“For you.” Dr. P said, an object wrapped in shiny aluminum
computer packaging was handed to me. Barcode ID, the works. Obviously, the
wrapping came from the receptionist’s wastebasket.
The technological singularity, or simply the singularity, is a hypothetical moment in time when artificial intelligence will have progressed to the point of a greater-than-human intelligence, radically changing civilization, and perhaps human nature.[1] Because the capabilities of such an intelligence may be difficult for a human to comprehend, the technological singularity is often seen as an occurrence (akin to a gravitational singularity) beyond which the future course of human history is unpredictable or even unfathomable. - from Wikipedia, data entry the beginning of singularity 2040s.
“Fill the paper with the breathings of your heart.” Voice chip
altered speech patterns to loft.
“Quoting Wordsworth doesn’t suit you.”
Dr. P wasn’t ‘advanced’ enough to understand sarcasm. “Since
you adore sharp things and their uses as crude weapons. Do try not to stab
anyone’s ocular cavity.” From a drooping pocket, a set of Calligraphy pens with
faux brass tips lay in a soldierly row. These were passed down the length of
the Plexiglas workstation.
“What am I...?” I don’t like repeating myself.
“Take a trip. A journey to the remotest place physical boundary
allows. That book is to record your experiences in the most primitive form
known to man.” Dr. P was almost sympathetic. Firm. But, celluloid. “I’m afraid
by attempting a semblance of normal life, you aren’t dealing with the problem.”
(From The White Passage, available from Smashwords, now)
