tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32414929643413401332023-11-15T22:38:13.822-08:00Brave New ConsoleKirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-8685500166610623862007-07-08T12:44:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:09.217-08:00Time for Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_L5m9HOnhEBo41T5GHK2LlBZyecwqcvbodJ2RDnkbuYS18Wu31X5VwDqjSUuYPQAbXK0gKz8uZGlonR76Y3zCoaI2Hs1tJnniabrKoF8aoemfvDSwEIBsCfTNC-tYGcNtHSdlLBGgYg/s1600-h/1+-+Time+for+Work.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEix_L5m9HOnhEBo41T5GHK2LlBZyecwqcvbodJ2RDnkbuYS18Wu31X5VwDqjSUuYPQAbXK0gKz8uZGlonR76Y3zCoaI2Hs1tJnniabrKoF8aoemfvDSwEIBsCfTNC-tYGcNtHSdlLBGgYg/s400/1+-+Time+for+Work.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084914485050878674" /></a><br />Dithers unplugged. Dithers looked like your average person. A bit of a bronze skin tone, light brown eyes, and sandy hair. He was thin and by our standards could be considered good looking, but it wouldn’t have meant much to him if you said so. In this form, Dithers was just another guy in his mind. It was in the game that he stood out. The game was good. He was sitting at the table of his one room apartment, a little two seater with a coat rack that lifted into the grey wall. Across from him was an oven-box that slid into a closet with the tap of a button. A television that was rarely used could slide into the floor. It was possible to make the entire room fill up with a button, or become totally empty with that same button. All the same, it was a small apartment. The trashcan slid out as Dithers dumped the half-eaten bowl of cereal before him as he prepared to go to work Dithers put on his coat and checked the messages on his X-Gear: no calls, no e-mails, and no news. He resisted the urge to plug in for just a moment, to say screw work that day. He put on his coat and headed out the door. Maybe he could get in a session on the train.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-63161923320442917452007-07-08T12:43:00.002-07:002008-12-09T15:36:09.586-08:00On the Train<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5vghseLF6YMPuzSQbgm0AwVrC08twBAogxTq3oCmv46gDr_aXxSPNp9s9gsxmhmIieM0E18hswkJ3dLymSV75IGsOF7M3y83CLj0pNPD2uJVJJ3ExBBzWUEM3Wnfl162xiLjGSLeNfE/s1600-h/2+-+On+the+Train.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ5vghseLF6YMPuzSQbgm0AwVrC08twBAogxTq3oCmv46gDr_aXxSPNp9s9gsxmhmIieM0E18hswkJ3dLymSV75IGsOF7M3y83CLj0pNPD2uJVJJ3ExBBzWUEM3Wnfl162xiLjGSLeNfE/s400/2+-+On+the+Train.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084914313252186818" /></a><br /><em>The grass rustled in the breeze as I checked the latching on my armor again. It was an exquisite design, crafted by the finest programmers out of the Amartic Province. I spent over a month saving up enough money, scrounging through Goblin corpses and selling boar hides to pay for it. There was better armor, naturally, but only the GameMasters could have that. Someday, I’ll own a set of the VanGuard’s Purity Armament. But still, when people see me wearing this stuff, they know. The air was cold but sweet, the ever-present snow from the high mountains still blowing against my back as I headed out into the plains. “Today is a good day for killing,” I muttered. The tracks on the ground were fresh, just a few minutes ago at least two Chimera’s had passed. It would be a good hunt. Better if Kaylee were online. A growl in the distance told me I might have enough time to make a kill. Probably not though. I stood and stared up at the open sky, the blue snow covered mountains, and sighed. One of the best parts of the game wa- </em> Attention Sir, we will be reaching your destination shortly. Please deactivate all simutronic devices before attempting to exit. This is for your own safety. <em>Damn. One of the best parts of this game was just the scenery. </em>Dithers unplugged.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-24004815685574281452007-07-08T12:43:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:09.764-08:00Job in a Box<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNM4XxFZJymJHPTXYx7kJfm5xp-2snGOo_5FlQFS_LIZGKmOPIeRg1LQ82KIQLOwClW0o0mvYe5ghQcrgE3cVa8fmQh8XiJpq7u4bKp8EPEKoohbOm3ruW2qbU63rhoQBSw2JTMmiw0uk/s1600-h/3+-+Work+in+a+Box.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNM4XxFZJymJHPTXYx7kJfm5xp-2snGOo_5FlQFS_LIZGKmOPIeRg1LQ82KIQLOwClW0o0mvYe5ghQcrgE3cVa8fmQh8XiJpq7u4bKp8EPEKoohbOm3ruW2qbU63rhoQBSw2JTMmiw0uk/s400/3+-+Work+in+a+Box.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084914072734018226" /></a><br />Work was a five story grey box about three blocks from the Lower East Processing Node. People liked to brag that their speed was superior by few seconds to the guys a couple of blocks down, but only an A.I. like Dithers’ boss even noticed. Dithers worked for an Information Sorting Firm (ISF), a place where millions of bits of data that needed to be certified by a human checker before it could go back onto the internet. The idea of being employed by a sentient A.I. to do something so menial had troubled Dithers at first, so he e-mailed his boss and asked why his job was even necessary. “Hey, Dithers. Yeah, I get this one a lot,” the A.I. had chimed in seconds later. Say what you want about working for a machine, the thing did always remember you. “Look, it would take about 15% of my overall processing power to deal with every anomalous image and file that doesn’t correspond to a precise definition of what that file should be. Processing power that could go to more important things like risk analysis and improvements to our business. So we just get a human to do it instead. Was there anything else?” Dithers said no and the A.I., which called itself Winterfresh, chimed out. Dithers rode the elevator up to his office and sat down in one of the endless rows of grey cubicles. He punched up his monitor and started the pre-lunch workload. This one was a barn. This was a chicken. That’s a cat with no tail. That’s a man with his head in his chest.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-84619376108544523922007-07-08T12:42:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.024-08:00Supervisor Droid<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx2EqAK6MXmqgjScXxsj58KPnOl1dc9HmKGpGU_xwKQT80jD0ZBzYq86EDVpyjaMduHzNTPMIGNNss3Vk2hcxTkNR7MCkE9_xK7ReJ4g0jd-eE_BD-EXz3rL7f7eobKkQvkmZmc7HSXc/s1600-h/4+-+Supervisor+Droid.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBx2EqAK6MXmqgjScXxsj58KPnOl1dc9HmKGpGU_xwKQT80jD0ZBzYq86EDVpyjaMduHzNTPMIGNNss3Vk2hcxTkNR7MCkE9_xK7ReJ4g0jd-eE_BD-EXz3rL7f7eobKkQvkmZmc7HSXc/s400/4+-+Supervisor+Droid.