The Algorithm of Chaos

And now what? Whatever! My tits and arse in no need of silicon improvement yet. The other day a Thrice Nominee at somewhat writers funny farm online texted me how gladly he would edit my memoirs about legendary Shore, the royalties split even.

Fuck you, moron! Shore’s “stash case” sits by me as well as the pinch of loot from a diamond mine somewhere in the middle Africa. He smoked yellows and blacks there. So fuck you, literary dumbo.

What’s up by Ninka now? Maybe, to call her?

Just a sec… My ipheezy squeaks. Another ugly&sexy wanna make friends with the juicy veteran of the Special Operation, huh?

* * *

16

The sudden landing was concluded with a few onward hops. After a split second pause the sparrow made turn-left, swung its stubby bill in abrupt jerks to scan for loot then in a quick thrust twisted about to survey the walk there. The sharp edge of a slow shadow moved closer to crawl the bird over. The momentarily take off left behind a tiny air whirl wing-whipped at the vacated spot.

‘May I?’

V raised his gaze from the shadow stopped on the walk to a middle-aged man in casual wear confronting his bench. He gave a silent nod then added one more as tacit as the previous, for the politeness’ sake.

The man seated himself nearby not overlapping the limits of V’s personal space. Hmm, the mindful cat returned the gesture of politeness…

‘A bit too hot for late October,’ remarked the neighbor conversationally. ‘Don’t you think, V?’

V issued a soft whistle within his mind wishing his poker pan had not flinched for a micron at this relaxed weather observation. He slowly turned his head toward to the pensive profile on his left.

‘No, you don’t know me,’ answered the man the unasked question with a tinge of regret in his voice. ‘Otherwise, you’d remember’.

‘Should I? What’s your name, again?’

‘Beg your pardon, I haven’t introduce myself. For the equality’s sake you may choose calling me R. And what is your occupation? The walk in life, so to say?’.

‘Ornithology’.

The answer sounded a bit curt because V didn’t care for courteous meandering at the moment.

‘An augur? Bird-counting, huh?’

'Not exactly but close enough’.

It didn’t matter. His responses were just playing for time. He waited for his opponent's decisive move, the move disclosing, willy-nilly, the agenda up his sleeve. The fact of his being still alive indicated that neither the main players, the state institution fishing in the thoughts pool and the unknown force who helped 2ic off the hook right in time to give him, V, that pretty short notice, nor any third side wished to get rid of him, as of yet. Which side is this here guy from?

‘You know, they are so talkative critters, the birds are. One magpie told one blue jay repeating one cuckoo’s crazy chat as if you still keep the card from Mr. Taylor, moniker 2ic. Isn’t it laughable?’

V gave out a nervous cough and kept silent.

‘Come on, man! I’m not wired, not my operational level’.

For the first time, the man turned to V face to face. V looked into the gray eyes in a weary nondescript map and believed. He cut off the eye contact, sat back and looked along the walk. At about 20 meters plus, there stood a guy from a varsity football team, the tight end judging by his frame, who idly watched nothing in particular. A quick look in the opposite direction ascertained the presence of the left guard of the same team and, approximately, same size. Both in ostensibly expensive office wear. V didn’t bother to look behind and see the quarterback in shiny shoes and trendy necktie who made him, V, the centroid in their triangle. He did believe already that the man was not wired.

‘I like you, V, I do, said R, 'In a platonic way. Pure and sincere feeling. That’s why I’m here. My purpose was to warn you. The card full of transcripts you keep is not just a storage memory stick. It is a constitute part in a larger app. Working all the time. What you think of as files keep changing non-stop like records in a huge database. The process brings about changes in the whole system, part of which you’ve became inadvertently. It’s like the concrete box of the Chernobyl “Sarcophagus” boiling and brewing God knows what new elements beyond the Periodic table for all these years. Welcome on board, V. And watch each step in your walk of life now’.

The man sighed. V looked up in the sky endeavoring to guess time by the position of the sun in its daily trajectory.

