WIP Meme
Artifical Intelligence
(This is just a monologue)
More or less, I work on three basic levels.
(As she speaks, she draws three rectangles in the air in front of her. With a touch of her finger, bullet points with a summary of what she has just said appear in the rectangles.)
One, objective. This is simple data, the unintelligent computer that actually holds information. Also my holographic appearance and other technical issues, such as self repair. Two, objective analysis. Again, any computer can do this; it’s my ideas on what trends any data shows. This part of my interface is probably the most useful. If only objective analysis is on, I have no emotional connection to what I’m saying. I could say to kill off an entire town in order to save a single man, if the value I’ve assigned the man is greater than that of the town. The third is the one I’m on right now: subjective. In subjective mode, I have a personality based on the data I’ve stored and how I feel about it. It starts with a sense of self-preservation and goes on from there. Self-preservation can lead to loyalty to someone who protects me, which can expand to his or her country. Then I have a nationality, or at least a perceived one. Little interactions like that. I can pick up mannerisms. I’ve even developed a sense of humor. You see there? I’m proud of that. Really, subjective mode is useless, but it’s a great deal more pleasant.
IVDT
(No clue what format this will end up in--as of right now, it's a snarky FAQ. It gets across the world this takes place in, which is all I have as of now.)
What is the Infinite Varied Dimension Theory?
The IVDT states that there are uncountable dimensions, each governed by a set of logical rules. These rules affect the dimension’s development. For example, a few of the rules of our own dimension, called Dimension1, could be Newton’s Laws. It follows that any logical, ‘fictional’ world a Dimension1 inhabitant might dream up exists.
Neat. But what’s the problem?
The problem is the Dimension1’s morality laws remain nebulous. Many big name corporations are capitalizing on the IVDT, and creating inter-dimensional doors between Dimension1 and its neighbors. Teams of scientists can go through these doors and bring things, or even people, back. Doing so is extremely expensive, but apparently worth it to people who have always wanted to see an eight-legged sheep, or visit Middle Earth.
Who cares?
Going through an inter-dimensional door is dangerous, and is accompanied by a severe culture shock. Imagine waking up one day to find that gravity pushed things, instead of pulling them. Along with that danger, some companies have begun to bring people though the doors, taking visitors on tours of other dimensions, or going so far as to kidnap the inhabitants of others.
Where do you come in?
That’s why the government funded us: the Dimensional Rescue and Return Team. The DRRT returns displaced beings to their home dimension. This can be as simple as tracking down blobs of intelligent matter, or as difficult as infiltrating high profile companies or rescuing tourists from dangerous dimensions. Our goal is to close inter-dimensional doors, and to destroy the harmful technology that creates them.
Untitled Crime Show
(Sci-fi. Main difference is that medicine has reached the point that immortality is possible, for the extremely wealthy. Life is merely extended by a lifetime or two for the middle class)
(The elevator door opens, and REGGIE walks out, looking from side to side. He carries a briefcase holding blank paper, some file holders, and nine sharpened pencils. They will be gnawed to shreds by the end of the week. He approaches a desk outside of a door reading “Tamara Harrison, Detective”, where SARI MORGANS sits. She is putting files onto a series of USB drives, labeled “a,” “b,” “c,” and so on.)
Reggie: Um.
(Morgans continues to work.)
Reggie: Er.
Morgans: Speak up.
Reggie: Oh, uh, yeah. I’m Reginald Tyler? I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. Harrison about my internship?
Morgans: Uh, Tyler… Tyler. Yeah. There.
(She points to a schedule pinned to the wall reading “Monday, September 7th, 2017”. “Reginald Tyler” is typed in at 7:00 exactly.)
Morgans: You’ve still got seven minutes.
Reggie: (Laughs) I thought I’d get here a little early, make a good impression.
Morgans: Give me seven minutes, then you can go talk with Harrison. Then I guess you get to work.
Tyler: Right.
(Five minutes later, exactly, a bedraggled woman seemingly in her forties steps out the elevator door. Her name is TAMARA HARRISON, and she is Morgans’ boss. She is everyone’s boss. She holds a briefcase in one hand and a large gun in the other-both of which she deposits neatly on Morgans’ desk in order to pull a handheld camera out of the pocket of her hunter green jacket. This she hands directly to Morgans.)
Harrison: Download the pictures. It’s Markus’ new face-which he shouldn’t have.
Morgans: Right away.
