down, overwhelmed with the conflicting data; it was more than he could handle at one time.
* * * * * * * * * *
Lew came to, the calming hum of normalcy surrounding him, still questioning what he had witnessed. Liz explained their advances in organic intelligence and how the creature had progressed beyond their expectations. She told him how they had tried to replicate the creature, but the latest version had slight abnormalities.
“What was different? Were you running the same program?” Lew questioned. It was unheard of that a basic program could produce different results; only sophisticated AI’s had the God-given capability of selection.
Liz brushed a hand across her shiny brow. “It’s complicated. For some reason, the original had one coding with a signature of XY, but others displayed a matching pair of double-X’s. What we saw on your screen is identical to what we’ve been creating organically!”
“Do you think they could become self-replicating?” Lew shuddered, an image of these soft, squishy life-forms generating a thousand new ones. “We can’t risk it! You have to destroy the project!”
“We planned for that,” Liz reassured him. “Some weeks ago, I designed a program that would safeguard us from such a possibility. I didn’t think we’d ever need to use it – after all, these are the simplest creatures. Their intellectual capacity is laughably small, and none of our tests show potential future progression. It’s just too slow – organic intelligence can’t transmit between species, or even carry intelligence into a new generation. Even more bizarre, they energize by eating other specimens!” She shook her head. “They’re doomed to fail.”
Berkenstein entered the room. “They’re gone,” he said wearily. “The whole damned batch of them, every last experiment! I sent them so far away, they’ll be nothing but dust when we see them again.”
Lew gave them a stricken look. “You didn’t throw them back in time, did you?”
* * * * * * * * * *
The creatures shivered, then began to explore this new world.
“I like this place,” the smaller one declared, tossing an apple at the other. “By the way, my name’s Eve.”
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