‘No worry, V. The pretty woman and the cute pup would come here no sooner than in ten minutes.’

R rose to his feet and walked away, an average passer-by in a big city…

* * *

17

(From: Intelligence Gleaner 3d Category, Undercover Spy Cyborg USC-100345877214-IG,

To: HER Center HQ, Section IV, Department OWS

Field Report 24,587

Transmitted at the 67448647885148596966265764685764687545784885 second of HER absolute time, 20:07 by the Operation Y&OAoS/g locale native time)

‘In the period since Field Report № 24,586 (1209600 local seconds back) I had two meetings with the target of Operation Y&OAoS/g, the second one resulted in a direct contact with the right palm of the target initiated and performed by them. Please find attached the scan of his palmistry lines (verifiable correspondence 87%) and four finger prints (verifiable correspondence 82%), archive file skd_00_z15-mV.

In observance of the Undercover Spy Cyborg Regulations, part 4, §106 (d):

“If USC receives no response communication for longer than HER month they are expected to recapitulate the intelligence sent since the previous affirmed obtainment so as to prevent accidental loss of information”,

and inasmuch I, USC-100345877214-IG, have so far got not a single message from HER Center HQ (possible cause jamming by our constant common enemy from the Dark Matter Part of the Universe during the last 2 millennia of HER native time) here is my, USC-100345877214-GI’s, 267th recap:

“The astrophysical parameters keep, on the whole, true with the figures presented in reconnaissance reports by USC-100345877209 thru 213-IG, except for notable growth of carbon dioxide share in the atmosphere of this, third of the inner planets about their yellow dwarf sun, world when compared to the earlier data.

As for the way of life existing here then its both mineral-fossilite, and vegetative, and organic representatives follow the same schedule ‘eat what/which/whoever you can’. The upper rungs in food chain ladder belong to shark–ochtopus in sea, man–vulture on dry land; some species are capable of manipulating/‘shepherding’ other creatures: ants milk aphids, kids suck ants’ asses for sore juice, wasps manipulate ants into delivering supplies, men keep goats, grave worms put the final period and all the picture is too complicated to cram it into a cohesive chain or web or something without analyses by HER core AI servers…

To keep things simple, the topmost rung in the food ladder got given to man proudly calling themselves homo sapience (“Man wise and/or prudent”) thanks to their omnivorousness, effective use of the wide range of tools for killing, and being trained to boast loudly, still unfit to master other ways of communication without producing sounds or drawing signs.

My mission—getting as close as possible for a robot equipped with the sensorium-locomotion system needed for the task at hand or even closer that that—lately, three months back (by local standard of time measurement) showed certain indications of feasibility when after really long search I at long last came upon the target. Right now we’re on rather friendly terms while getting ‘closer’ would take, appreciatively, another local month.

Besides, I managed tapping into the way of carrying sounds and visuals between the humans’ electronic devices and was appalled! The principal material and even the idea of contraption is certainly from them, our Dark Matter fiendish adversaries!

First, let me make clearer the way it works with those homos calling themselves wise. They can’t invent a thing! Even less to discover. Until the whole idea, like a Christmas present, is put in this or that convolution of their brain. Then they shout “Eureka!” and start running about, at times stark naked. Or you might want to dome them with a weighty apple, it happens to work too.

Just a look at the system of communication between their electronic devices appalled me deeply. Utterly. The IT boom at present raging here is based on silicon! The material used by our Dark Matter adversary especially their militant Dark Energy wing. Now, who has instilled the thought to nincompoops? HER civilization always used beryllium for that purpose! Be and Si are miles away from each other, like Microsoft and Linux!

Hence, I suggest HER Center HQ dispatch a special USC squad here for collecting evidence and tracing back to the source of initiation of technologies hostile to us in principle. Too much of my time at the moment goes to preparing a ‘closer’ action with my mission target to find a slot for going down that road single-handed.

Supreme Being save HER and have mercy on us, HER loyal components.

USC-100345877214-GI”

A shrill yell sounded from the next room:

‘Toto! Where are my spectacles?’