(Harrison sweeps into her office-Tyler takes a moment to accept that this mess is his new boss.)
Morgans: (She has taken just long enough to make this ironic) That’s Harrison. And that’s seven minutes, by the way. You can go in.
(Tyler approaches the door with trepidation, opens it, and goes in. The woman waiting for him is very much the same one as before, but with a second to collect herself. She is writing notes on a cluttered desk (the kind that makes perfect sense to the owner), upon which sits the gun. At Tyler’s entrance she looks up.)
Harrison: Reginald Tyler.
Tyler: That’s me.
Harrison: I’m Tamara Harrison. If you are not my husband, you are to call me Detective Harrison, or just detective. I worked hard for that title, see that you use it.
Tyler: Yes, detective.
Harrison: Now. What’s this?
(She turns her computer around to show him a screen-sized photo of an attractive blond man, early thirties.)
Tyler: Recent facial operation. You can tell (he points) by the healing skin along his jaw and ears.
(He looks at Harrison for approval. She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed, and he goes back to the photograph. He studies it for a moment.)
Tyler: His eyes are red. That’s… wrong. He should have had an extra procedure afterwards to counter that after he was out from under the operation lights.
And, of course, there's my pet project, currently titled The Puppet. It's my WIP to end all WIPs, at the moment 40 pages and the subject named "Most Likely to Keep TLE Awake at Night". I'm suffering from writer's block... so if anyone knows a muse looking for employment, give them my email. I'll just post the first scene, methinks.
The Puppet, Scene one
(King Corin of Videna writes a final letter to his daughter, Madeline. Corin is sitting at a desk, writing with a narrow quill pen. The only light comes from a sickle moon out the window and a fireplace to the left of the desk. He is an insubstantial man, who knows that his opinions have never mattered much. He inherited Videna from his father, another shy man who meant nothing to his country. Both of them, and Corin’s grandfather, were controlled by the government of Adelar, which began to occupy Videna after a war between Videna and Temnos. Adelar’s armies drove Temnos back beyond the Ilisen river, and a treaty was reached, but Adelar’s forces did not leave Videna. They kept ambassadors and powerful generals there, and slowly forced Videna into place as the first conquest of the prospective Adelaran empire. Near the end of his life, Corin realized that his daughter, Madeline, is different from his side of the family (perhaps, he thought, her ambition came from her mother’s side). Corin has come to believe she may be the one to free Videna from Adelar’s rule. He began to look for allies for her, and in the process made some enemies in the Adelaran group. He found a group of rebels who riddled the entire country. He had been about to contact them when the Adelarans found out what he was up to.)
King Corin
Dearest Madeline.
(The planning of the assassination of King Corin. There is only a small group, consisting of Ambassador Bacchus, the Adelaran ambassador to Videna, General Charles, and several Officials. Bacchus is deeply loyal to the king of Adelar, Handel, but Charles hates him and plans to take power himself. The Officials have their own motivations, but for the most part each is loyal to either the ambassador or the general. They take their places around a small table, standing up.)
King Corin
This may be the last you hear from me. As I think you are aware, our kingdom is in a dire situation - whatever others in the palace might tell you. The people who have taken our country are not working in our interests -
(pause)
They may, in fact, be the cause of my death.
General Charles
Are we decided then?
(All the Officials and the ambassador nod. “For the glory of Adelar” is the end of a well known poem written many years ago in praise of one of the kings of Adelar, and became a sort of prayer made before people do something to further Adelar’s place in the world. To the General, Adelar means nothing. Glory, on the other hand, he can indentify with.)
For the glory of Adelar.
King Corin
If what I suspect comes to pass, you will become the queen of Videna. And that will be dangerous.
(The meeting adjourns, and officials, general, and ambassador leave. The ambassador nods to two guards to either side of the door, and they follow him and the general as they split from the other officials with a nod. Both guards draw their swords.)
King Corin
There is a group of people who rebel against the empire. I’ve only just discovered them, and I have not been able to contact them - but perhaps you can. They can protect you, and may be our last chance of taking back Videna. I know you could be a wonderful queen, given the chance. I would have loved to see the woman that you will become.
(He hears a loud knock on the door, and ends the letter quickly.)
I love you. Signed, Dad.
(The two guards break into the room and take places on either side of Corin, who stands. General Charles and Ambassador Bacchus enter behind the soldiers.)
Ambassador Bacchus
Magnificence.
