Category: Thinking, thinking

Big Data Spoke

A far future science-fiction exercise.

Collecting, collating and compiling data from Human databases and streams – government, social, medical, financial, historic, personal, personnel, death, birth and health records – revealed startling evidence.

Humans were dying less. Even those who could be resurrected, cloned, recovered, re-invigorated or re-born, were dying far less often. Fewer still were dying and remaining dead. Suicides were recorded with four zeroes after a decimal point. The population median age, already well over one hundred, was rising sharply, with less people deciding to even be reborn as a younger age with their adult memories intact. It seemed like that fad had fast faded.

Okay. But birth rates had also plummeted, falling like the temperatures on Castle Frozen when an Arctic front roared over the mountains and down across the plains. Less than two children were being born for every hundred people. Most of those children were not being permitted to age into maturity and adulthood but were kept as children for their parents’ entertainment.

The Council for Peace and Prosperity met on Castle Prime’s equatorial climate-controlled island to discuss general trends and concerns. The big data study on birth and death was a minor agenda item on the third day.

Most weren’t worried, arguing this was a burp, a blip. Yes, all were part of longer, greater trends, but the sharp drop-off was new. Those in the business of helping the dead return to life weren’t concerned; their business reviews were based on subscriptions and not a per use basis. Subscription rates were remaining steady. No losses were being recognized but the resurrection was a mature technology and had developed into a commodity. Profit margins were smaller. That was a concern.

Analysts also had deep dive data to present. Wars, warfare and violence remained at high levels but more people were avoiding killing one another. That unnerved attendees. It pointed to a training issue to many. Soldiers and officers needed encouragement to kill more quickly and readily. Perhaps studies were needed to understand what kept them from killing others when engaging them.

Such suggestions were quickly shot down. Studies like that were for the weak-willed or when appearances were needed that something was being done to mollify investors and voters until their attention wandered or other matters distracted them. No, studies weren’t needed in this situation; investors and voters didn’t know about these big data reveals. They would remain corporate secrets.

Second: population growth was required. Cloning was the natural solution. Adult clones were a ready market. Children had smaller and well-defined needs that were already being fulfilled. Adults were big children who eagerly embraced new toys and trends. Adults were willing to spend more on their toys, too, especially if said toys could be positioned as status symbols about wealth, power or influence. Most adults were sufficiently weak-willed and insecure or had such low self-esteem that they would be swayed by such bland and routine practices.

However…archaic laws remained in place against cloning a person to live more than one life at a time. Right now, cloning was permitted for only very small population segments and narrowly defined pre-existing conditions. Even that cloning was done well outside of the public eye.

Those laws needed to be changed. Immediate potential campaigns inspired the Council attendees. Contract pop and sports stars to headline campaigns. Say, they could be doing different activities on different planets, like skiing, surfing, fucking, dancing, performing, interviewing, whatever, marketing could work out those details. The point would be that doing these things simultaneously enriched the individual experiences and compounded their impact. The key behind the campaigns – there would naturally need to be several because to cover all the pop-culture segments – was to encourage envy about living a fuller life by living multiple simultaneous lives and fertilizing your life base. Having it done illegally by someone(s) popular and successful was the natural launching point. People loved lawbreakers.

Likewise, clone the best of the service members. Offer small bonuses for permitting the cloning. Simultaneously, initiate campaigns to overturn the cloning laws. Analysis would reveal which planets and societies could be open to such change and which would be the greatest influencers. New interpretations of founding documents and religious works could be published that seemed to encourage cloning as a religious right and even an expectation by whatever deities people worshiped these days.

Third, begin a whisper campaign. Stir up the rabble: birth rates were down because governments were encouraging certain races, ages, classes, corporations and planets to give birth less as part of a greater conspiracy to reduce those populations, thereby undermining their impact and participation. People always hated and distrusted governments and were easily inspired to rise up against them. Blame regulations, too. That always fired up the fringes, and then the flames would spread.

Beautiful. It was all coming together. Off the record, they agreed that more wars could be initiated. Step up the activity against pirates, rebels, independent planets, and smaller corporations and systems. That would increase the death rate and probably the birth rate.

Sure, this wasn’t a problem; it was an opportunity. Open the floodgates and rake in the wealth.

 

2

The Real

He awakes. Stillness is king.

Big snow storm was striking the area. They weren’t due snow in his zone. Snow was expected above five thousand feet. That gave them an almost three thousand foot buffer but weather is fickle.