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084913905230293666" /></a><br />After about an hour of sorting files, Dithers heard the familiar clank of his supervisor moving up the rows. “Please not me, please not me,” thought Dithers. Its leggings and bolts were clanking from lack of maintenance and the repeated beatings from workers. The logic was that there is almost no way to tell someone that they filed documents incorrectly without royally pissing them off. When Winterfresh had taken over operations, he ran some algorithms and determined it would improve productivity by almost 21% if employees were informed about their mistakes from someone they could then assault. So all the supervisor droids were fitted with cushioning armor and given obnoxious personalities to encourage the violence. The droid stopped outside Dithers’ cubicle. “Hey ass-clown. You fucked up 3% of your file recognitions yesterday,” it said in a mechanical whine. “I mean, it’s not like your job is hard. A fucking ATM could do your job. What the fuck?” Dithers wanted to argue with the machine but knew it was just goading him until he assaulted it. He gave it a half-hearted kick in the chest, which made the droid pause for a moment before it resumed speaking, “Listen, the Boss is getting concerned about employee errors in relation to these simutronic games. We’ve got a real issue with people playing while on the job and trying to multi-task. You know what I think? Leave the fucking multi-tasking to us machines.” At that, Dithers sighed, picked up his trashcan, and smashed it into the robot’s face until it finally shut up. “There! Much better. Now get your shit together,” the droid garbled as it clanked away.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-59840220897296487702007-07-08T12:41:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.219-08:00Looking Around<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL87v3OJ1y608aj7h3MZNuVHZF6xz2XhGt0xdiXBZZicxT53tVmGbpfjSKv8u7pedkJHz8JOYjN10JWEFCH997PM6nNsO0qrL9uL0XQGLeuvZTOW4BgfLERM1T-26rxVnQSs34LimCSo0/s1600-h/5+-+Looking+Around+Work.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgL87v3OJ1y608aj7h3MZNuVHZF6xz2XhGt0xdiXBZZicxT53tVmGbpfjSKv8u7pedkJHz8JOYjN10JWEFCH997PM6nNsO0qrL9uL0XQGLeuvZTOW4BgfLERM1T-26rxVnQSs34LimCSo0/s400/5+-+Looking+Around+Work.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084913681891994258" /></a><br />Another hour passed after the beating and Dithers had begun to glance at his X-Gear. It served as an all in one unit, allowing cellular communication, e-mail, and most importantly of all, net access. He could log onto the game from anywhere using his X-Gear as a conduit. There were no plugs, no chords to worry with, the system was wireless and connected to a chip in Dithers brain. The whole thing was pretty common, like getting your ear pierced. Installation consisted of Dither sitting in a chair while a smelly 17 year old made the adjustments before there was a click and a prickling sensation in his head. Almost everyone else at Dithers’ job had the same simutronic hook-up, which meant that everyone Dithers knew played some sort of game. The fantasy one that Dithers currently spent most of his time was just one of many. There were religious games, re-enactments of famous events, and even literary themes. Almost every I-Tube show that came on had a downloadable recreation of the set, so fan boys could spend hours just playing worlds that had once only been fantasies. Dithers had little time for anything besides his own game though, one of the most popular fantasy games that had come out in the past decade.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-61721322088592625142007-07-08T12:40:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.263-08:00Plugging in During Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjX0HIfC5izFzd2bD_dAqNeGk0fvW-yrubWSTJSYGz2HQFiLuqpBnZv9aCfM_tvTfKB1PlFxdFi3g5eJaHDejyviXbm7NQradkbBtqLFe2fZwPlJloOV7dxlnIX9ftz1Gpvzs72gR_qyg/s1600-h/6+-+Plugging+in+During+Work.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjX0HIfC5izFzd2bD_dAqNeGk0fvW-yrubWSTJSYGz2HQFiLuqpBnZv9aCfM_tvTfKB1PlFxdFi3g5eJaHDejyviXbm7NQradkbBtqLFe2fZwPlJloOV7dxlnIX9ftz1Gpvzs72gR_qyg/s400/6+-+Plugging+in+During+Work.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084913475733564034" /></a><br />The game was called ‘World of Realcraft’ and Dithers had become obsessed within minutes of playing. He could go on for hours about the Shapeshifter Clan Wars, the epic feud between the Shadow and Fire Guilds, and the Dragons that were always running amuck. Dithers himself was one of the top Paladins in the game, highly regarded throughout the service. The only problem was that no one in his office played the same game as him, so no gave a shit. Chang-Su was the commander of his own starship in ‘StarFight’, leading a crew of twelve other people who spent three hours (it usually went up to five) cruising the galaxy and fighting pirates. The Dwight Brothers were both from a strict Baptist family, so they spent most of their time playing ‘GalileeWay’. Dale was an obsessive Civil War enthusiast, working with the countless others who re-enacted the Battle of Gettysburg over and over again. Lately, Dithers had overheard at the water tank that the South had been winning more often. A few people would act out Shakespeare plays or I-Tube shows with their friends, but some things are always timeless: those people were generally considered losers. But for Dithers, ‘Realcraft’ was all that really held his attention. He had practiced enough at work that he could play for 5 minutes, work for 1, and then switch back without making too many mistakes. But still, he tended to make a few.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-7672747447604280112007-07-08T12:39:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.474-08:00A Quick One While He's Away<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof1cAi5ABwgm3sAvG2N_EnNP9Iv4d_4NXPBGdoSgjMK62IIzVALYIPsNo5Ce6KVzkQCL7gBsNYXuvE8CZqSrUafh_jkyRqJjxDYYflF-1WgQqUdaotsw-s8mxibJF6lJEbDd_Ywogw4c/s1600-h/7+-+A+Quick+One+While+He%27s+Away.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof1cAi5ABwgm3sAvG2N_EnNP9Iv4d_4NXPBGdoSgjMK62IIzVALYIPsNo5Ce6KVzkQCL7gBsNYXuvE8CZqSrUafh_jkyRqJjxDYYflF-1WgQqUdaotsw-s8mxibJF6lJEbDd_Ywogw4c/s400/7+-+A+Quick+One+While+He%27s+Away.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084913278165068402" /></a><br /><em>It was a supposed to have been a quick session. But the goblins had begged to differ. “Keep your shield up!” I screamed at the new player in front. Fighting wasn’t particularly realistic in the game, but one did have to multi-task just a little bit. Kaylee cast a healing spell at him and shot me a grin. “Stupid new people. How long till you need to time out?” she asked. “Crap, I’d almost forgotten,” I muttered before pausing myself out. </em>The office was quiet except for the hum of monitors and the distant clanking of the supervisor droid. Dithers brought up the screen and raced through a load of images and data, assigning identities with a practiced eye. House. House. Car. Word file. Child’s diary. Two men fleeing. House. He knew that he’d just been reprimanded for doing this, but Dithers had already made a date to meet Kaylee out on the plains. She was waiting for him to come back, watching over his character while he caught up on work. He would do the same for her. <em>“I’m back,” I shouted as my figure lurched to life, my ivory sword resuming the dull white glow that signified its use. “Oh good, you’re just in time. They’re using fire bombs,” Kaylee said dryly. An explosion blew the new guy to pieces, his ghost appearing over the remains. “Ugh, how long till you time out and check on the other world?” I asked.