(He bows)
King Corin
What is the meaning of this?
General Charles
I think you know.
(The absence of Corin’s title is painfully obvious, and they remain silent for a moment; not a hesitation as much as a second that each of them takes to think, “yes, this is happening”. The general nods to a guard, who pulls his sword back. Too quickly for anyone to realize what has happened, The sword has entered Corin’s side. Corin is not in pain so much as shocked.)
We couldn’t have you contacting the rebels, could we? You’re tricky. Here we thought you were another stupid monarch, and you had plans all your own. You’ve ruined yourself, and you’ve ruined your daughter.
King Corin
(In a weak rasp of a voice, Corin gives his final request)
Madeline…
General Charles
She will become queen. Maybe not for long, but long enough for her to have a taste of glory. In fact…
(He spies the letter, and picks it up and reads it. He becomes mocking.)
Is this for our queen-to-be? Ah, yes. Lovely words.
(He throws the letter into the fire.)
We’ll tell her you were assassinated. Being a ruler is dangerous, Corin. All sorts of people want the power that you have.
(Corin dies. The guards drag his body to the bed, and leave. The camera moves to a door that is open, if only a crack. An eye can be seen, looking side to side, and Madeline darts into the room, wearing a heavily embroidered brown velvet robe. She is a small girl, only ten years old, and seems lost between the folds of velvet and her own, long, red hair. She runs immediately to the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes, and grabs out the letter. She hisses when her hand is burned, but still takes it. After she has the pages, Madeline stuffs them into the pocket of her robe and runs to the bed. She takes her father’s hand and, sobbing, promises herself she’ll destroy the Adelarans.)
I hope you have enjoyed this tour of TLE's works in progress... and if not, I apologize and offer a plate of interweb cookies in penance. *offers cookies*
...or two. I'm not sure if that worked or not. I'll try and get this fixed ASAP if it doesn't--way too much text here for no LJ cut.
In other news, sorry if I've been sort of on-and-off LJ wise. I've been way busy ("Evilhistoryteacher 3: The Return of Evilhistoryteacher" is well under way), plus been dealing with some health-related issues that are no fun at all. :-P But I'm feeling a lot better, and should be back to regular LJ attendance soon.
-TLE
(This is just a monologue)
More or less, I work on three basic levels.
(As she speaks, she draws three rectangles in the air in front of her. With a touch of her finger, bullet points with a summary of what she has just said appear in the rectangles.)
One, objective. This is simple data, the unintelligent computer that actually holds information. Also my holographic appearance and other technical issues, such as self repair. Two, objective analysis. Again, any computer can do this; it’s my ideas on what trends any data shows. This part of my interface is probably the most useful. If only objective analysis is on, I have no emotional connection to what I’m saying. I could say to kill off an entire town in order to save a single man, if the value I’ve assigned the man is greater than that of the town. The third is the one I’m on right now: subjective. In subjective mode, I have a personality based on the data I’ve stored and how I feel about it. It starts with a sense of self-preservation and goes on from there. Self-preservation can lead to loyalty to someone who protects me, which can expand to his or her country. Then I have a nationality, or at least a perceived one. Little interactions like that. I can pick up mannerisms. I’ve even developed a sense of humor. You see there? I’m proud of that. Really, subjective mode is useless, but it’s a great deal more pleasant.
IVDT
(No clue what format this will end up in--as of right now, it's a snarky FAQ. It gets across the world this takes place in, which is all I have as of now.)
What is the Infinite Varied Dimension Theory?
The IVDT states that there are uncountable dimensions, each governed by a set of logical rules. These rules affect the dimension’s development. For example, a few of the rules of our own dimension, called Dimension1, could be Newton’s Laws. It follows that any logical, ‘fictional’ world a Dimension1 inhabitant might dream up exists.
Neat. But what’s the problem?
The problem is the Dimension1’s morality laws remain nebulous. Many big name corporations are capitalizing on the IVDT, and creating inter-dimensional doors between Dimension1 and its neighbors. Teams of scientists can go through these doors and bring things, or even people, back. Doing so is extremely expensive, but apparently worth it to people who have always wanted to see an eight-legged sheep, or visit Middle Earth.
Who cares?
Going through an inter-dimensional door is dangerous, and is accompanied by a severe culture shock. Imagine waking up one day to find that gravity pushed things, instead of pulling them. Along with that danger, some companies have begun to bring people though the doors, taking visitors on tours of other dimensions, or going so far as to kidnap the inhabitants of others.
