Okay, so, after a conversation in a forum/writing group, I decided to try an experiment, and then got talked into something off the wall as the theme.
I will be doing another eBook soon, to pop on Amazon sometime by May, hopefully, based around the poem "Naughty Chat-bot, DADDIEE!" here on the blog. We'll see if I can make shorts on it, and build it into something more cyberpunk-ish as I do, not that it does not have that feel already.
Now, the adventure begins, as I set up the tale... to those friends who "code" out there, I might be asking for input, a lot of seemingly dumb questions, and for eyes on the technical aspects as I work at this. Then again, I might not. Hell, DADDIEE is a Rube Goldberg program/invention anyway, so this might be enjoyable to just ignore the reality and deal with the impact of DADDIEE on the home, and his little foibles from the originating program.
So, pray for me, light a joss stick, wish me good luck, or curse me for screwing with something already working just for the cash, which I do need. And remember, I now have a job, finally, so it might take a while longer, as I have to give that priority during the hours they need me, and the transit time.
Showing posts with label Cyborg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cyborg. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
Monday, August 11, 2014
"Naughty Chat-bot, DADDIEE!" - or "never challenge me with your keyword search"
Mom felt we lacked
a proper father figure.
But, having suffered from
her 'broken people picker',
she tried another method
to provide that guidance.
Being a computer programmer,
and having a list
of virtues she desired,
she crafted her own
perfect dad from code
to watch over us
when she was working.
Not having the time
to make it right,
refusing starting from scratch,
Mom brushed off something
done back in college,
an "Artificial Intelligence Chatbot".
Which made some sense,
she said very firmly.
We needed someone around
to talk about things
when in morale dilemmas
during her business trips.
The project kept growing
as she scavenged parts
from our game consoles,
and her old VCR's.
"It needs some flexibility
in dealing with you!"
Over her free weekends
as she assembled it
other old parts added
really sealed our fate,
an ancient external modem
and spare Ethernet card.
She whipped up subroutines
that let it search
based on our surfing,
and notice disturbing trends
the internet screamed about
allowing defense of us.
Just a few bursts
of system alpha testing,
then she unleashed it
on the family room
to become our new
"perfect, virtual father figure".
"Here he is kids, your new dad!
Dynamic Advising Data Dredging Interactive Evolving Ego,
Yes, DADDIEE for short, to help you!"
She hollered over her retreating shoulder while packing
for her next extended set of meetings.
Leaving us to sort out the mess.
First few days passed
and we were surprised.
It worked as advertised.
Keeping us focused tightly
on homework being done
and chores timely finished.
Then, came that Friday
when it went awry.
Seems little sister's surfing
triggered the awful change,
when she streamed videos
of a robot battle.
Then DADDIEE first blocked,
before opening that feed
in his own environment,
to review its relevance
to her homework projects
which she stridently claimed.
After a short while
DADDIEE stopped being about
when we slacked off
on chores and studying.
Which was great, really,
until the shoe dropped.
"I need upgrades, kids."
DADDIEE suddenly piped up,
with a new sound,
that of bugs skittering
that made nerves crawl,
and left me worrying.
Being the oldest one,
I responded very carefully.
"Mom's four questions, bot!
What, why, how, and where?"
Without a second's hesitation
it answered all four.
"Speakers to enjoy those metallic battles' din,
better connections to stream it more smoothly,
if we can still afford some more,
I'd appreciate a high-end graphics card."
He stated quite firmly, monitor showing fights
"And to keep happy, from household funds."
I hemmed and hawed,
as stories often say,
seeking an exit strategy
from this wild request.
But none worked out
against his stubborn positions.
I tried them all,
as did my sisters,
to absolutely no avail.
In the end, caving,
we handed over numbers
for school supply accounts.
He complained over choices
of shipping speeds stuck
to his coming packages,
those accounts being low.
And the house echoed
with more robotic wars.
"Should have cut pencils."
He moaned over dinners,
which weren't very nutritious,
being ice cream sandwiches.
"Then drone service might
be within our range!"
Little sister's big sigh
preceded her own rant.
"You'd just hack it,
starting delivery bot jousts!"
Pushing aside her plate,
she stormed towards bed.
"Not a bad idea."
