The car was still swaying, but not so frantically. Tim returned to awareness to see the darkened windows. No, it was night. Pinprick stars shone through his own dim reflection in the glass. In a moment of dim misperception he saw it as a long fall before shaking it off.
The rate at which objects passed outside told him the car was still traveling at a high rate of speed. He looked down and started feeling about for Buk's container. Nothing. Panicked, he looked about, and then saw that it apparently had crawled back onto the dashboard. Its compact form told him it was in audio delivery mode - it had to be slightly denser to emit sound. Startled, he heard his own voice come out of it.
"When in the course. Swim with the current. Under all circumstances."
He wasn't sure, but they sounded like snippets of presidential quotes. Buk was a Bible, though. Where would it get non-biblical quotes. Well, his father had said it was special. Why was it talking though?
"Buk?"
The faceless blob somehow indicated its attention was now on him - a bizarre linear branched flashing symbol blinked patiently. How special was Buk?
"Buk - association. Explain long form."
The almost gelatinous mass remained quietly blinking. Finally, it began to spread out apparently choosing text over voice.
"Father. Danger. Past. Buk."
This was odd. He looked around in the now dark evening and didn't see any other lights. Did it mean they were safe from that bizarre reckless driver? Tim did not even think to check to see if the incident had been reported. All automobiles contained such automatic systems. He assumed the other driver had been stopped and that his automobile had continued on the last system override command.
"Buk" Tim began, but shockingly it interrupted.
"Father. Danger. Job."
What? What did his father have to do with danger and the book of Job?
"Father is resting, Buk. He's not in danger. He's buried but quiescent. He's safe." Tim paused, not sure if this was worth conveying. "And he's not suffering." Maybe that was the reference. He wasn't sure he was thinking clearly. Nearly being involved in an accident and being suddenly unconscious were disturbing enough without a confused book.
It was his father's book after all, and seemed to share his bizarrely disjointed way of getting to the subject. His father said that he wanted him to have it, and that other people might get jealous or try and include it in the estate tax burden. He wasn't sure of its worth, he said, so he wanted to keep it from being sold and the proceeds divided.
Buk blinked and became painfully bright, getting Tim's attention again.
"Job. Mission. Accomplish. Secret."
Tim scowled again. Secret mission? What kind of Bible was this? Tim quietly reached for his own library, thinking that he could distract himself from this and contact the authorities after a night's sleep. Ah, Gulliver's Travels. A classic. This book wouldn't be so confusing.
He poured it out into the palm of his hand and waited. It pooled and quietly began with a prompt. "Begin?" it asked softly, fading in a most pleasing manner from a deep navy to a sky blue. "Yes..." Tim started, but then pulled back, startled.
Buk was there. Its pseudopods flung like a net across Gulliver, and as Tim watched Buk ate Gulliver. This wasn't supposed to be possible. The squirming mass slipped from his hands. Books were imiscable, they couldn't be mixed - only divided and reconstituted. Their actual content was impossibly small - their bulk was made up of a soup of self-assembling sensors, photon absorbers and emitters of various kinds. But Gulliver was dissolving into Buk. Tim weakly tried to pull Buk away but it came apart in his fingers, and he watched in a kind of fascinated horror as the combined fluid took on Buk's deep mahogany color.
"After the fashion of the country." it began. "They murder two or three dozen of the natives. By force, for a sample, return home. "
It was talking in disjointed associations again. It was clearly very defective, and he clutched the rest of his library against this new terror. What else could Buk eat?
"In point of prudence and self-preservation." Buk blinked earnestly. It waited now, or paused in its mechanical insanity, Tim wasn't sure.
The pause stretched into minutes, and Tim felt his heart rate slow again. He wasn't in danger of being eaten, apparently, though this primal fear had reared mirroring the old urban legends of grey goo. Humanity was still afraid of nanomechanics, to be sure. Wary creators had put all sorts of safeguards and self-limiters into every facet of self-assembling and reconfiguring machinima. Any recall was greeted with rumors of people injured or disassembled and constituted into a new piece of reconfigurable furniture.
