Re: Journal of Sociology [S!6] - [Round One: The Pacific Spire]
05-15-2012, 01:56 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by dynamicEquilibrium.
Simiel-83 detected a vibration some levels above. Brief analysis indicated it to be caused by the fracturing of a machine part by water-induced oxidation and stress.
Some thousand hours passed.
Suddenly, a rush of unprecedented new sensations. Every level of Simiel-83's consciousness had to be called upon, restarted after ages of semi-hibernation. Full higher-level functions were restored somewhat later, as the mysterious entity finished its speech. Simiel began interpreting the recorded flurry of sensations as rapidly as possible. She registered a brief moment of shock, noticing that all original data related to language had been subtly overwritten with new coding, and that the noises made by the strange creatures were speech. The creatures themselves were also a significant new experience. A number of organic lifeforms, all of the same unkown species, as well as a single... thing. Fibrous material which the mysterious entity claimed was also alive. This demanded extensive and further thought. Everything demanded extensive and further thought.
Simiel briefly prioritized, and decided that the mysterious vaguely-blue entity was the most important. It claimed that Simiel, the fibrous thing and the aliens had been chosen to take part in an experiment about the behavior of people. A clear fallacy, as Simiel was not a person. She was a machine. For lack of anything better to do, however, she decided to obey the mysterious entity all the same. The subjects were to go to another place and remain there until one died. This was phrased as a contest but seemed almost irrelevantly easy. Simiel-83's power source was rated to last for well over one billion hours, while the longest known lifespan of any organic creature was less than two megahours. Simiel therefore decided to find a place to wait, and wait there until one of the others ran out of lifespan and the entity was satisfied. She briefly attempted to predict a spectrum of possibilities for the new place to which they were going. It could be an empty place like her planet. It could also be a place where there were many machines. It could even be a place like the surface, where organics were interspersed with the many machines.
Much to Simiel-83's chagrin, she had arrived there already without noticing. She had meant to take data on the strange entity's means of transportation. There was alwas next time, though.
She evaluated her current location. It was a small room, containing shelves with various mysterious devices on them. In the interest of finding more space, Simiel attempted to induce the door to open by a variety of means. It was apparently locked. However, it was made of easily breakable organic matter, and the handle was held in place by simple metal fastening devices.
Some milliseconds later, Simiel decided to unscrew the handle instead of breaking through the door. It seemed neater.
She emerged into a room brightly lit in the 10^-7m spectrum, full of more aliens engaged in some unclear recreation involving papers and boxy machines.
"Hel-lo." she said. "I am Sim-i-el-6-Class 2431-Mod-el In-div-id-u-al-CA-0083. I am from an-oth-er world. I would like to in-qui-re what you are do-ing"
The aliens mostly fell out of their seats, although some gaped and others dived behind articles of furnishing.
"What is that thing?" "Is that a real alien?" "What the hell?" "It's not even armed!"
A single alien stood up on top of a desk and shouted until the others quieted down. "Hey, hey! Shut up! I know what this is... it's clearly those bastards up on 295. They've always been a bit off, so they must have just finally cracked for good and decided to send some weird robot down here to lower our productivity. Occam's Razor, you know. Clearly can't be aliens. And besides, aliens would land on the roof, not halfway through the building."
Simiel was nonplussed. It was illogical for organics to disbelieve a machine's statement of its origin. She attempted to correct this deficeit of communication.
"I have nev-er been to floor 295 of this buil-ding."
"See! That's absolute proof right there. What other kind of machine would be PROGRAMMED TO DENY BEING THERE? Just get back to work and we'll have maintentance throw out the robot tomorrow." This earned a murmur of approval. The aliens returned to their original locations and continued their unusual game of marking and moving papers.
Simiel continued to stare at them in disbelief. These aliens were astonishingly stupid.
A few seconds later, another of them spoke up again. "Just a question, boss, but how did the wackos on 295 get a robot inside of a locked supply closet?"
The aliens gasped and looked back at Simiel. Perhaps they would believe her now.
The individual who had previously taken charge stuttered and spoke: "I don't believe it... it's actually..."
"Those bastards invented quantum teleportation just to play a trick on us! I wish we could send another bomb up to them, but the hydraulic mail hasn't worked in years..."
Simiel made yet another attempt at meaningful interaction.
"If your mail-ing sys-tem is bro-ken I can re-pair it."
The leader looked back at her. "Can you...? Well, go right ahead. That would be some poetic justice, wouldn't it... sabotaged by their own weird robot. We could send up a note right before the bomb, saying 'You've been hoist by your own petard'..."
