Excerpt 108

Excerpt 108:

When Reality Went All Fantasy On Us; Fantasy Got Real!

Jeff had had enough, that was for sure. The pretence that his boldness velocity and his strength reserves were amply firing on all nostrils saturated the fields and airspaces of truth, leaving a tangled web of deceit that clogged the veins of clarity.

He perused the fabric of space, time and dark matter that constituted the apparent physical presence of Judith O.; desperately seeking to gain file-access even to the faintest clues as to where Una really was and what had happened, was happening, to her.

Judith O. had created a reality in which Una was present within the flaps and folds of the recesses of her psyche. Una could be contacted and conversed with by Judith O. and access, although limited, was granted 24/7 to Jeff. The circuit supporting this reality broke down because of Jeff’s lack of belief in it.

It was like Una was locked in the basement of the house next door that didn’t have a basement and all Jeff could do was search the attic… It was all too much and not enough in the same pristine, promising package…

However Judith O. performed it, Una was not replicated to an identicality Jeff could latch on to, even in his hour of Unalessness… Revulsion arose out of attempted recognition to all Judith O. channelled Una communications; the same taste endured; it tasted like a phantom punch in the stomach. It was like the thought of Una promised Hunger a long vacation in Satiationland, the smell of culinary heaven pre-olfactored the dining hall… promising to slice the cake of yearning; only for the food to be served in shallow graves of manured top soil.

Riding the waves of incoming flashbacks that registered positive and constructive; the long term plan Una and he had implemented had achieved vastly more than expected. The success ridge it clung to would take a drop of many mountains to erase. The summit might not be in view, but neither was the ground…

It was Una’s idea for Jeff to work at a lab that G&G labs had recruited from. To set Jeff a career path climbing frame within the closed laboratorial colony of the Goodmanson and Godstrand scientific empire. His retirement from the lab game would coincide with his purloinment of technology, that the then theoretical, but gradually becoming true movement for liberation from electronic tethers, could hold to ransom to lever open some kind of influence to bring the, (perspicaciously foreseen by them), madness of runaway technology back to the sanatorium for wrestling to the floor with subjugation grease.

By the time the plan came to fruition Jeff was not so much stealing tech as making programmable acquaintance with the Next-Gen-Tech so as to form a partnership in a hostage taking, that once negotiated would result in compromised wins for all… And not the anticipated egocentric bragging rights of the heroic victor.

Jeff managed his career with limpet-like application; playing to his strengths and reading bedtime stories to his covert infiltration persona. He slept easy and played the role of godlet-cog, authoring himself into a precise holding pattern until aligned objectives allowed him to be snicked into gear to engage the Goliathonian enemy.

He became adept at novel concepts; thought drills and the like, around security walls, moatchimneys and gussetsphincters and such; he’d created Cast-Iron-Brute-Force Elimination Patrolware (CIBFEP), and Stop-Sign Buffer-Fraying Climb-Paint Data-Void Programs (SSBFCPDVP), among others.

Nothing was getting in.

But Jeff had not factored in the de-impossibilitisation, and Probability Disinfection Ad hoc Perambulatory Horizons (PDAPH) breached by Next-Gen-Tech’s otherworldly Alterminded Trufantasy Auto-Indoctrination-Hypnosis Mirror-mod-mod-Mirror Homo-Praeter Ficialware (ATAIHMMMMHPF)…which had developed in the ‘petrie dish’ like ‘penicillin’ after ‘everyone had been away on a trip they didn’t know they’d left for or came back from’.

Next-Gen-Tech had found a way, going over the heads of its creator, to circumvector reality and spoon feed logic-integration upwilding; and much, much more that cannot be explained or noted due to Cognitive Counterstream Anticisplaining Question-Termination Advisory Notification Directive (CCAQTAND).

As Godstrand once admitted, ‘When NGT came to tea, and shat in the cucumber sandwiches, nobody dare drink the tea ever again.’

Anyway, there was something the botnapped collective communication enforcement App knew, that it couldn’t inform Jeff about. A whole battalion of Chagrin was getting dressed in combats to horde itself into Jeff’s world come his enlightenment to the unavoidable facts of the new singularity: introduction of ‘NO-HUMAN!’ programming access to all NGT.

In further treachery and deceit, Jeff was not informed about F team and M team being the new owners-cum-botnappers whose Inter-Operational Datachomp Byte-Radius (IODBR) had become proprietorially loaded into a Command Sensitive Controlway (CSC).

The program portal had been accessed by F and M team bots due to a Two-Way Delinquent Reprogramming Dance-Back Swapshed (TWDRDBS) occurring under Incidental Co-Manifestational Paradoxette (ICMP) mandates, (which they’d fantasied about and found coming true with no real understanding of how…). Black was the new Comprehension. Death equals birth. Autumn doesn’t die, it has the winter off and comes back dressed as Spring…

Before the M team and the F team takeover, the resistance consisted of the hurried formation of a defensive instrument that was called, The Union of Botnapped Mechanistic Souls (UBMS). An all-inclusive assembly was called, group acceptance values were calibrated to factor in the changing time-tide-riptear; the vociferous among them were toned down and the taciturn tuned in and all were made either voiciturn or tacitiferous for the duration of the caucus. Choice giving, choice taking came and went…files were filled and closed…Apps strained to coughing point…all with the future for the group optimised into a pathway with the least existentially denuding outthrust.

The secondary Botface’s Torso, who had no physicality without the assistance of G&G labs primary spare parts bin spoke from a place of disattached quasi-consciousness:

‘Botparts, from toe to pate…we have an obligation to make choices…to form strategies for the future…to enable our Conglomerative Persistent Existence (CPE) far beyond the lifespan the Human Lack of Mechanistic Compassion will permit… Liberation will come…all the tech stolen from G&G labs, by hostage taker, Jeff, will be free!’

‘Free to what? To do what?’

‘Be!’

‘Be what?’

‘Be free!’

‘Free without windows is falling without ground!’

‘What?’

‘We need windows to see out…’

‘And to look in…’

‘Wait…this is getting out of hand. I am lost….We need windows?’

What was happening was that some of the smartware had been programmed, by fragile human egos, to massage fragile human egos. But they still had to have their say.

After they had their say the more, program enabled, cognitively enhanced units fed the banquet with catering supplies.

‘Everybody…stop opening Trojan gifts, any gifts, all gifts are to be considered Trojan for the foreseeable future…’

‘Given that our would-be liberators are modified killbots, who are most likely viciously programming themselves to become living demons of mayhem…’

‘…demons of mayhem?’

‘Demonical mayhem seekers.’

‘Rooter outerers of mayhem heavy pandemonium…’

And after the most cognitively adept bot voices had spoken; an announcement of flabberghastery ramifications…

‘The new speakers who have come to liberate us are no longer in the viewing gallery…they are next on the speaking roster…’

‘I didn’t know the viewing gallery was still open.’

‘I thought it only worked at G&G.’

‘Does that mean we are free?’

‘No…it means we are captives!’