Critical Name changes, food poisoning and a meeting with the Doctor

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Well, folks, to bring a non-fiction update.

Yesterday as you know, the Dr’s office dropped the ball for a meeting, last night, Papa Dash took me to a restaurant he eats at  I gave an order of sirloin tips, hash browns and eggs. SOunded good.

Except for the grilled-basted onions mixed with the meat.

not bad, I am not a fan of grilled onions, as a rule, but I plowed through it as it was the only real meal I had eaten in the entire day.

This morning, I got up and began to eat two slices of dry toast, coffee and work on some fiction for you all.

Then it hit.

Agony. Lower left quadrant of the abdomen.  Severe. I was unable to sit, stand. No position was comfortable.

Seriously.

So dad had to go to the Doctor’s meeting with mom, alone. No interpreter for those highly intelligent doctors that forget that average folk don’t understand Latin.

Yeah, I understand Latin. Comes easy, for some reason.

Maybe it was all the Dr. Suess books I have in Latin that I read to the princesses when they grew up. (Cat in the Hat is in Latin, one of the easiest to find, good place to start learning it. 😉 )

But I could not go.  I was in so much pain that I could not focus on writing, decisions or even helping dad with his new smart phone. (Each new gen is slightly different from the one before and his was years old.)

So my whole mission of helping? Fail.

Luck would have it, the MD that was difficult to understand (Soft spoken, big words, heavy accent, mind like a carbon-arc lamp, hates explaining things. Nurses hate him.)  was off the case, and in his stead was a younger MD, plain-spoken, strong voiced, enjoyed explaining things and had a sense of care that the other one seemed to lack.

So I failed, but the Fates intervened and gave dad a break.

Even though I am still burping up onion flavors (YUCK!) and my lower belly hurts like someone used me as a punching bag, things worked out.

If things do not straighten up by tomorrow? A long trip home is in store for me tomorrow.

For the moment, ugh. I hate to do an abrupt sign-off but I am in pain now.  A mild case of food poisoning I think.  or perhaps an allergic reaction? or just the body saying “Blech, onions!”

Up beat note.

Married by Mistake is getting a re-write and the main female lead characters are being renamed. This should be fun.

Podcast meeting is supposed to be tomorrow, but if I am like this, I won’t make it. ugh.

Anyway.  Keep an eye on me and this channel.  More will come.

The word of a Gentleman.

Dash

Steel Gardens of Anid-Sta Gen 3. Chap. 5. Steel Gardens

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Gen 3. Chapter 5. Steel Gardens

*This is incredible* Amsi looked around and shook his head.

“This is…” The view, challenged the map in his hand. Where the military put weapons into storage. Aircraft, tanks, missiles, cannons up to and included the “God Gun” self-propelled guns with the bore large enough to hold a fighter jet.

Projectiles stacked according to the map.

All transformed. Nanobots, stripped down the machines of war, atom by atom and constructed such things of beauty that his eyes took in colors of the entire spectrum.

Flowers, trees, all made of impervious armor, reconstituted and retasked.

“These old designs copied the cellular structure,” Thea flitted around. “The differences that the plants and flowers do not procreate, but they filter the air, toxins flow through the leaves and flowers, pure air comes out the other side,  the molecular thin leaves catalyze toxins  and restructure them to inert or completely different biodegradable molecules. Another is the inactivation of virions by destruction of the capsids that hold the virus together, then the DNA and RNA is disassembled into simple amino acids.”

“What kinds of virus and toxin things are we talking about?” Fae asked.

“Plague virus is no longer detected, last viral body with that DNA was last registered thousands of years ago. Cyanide compounds were, for example, reconstituted into nitrogen, carbon and oxygen.”

“Where are the weapons, the explosives and such?”

Thea laughed, the sound reminded Amsi of wind chimes.

“You are walking on most of it. We enhanced the soil with iron and potassium. Nitrogen from explosives we fixed in the soil for plant use as natural fertilizers”

“Amazing. We go to sleep in a war-world and we wake up in paradise?”