He checks the time and temperature on his weather station. Three fifty-five. Thirty-five degrees. Three five. The numbers made him smile. Those were his lucky numbers as a kid.

Two cats investigate him. Deciding all was safe, they expect rewards. He feeds them and goes to the kitchen for water. Drinking it, he surveys the remnants of two dreams. Odd, of course. One involved his mother-in-law, sister-in-law and her husband, their car, and a white bi-plane. The other was military oriented, of course – structure and identity. The dreams remind him of wreckage after a hurricane.

Peeing was required. The business didn’t require much attention. His mind wandered to blogs and knowing people through blogs but not otherwise knowing them. He pondered the difference between aspiring writer and struggling writer and the choices the words reflected.

He went to bed and thought of a road trip movie. A writer. A series of events. A wife passed away. A writer road trip to meet bloggers that he’d never met. It reminded him of a movie more than a decade ago, perhaps two decades. A man retiring. He bought a recreational vehicle. His wife dies of a heart-attack while vacuuming. He can’t recall more. Details trickle in. Man discovers his wife was having an affair.  De Niro? Murray? No.

Ah. Nicholson. ‘About Schmidt’. What year? That’s too much for dead AM.

A working title arrived for his movie: ‘The Real’. He smiles at that. He thinks of it as a dramedy.

He wonders how much of this he will remember in the morning. “Sleep,” he whispers to himself and lets his breathing seek its rhythm.

So much to write, he laments to himself, and sleeps.

1

Snow

I’ve never had a Snow. Have you? I’ve only learned of it today.

Snow is one of the biggest selling beers in the world. A lager, it’s brewed and sold in China. Some say it’s the best-selling beer but others argue that Snow breweries include multiple ranges of beers, and that if you let Budweiser include all its variations as a single brand, Bud is selling more. Impressively, perhaps, Snow was only introduced in 1993. It’s climbed fast but then, it has state sponsorship to grow and it’s offered in a unique market: China.

As I only rarely drink lagers, I don’t believe I’m missing much by not tasting Beer, a belief that’s flat-out wrong. I don’t know what the beer will taste like. I’m assuming that such a mass-produced lager isn’t going to open my eyes and make me weep with joy at its taste. I could be wrong, though. I understand from reviews of Snow, it has a low alcoholic content and has a mild flavor, tasting like an mass-produced American beer. Those aren’t attributes I seek in a beer.

I learned about Snow courtesy of the big news. Asahi, the Japanese company that brews beers, is buying five beer brands from Anheuser-Busch InBev, the giant beer octopus. Anheuser-Busch, of course, is the American brewer. We know them from their beers like Anheuser-Busch. A-B is owned by Anheuser-Busch InBev, a name that flows like an IPA off the tongue. InBev, of course, is the giant international brewing company. Anheuser-Busch InBev acquired SABMiller in 2015. SABMiller brews Fosters, the Australian lager, and Miller, the American lager.

All of this is marginally depressing. I decry larger and larger acquisitions. I’ve been sucked up into the guts of Tyco and IBM and slightly smaller but still large corporations through acquisitions. Each time, they enthused about how they loved our corporate culture and wanted to change their company culture to incorporate our culture, which is absolute bullshit. Taste it once, you don’t need to taste it again. Then the feasting began. Eventually all that was left of the acquired company’s culture is a few picked over bones, like the name and a handful of employees.

I also decry malls, for kind of the same reasons. Fly to any city and go to the malls and the variations between them are smaller than a pubic hair. They really only change when you go into the fringes of the poor and wealthy. Try it sometime.

These beer mergers and acquisitions would depress me more if I weren’t in the humble Rogue Valley, home of sensational breweries pumping out interesting and tasteful variations on lagers, pilsners, porters, stouts, porters, IPAs, ales and the like. I also live not far from Bend, with its happening beer scene, and awesome Portland. What worries me most is that such acquisitions are often harbingers of things to come. What keeps me sane is that there are many home and craft brewers who keep taking the decision to take their creations public.

A toast to those bold souls. May they ever brew on.

3

What Do You Want To Do?

Dying and suffering are two ingredients of the standard life. How you approach it may vary. It’s something I ask my characters as I interact with others in real existence and think of their situations.

One is George. The second is Tucker. The third is Walt.

Walt is dead. The other two are alive.