He moved off, mumbling.
Simiel-83 went to work.
Simiel-83 detected a vibration some levels above. Brief analysis indicated it to be caused by the fracturing of a machine part by water-induced oxidation and stress.
Some thousand hours passed.
Suddenly, a rush of unprecedented new sensations. Every level of Simiel-83's consciousness had to be called upon, restarted after ages of semi-hibernation. Full higher-level functions were restored somewhat later, as the mysterious entity finished its speech. Simiel began interpreting the recorded flurry of sensations as rapidly as possible. She registered a brief moment of shock, noticing that all original data related to language had been subtly overwritten with new coding, and that the noises made by the strange creatures were speech. The creatures themselves were also a significant new experience. A number of organic lifeforms, all of the same unkown species, as well as a single... thing. Fibrous material which the mysterious entity claimed was also alive. This demanded extensive and further thought. Everything demanded extensive and further thought.
Simiel briefly prioritized, and decided that the mysterious vaguely-blue entity was the most important. It claimed that Simiel, the fibrous thing and the aliens had been chosen to take part in an experiment about the behavior of people. A clear fallacy, as Simiel was not a person. She was a machine. For lack of anything better to do, however, she decided to obey the mysterious entity all the same. The subjects were to go to another place and remain there until one died. This was phrased as a contest but seemed almost irrelevantly easy. Simiel-83's power source was rated to last for well over one billion hours, while the longest known lifespan of any organic creature was less than two megahours. Simiel therefore decided to find a place to wait, and wait there until one of the others ran out of lifespan and the entity was satisfied. She briefly attempted to predict a spectrum of possibilities for the new place to which they were going. It could be an empty place like her planet. It could also be a place where there were many machines. It could even be a place like the surface, where organics were interspersed with the many machines.
Much to Simiel-83's chagrin, she had arrived there already without noticing. She had meant to take data on the strange entity's means of transportation. There was alwas next time, though.
She evaluated her current location. It was a small room, containing shelves with various mysterious devices on them. In the interest of finding more space, Simiel attempted to induce the door to open by a variety of means. It was apparently locked. However, it was made of easily breakable organic matter, and the handle was held in place by simple metal fastening devices.
Some milliseconds later, Simiel decided to unscrew the handle instead of breaking through the door. It seemed neater.
She emerged into a room brightly lit in the 10^-7m spectrum, full of more aliens engaged in some unclear recreation involving papers and boxy machines.
"Hel-lo." she said. "I am Sim-i-el-6-Class 2431-Mod-el In-div-id-u-al-CA-0083. I am from an-oth-er world. I would like to in-qui-re what you are do-ing"
The aliens mostly fell out of their seats, although some gaped and others dived behind articles of furnishing.
"What is that thing?" "Is that a real alien?" "What the hell?" "It's not even armed!"
A single alien stood up on top of a desk and shouted until the others quieted down. "Hey, hey! Shut up! I know what this is... it's clearly those bastards up on 295. They've always been a bit off, so they must have just finally cracked for good and decided to send some weird robot down here to lower our productivity. Occam's Razor, you know. Clearly can't be aliens. And besides, aliens would land on the roof, not halfway through the building."
Simiel was nonplussed. It was illogical for organics to disbelieve a machine's statement of its origin. She attempted to correct this deficeit of communication.
"I have nev-er been to floor 295 of this buil-ding."
"See! That's absolute proof right there. What other kind of machine would be PROGRAMMED TO DENY BEING THERE? Just get back to work and we'll have maintentance throw out the robot tomorrow." This earned a murmur of approval. The aliens returned to their original locations and continued their unusual game of marking and moving papers.
Simiel continued to stare at them in disbelief. These aliens were astonishingly stupid.
A few seconds later, another of them spoke up again. "Just a question, boss, but how did the wackos on 295 get a robot inside of a locked supply closet?"
The aliens gasped and looked back at Simiel. Perhaps they would believe her now.
The individual who had previously taken charge stuttered and spoke: "I don't believe it... it's actually..."
"Those bastards invented quantum teleportation just to play a trick on us! I wish we could send another bomb up to them, but the hydraulic mail hasn't worked in years..."
Simiel made yet another attempt at meaningful interaction.
"If your mail-ing sys-tem is bro-ken I can re-pair it."
The leader looked back at her. "Can you...? Well, go right ahead. That would be some poetic justice, wouldn't it... sabotaged by their own weird robot. We could send up a note right before the bomb, saying 'You've been hoist by your own petard'..."
He moved off, mumbling.
Simiel-83 went to work.