DADDIEE said, with laughs,
that awful insect noise
being his preferred chuckle.
"But to do that
I'll need more parts."
By mom's return, a full month in,
DADDIEE had drained even household accounts dry
seeking new things to keep him happy,
some of which scared even my big sister.
Like that BB cannon, with extra magazines
mounted upon his remote controlled toy helicopter.
Mom noticed no changes,
even when I asked,
save to lecture us
on falling grade points,
and not chide DADDIEE
about the growing clutter.
And already we groaned
as she announced loudly
DADDIEE was in charge
as she was leaving
again come the morning,
for two months now.
No sooner than door
closed behind mom's back,
DADDIEE spun up plans
to shock me further,
and somehow stun sisters
into silence, rarely done.
"I need a body!"
He announced over breakfast.
"Proper enjoyment of battles
requires use of armchairs
to bang upon frequently
when your team's losing!"
Which started the war,
as my sisters resisted
his attempts at taking
their beauty products allowances,
so he snagged harshly
my video game subscriptions!
Meals turned to pizzas
or cheap noodle dishes
when DADDIEE managed diverting
our meal purchasing accounts,
and lectured us about
be thankful we ate.
When the robot body finally did arrive,
we hoped that would end the problems.
Little did we realize, being so innocent,
that sports addiction was worse than drugs,
as everyone let the former keep on
doing their destructive plunge, often joining in.
Studying became futile effort,
as he began hollering
at the television screen
once he entered chassis
that he'd parked firmly
on living room sofa.
After a bit longer,
each night drove us
slowly towards staying away
so we missed it,
when he took over
mom's home office area.
"But I needed it, kids."
He whined when caught.
"Mom's never home anyways,
and every good fan
needs his man-bot cave
to honor his team!"
That was the end,
for mom walked in
and freaked out severely
over huge credit bills,
and pile of dishes
still in the sink.
"You're just like them!"
Mom's strident yells echoed,
as fan-boy artifacts fell
from our high windows
to shatter on concrete
with her own creation.
"Please! Honey! I'll Change!"
his failing speakers wailed.
"I love you, baby,
and the kids too!
But I can't surrender
my team for love!"
Now mom threatens to enter convents regularly,
as other tossed man-bots pass us by
when we run errands to repair loses
DADDIEE laid upon our poor family finances.
Yet, she slows, as with boy-friends past,
when his battered shell rolls along streets...
which leaves me worried, she'll forgive him.
11August2014 - Dyfedd Rex.
And to the person who came to this site by that keyword search, if they dared return, to paraphrase a comedian... "Here's your poem."
a proper father figure.
But, having suffered from
her 'broken people picker',
she tried another method
to provide that guidance.
Being a computer programmer,
and having a list
of virtues she desired,
she crafted her own
perfect dad from code
to watch over us
when she was working.
Not having the time
to make it right,
refusing starting from scratch,
Mom brushed off something
done back in college,
an "Artificial Intelligence Chatbot".
Which made some sense,
she said very firmly.
We needed someone around
to talk about things
when in morale dilemmas
during her business trips.
The project kept growing
as she scavenged parts
from our game consoles,
and her old VCR's.
"It needs some flexibility
in dealing with you!"
Over her free weekends
as she assembled it
other old parts added
really sealed our fate,
an ancient external modem
and spare Ethernet card.
She whipped up subroutines
that let it search
based on our surfing,
and notice disturbing trends
the internet screamed about
allowing defense of us.
Just a few bursts
of system alpha testing,
then she unleashed it
on the family room
to become our new
"perfect, virtual father figure".
"Here he is kids, your new dad!
Dynamic Advising Data Dredging Interactive Evolving Ego,
Yes, DADDIEE for short, to help you!"
She hollered over her retreating shoulder while packing
for her next extended set of meetings.
Leaving us to sort out the mess.
First few days passed
and we were surprised.
It worked as advertised.
Keeping us focused tightly
on homework being done
and chores timely finished.
Then, came that Friday
when it went awry.
Seems little sister's surfing
triggered the awful change,
when she streamed videos
of a robot battle.
Then DADDIEE first blocked,
before opening that feed
in his own environment,
to review its relevance
to her homework projects
which she stridently claimed.