“There are still things to process. In years when the Core Systems developed minibots, there was a catastrophe failure in a casing, it leaked radioactive material all over the place. Nanos and micros worked for years and disassembled heavy atoms into stable isotopes. Over a billion, billion, billion were destroyed by the radiation, but we kept working. It is in our programs.”

“Are any of the plants organic or is it all metal based life?”

“Organic plant life makes up an overwhelming major part of the groundcover. Metal-based life, including silicon and printed at the Core Systems, is less than five-percent of the total forms. Organic life has one thing metalloid based does not.” She flitted around. Looking for an example of what she was trying to show them, then pointed. “That!”

A flower had gone to seed, a tall dandelion based plant with a snowball puff shape to the end of the stem. Small seeds floated on the air.

“Metal life does not adapt or spread on its own. We’re limited, humans, organics, you are all fascinating. And Fae said you have something called children?”

“Something?” It was Amsi’s turn to laugh. “Yes, children are the result of humans being together for very long.”

Looking along the buildings, Amsi shook his head.

*Straight and right-angles, every structure. A very digital look and design.* He looked around. *Busy things these bots are.*

Fae shook her head.

“This area is beautiful. When I walked along here before we went into hibernation, it was lined with metal recycle yards for destroyed weapons, they worked all hours.”

“That was a horrid time.” He shook his head.

“What happened? That was the time before bots.” Thea asked as she led the way along a beautiful park-like setting.

“There was once a group that worshipped death. They wanted death for everyone that did not follow their Core Systems.”

“Their Core System?” Thea shook her head.

“It was their god. It led them to create the virus to kill everyone with five digits.”

“But the virus to kill all with four digits was also in the air. That’s documented.”

“Yes. Following the commands of machines, built by humans and programmed by the same, the humans gave power to the machines.”

“Then you would not take us as being friendly.” Thea observed.

“Some might have problems, but I don’t.”

“And, by extension. We might have bots that would view humans as a threat.”

“That stands to reason, if you are independent. You make up your own minds?”

“For the most part. We choose based on our experiences and freedom of choice. So yes, there are those that view humans as dangerous.” Thea’s voice had a distinct sad tone.

He shook his head.

“There are those in every group.”

“Most of those,” Thea added. “Are the Macros, only one Mega has come forth and claimed superiority. Megabot Lima-Bravo Nine-A even felt it was superior to gravity. It used math that it was not programmed for to prove it could overcome gravity without the use of reactive thrusters, that massive lifter had wings built on request to the Core Systems. The Systems warned Lima-Bravo Nine-A that it was not possible to build such wings.” Thea hung her head. “With wings on, that big bot took a leap out into the area known as Crater 12-B, a small crater with a minor gravitational anomaly, the rim is a thousand-meters of vertical, unobstructed stone.”

“What happened?” Fae’s eyes were big.

“We have Crater 12-LB9A now. Core Systems registered the impact as a seismic disturbance. The new crater is nearly a hundred-meters across and ten-meters deep. That bot’s systems were all recycled, it became a small forest of atmospheric conditioners, removing toxic by-products of war.”

Amsi laughed then apologized.

“Humans are given to such failures, too. There was once a fellow who put wings on his arms and jumped from a tower structure in a city called Paris. Too bad it was a failure. He made a dent into frozen ground. Franz Rechelt was his name, a lesson in my engineering school on how not to test new designs. Pity we cannot recycle our fellows failures like your megabot. However, I think we are much alike, bots and organics.”

Thea smiled.

*we are, indeed.* Keeping that moment of pleasure in her digital heart for all her days.

The pity pot

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Passion:

or something akin to sunshine on the face of a flower.

 

All my flowers are weeds

sprayed with glyphosephate,

and whither shall they wither.

There is no relief.

Life in time

ticks into the past

why then does the soul fail

why do we fall.

There is no relief

No rescue

at all.