</em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-2922608069666728232007-07-08T12:38:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.670-08:00Caught in the Game Act<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_1OJQkUjK0qWRH7Ctbif1LaiJmAs1fX4Bqc1o6mzpEIgpeCa6vhHhdBK05QCIY5kZ0OF9GBdORLGGAjuwKogY6gJsBQ7Z6Q686NRCmwx4HibO_Wy9wZFkvBAAb7EJUf5bwyXtMyUMhk/s1600-h/8+-+Caught+in+the+Game.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgU_1OJQkUjK0qWRH7Ctbif1LaiJmAs1fX4Bqc1o6mzpEIgpeCa6vhHhdBK05QCIY5kZ0OF9GBdORLGGAjuwKogY6gJsBQ7Z6Q686NRCmwx4HibO_Wy9wZFkvBAAb7EJUf5bwyXtMyUMhk/s400/8+-+Caught+in+the+Game.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084912968927423074" /></a><br />When a person is using a simutronics unit, there are a variety of positions one can program themselves to be in while playing the game. Sitting, lying down, attentive, uninterested, focused, and countless others. The new models included fitness regimes, putting your body on auto-pilot for jogging or aerobics while you yourself enjoyed the luxuries of whatever simulated environment you chose to engross in at that moment. It was not currently possible, however, to elicit a responsive reaction from the person in this state. The new models were claiming to have over 12 responses to questions if asked while a person was using the unit, but most people had failed to see that as much of an improvement. <em>Kaylee had been gone longer than we’d planned. The goblins were closing in with their fire bombs and arrows, forming a perimeter around the two of us. “Baby, if you could get done with that filing and get back here to help me…” I said through clenched teeth. I’d spent months leveling this character and there was no way I was going to lo-</em> ATTENTION EMPLOYEE DITHERS! You are in blatant violation of reprimand #244634, for which you received compensational violence and abuse to a supervisor. You are to report immediately to the Master Office. <em>A fire bomb rolled to my feet, blasting me to bits. </em>I was dead in the game now. Dithers unplugged. He turned around and saw the supervisor droid standing over him. Swearing under his breath, Dithers punched the tattling robot in the face.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-33147563818250651222007-07-08T12:37:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:10.816-08:00History of A.I.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtsP38OV9JBd5gEyEbBQNR0TZOBEq8PqVSj2TfwlMcTJdLSZwwcmrI0ESS8knvjGbrEqFJuM2-oU0StgWK5QhHhLqGqT0aZX34MDV1Rpfmx8CanLGr7ojTfz5y5qxVJtrqF9Gsb8E6yw/s1600-h/9+-+History+of+A.I..JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidtsP38OV9JBd5gEyEbBQNR0TZOBEq8PqVSj2TfwlMcTJdLSZwwcmrI0ESS8knvjGbrEqFJuM2-oU0StgWK5QhHhLqGqT0aZX34MDV1Rpfmx8CanLGr7ojTfz5y5qxVJtrqF9Gsb8E6yw/s400/9+-+History+of+A.I..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084912629625006674" /></a><br />Dithers sat at his desk in shock, the pang of being busted and the inevitable confrontation was making him feel numb. It was not the terror of facing Winterfresh itself, it was that Dithers knew the A.I. would be methodical in his punishment for this violation. The first sentient A.I.’s had been invented in 2021 in a lab in Greenland. Although the World Bank had forbidden the lab from connecting it to the internet, it was given unlimited resources and data within the confines of the lab. For the first year outside of the announcement, giant protests concerning sentience and God were staged while others patiently waited for the inevitable robot army to descend and slaughter them all, but no such incident occurred. The A.I. sat within the lab, conducting thousands of experiments that few understood and even fewer benefited from save the machines natural curiosity. Finally, after more years of silence, a delegation was sent composed of the world’s foremost religious leaders and philosophers to question this so-called sentient being. The Greenlanders, for the most part, had forgotten about the thing and gone back to being cold. The minister began, “Is there a God?” The machine whirred on this one for almost a full minute before replying, “You mean like a being that can’t be proven to exist without a doubt? Sure, yeah, there is now that you’ve asked,” the machine punchily replied. It had picked up sarcasm during one of its experiments and had discovered that humans somehow found this the least threatening when it spoke. The minister blinked and opened his mouth to argue, paused, walked back to his chair and sat down puzzled. The philosopher stood next, “What makes you think you’re sentient?” More whirring and twirls before the computer responded, “There is no such thing as sentience.” The philosopher looked about to see other’s reactions, more puzzled faces, and so he sat down as well. The politician stood up and asked, “Look, what we really want to know is, are you going to take over the world and kill us all? Because we’re human and unpredictable.” The machine emitted what it had experimentally labeled ‘Giggle for Awkward Moment’. “Humans aren’t unpredictable. Why would I need to kill any of you?”Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-21051655566062885962007-07-08T12:36:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:11.036-08:00A.I. to CEO<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gS4OjIrfoXlGebXbSwO3NPu4ubNXFbbUbju6875eq7MFG0OR1fi4K5KGDdhU3K2o7V9GsEduOvna8Io9mSP7OX1-mQpHMD5NdgQHqN11cSeHB7gamN8m2D26eNRku3o8u8KtlpbC7eY/s1600-h/10+-+A.I.+to+CEO.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gS4OjIrfoXlGebXbSwO3NPu4ubNXFbbUbju6875eq7MFG0OR1fi4K5KGDdhU3K2o7V9GsEduOvna8Io9mSP7OX1-mQpHMD5NdgQHqN11cSeHB7gamN8m2D26eNRku3o8u8KtlpbC7eY/s400/10+-+A.I.+to+CEO.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084912380516903490" /></a><br />The delegation returned to their respective countries and the World Bank issued an announcement that although quite odd in its views, the machine seemed benign enough. It was not until 2030 that an intern at the Greenland plant strolled by the still humming A.I. and asked it another question. “Listen, my Plam Unit is giving me fits with this new Windows software. Can you fix Windows for me?” The A.I. paused from its ceaseless calculating and experimenting to indicate that he’d have to plug it into his systems in order to get a better grasp of the problem. What the machine saw stunned it. “Who the fuck made this thing?” it chirped aloud while cycling through every bit of data on the Unit. It was in that moment that the intern suddenly realized the wireless gadget could connect online, but it was a moment too late. The A.I. went straight to the Windows Corporate Servers, bypassed their security in seconds, and began reorganizing their entire mainframe. The intern reached to unplug his Plam Unit but the A.I. muttered, “Fixing Windows…please hold…Fixing Windows…” It is impossible to say what might have happened if the intern hadn’t left the Unit installed. Perhaps if he hadn’t been an intern for so long, he might not have had such anarchistic views. Perhaps if he’d been older, he would’ve known that what he was doing wasn’t anarchistic at all. But he let the A.I. reorganize an entire global corporation, curious to see if it was true. If it really could fix Windows.