Tim slowly spoke again. "Buk. Why did you... eat... Gulliver's Travels?" It was a stupid question, and Buk was not a Turing-capable machinima, so he wasn't sure how that would parse.
Buk waited, apparently thinking, or perhaps sensing Tim's fear and trepidation.
"Needed. More. Phrases." it displayed finally.
Tim dropped his library in surprise.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
The Living Word
Tim gripped the phial around his neck, sobbing quietly as the coffin descended. His father was going to his final rest, ravaged at the end from years of smoking and drinking, one illegal and the other unwise. The sleek black coffin hit bottom in the traditional burial trench. It was new, hermetically sealed around his father's sterilized and quiescent corpus, the term for a hibernating body. It was an end-of-life decision he had not wanted, but the government had insisted. It was this or extract the brain and potentially be "woken up" at a future date as connected meat, or worse face being digitized. Tim didn't want to think about it.
The slurry of burial fluid followed with a whoosh, specifically geared to swell and fill the burial chamber with a load bearing and nearly impenetrable casing. It punctuated the ceremony and startled the pastor, a nice elderly Lutheran gentleman. His features betrayed a youth treatment or two, with the occasional odd reflection off of slightly differently patterned skin. Tim didn't want to think about that either. Several government men nodded to one another, tossing in some monitoring software to percolate down and fill any extra space. It would blossom on the surface later to constantly transmit its status.
He turned and strode carefully away, aware suddenly of the attention his necklace might attract. Buk was silent, as always, unless called. His car waited with the infinite patience only machine and stone possessed. No motion did it make until it knew he wanted to leave. It was that alien intelligence that disturbed him, always watching and anticipating his actions only when it determined he was earnest. Could it read him? That moment's thought must have transmitted as hesitation because the car didn't respond as he got closer. It was the same eery prescience that riders used to attribute to horses. It was a sensitivity to his silent communication. It felt more intrusive than he liked. The door finally popped open with a soft crisp chuff of air only when it knew he was going to get in.
Buk swayed silently, but Tim felt the odd motion and looked down. Buk was forming a pseudopod, a gesture that he knew by now meant something else had percolated that the living ink deemed an important association. A quick glance around, a squint at the untrustworthy and rather smug automobile, and he decanted it gently onto the dashboard, a flat expanse devoid of any control surface. It spread impossibly thin covering nearly a square foot after being in a container no more than one cubic centimeter in volume at most. It waited a moment and settled before beginning.
"In the beginning was the Word" it suddenly flashed.
"Yes, part of your Bible verses. What is the association. Clarify"
"The Word. Beginnings. History. Past. Danger."
"What? Wait... Association. What Association. Clarify."
"Danger. Past. Word. Beginnings."
This was new. Buk was a tempermental piece of literature to be sure, but usually there was at least a passage, a new piece of philosophy, a question or statement or unusual riddle. But never single words. Tim squinted and glanced around. Then he was jerked violently to the right. His automobile darkened the windows, and he could see flashing in reverse across the right side the words "CAUTION MANUAL PILOT NEAR COLLISION > REPORTING" briefly before another violent jerk was followed by the dull thump of some obstacle, or unbelievably, another car. The rather smug car for the first time seemed panicked, swaying violently as it registered surprise at being assaulted.
"Car, situation?" Tim tentatively asked. He never talked to it, and hesitated before he tried to give it a command. It startled him with rather large yellow letters earnestly flashing "PROTOCOL UNDEFINED> STATE DRIVE, STOP, DESTINATION"
It was panicking for some guidance. Buk had adhered as much as it could, but its shifting under the increasingly violent movement led Tim to try and coax it back into the phial. It required no coaxing at all and clung scrabblingly dragging its thinned bulk into the relatively safety of its container.