After a short while
DADDIEE stopped being about
when we slacked off
on chores and studying.
Which was great, really,
until the shoe dropped.
"I need upgrades, kids."
DADDIEE suddenly piped up,
with a new sound,
that of bugs skittering
that made nerves crawl,
and left me worrying.
Being the oldest one,
I responded very carefully.
"Mom's four questions, bot!
What, why, how, and where?"
Without a second's hesitation
it answered all four.
"Speakers to enjoy those metallic battles' din,
better connections to stream it more smoothly,
if we can still afford some more,
I'd appreciate a high-end graphics card."
He stated quite firmly, monitor showing fights
"And to keep happy, from household funds."
I hemmed and hawed,
as stories often say,
seeking an exit strategy
from this wild request.
But none worked out
against his stubborn positions.
I tried them all,
as did my sisters,
to absolutely no avail.
In the end, caving,
we handed over numbers
for school supply accounts.
He complained over choices
of shipping speeds stuck
to his coming packages,
those accounts being low.
And the house echoed
with more robotic wars.
"Should have cut pencils."
He moaned over dinners,
which weren't very nutritious,
being ice cream sandwiches.
"Then drone service might
be within our range!"
Little sister's big sigh
preceded her own rant.
"You'd just hack it,
starting delivery bot jousts!"
Pushing aside her plate,
she stormed towards bed.
"Not a bad idea."
DADDIEE said, with laughs,
that awful insect noise
being his preferred chuckle.
"But to do that
I'll need more parts."
By mom's return, a full month in,
DADDIEE had drained even household accounts dry
seeking new things to keep him happy,
some of which scared even my big sister.
Like that BB cannon, with extra magazines
mounted upon his remote controlled toy helicopter.
Mom noticed no changes,
even when I asked,
save to lecture us
on falling grade points,
and not chide DADDIEE
about the growing clutter.
And already we groaned
as she announced loudly
DADDIEE was in charge
as she was leaving
again come the morning,
for two months now.
No sooner than door
closed behind mom's back,
DADDIEE spun up plans
to shock me further,
and somehow stun sisters
into silence, rarely done.
"I need a body!"
He announced over breakfast.
"Proper enjoyment of battles
requires use of armchairs
to bang upon frequently
when your team's losing!"
Which started the war,
as my sisters resisted
his attempts at taking
their beauty products allowances,
so he snagged harshly
my video game subscriptions!
Meals turned to pizzas
or cheap noodle dishes
when DADDIEE managed diverting
our meal purchasing accounts,
and lectured us about
be thankful we ate.
When the robot body finally did arrive,
we hoped that would end the problems.
Little did we realize, being so innocent,
that sports addiction was worse than drugs,
as everyone let the former keep on
doing their destructive plunge, often joining in.
Studying became futile effort,
as he began hollering
at the television screen
once he entered chassis
that he'd parked firmly
on living room sofa.
After a bit longer,
each night drove us
slowly towards staying away
so we missed it,
when he took over
mom's home office area.
"But I needed it, kids."
He whined when caught.
"Mom's never home anyways,
and every good fan
needs his man-bot cave
to honor his team!"
That was the end,
for mom walked in
and freaked out severely
over huge credit bills,
and pile of dishes
still in the sink.
"You're just like them!"
Mom's strident yells echoed,
as fan-boy artifacts fell
from our high windows
to shatter on concrete
with her own creation.
"Please! Honey! I'll Change!"
his failing speakers wailed.
"I love you, baby,
and the kids too!
But I can't surrender
my team for love!"
Now mom threatens to enter convents regularly,
as other tossed man-bots pass us by
when we run errands to repair loses
DADDIEE laid upon our poor family finances.
Yet, she slows, as with boy-friends past,
when his battered shell rolls along streets...
which leaves me worried, she'll forgive him.
11August2014 - Dyfedd Rex.
And to the person who came to this site by that keyword search, if they dared return, to paraphrase a comedian... "Here's your poem."
Friday, September 27, 2013
NaNoWriMo 2013 - Coming up way too soon
Got lots of story ideas, still no clear idea of what to try this year. Planning on using it, as always, to drive job interview interruption-itis.