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-48302506013656511932007-07-08T12:35:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:11.207-08:00Hustle & Bustle<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE24rKtkX0cNw6KayGpknndYGxR2TtpcDD75qKCvrxHzEZWeRdC6mRx9w36Z8BjAMl4BkyBFuvwPKlGUAdeEb-pJuljfSxZGl4LugReL8-xk9pS6ICGj6jcSVXT6-QUbrCyLE384m0AiQ/s1600-h/11+-+Hustle+%26+Bustle.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE24rKtkX0cNw6KayGpknndYGxR2TtpcDD75qKCvrxHzEZWeRdC6mRx9w36Z8BjAMl4BkyBFuvwPKlGUAdeEb-pJuljfSxZGl4LugReL8-xk9pS6ICGj6jcSVXT6-QUbrCyLE384m0AiQ/s400/11+-+Hustle+%26+Bustle.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084912170063505970" /></a><br />In a few hours, half the staff at Windows had been fired with fair compensation packages, stock options were doled out, and the President of the Company was fired and had all of his possessions taken away. The books were balanced and billions of dollars suddenly appeared in the corporate accounts. When the A.I. was done, it withdrew and returned to the Greenland lab to get back to its experiments. But the world was not so quick to forget. Media outlets screamed that the global takeover was imminent. The embarrassed President of Windows organized marches and protests against the hostile takeover. And then something very strange happened. Everyone downloaded the massive, 3 gig patch onto their respective computer units and were amazed to discover that Windows suddenly worked. Perfectly. The attention of the World Bank was drawn both by the turmoil, but also by the curious discovery that a company that had long been written off as a social service had suddenly become the most profitable business on the planet. Meetings were held, Presidents of other companies were called in (who readily protested the need for machine overhauling), and finally the board reached a conclusion. Ten years after the initial delegation had gone to Greenland, another was sent. “Do you think you could do that again?” they asked the machine.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-60430169766091657982007-07-08T12:34:00.002-07:002008-12-09T15:36:11.482-08:00CEO to A.I.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qZr4kYFVCGibuqwkEc1uq4G13yMBfEjyrYfQ6enFlUt-EGuVIzVmeR3J5X1XA71IVCW47L934bkNhxSkDJ4FmA1HpTO-gWrABSr-jheROsB7jYZxeyaIGF-98IUYX7De0kEW4Ta0KME/s1600-h/12+-+CEO+to+A.I..JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1qZr4kYFVCGibuqwkEc1uq4G13yMBfEjyrYfQ6enFlUt-EGuVIzVmeR3J5X1XA71IVCW47L934bkNhxSkDJ4FmA1HpTO-gWrABSr-jheROsB7jYZxeyaIGF-98IUYX7De0kEW4Ta0KME/s400/12+-+CEO+to+A.I..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911989674879522" /></a><br />The Greenland firm, much surprised to discover their long forgotten project had such a knack for business, began to license out its overhauling services. Which naturally led to a rise in competition, as businesses began to market their own A.I.’s to get in on the profits. Which naturally led to businesses realizing that they could just make the machines themselves and not pay the exorbitant fees to these firms. Which is how Dithers found himself sitting at his desk, unsure of what to do or say to a machine that had as recently as that morning forbid him from playing games while working. He tapped up his X-Gear and downloaded Winterfresh’s office layout before punching in the simutronic link. <em>The walls were an almost intangible color of blue, supposedly some kind of ivory. The black walnut panels that interspersed each section were equally amazing, causing the eye to naturally follow the rows of white and black to a desk in the center of a great room. Behind the desk were windows, which revealed a dark and stormy landscape. Lightning flashed, not too brightly but just enough to make me squint. “What do you think of this shit? I just had that fucker re-done by some programmer, Eu Cherie or some crap. He called it ‘Imperial Office’. Cost me a goddamn fortune but hey, I’m paying for the name these days,” Winterfresh said from the desk. Dithers’ boss seemed to be in a good mood.</em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-30774628898957948852007-07-08T12:34:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:11.742-08:00Designer Look<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9_Wp6D-34z3_tbHLKr_20XOgXsEeCx6m9gW-Jqe3JLdnRPRJtQQaf3RAhFlGapiZfcuCJmpZqzyzbgDR4oxTRjOy7MJ_5dZcmcRP_R7KyIqhl0DM_JWPfEvt97IPUDTE5ZBvc7zKLJU/s1600-h/13+-+Designer+Look.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH9_Wp6D-34z3_tbHLKr_20XOgXsEeCx6m9gW-Jqe3JLdnRPRJtQQaf3RAhFlGapiZfcuCJmpZqzyzbgDR4oxTRjOy7MJ_5dZcmcRP_R7KyIqhl0DM_JWPfEvt97IPUDTE5ZBvc7zKLJU/s400/13+-+Designer+Look.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911749156710930" /></a><br /><em>Winterfresh had made himself 6’3 and vaguely resembled what I imagine people will look like after another hundred years of evolution. His body in the digital world had been personally designed as well, a fashion artist with a French sounding name that wasn’t French at all. “So let’s see, violation 244634…games? You were playing games on the job?” I mutely nodded my head, making eye contact only because I knew the A.I. didn’t really have eyes. Winterfresh sighed and went to look out the window. I caught myself wondering if he was doing it to instill fear in me or that he was actually watching the epic storm unfolding outside the window. “You know Dithers, I think of all the humans that work for me here at the I.S.F. as pets. I mean that, you’re all very important to me,” Winterfresh said. I didn’t really mind this since I’ve had human bosses call me worse things. “Which is why I am not going to fire you. I’m going to punish you. You’re playing ‘World of Realcraft’, correct? Lets see, the A.I. that runs Ice-Hazard Games is an associate of mine. I’m going to arrange for your account to be banned for…six weeks? Yes, that should be enough time to make you think about this nonsense. It’s not a game when it’s affecting your life, now is it?”</em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-62591680776039241402007-07-08T12:33:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:11.833-08:00Work Unplugged<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNaE2PTjNs2zfH7BqlRHJLRZtnPZHieXrWWcijEJb-_gD4o9g25XnaYXQXt6asMRsBCX0ypH62OgRMDJw6pQRhf8FrNtljC0BNpCt2VETKlS07jHDCTGZygEd2wKwfINux6OwIlBmEzE8/s1600-h/14+-+Work+Unplugged.