The car panicked again and flashed "PROTOCOL> " as a more violent collision than the first rocked the passenger compartment with a squeal. Unknown to Tim the outside had reconfigured to drop the now ruined wheel and attempt to cushion the passenger against what was going to be another violent impact. Tim scowled - "Clear windows. Avoid obstacles" he muttered hopefully. The darkened windows snapped clear as the car overrode its own safety settings in a final effort to comply, having been freed by the override command of an immediate pilot. Tim saw it - a sharklike huge trailer, usually for bulk overland destination delivery, bearing down on him with an intensity that said it was not wired but under direction. The car kicked in then with what it had been essentially afraid to do until now. The gripping surfaces squealed and the engine shunted every ounce of deliverable power into an explosive forward motion that put Tim unconscious and Buk somewhere in the vicinity of the small of his back.
The slurry of burial fluid followed with a whoosh, specifically geared to swell and fill the burial chamber with a load bearing and nearly impenetrable casing. It punctuated the ceremony and startled the pastor, a nice elderly Lutheran gentleman. His features betrayed a youth treatment or two, with the occasional odd reflection off of slightly differently patterned skin. Tim didn't want to think about that either. Several government men nodded to one another, tossing in some monitoring software to percolate down and fill any extra space. It would blossom on the surface later to constantly transmit its status.
He turned and strode carefully away, aware suddenly of the attention his necklace might attract. Buk was silent, as always, unless called. His car waited with the infinite patience only machine and stone possessed. No motion did it make until it knew he wanted to leave. It was that alien intelligence that disturbed him, always watching and anticipating his actions only when it determined he was earnest. Could it read him? That moment's thought must have transmitted as hesitation because the car didn't respond as he got closer. It was the same eery prescience that riders used to attribute to horses. It was a sensitivity to his silent communication. It felt more intrusive than he liked. The door finally popped open with a soft crisp chuff of air only when it knew he was going to get in.
Buk swayed silently, but Tim felt the odd motion and looked down. Buk was forming a pseudopod, a gesture that he knew by now meant something else had percolated that the living ink deemed an important association. A quick glance around, a squint at the untrustworthy and rather smug automobile, and he decanted it gently onto the dashboard, a flat expanse devoid of any control surface. It spread impossibly thin covering nearly a square foot after being in a container no more than one cubic centimeter in volume at most. It waited a moment and settled before beginning.
"In the beginning was the Word" it suddenly flashed.
"Yes, part of your Bible verses. What is the association. Clarify"
"The Word. Beginnings. History. Past. Danger."
"What? Wait... Association. What Association. Clarify."
"Danger. Past. Word. Beginnings."
This was new. Buk was a tempermental piece of literature to be sure, but usually there was at least a passage, a new piece of philosophy, a question or statement or unusual riddle. But never single words. Tim squinted and glanced around. Then he was jerked violently to the right. His automobile darkened the windows, and he could see flashing in reverse across the right side the words "CAUTION MANUAL PILOT NEAR COLLISION > REPORTING" briefly before another violent jerk was followed by the dull thump of some obstacle, or unbelievably, another car. The rather smug car for the first time seemed panicked, swaying violently as it registered surprise at being assaulted.
"Car, situation?" Tim tentatively asked. He never talked to it, and hesitated before he tried to give it a command. It startled him with rather large yellow letters earnestly flashing "PROTOCOL UNDEFINED> STATE DRIVE, STOP, DESTINATION"
It was panicking for some guidance. Buk had adhered as much as it could, but its shifting under the increasingly violent movement led Tim to try and coax it back into the phial. It required no coaxing at all and clung scrabblingly dragging its thinned bulk into the relatively safety of its container.
The car panicked again and flashed "PROTOCOL> " as a more violent collision than the first rocked the passenger compartment with a squeal. Unknown to Tim the outside had reconfigured to drop the now ruined wheel and attempt to cushion the passenger against what was going to be another violent impact. Tim scowled - "Clear windows. Avoid obstacles" he muttered hopefully. The darkened windows snapped clear as the car overrode its own safety settings in a final effort to comply, having been freed by the override command of an immediate pilot. Tim saw it - a sharklike huge trailer, usually for bulk overland destination delivery, bearing down on him with an intensity that said it was not wired but under direction. The car kicked in then with what it had been essentially afraid to do until now. The gripping surfaces squealed and the engine shunted every ounce of deliverable power into an explosive forward motion that put Tim unconscious and Buk somewhere in the vicinity of the small of his back.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Antihistamines are Deadly
For those of you who might be under the impression that Benadryl or other antihistamines are handy sleep aides with no ill effects, I'd like to offer some input.