Tucker is a cat. He showed up on my front porch a few years ago as a one hundred degree heat squeezed the air dry and forest fires shrouded the valley with smoke. He was injured, sick and scared. Although we were dealing with two sick cats, we took him in. I searched for his people but didn’t find them. He stayed.

Tucker suffers from an auto-immune disease, gingivitis stomatitis. After being owned by cats since I was twenty, he’s the third cat I’ve seen experiencing this. It disturbs me that I hadn’t seen any suffer this until the last ten years. Tucker is the third.

His symptoms are that his body is itself, with the primary front in his mouth. Plaque rapidly builds on his teeth. His gums become inflamed, infected, swollen, and at the worst times, bloody. They cause him huge pain. The infections can spread to other body parts. They don’t know what causes this so they address symptoms. Anti-biotics treat the infections. Teeth are cleaned. Steroids are injected to counter the inflammation. They’re temporary measures. They want to remove his teeth. That may help some. It usually does, but it doesn’t always help the cat. They can’t give odds.

The steroids, though, have side effects. Those side effects killed two of the other cats. It was a long process.

Walt suffered from pancreatic cancer. It was acting fast. His appetite faded, and then his weight and energy. He never treated his cancer but he smoked some marijuana to ease his pain and encourage his appetite.

We live in Oregon. He went the right-to-die route. After following the law’s requirements, he acquired the necessary morphine pill. I was one of the two people he asked to witness his choice. The other was his daughter.

He made his choice and talked to his family about it. A date was selected. He said his good-byes. His family joined him on the selected day. It was over in less than an hour on one summer morning.

George suffers from brain cancer. Brain cancer is the latest problem that began a few years ago. In his sixties, he discovered he was suffering non-Hodgkins lymphoma. He beat that. Then cancer was found in one place. Then another. They were beat. Then it was found in his brain.

He began the fight. Stem cell replacement treatment was endured. You know the tale: drugs, side-effects, detached retinas, financial drain, many doctor visits, hospital stays and ambulance rides. He’s a shell of what he was, with little hair and a lopsided, melon-shaped head. He fights on. He has sworn to beat it. His wife doesn’t believe he can. She’s waiting for his death as he is not.

This last weekend, he went to the hospital because his nose was constantly dripping and was worsening. Turned out to be brain fluid. All that treatment has made his bones and tissues porous.

This comes up in because of my wife’s statement regarding Tucker.

My wife has RA. She’s on treatment. It deals with her symptoms and relieves them with their pain, stiffness, sleeping, eating and thinking issues.

I’ve been resisting having Tucker given treatments. I’ve learned keeping him on a grain-free diet helps. L-lysine helps. But the steroid and AB do the best job, giving him a few days of relief.

My wife said, “Speaking as one who suffers pain, I want anything that gives any relief.” She, like George, has vowed to fight on forever. She fears side-effects.

But I thought, yes, you don’t want pain, but you’re still going to continue to endure pain as you fight on, planning to fight on until everything is gone and the disease claims you, and you die. The rest of us will also die from something, fight or no fight.

Her mother, too, approaching ninety, lives in an assisted living home. She can barely feed herself. Everything else requires assistance. Ambulance rides and hospital visits for new issues is a recurring quarterly event.

It’s a curiosity to me. I have no diseases and suffer no pain.I’m lucky as hell. That probably colors my insights. I think, why endure more pain to fight? Are you being selfish, living in denial, or living in hope that some treatment, or a new treatment will come along and save you?

I’ve been injured and sick. I do know pain. Flu, pneumonia, mono. I’ve had a broken neck, cut off part of a toe with a lawn mower, had injuries requiring stitches on my head (three times, three places) besides requiring stitches in my chin and ear lobe, and had a dislocated wrist that needed to be broken and reset, requiring me to wear a cast and have pins through my hand and arm.

I’ve seen what George’s fight does to his wife. He endures the treatments and symptoms; she experiences huge collateral damages, drinking more and more to cope, emptying bank accounts, selling their house, her life on hold.

I stand with Walt, myself. That’s probably why he asked me to be a witness.

That’s the theory for myself. But like many things, how we believe we’ll act and how we’ll actually act often have a gap between the vision and the execution.

4

Not Always Quick

I’m not always a quick thinker. Otherwise, I would have answers today.

It’s about a dream. Yeah. I should have asked myself, why are you dreaming this? I don’t recall ever featuring pigs in a dream before.