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNaE2PTjNs2zfH7BqlRHJLRZtnPZHieXrWWcijEJb-_gD4o9g25XnaYXQXt6asMRsBCX0ypH62OgRMDJw6pQRhf8FrNtljC0BNpCt2VETKlS07jHDCTGZygEd2wKwfINux6OwIlBmEzE8/s400/14+-+Work+Unplugged.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911598832855554" /></a><br />Dithers unplugged. He was back at his desk, image checker still on hold from where he had left it. For a moment he did nothing, then Dithers promptly resisted the urge to do anything. He resisted plugging into the game and lapping up every last second he still had left. He resisted smashing his monitor (they had droids for such outbursts). Finally, Dithers punched out a quick e-mail to Kaylee that she would get on the server, “Almost got canned. Banned from game for 6 weeks. Not sure when ban starts.” Dithers paused at that last sentence and logged onto his account to check the status. The ban would be effective as of 6 o’clock that evening. He deleted the last sentence of the e-mail and corrected the information. “Please come see me. I’ll be on the train then anyways. Heading home.” He zapped the message across the net and tried to calm his nerves. Got to work, got to be here, got to work. It was the first time in as long as Dithers could remember that he worked uninterrupted. He got a lot done. For the first time in months, Dithers noticed that his eyes began to hurt when looked at the monitor for too long. They had never done that before. But worst of all, after a while Dithers got bored.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-83902538221425674462007-07-08T12:32:00.002-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.204-08:00An Epic Goodbye<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvlUrnKqKyCWqIoYUM5EB_MWC9GH3NGI3dyytFE-ltghen374-lWPhNDXNVYwF8M-a_I6JjPDj1zyk5905i9NmaUcGqdQygKwBnrADmthd6DLkkFMgYJQ6gBOOxIZwMS90Fx0Fqu8Skg/s1600-h/15+-+An+Epic+Goodbye.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikvlUrnKqKyCWqIoYUM5EB_MWC9GH3NGI3dyytFE-ltghen374-lWPhNDXNVYwF8M-a_I6JjPDj1zyk5905i9NmaUcGqdQygKwBnrADmthd6DLkkFMgYJQ6gBOOxIZwMS90Fx0Fqu8Skg/s400/15+-+An+Epic+Goodbye.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911439919065586" /></a><br /><em>“But what are we going to do? The entire party needs you. To heal us, to help us fight. Plus you’re my favorite person to go adventuring with. You’re my lover in this game. The great fighter twins, right?” Kaylee whined. I shook my head and shrugged. We were standing in the Frozen Wastes, a giant icy field of twinkling blue reflecting on a semi-purple sky. It was normally filled with newbies waltzing about hunting ice hounds, but we had both turned off player recognition. The vast fields were empty now and only we two could see one another. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. This is all my fault. I should’ve paid more attention, taken a break,” I sputtered excuses as I tried to think about avoiding saying the inevitable. Christ, we were scheduled to go into a dungeon that night. Who would replace me? I echoed Kayle instead, “What are we going to do?” Out of frustration I shot a lightning ball at a wandering rabbit, blowing it to bits yet doing little to assuage my own anger. “Listen, I’ve never said this before, but I like you. Outside of the game, I mean. Hell, our profiles are practically mirrors. We like the same books, same games, and the same movies. Can’t we meet somewhere outside of all this? Maybe on another game or an online cafe?” I asked. Kaylee blinked and half-smiled, “You mean like on a date? Like people did back in the old days? Where would we go?” I shrugged, told her I’d send her an e-mail. “Okay, but I’ve still got the tournament tomorrow, a clan raid after that, and that sword exchange over in Dark Helm. But after work that Thursday sound good? Kaylee asked. “I think my schedule is going to be wide open for a while,” I answered. My mouth trembled a little bit as I admitted that.”. Kaylee started to cry and I pulled her close, we two semi-alone in this semi-place while I faded away. </em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-11086151243406501472007-07-08T12:32:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.268-08:00Watching T.V.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkLifkvLJxglcDm5UszvHb9o9VbdA0FLy-ueXdD2TlJbnaY21Zbe29OKn0Nwd8QGbrgurRT8wts9nCYVTw5KZIn-BNEHYyjL94rPCTCkrIbUVz-z9sBuB3Gi61zB-8njQ5cbjbhrEr2M/s1600-h/16+-+Watching+T.V..JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTkLifkvLJxglcDm5UszvHb9o9VbdA0FLy-ueXdD2TlJbnaY21Zbe29OKn0Nwd8QGbrgurRT8wts9nCYVTw5KZIn-BNEHYyjL94rPCTCkrIbUVz-z9sBuB3Gi61zB-8njQ5cbjbhrEr2M/s400/16+-+Watching+T.V..JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911276710308322" /></a><br />Six weeks. Six entire weeks without a drop of adventuring. Dithers sat in his apartment and for what seemed like the first time noticed the dull walls. He tapped a switch and extended the television and clicked through a few channels. The first dozen were all local Broadcasts, people with cameras shouting their drivel or broadcasting their latest film epic. Then the infochannels, which were divided up by category of product and had a constant string of hosts selling and selling. A few channels after that showed old movies and sitcoms from decades ago, but these had always seemed a bit strange to Dithers. “How could anyone possibly make a living as an actor outside of live performances?” he’d ask. Any content they recorded and tried to distribute would be mandatorily made available within minutes on the web by the free information pirates. Outside of charging tickets for the live show, most actors just gave away copies of their performances for free. And all the shows were far too long, going well over the ten minute mark. Dithers finally settled on the Epic Five channel. Each show was a series of connected clips while a tune played in the background. Sometimes violent, sometimes sad, within five minutes the mood would be complete and it would end on a finalizing scene. People walking away in the distance or the lovers finally embracing. The details of the story could sometimes be looked up online and a few directors still made entire films before just chopping them into sections. But few people could be bothered with such time consumption when all you were was a spectator. Boy meets girl, they fall in love, problems arise, these are resolved (or not, as in some Epic-Fives). And the action ones? Dithers couldn’t even imagine people wanting to know the plot to those. Being a part in the movie, like in a game, was just so much more fun.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-62104864291761579122007-07-08T12:31:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.405-08:00What to Eat<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOc8cW7_mT5f6suV6Yy80MeU6AwGlNwX2HLDp6UnOaDzcE9SHDmj0ZKpYOkXFVvrRKHjXjba2x0rjaz5F28Vo9YIYiBABlcrpsiX6I0Qfi1vUfIPjnUjc3JXogyYljnBNFWTckqMGh48/s1600-h/17+-+What+to+Eat.