They are deadly in overdose, and overdosing is incredibly easy. One of the side-effects often ignored is short-term memory loss. Adults who live alone or already suffer from some dementia can readily continue to dose themselves to attempt to use it as a sleep aid only to overdose on an over-the-counter medication unintentionally. Anticholinergic syndrome can be the result, exacerbating any proclivity to seizure and causing an agitated psychosis which can cause a delay in seeking treatment.
They should never be used as sleep aids, especially in conjunction with benzodiazepines . Benzodiazepines, which include many anti-seizure and anti-anxiety medications, are also prescribed as sleep aids. Benzodiazepines already have a memory-interfering and hypnotic effect, so adding available over-the-counter antihistamines (diphenhydramine, otherwise known as "Benadryl") is a multiplier for fatal overdose on either medication, increasing the multiple effects of disinhibition, agitation, and short term memory loss.
To this end, I think that antihistamines should have a black-box warning or other information explicitly outlining the effects of overdose and the symptoms of toxicity, and the conjunction of benzodiazepines and antihistamines should be contraindicated (similar to SSRI and alcohol warnings).
They are deadly in overdose, and overdosing is incredibly easy. One of the side-effects often ignored is short-term memory loss. Adults who live alone or already suffer from some dementia can readily continue to dose themselves to attempt to use it as a sleep aid only to overdose on an over-the-counter medication unintentionally. Anticholinergic syndrome can be the result, exacerbating any proclivity to seizure and causing an agitated psychosis which can cause a delay in seeking treatment.
They should never be used as sleep aids, especially in conjunction with benzodiazepines . Benzodiazepines, which include many anti-seizure and anti-anxiety medications, are also prescribed as sleep aids. Benzodiazepines already have a memory-interfering and hypnotic effect, so adding available over-the-counter antihistamines (diphenhydramine, otherwise known as "Benadryl") is a multiplier for fatal overdose on either medication, increasing the multiple effects of disinhibition, agitation, and short term memory loss.
To this end, I think that antihistamines should have a black-box warning or other information explicitly outlining the effects of overdose and the symptoms of toxicity, and the conjunction of benzodiazepines and antihistamines should be contraindicated (similar to SSRI and alcohol warnings).
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Truly Crazy Ideas
Space is not my area of expertise. Matrix math even less so. I'm not even remotely conversant on cosmological physics. So take the following as the cranky meanderings it truly represents.
Have you ever had an idea that won't let you go? I've got one. I'm not sure what to call it, but it is the idea that the expansion of space is uneven. Couple to that the idea that dark matter is an illusion created by negative pressure created by this uneven expansion. Finally, speculate that this expansion is sensitive to matter, and the more matter there is, the less expansion.
So, why is this an idea at all? Well, it started out as a concept looking at what a negative pressure field would look like. You know, "antigravity." I'm not a crank in that regard, and I don't believe in free energy or a lot of the kooky malarky that gets dredged up by a lot of folks. Still, my idea is probably cranky at that, because I don't have good numbers, or much idea of where to look.
The depiction of galaxy distribution looks vaguely like a foam. Accumulations of dark matter appear to be "hollow." Dark matter continues to evade direct detection. The falloff in inflation after the big bang, the reheating issue, the accelerating expansion, there are a lot of issues that appeal to my urge to problem solve. So I throw together a bunch of what-ifs, and then mull it over.
So, I'll mull it over. Maybe someday I'll do some math analyzing the behaviors of inverse-gas in a foam.
Have you ever had an idea that won't let you go? I've got one. I'm not sure what to call it, but it is the idea that the expansion of space is uneven. Couple to that the idea that dark matter is an illusion created by negative pressure created by this uneven expansion. Finally, speculate that this expansion is sensitive to matter, and the more matter there is, the less expansion.
