Written after a complete hard-drive failure

Fractal Architecture

Click for FRACTAL ARCHITECTURE model.

beta test
The road to the palace. 256 squares, 512 squares, 1024; it doubled every nanosecond like this for 29 seconds until the teleology software determined an iminent overload of the linear memory circuits and dumped the program into the fractal memory matrix. The squares turned to circles, the spheres into golden apples. Columns of glass and water appeared. Engrams of decay, chaos, and entropy created shadows and cobwebs in the corners. Something starts to flash.

ver. 1.0a
We wander through the empty fields, following a jagged line on a map that represents the canyon. The sun-bleached grasses bow to the wind. There is a sound like swallowing deep in the dark of the crevasse. Or is it like wanting to swallow when you have a dry throat? I see water trickling down from cracks in the cliffside and I am thirsty too. I reach for my bottle, but find the holster empty. I turn and find my shadow; it seems to be leaning toward the canyon. You cannot escape. Yet. I scan the ground, but the bottle is still missing. Tall grasses are swaying all around me. It could be anywhere. I take off my goggles and squint as the sun fills my vision. I have fallen behind. I am walking faster to catch up. Something tells me that whatever thirsty thing there is in the canyon has my bottle. I place my hand to my ear and I listen to the canyon. The throat continues to swallow. Sweat collects in the small of my back.

ver. 1.1
But still the map is not the territory. The old river has turned to dust and changed direction since the last time men drew this place. The desert has become prideful--propagating a host of succulents and thorny plants, insect carapaces and other tough-skinned critters. Our instruments suggest volcanic activity in the area, but the plain is mountain-free for miles. If you turn over a stone you might find a scorpion or a diamond. There is a water vein in the vicinity. Underground river.

If you dig deep enough, you always find water. The laser hangs in the drilling apparatus and punctures the ground with a thin beam. The beam flickers and cuts off. We wait for the water. I turn my back to the group as the sun dips down like a soup ladle toward the horizon. "Hot soup, hot soup," mother used to chide us as we held our spoons ready above the empty bowl. Kate taps me on the shoulder and I turn around catching my breath.

"Am I interrupting something, Corbin?" she smiles and raises her eyebrows at me. Kate looks like a red-headed fly with her goggles on.

"No, it's nothing really." I reach for the empty bottle that I asked her to grab from the dispenser. Our gloves graze as the bottle changes hands. Kate thinks nothing of it as we turn toward a sudden commotion at the well.

"What's this?" I recognize the deep timber of a concerned Dr. Prox. I need to take a closer look.

A thick, green substance burbling up from the wellspring.

"What is it?" I ask myself aloud.

"Glass." Prox answers me without taking his eyes off the instrument. "But that's not all. See those blue flecks in the fluid--the ones that are blinking."

I remove my goggles and look into the ooze. I wait for the doctor. I am transfixed by sparkling.

"They're alive," he says after a moment's hesitation.

"They're what?"

"Alive, Corbit. Some kind of undiscovered lifeform. Yes. Quickly, let's collect a sample. Bring me a heat-proof incubation chamber from the dispenser. This is a silicon-based lifeform, my boy. There's never been anything like it discovered on Earth. They'll never believe it at the hospital. There's theories, yes. But this is what working in the field is all about."

We collect what seems like gallons of the liquid glass and organism-X. Dr. Prox requests a bottle of champagne from the dispenser. He says we're all going to be famous. The puddle of glass is nearly 6 feet in diameter, but there is little pressure remaining and it seems to have settled. Dr. Prox twists his moustache in excitment.

ver. 1.5
I wake with a fierce hunger.

"Stuffed bellpeppers, one serving. Cold H-2-O, one liter," I bark at the dispenser. The pepper is a marbled purple unlike any bellpepper I've ever seen. At least it tastes like bellpepper. The water is cold, cold and simple.

The incubator is next to the dispenser. The sapphire flecks twinkle in the tumbler of night. Then a flash. I wonder if I should wake anyone. It flashes twice. Again, three times. Where are the others? Again, five times now. I should wake someone. Seven times now. I really should. Eleven times now. I like how it's flashing; somehow it feels really good. Thirteen. Sitting down. Seventeen. I feel something warm inside. Nineteen. Is that music? A flute. I feel warm and sleepy.

Once. Twice. It's starting over. Three times. A violin. Five. I smell flowers, calycanthus, my mother used to pick them when I was a child; they are not a particularly beautiful flower, but they smell radiant. Seven. Goosebumps. Eleven. I reach for the water and my hand knocks over the glass. The lights flicker faster when the glass breaks. Thirteen. I'm floating on the ocean in a canoe. Rolling on the waves. Seventeen.

"Corbin," Dr. Prox is shaking me. I open my eyes. The twilight is seeping in.

"Dr. Prox? What happened?"

"You were sleeping here, my boy."

"Sleeping?" I look at the shards of glass near my feet. I look at the incubator. "Prime numbers!"

"Prime numbers?" Prox echoed.

"Yes. Something very important has happened." I wonder if everyone who discovers a new sentience is overcome with nausea. "I'm going to be very sick."