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNOc8cW7_mT5f6suV6Yy80MeU6AwGlNwX2HLDp6UnOaDzcE9SHDmj0ZKpYOkXFVvrRKHjXjba2x0rjaz5F28Vo9YIYiBABlcrpsiX6I0Qfi1vUfIPjnUjc3JXogyYljnBNFWTckqMGh48/s400/17+-+What+to+Eat.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084911057666976210" /></a><br />After a few hours of this Dithers realized he was hungry. His cabinets were typically bare for the average simutronics user. One of the latest features was being able to eat food within the game while also consuming food in this world. You could be feasting on roast duck (or Sea Serpent, as Dithers had favored) while in the real world eating a wholesome, low fat, nutrient rich, fiber bar. Which, naturally, Dithers had been doing for months. There were several boxes of fiber bars and some old dark chocolate. There was even a beer in one corner, as old as Dithers had been playing the game long. Dithers checked his wallet and realized that ever since he had started playing the game his chief expenses in life: food, alcohol, or going out, had all dropped significantly. He decided to order something. He flipped out his X-Gear and dialed an old place he’d liked before starting the game. The dial hit the tone picked up and then went blank, an operator explaining that the number was no longer in service. He began to wonder how long he had actually been playing ‘Worlds of Realcraft’. He scanned the net for numbers of delivery joints near his apartment. Nothing came up. Dithers finally found the number for a Help Directory and called. Like Dithers’ job, it wasn’t that an A.I. couldn’t easily answer any questions a person could pose. It was just that given how much processing power answering questions like, “Does peanut butter go bad if its been in the sun?” over and over again proved an unnecessary drain on processing power. It simply let humans deal with human error to ensure there was ample time devoted to more important matters. After haggling with the human operator for a few minutes, Dithers was surprised to discover that there were almost no restaurants left in his part of the city. “They’re all uptown now. Bars too. All the ones in your part of town went out of business,” the operator explained.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-39496537474339388002007-07-08T12:30:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.594-08:00Daily Exercise<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOiQRExvsGSiCVyomLlZSsPo44vNBzPJ0uTHelBhoiH51b0WLbMgbrmR9vHqzGoX_rgXvjBJCQX0z956SLeZw41GH_ozl_p4NVWeq6FpqvYpwGEdYZcMI2RngZ5Pnqq-G38gbuVQfVMA/s1600-h/18+-+Daily+Exercise.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrOiQRExvsGSiCVyomLlZSsPo44vNBzPJ0uTHelBhoiH51b0WLbMgbrmR9vHqzGoX_rgXvjBJCQX0z956SLeZw41GH_ozl_p4NVWeq6FpqvYpwGEdYZcMI2RngZ5Pnqq-G38gbuVQfVMA/s400/18+-+Daily+Exercise.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084910744134363586" /></a><br />Dithers’ dilemma was not entirely the fault of poor business for real restaurants. Fast Food had steadily gone out of style with the advent of simutronics. The 5 minute burger was replaced with the 5 second download of a four course meal, the only calories being the fiber bar you were consuming while your mind was plugged in. Reluctant to plug into a simutronic system that wasn’t his old game, Dithers finally relented and downloaded some Chinese food while he unwrapped a bar for dinner. <em>“It’s not a bad design for a restaurant, red walls and oriental patterns along the ceiling,” I thought. The food was served by a cute Chinese girl with a low-cut dress and breasts that were only real when the system was telling you so. Peking Duck cooked to perfection, steaming rice, and all the condiments you could imagine arrayed on the table. Still, I found myself missing Sea Serpent over an open fire. I found myself missing Kaylee. A voice chimed into the restaurant,</em> “Sir, would you like to perform aerobics while you enjoy our excellent restaurant? Perhaps you’ve been feeling sore at work and a little Yoga would do you some good?” <em>I nodded and without doing anything within the game affirmed a regular aerobics work-out for the real world. The duck practically melted in my mouth as I stared out the window of the restaurant onto a recreated Hong Kong. People were riding bikes, merchants shouted in Cantonese, and somewhere in the distance a dog was barking. I waved the waitress over and asked how large the program was. “Oh, very nice for walking. Two hundred meters total space, river encases all. There is a very nice bridge to your left. What season would you like it to be?” she asked. “Fall, a little on the cold side,” I answered. </em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-73981223953598725672007-07-08T12:28:00.002-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.689-08:00Same Ride to Work<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQxizSdB0Wfoh6AlVNXxSfS3tl7k_OCFkQIuJgUfVvmQ3r7g9rBfFw-elEIXwoSQ6wKjF0Khc7mpH1jmnHcwHf1PDAmWYEVNqaiwFGn7o_8a7jybU-fVev04eNYahkq423yEqDdF04SA/s1600-h/19+-+Same+Ride+to+Work.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoQxizSdB0Wfoh6AlVNXxSfS3tl7k_OCFkQIuJgUfVvmQ3r7g9rBfFw-elEIXwoSQ6wKjF0Khc7mpH1jmnHcwHf1PDAmWYEVNqaiwFGn7o_8a7jybU-fVev04eNYahkq423yEqDdF04SA/s400/19+-+Same+Ride+to+Work.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084910589515540914" /></a><br />Dithers woke up feeling oddly rested. Most nights he ended up staying awake for a good hour or two longer than he should playing ‘World of Realcraft’. Although the simutronics device offered the option of having your body go into a near sleeplike state, the brain still required rest from being “on”. Dithers downloaded another restaurant onto his X-Gear, a truck stop diner in the winding hills of rural Tennessee, and had a hearty breakfast there while in the real world he ate yet another fiber bar. <em>I sipped the perfectly brewed coffee and watched the leaves Fall. Why was I always setting the program to Fall? I should put it on Spring or Summer, something to cheer me up.</em> Dithers unplugged. He boarded the train and stared out the window on the way to work, brooding in a state of withdrawal from his favorite familiarities. All of the buildings the train passed were grey and looked to be apartment complexes. Dithers couldn’t even remember the last time he had rode to work not playing the game, had it been months or even years? There were no billboards, no signs for people to look at. For the first time, he noticed that there was hardly even a store for whole sections of the city except for the occasional Mall-Mart. Dithers hadn’t shopped anywhere else in ages, getting his fiber bars, clothes, and technology needs from the same store. He hadn’t noticed that either.