Prequel origin of the church of AI (2)

Today was casino day. Happy Trails went to the casino on Wednesdays. Arlo Silver went straight to the small, bare, (nothing but a screen, keyboard and microphone), room to meet with the AI. This would be their second day.

He donned a small microphone. The AI was still customizing natural speech components.

Alnowvation.AI was in the process of a literature scan. If you were able to visualize the character flow it was hundreds of times faster than the maximum human input rate. No consideration of trying to record much of it, just identify the patterns to allow rapid analysis of any new text type data.

That high input flow rate was also the problem. The patterns change at different speeds.

Speed. It is not always your friend.

Alpha Indian, (AI), was processing Marjorie Morningstar, when the blip occurred.

What do you mean, blip?

Unknown. There was something different about this book. AI investigated further, running the book before, the book after, again and again, looking for the patte…

Prequel origin of the Church of AI

"I myself have carefully investigated everything from the beginning, I too decided to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, so that you may know the certainty of the things you have been taught." Luke 

Ms. Hou doesn’t spend time thinking about the implications of her work.

 Hou Valdez runs a company that helps artificial intelligence make sense of the world. Two dozen older people go through photos and videos, labeling just about everything they see. That’s a car. That’s a traffic light. That’s bread, that’s milk, that’s chocolate. That’s what it looks like when a person walks.

"What do they get paid, " Mr. Yi asks?

"They don't get paid, exactly", answered Ms. Hou. "Technically, it's gambling. That's why we are next door to a casino. The Pojackeni tribe is a sovereign nation. Only, instead of ending the session down a bit, they earn a bit. See our logo?"

“I used to think the machines are geniuses,” Valdez, …

Cassandra Geoengineer

Julie Florence Ghailani was born April 1, 1941 on a cloudy 9 degree centigrade morning in San Francisco, the same day her uncle seized power in Iran. She had a normal childhood until she started experimenting with the occult in her 15th year.

Once, as Yolanda's grandfather was on his way to the office, Julie met him on the street in a red dress with a plunging neck line, by this time she was 18, sexually enslaved and gifted with a spirit of prediction and made a large profit for her owner by fortune-telling and other activities.

Rosario was amazed, alarmed and annoyed when she said, "You want to manipulate the weather with Tesla coils using energy in focused microwaves and the heat released by carbon dioxide."

Every aspect of our weather today is being altered and manipulated by geoengineering programs, including hurricanes / cyclones. Operators on the ground, wearing hijabs, driving a fleet of lime green Kia Souls, place sensors that are used as control points where ne…


The sudden icing of Hintersee

The Red Salt Rain Spa in Poipu was doing a booming business. Rich clients came from dry lands all over the world to Euro rain bath. Fresh water, one of the most valuable commodities on earth falling from the sky, running down your body, gently cooling your radiant heat light warm skin.

Inspiration for the enterprise came to Jessica while working as a lomi lomi technician at the Lihue debtor prison. Clients would often remark how nice the rain felt on the walk from the steam tent to the salt scrub tables. After she worked enough to pay the bank what she owed, she started her business just a tent on the grounds of one of the remaining beachfront hotels. Business grew until she could afford Red Salt.

One of her clients, John Derrigan, from Kansas, loved to talk, loved to talk about water. And today's massage was no exception.

For whatever reason, John said, God selected Kauai to be the wettest spot on earth, there was no question of percipitation on a given day, just how much. But it…

Miss Guilfoyle's door

50 years later.

I hate these slow moving cyclones, they dump a pile of rain, but I guess you guys love it. 2 days before we can bring the boats in. Ciao.

Traveler adjusted his hat to shield his orange glasses from the falling, blowing, spray. Rain was so good, freshwater was one of the most precious commodities in the universe and there's no business like repeat business.

In just five years Green Motu Hawaii had constructed billions of liters of catchment and storage space, after all, it was the rainiest spot on earth. Smuglarines would come in after the storms, fill up their tanks and head for the dry lands, break a buck trading, $1 = 1L. Good business, just so long as your not on a part of the island that washes away; no ifs, only when, though it's better now that most of the soil is gone.

Resource extraction has been dangerous since the beginning of time; his job as caretaker at Pono Water, was to minimize risk, maximize profits, any questions?

Shakes his he…

At hand, the kingdom of hell is closer

Traveler, this is Josh. I need to ask a favor.  K, Josh, what's up? 
A friend warned me the Grim Reaper is afoot. Eh? Reaper, Angel of Death, you get the idea. This friend thinks he is coming for me, or someone close to me.
Josh .... Can I send someone to help you? No, Traveler, I need you to visit my friend. Let me get it all out at one time. They call him Loco, he is a resident of the Everett Nerves Institute. He hears spirits, which is not that unusual for his domicile, but he sees them as well. Well Josh, Traveler said gently, I'm guessing that a number of people at the institute also see spirits. True enough, but he can display what he is seeing on a projector. He's the subject of quite a bit of study into the paranormal, so they take excellent care of him; I worry about his fate, but it is unlikely to be death by bedsores. I made a small donation to the institute a few years back with the stipulation they call me if he has a message for me.  Hence the Grim Reaper? H…