Where do you come in?
That’s why the government funded us: the Dimensional Rescue and Return Team. The DRRT returns displaced beings to their home dimension. This can be as simple as tracking down blobs of intelligent matter, or as difficult as infiltrating high profile companies or rescuing tourists from dangerous dimensions. Our goal is to close inter-dimensional doors, and to destroy the harmful technology that creates them.
Untitled Crime Show
(Sci-fi. Main difference is that medicine has reached the point that immortality is possible, for the extremely wealthy. Life is merely extended by a lifetime or two for the middle class)
(The elevator door opens, and REGGIE walks out, looking from side to side. He carries a briefcase holding blank paper, some file holders, and nine sharpened pencils. They will be gnawed to shreds by the end of the week. He approaches a desk outside of a door reading “Tamara Harrison, Detective”, where SARI MORGANS sits. She is putting files onto a series of USB drives, labeled “a,” “b,” “c,” and so on.)
Reggie: Um.
(Morgans continues to work.)
Reggie: Er.
Morgans: Speak up.
Reggie: Oh, uh, yeah. I’m Reginald Tyler? I’m supposed to meet with Mrs. Harrison about my internship?
Morgans: Uh, Tyler… Tyler. Yeah. There.
(She points to a schedule pinned to the wall reading “Monday, September 7th, 2017”. “Reginald Tyler” is typed in at 7:00 exactly.)
Morgans: You’ve still got seven minutes.
Reggie: (Laughs) I thought I’d get here a little early, make a good impression.
Morgans: Give me seven minutes, then you can go talk with Harrison. Then I guess you get to work.
Tyler: Right.
(Five minutes later, exactly, a bedraggled woman seemingly in her forties steps out the elevator door. Her name is TAMARA HARRISON, and she is Morgans’ boss. She is everyone’s boss. She holds a briefcase in one hand and a large gun in the other-both of which she deposits neatly on Morgans’ desk in order to pull a handheld camera out of the pocket of her hunter green jacket. This she hands directly to Morgans.)
Harrison: Download the pictures. It’s Markus’ new face-which he shouldn’t have.
Morgans: Right away.
(Harrison sweeps into her office-Tyler takes a moment to accept that this mess is his new boss.)
Morgans: (She has taken just long enough to make this ironic) That’s Harrison. And that’s seven minutes, by the way. You can go in.
(Tyler approaches the door with trepidation, opens it, and goes in. The woman waiting for him is very much the same one as before, but with a second to collect herself. She is writing notes on a cluttered desk (the kind that makes perfect sense to the owner), upon which sits the gun. At Tyler’s entrance she looks up.)
Harrison: Reginald Tyler.
Tyler: That’s me.
Harrison: I’m Tamara Harrison. If you are not my husband, you are to call me Detective Harrison, or just detective. I worked hard for that title, see that you use it.
Tyler: Yes, detective.
Harrison: Now. What’s this?
(She turns her computer around to show him a screen-sized photo of an attractive blond man, early thirties.)
Tyler: Recent facial operation. You can tell (he points) by the healing skin along his jaw and ears.
(He looks at Harrison for approval. She raises her eyebrows, unimpressed, and he goes back to the photograph. He studies it for a moment.)
Tyler: His eyes are red. That’s… wrong. He should have had an extra procedure afterwards to counter that after he was out from under the operation lights.
And, of course, there's my pet project, currently titled The Puppet. It's my WIP to end all WIPs, at the moment 40 pages and the subject named "Most Likely to Keep TLE Awake at Night". I'm suffering from writer's block... so if anyone knows a muse looking for employment, give them my email. I'll just post the first scene, methinks.
The Puppet, Scene one
(King Corin of Videna writes a final letter to his daughter, Madeline. Corin is sitting at a desk, writing with a narrow quill pen. The only light comes from a sickle moon out the window and a fireplace to the left of the desk. He is an insubstantial man, who knows that his opinions have never mattered much. He inherited Videna from his father, another shy man who meant nothing to his country. Both of them, and Corin’s grandfather, were controlled by the government of Adelar, which began to occupy Videna after a war between Videna and Temnos. Adelar’s armies drove Temnos back beyond the Ilisen river, and a treaty was reached, but Adelar’s forces did not leave Videna. They kept ambassadors and powerful generals there, and slowly forced Videna into place as the first conquest of the prospective Adelaran empire. Near the end of his life, Corin realized that his daughter, Madeline, is different from his side of the family (perhaps, he thought, her ambition came from her mother’s side). Corin has come to believe she may be the one to free Videna from Adelar’s rule. He began to look for allies for her, and in the process made some enemies in the Adelaran group. He found a group of rebels who riddled the entire country. He had been about to contact them when the Adelarans found out what he was up to.)