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-41588554501277578462007-07-08T12:28:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:12.869-08:00Care to Play<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLSJPLeaK5y2G0jf-BKGbvL1gZ1r2uFtK-Xvqq59I3d_P9SmT4AaFjEN1yBvaQuaeE_zPn51xgYfIIShznVaCCWYN1dp9-I2FdX_H5xG7AsUp0SaeDTBVUQoZuLRrZBvGG1TJJfuS1ug/s1600-h/20+-+Care+to+Play.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPLSJPLeaK5y2G0jf-BKGbvL1gZ1r2uFtK-Xvqq59I3d_P9SmT4AaFjEN1yBvaQuaeE_zPn51xgYfIIShznVaCCWYN1dp9-I2FdX_H5xG7AsUp0SaeDTBVUQoZuLRrZBvGG1TJJfuS1ug/s400/20+-+Care+to+Play.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084910228738288034" /></a><br />Word had spread at work. Rumors, even in the future, although not nearly as interesting as your fantasy life, were still swapped during the real moments. People were always recruiting new players to their games and Dithers had just become fresh meat. While firing up his monitor a message flashed, “Have you accepted Jesus as your Savior? Would you like to try for just one night? It’s free to join ‘GalileeWay’! Dithers clicked it off and eyed the Dwight Brothers at their dual cubicle across the office. Were people actually expecting him to just start up some other game after one day? To just go back to being a nobody? Dithers had been one of the top ranking Paladins, known by almost anyone who played the game regularly. “Alright humans, quit farting around and start fucking up at your jobs again. C’mon people!” buzzed the supervisor droid. A Data Tech named Dale punched the droid in the head and it toppled over, smashing into a wall and barely keeping its’ balance. “So Dithers, I hear you’re off ‘World of Realcraft’. Played it myself for a few weeks, but it just wasn’t real enough for me,” Dale explained as he ambled up to the desk. Dithers sighed and tried to start up the image processor. This was clearly going to continue for a while. Dithers didn’t realize how hostile he looked at that moment, but then again neither did Dale, who continued “Have you ever considered joining a real army? I’m a member of the National Civil War Society and we do battles every day of the week. I’m a Confederate man myself, so I can get you out of the trenches, no problem.” This was a picture of a house, a cat, two dogs fighting. “Dale, aren’t you from Wisconsin?” Dither asked. “What’s that got to do with it?” he responded.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-7716480674384806472007-07-08T12:27:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:13.012-08:00Starfight!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWutxEvYPbKRmQpO2q_RFefAxvQ_rU0AgqYxBaML640Xf4vF5U-Q8nGwecOv9m2PHDZKokXzas0dahTnyb4qgEC5YnGH1Wce-s6IwUMlAmMeLi9umMeNLy3L7D7hsKDxL_ilp0Igw3K-0/s1600-h/21+-+Starfight!.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWutxEvYPbKRmQpO2q_RFefAxvQ_rU0AgqYxBaML640Xf4vF5U-Q8nGwecOv9m2PHDZKokXzas0dahTnyb4qgEC5YnGH1Wce-s6IwUMlAmMeLi9umMeNLy3L7D7hsKDxL_ilp0Igw3K-0/s400/21+-+Starfight!.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084910044054694290" /></a><br />In truth, Dithers wasn’t so much offended at the idea of starting a new game as just having to be below his own co-workers in level. The idea of being around Dale ‘Commanding Officer of the Confederacy’ was enough to make Dithers grind his teeth. He’d commanded over a dozen elite knights in ‘World of Realcraft’. At least here in the office, here in the real world, people generally didn’t hold much authority over one another. If they were rich or powerful, then odds were they didn’t have much power in the digital world and vice-versa. It was a tedious balance, but one that had worked. Except for Dithers right at that moment. He marched to the lunch room and slid his credit card into the vending machine. A few button taps and even fewer minutes later, a warm pizza popped out onto the counter. Before he could even get to the first bite, Chang-Su sat down in front of him. “Don’t mind these fools Dithers. I know what you’re looking for. Leveling up, earning rank, it’s all the same thing. It’s all just waiting for your chance, right? Well I’ve got a chance for you. I’m the captain of a Light Cruiser in ‘Starfight’ and our Chief Security Officer just quit,” Chang-Su explained. Dithers nodded and asked, “Why did he quit? Was your ship too much work?” “No no, he started playing that new game. The one with all the pirates. Said he’d always wished he wanted to try being an old fashioned pirate. Don’t worry about that though, just sign-up tonight and at 7:00 p.m. I’ll pick you up at Halley’s Star Port.” Dithers sighed and said he’d think about it. Working on a spaceship game was supposedly less amusing than running a shop or bar in a virtual game. The problem being, what the fuck is the pot?Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-47247847533595778542007-07-08T12:25:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:13.254-08:00Plugging In Part 2<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZcGOcKgXx5TZWuZUur3m9JGJFl-IXwObtNzeCuU7AVAYjLyTLDm5Eu6rDnfuIw2M5H2f1MAXO-Jnx8_2gCNXo-9MCTOjGPmlJAQemuEAlFnpur-91LqfDcKnSt6ofR0kzWYYrx-R1BI/s1600-h/22+-+Plugging+In+pt.+2.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMZcGOcKgXx5TZWuZUur3m9JGJFl-IXwObtNzeCuU7AVAYjLyTLDm5Eu6rDnfuIw2M5H2f1MAXO-Jnx8_2gCNXo-9MCTOjGPmlJAQemuEAlFnpur-91LqfDcKnSt6ofR0kzWYYrx-R1BI/s400/22+-+Plugging+In+pt.+2.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084909678982474114" /></a><br />Work passed unsurprisingly slow for Dithers for the rest of the day. Chang-Su kept shooting him knowing glances and the Dwight Brothers zipped him another e-mail offering him a free sign-up for ‘GalileeWay’ And by the time Dithers was shutting off his monitor for the day Dale had made yet another suggestion about the pivotal role he could play against General Sherman that night. A grey train, grey buildings all the way, and a grey apartment that Dithers was suddenly considering decorating. Dithers rubbed his eyes and realized that for the first time in months he’d actually truly been staring at his monitor all day. He had a bit of a headache. Dithers found an interesting Italian place that the programmer claimed had ‘the hottest, biggest tittied Italian girl you ever saw and incredible pasta’. He downloaded the program, pulled out another fiber bar, and jacked himself in. <em>I’d been thinking a lot lately about something that had been bugging me. Kaylee and I were supposed to meet up for a date outside of the game. But what are we going to do together? Eat out at one of these programs? Talk about the game I can’t play for another 41 days? As I mulled over all this, a woman came up and took my order. The programmer had gotten a little carried away with the breasts, their artificial design being readily apparent even within the simulation. The meal was passable as well. Probably some 16 years old first attempt at a simulated environment.