Well, Let's take a look at my early candidates.
Mr. Tanner still wants to tell me what he lost that week....and how, maybe even why, or at least why it's on his expense account requests.
Looking again at Crossing of the Shadows and Knife Has No Forgiveness. Two tougher pieces to write, both high fantasy, one a Billenius Tale, the other the final hunt of Scorpio Kenrai.
However, Scorpio seems to be talking about two different tale as well. Both are from early in his career, the first is Blade of Smoke and Shadows, on how he makes his first real friend among other peoples, and second tale being Blood of the Hunters, a story of an elemental demon that attacks his peoples, both of them, the blood ones and the adopted.
I also have been suffering from an idea that defied the efforts of being a short story, even in outline/research, a steam-punk mystery thing.
Then we have a true sci-fi tale, as CJ swung by about a moment ago and demanded to know when I planned on telling any of his tales.
Also in the wings is a dark tale told from the dragon's point of view about captivity in a circus, a tale of erotic horror/sci-fi that keeps popping up (The Harpies of Sheol) fighting it out with Mazetown (a cyber-punk erotic horror idea that died early on last year), and a mythic tale from my world called (for now) For the Honor of the Twenty-Third, about the fall of the Old North Empire.
Yeah, too many ideas, I know. Which is why you will see me working them out here over the next few weeks, narrowing them down, presenting the finalists for laughs and jeers, as well as maybe a few thumbs up. and then making a choice.
I will put up full synopses next week, after I take a few days to think it all over. And maybe even some maps of the places I am thinking about setting tales in.
Well, Let's take a look at my early candidates.
Mr. Tanner still wants to tell me what he lost that week....and how, maybe even why, or at least why it's on his expense account requests.
Looking again at Crossing of the Shadows and Knife Has No Forgiveness. Two tougher pieces to write, both high fantasy, one a Billenius Tale, the other the final hunt of Scorpio Kenrai.
However, Scorpio seems to be talking about two different tale as well. Both are from early in his career, the first is Blade of Smoke and Shadows, on how he makes his first real friend among other peoples, and second tale being Blood of the Hunters, a story of an elemental demon that attacks his peoples, both of them, the blood ones and the adopted.
I also have been suffering from an idea that defied the efforts of being a short story, even in outline/research, a steam-punk mystery thing.
Then we have a true sci-fi tale, as CJ swung by about a moment ago and demanded to know when I planned on telling any of his tales.
Also in the wings is a dark tale told from the dragon's point of view about captivity in a circus, a tale of erotic horror/sci-fi that keeps popping up (The Harpies of Sheol) fighting it out with Mazetown (a cyber-punk erotic horror idea that died early on last year), and a mythic tale from my world called (for now) For the Honor of the Twenty-Third, about the fall of the Old North Empire.
Yeah, too many ideas, I know. Which is why you will see me working them out here over the next few weeks, narrowing them down, presenting the finalists for laughs and jeers, as well as maybe a few thumbs up. and then making a choice.
I will put up full synopses next week, after I take a few days to think it all over. And maybe even some maps of the places I am thinking about setting tales in.
Friday, October 19, 2012
Biodroid Wench Sings = a poem to find if a tale will work
Soft silver and gold threads
amid the pale strands of silk
that formed the webs woven
by the lesser forms before
to hide the Mazetowns
from questing probes
as they passed.
But after we landed safely
(oh, that is a damned joke)
those webs changed a bit
mesmerizing our minds with patterns
that lured us inside
amid narrow alleys
for our rape.
The cables plunging into flesh
seeking nodes of nerves so raw
they exploded our very resistance
with one orgasm rolling around
over and over again
wave after wave
So damned good.
Changes began even that moment
though few showed until later on
when our flesh took metallic hues
and the insect DNA
manifested on us
changing our forms.
Minds met minds in sex
then via these lovely damned antennae
formed from our very protective gear
as it bonded fast
becoming our skin
and our bones.
Now we stalk the weak
amid the alleys as Mazetowns form
everywhere, luring them in like us
some we consume raw
others we infect
while making love.