King Corin
Dearest Madeline.
(The planning of the assassination of King Corin. There is only a small group, consisting of Ambassador Bacchus, the Adelaran ambassador to Videna, General Charles, and several Officials. Bacchus is deeply loyal to the king of Adelar, Handel, but Charles hates him and plans to take power himself. The Officials have their own motivations, but for the most part each is loyal to either the ambassador or the general. They take their places around a small table, standing up.)
King Corin
This may be the last you hear from me. As I think you are aware, our kingdom is in a dire situation - whatever others in the palace might tell you. The people who have taken our country are not working in our interests -
(pause)
They may, in fact, be the cause of my death.
General Charles
Are we decided then?
(All the Officials and the ambassador nod. “For the glory of Adelar” is the end of a well known poem written many years ago in praise of one of the kings of Adelar, and became a sort of prayer made before people do something to further Adelar’s place in the world. To the General, Adelar means nothing. Glory, on the other hand, he can indentify with.)
For the glory of Adelar.
King Corin
If what I suspect comes to pass, you will become the queen of Videna. And that will be dangerous.
(The meeting adjourns, and officials, general, and ambassador leave. The ambassador nods to two guards to either side of the door, and they follow him and the general as they split from the other officials with a nod. Both guards draw their swords.)
King Corin
There is a group of people who rebel against the empire. I’ve only just discovered them, and I have not been able to contact them - but perhaps you can. They can protect you, and may be our last chance of taking back Videna. I know you could be a wonderful queen, given the chance. I would have loved to see the woman that you will become.
(He hears a loud knock on the door, and ends the letter quickly.)
I love you. Signed, Dad.
(The two guards break into the room and take places on either side of Corin, who stands. General Charles and Ambassador Bacchus enter behind the soldiers.)
Ambassador Bacchus
Magnificence.
(He bows)
King Corin
What is the meaning of this?
General Charles
I think you know.
(The absence of Corin’s title is painfully obvious, and they remain silent for a moment; not a hesitation as much as a second that each of them takes to think, “yes, this is happening”. The general nods to a guard, who pulls his sword back. Too quickly for anyone to realize what has happened, The sword has entered Corin’s side. Corin is not in pain so much as shocked.)
We couldn’t have you contacting the rebels, could we? You’re tricky. Here we thought you were another stupid monarch, and you had plans all your own. You’ve ruined yourself, and you’ve ruined your daughter.
King Corin
(In a weak rasp of a voice, Corin gives his final request)
Madeline…
General Charles
She will become queen. Maybe not for long, but long enough for her to have a taste of glory. In fact…
(He spies the letter, and picks it up and reads it. He becomes mocking.)
Is this for our queen-to-be? Ah, yes. Lovely words.
(He throws the letter into the fire.)
We’ll tell her you were assassinated. Being a ruler is dangerous, Corin. All sorts of people want the power that you have.
(Corin dies. The guards drag his body to the bed, and leave. The camera moves to a door that is open, if only a crack. An eye can be seen, looking side to side, and Madeline darts into the room, wearing a heavily embroidered brown velvet robe. She is a small girl, only ten years old, and seems lost between the folds of velvet and her own, long, red hair. She runs immediately to the fire, the flames reflected in her eyes, and grabs out the letter. She hisses when her hand is burned, but still takes it. After she has the pages, Madeline stuffs them into the pocket of her robe and runs to the bed. She takes her father’s hand and, sobbing, promises herself she’ll destroy the Adelarans.)
I hope you have enjoyed this tour of TLE's works in progress... and if not, I apologize and offer a plate of interweb cookies in penance. *offers cookies*
...or two. I'm not sure if that worked or not. I'll try and get this fixed ASAP if it doesn't--way too much text here for no LJ cut.
In other news, sorry if I've been sort of on-and-off LJ wise. I've been way busy ("Evilhistoryteacher 3: The Return of Evilhistoryteacher" is well under way), plus been dealing with some health-related issues that are no fun at all. :-P But I'm feeling a lot better, and should be back to regular LJ attendance soon.
-TLE