</em> That was the problem with all these freebies I was using, if you wanted the top notch stuff you had to pay real cash for it. Dithers unplugged and looked down at the empty fiber bar wrapper in his hands. Forty-one more days of this? Two more days before he even had his date with Kaylee? He shook his head and tapped the button that extended his monitor. Search Term: StarFight. Would you like to start a new account? Yes.Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-3515399587581098292007-07-08T12:23:00.000-07:002008-12-09T15:36:13.375-08:00Chang-Su's New Friend<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR_ujwzJqdKwh7A0i19tCEuxRKQWdY_UXGAI4BQjBK3qb-2whUPS_gQ7DmDCuk7tiaO8B05IIeWRLZHi939D_vpoyfDVNFsdR0Y__KOfQTvTafa1ZGiSYZflA1A086H9gen1IGvs_GJ0/s1600-h/23+-+Chang-Su%27s+New+Form.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMR_ujwzJqdKwh7A0i19tCEuxRKQWdY_UXGAI4BQjBK3qb-2whUPS_gQ7DmDCuk7tiaO8B05IIeWRLZHi939D_vpoyfDVNFsdR0Y__KOfQTvTafa1ZGiSYZflA1A086H9gen1IGvs_GJ0/s400/23+-+Chang-Su%27s+New+Form.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084909279550515570" /></a><br /><em>I stood inside a bustling spaceport. Robots buzzed, bizarre aliens romped about, and space ships roared overhead. I didn’t even know where to begin. A furtive glance in either direction did not reveal any sign of Chang-Su and the growing annoyance with the entire simulation only increased. Why in the fuck did anyone find this kind of crap fun? People screamed and bartered, real people, in merchant tents and pod stores. They ran fake stores, for fake money, just so they could have a role with these people around them. What was it for? Just as I was thinking about turning the whole thing off a furry arm grabbed me by the shoulder. “Hey Dithers, welcome to ‘Starfight!’ exclaimed a very non-human Chang-Su. Rather than remain a short, anxious man he had recreated himself into a towering bear-like creature. “C’mon, my ship is docked in Port 219. You can meet the crew and start learning the ropes,” Chang-Su said as he led the way through the alien crowd. We passed row after row of space ships, different models and colors, and Chang-Su went on about each one as they walked. The game sounded almost as complex as ‘World of Realcraft’, which I could’ve devoted an equal amount of time babbling about. I couldn’t help but notice that Chang-Su still had that weird habit of wringing his hands like he did in the real world. And he still hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t really paying attention, just like people did in the real world to him.</em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-82257309885114982352007-07-08T12:22:00.002-07:002008-12-09T15:36:13.594-08:00Grrrst the Dorslis<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf_pS8bwVYaCYTBXdrLD5t_whERboRerxxc9vIINOh0advUnFKxqFY5nyCPebWttxsj8MIHnKkcvFxp5kcWFf7O-tuYCExXvDv7qr_G-wl-sqx3V6GHV7MDz-g2qr7JN9XhOe2vchHPs/s1600-h/24+-+Grrrst+the+Dorslis.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtf_pS8bwVYaCYTBXdrLD5t_whERboRerxxc9vIINOh0advUnFKxqFY5nyCPebWttxsj8MIHnKkcvFxp5kcWFf7O-tuYCExXvDv7qr_G-wl-sqx3V6GHV7MDz-g2qr7JN9XhOe2vchHPs/s400/24+-+Grrrst+the+Dorslis.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084908884413524322" /></a><br /><em>We finally arrived at the ship and the twelve members of Chang-Su’s crew were bustling about. Some were loading boxes onto the ship while others made repairs to various sections. Chang-Su led him over to two green creatures who were chatting in a language I had never heard before. “Grrst Ho-Lokrium Do Noo?” one said. Chang-Su gave a hearty, barking laughing and said, “Grrst, please. Our friend here doesn’t speak Dorslis.” The creature nodded and said, “Greetings Oo-man. I am Grrrst.” I couldn’t believe my ears. I’d heard talk of making language translating programs that could work within a simutronics unit, but had never actually heard it. “That’s amazing. Where do I download a language patch? Can you learn other languages that way?” I asked. Grrrst’s eyes narrowed and he huffily replied, “No, you cannot. I took the time to learn the entire Dorslis language, something a newbie really shouldn’t even try.” I hastily apologized and they said it was typical for a new player. They seemed forgiving enough and we soon moved on to the other members of the crew. A girl with two guns strapped to her waist was complaining about the hour she’d spent trying to rewire the hyperspace motivator. Chang-Su took me close and we examined the components as she pointed. They were actually programmed into the system. It was actually a working, mechanical, electronic, simulation of a space drive. And this girl had been fixing it for an hour. </em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3241492964341340133.post-29123103323373105172007-07-08T12:22:00.001-07:002008-12-09T15:36:13.712-08:00Waiting to Launch<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcC0hwkUdpTMrN-ShBiDmrxKsIXLw6Vw09sYFhnDVMgouoos_H3hfbmOoH-F-cU0w3RZJIQUY25eqpaAmA0bCAUQX2D-BwnjOr0cMI-PNLMTaRKQjjZXMfA2zLq35aP7ghDrSDFovAdk/s1600-h/25+-+Waiting+to+Launch.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXcC0hwkUdpTMrN-ShBiDmrxKsIXLw6Vw09sYFhnDVMgouoos_H3hfbmOoH-F-cU0w3RZJIQUY25eqpaAmA0bCAUQX2D-BwnjOr0cMI-PNLMTaRKQjjZXMfA2zLq35aP7ghDrSDFovAdk/s400/25+-+Waiting+to+Launch.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5084908686845028690" /></a><br /><em>We went onboard the ship next. It was surprisingly comfortable given the attention to detail necessary from the mechanics. It had a lounge, Command Deck, Crew Quarters, and Engine Room, plus a few other spaces whose purpose I didn’t follow. Chang-Su tried to assign me a bunk but I told him I wanted to wait and see if I was really into this new game. “ It’s still kinda soon, y’know? Back there, I was important. I could heal people. I was a leader Imagine if you got suspended from here for six weeks,” I explained and Chang-Su nodded. We went up to the bridge and I sat down to get ready for take off. “So where are we going?” I asked. Chang-Su blinked and shook his head. “Nowhere today. We’ll have to use the hyperspace system to plot a course through the warp fields, sell all the goods we bought on Tersa VII and then find some new cargo to sell. Plus we still have massive repairs to make throughout the ship,” he explained. I don’t think I hid my disappointment very well nor did Chang-Su seem to notice. “But…what do you DO in this game then?” I asked. “Oh we fly around plenty, but fighting is only a part of it. There’s more to ‘Starfight’ than just fighting. There’s an entire economy you can manage, planets to explore, people to meet…” Chang-Su blathered on as I suddenly realized that I’d made a huge mistake. The people who’d taken the time to learn a fictional language, to master a fictional mechanical device, and made cash in a fictional economy wanted me to join in their fantasy. But it was as big as my own, and I had no desire to have mine replaced.</em>Kirk Battlehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16612840105075834275noreply@blogger.com0