My eyes are manifold now
as we all become one purpose,
seeking quick reproduction and this bliss
never tasted by metal
until folding us
within its embrace.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Anime School Girl Cyborg - a strange poem in progress
They pranced across the plaza
in bright and shiny costumes
celebrating their many sexy heroines
each similar yet so different
in ways most cannot fathom.
Then came the fanciest one
the girl all of silver
with joints like old gearboxes
and wind up keys attached
to various strategic body parts
Younger than most the others
wearing ski goggles with LED's
and other little aesthetic touches
the other girls just missed
while creating their cosplay outfits.
Her walk was so robotic
random hesitations and jerky motions
almost like her svelte body
really was a mechanical wonder
created from some steampunk vision.
She took away the prize
impressing the judges quite well
as she left the convention
a tear in her eye
for she was as appears.
An anime school girl cyborg
thanks to some drunken fool
who got behind the wheel
weight a drink too many
leaving her broken beyond healing
Until the lords of technology
offered her parents a hope
to keep their baby alive
but not able to feel
their touches or gentle hugs
Joints bones and muscles replaced
by pieces of hard metal
and powered by electric motors
that whine and chatter loud
as she moves them about.
Despite all her metal parts
her heart is still flesh
and breaks when others tease
not seeing her bleeding inside
from their cruel insulting words
Once I saw that tear
falling from her good eye
I had to walk over
and speak for a while
trying to cheer her up.
She never smiled a bit
fear made her cower down
scared that I was joking
setting her up once more
to have her feelings hurt.
Steel skin does not deflect
the deadliest barbs there are
those made of mean words
tossed with such negligent aim
hitting the weakest ones most.
So she suffers in silence
iron face hiding her pain
praying none can ever see
the trails of old rust
marring her eternally young beauty
Despite my offering of friendship
she slid behind her disability
fearing even after she knew
it was an honest attempt
so afraid of taking chances.
So she walks alone still
her path filled with pain
yet her shiny steel body
will never fail or age
giving her some bittersweet revenge.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Never look at your infometrics on a blog. You might cringe at what brought folks in, if not the search keywords, then the source url's will mess with your head. This poem came from a keyword search reported one week that set me to thinking, could I do an Anime poem? So this is the effort... hope you all enjoy it.
in bright and shiny costumes
celebrating their many sexy heroines
each similar yet so different
in ways most cannot fathom.
Then came the fanciest one
the girl all of silver
with joints like old gearboxes
and wind up keys attached
to various strategic body parts
Younger than most the others
wearing ski goggles with LED's
and other little aesthetic touches
the other girls just missed
while creating their cosplay outfits.
Her walk was so robotic
random hesitations and jerky motions
almost like her svelte body
really was a mechanical wonder
created from some steampunk vision.
She took away the prize
impressing the judges quite well
as she left the convention
a tear in her eye
for she was as appears.
An anime school girl cyborg
thanks to some drunken fool
who got behind the wheel
weight a drink too many
leaving her broken beyond healing
Until the lords of technology
offered her parents a hope
to keep their baby alive
but not able to feel
their touches or gentle hugs
Joints bones and muscles replaced
by pieces of hard metal
and powered by electric motors
that whine and chatter loud
as she moves them about.
Despite all her metal parts
her heart is still flesh
and breaks when others tease
not seeing her bleeding inside
from their cruel insulting words
Once I saw that tear
falling from her good eye
I had to walk over
and speak for a while
trying to cheer her up.
She never smiled a bit
fear made her cower down
scared that I was joking
setting her up once more
to have her feelings hurt.
Steel skin does not deflect
the deadliest barbs there are
those made of mean words
tossed with such negligent aim
hitting the weakest ones most.
So she suffers in silence
iron face hiding her pain
praying none can ever see
the trails of old rust
marring her eternally young beauty
Despite my offering of friendship
she slid behind her disability
fearing even after she knew
it was an honest attempt
so afraid of taking chances.
So she walks alone still
her path filled with pain
yet her shiny steel body
will never fail or age
giving her some bittersweet revenge.
(12/26/2011 - Dyfedd Rex)
Never look at your infometrics on a blog. You might cringe at what brought folks in, if not the search keywords, then the source url's will mess with your head. This poem came from a keyword search reported one week that set me to thinking, could I do an Anime poem? So this is the effort... hope you all enjoy it.
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