So, why is this an idea at all? Well, it started out as a concept looking at what a negative pressure field would look like. You know, "antigravity." I'm not a crank in that regard, and I don't believe in free energy or a lot of the kooky malarky that gets dredged up by a lot of folks. Still, my idea is probably cranky at that, because I don't have good numbers, or much idea of where to look.
The depiction of galaxy distribution looks vaguely like a foam. Accumulations of dark matter appear to be "hollow." Dark matter continues to evade direct detection. The falloff in inflation after the big bang, the reheating issue, the accelerating expansion, there are a lot of issues that appeal to my urge to problem solve. So I throw together a bunch of what-ifs, and then mull it over.
So, I'll mull it over. Maybe someday I'll do some math analyzing the behaviors of inverse-gas in a foam.
Jurassic Park
The current financial crisis has re-awakened an idea in me.
Extinction, and why it happens.
Now, it's generally agreed that changes in environment can cause extinction. So, then, why do organisms go in directions that make them vulnerable to extinction? I think there are two poles - one goes for maximum energy accumulation, the other hedges on not being left out of accumulating energy. Maximum efficiency says grow large, that way you're pricing yourself out of the market of most predators. Or better yet, get an energy source that nobody else can touch and that you own exclusively so you don't have to grow large.
This is all speculation, of course - but these strategies only work if the environment is stable. In instability, what were assets become liabilities. Generalists and smaller creatures survive while large creatures and extreme specialists suffer.
Now, look at the companies in the most trouble right now, and it turns out they are large, large companies. Large specialists companies are virtually dead (all of the investment banks were subsumed or liquidated), while other large companies continue to suffer and threaten to go under.
Going back to biology, what would it take to keep a diverse environment stable? More generalists, smaller organisms. In the massive habitat destruction that has taken place since industrialization, smaller organisms (mice and pests) and generalists (skunks, foxes, coyotes and so on) survive and even thrive. In a free market - a limit on consolidation (company size and market share) and diversification of production would serve the same purpose. Consolidation has put a massive hardship on company survival (auto, banking, even farming) requiring inordinate amounts of cash to pull organizations through. Effectively they are on life support, sustained as their own massive bulk threatens to crush them much like beached whales.
I'm going to espouse an unpopular opinion. Break up the largest companies. Put the brakes on consolidation. Push innovation and diversification as company assets, as desirable market properties.
Let the dinosaurs go. We don't need another Jurassic Park.
Extinction, and why it happens.
Now, it's generally agreed that changes in environment can cause extinction. So, then, why do organisms go in directions that make them vulnerable to extinction? I think there are two poles - one goes for maximum energy accumulation, the other hedges on not being left out of accumulating energy. Maximum efficiency says grow large, that way you're pricing yourself out of the market of most predators. Or better yet, get an energy source that nobody else can touch and that you own exclusively so you don't have to grow large.
This is all speculation, of course - but these strategies only work if the environment is stable. In instability, what were assets become liabilities. Generalists and smaller creatures survive while large creatures and extreme specialists suffer.
Now, look at the companies in the most trouble right now, and it turns out they are large, large companies. Large specialists companies are virtually dead (all of the investment banks were subsumed or liquidated), while other large companies continue to suffer and threaten to go under.
Going back to biology, what would it take to keep a diverse environment stable? More generalists, smaller organisms. In the massive habitat destruction that has taken place since industrialization, smaller organisms (mice and pests) and generalists (skunks, foxes, coyotes and so on) survive and even thrive. In a free market - a limit on consolidation (company size and market share) and diversification of production would serve the same purpose. Consolidation has put a massive hardship on company survival (auto, banking, even farming) requiring inordinate amounts of cash to pull organizations through. Effectively they are on life support, sustained as their own massive bulk threatens to crush them much like beached whales.
I'm going to espouse an unpopular opinion. Break up the largest companies. Put the brakes on consolidation. Push innovation and diversification as company assets, as desirable market properties.
Let the dinosaurs go. We don't need another Jurassic Park.
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