I was feeding a pig. He was a shiny little pink porker. He came downstairs in my house, a very happy and excited little creature. I had company. Friends were visiting. I didn’t want the pig downstairs. So I called him and led him back upstairs.

It was messy upstairs. It seems like we were in a transition. My intention was to feed the pig some cornflakes. He found some on the floor and gobbled them up, but he wanted more. I thought he spotted more but they  turned out to be scraps of paper. He didn’t want to eat those. As I searched for corn flakes to feed him, another pig, slightly larger but equally pink and shiny, emerged, along with a few cats. So I talked to them, telling them I was looking for food and was going to feed them, even as I couldn’t find the food that I expected. I headed downstairs to find some.

I had company, three former co-workers from a flying unit. Laying on sofas, they were watching television and playing games while they chatted to me and my wife. I was annoyed because they had disconnected the best television and were employing old cathode ray televisions on carts. I set about fixing that.

Meanwhile, another friend from the same unit showed up. I asked him what he thought of his new position. He replied, “This is what war sounds like.” Then, using a gallon paint can, he made a metallic rumbling noise that was loud and unpleasant. “All the time,” he said.

Others, less known but known, showed up. Setting up tables, they sat down to prepare food to feed me. I was embarrassed and grateful for their efforts, but I kept trying to tell them that it wasn’t necessary. They ignored me, continuing to cook.

Pigs…confusion…identity. It’s something to research and think about today, since I didn’t bother to ask myself for clarification when it was happening. I’ll need to think quicker next time.

0

Matryoshka Dreams

I dreamed within dreams last night. That began during the dream, after my dream self asked myself, “Why am I dreaming this?”

The dream featured multiple arcs but always centered around one main setting. I was in the Air Force again, newly assigned to this place and in charge. The setting featured an intact building where command and control was going on. It was off by itself on a green knoll, surrounded by green fields, with ‘the base’ in the background. Attached to the building was an end room. The end room, accessible from the rest through a door that I could open and close, was damaged. Its lights were always on and its roof was collapsing and sinking in. Water was running from faucets and burst pipes. Others thought nothing of that.

I walked around for some time studying it. I saw this water was causing damage. Although the water was draining away, I disliked the waste. So I turned the water off. I was surprised the water could be turned off, and I was surprised others hadn’t thought of that. I asked others who worked for me to make it part of their routines to check the water to ensure it was off before they left each day.

The POV changed from internal me to outside of me. Sometimes I would drift further out to watch myself in my dream environment. This would often happen in conjunction with me going out to survey the damaged area. The time of day shifted, sometimes being late morning (I knew this) while it was late afternoon or dusk at other times. I noted it becoming muddier around the damaged area. People’s belongings were mired in mud. Pets were struggling with change. I began talking to those who had lived there (they weren’t ‘me’), assessing the damages, directing clean up, and feeding animals. It was during one of those times when I asked myself the question.

In answer, I was treated to dreaming within the dream.

Awakening from the dream in the dream, I understood. As the other dream ended, I knew the dream was about identity, structure and success. This epiphany came as I salvaged cat food to feed a happy talking kitten and then made requests of people working for me to check on items to save water and electricity, and finally, a vantage shift to survey damages from a distance, where I could look down and see it all in its entirety.

The dream(s) inundated me with thinking points for my waking self. So many ask when you tell about your dreams, “How did you feel?” So I’ll tell: I felt introspective and thoughtful. I felt in charge and in control. I felt like the sun had burned away an enormous swath of Tule fog.

I felt like I’d been given a clear direction. Now I just need to follow that path.

6

The Path

I’m dissatisfied with where I’m at, and took some time to deconstruct how I came here.

All the choices and thoughts that delivered me to this point were mine or my partners. It wasn’t in a vacuum and outside influences were involved. Eventually I figured out that I’d had a vision. I created a path to achieving that vision, and I achieved the vision. The vision included several goals. All done.

My problem arose from not creating a new vision, new goals to support that vision, and new paths to those goals. I’d worked a long time to achieve my vision and forged solid paths to that end. But once I created a new vision, I didn’t create new paths. I stayed in the old paths. They were comfortable. They are comfortable.

The old paths became circular.

They became a tunnel.

And I couldn’t see my way out. I had a fresh vision and goals but I resisted changing my paths. No doubt, this was due to the solid, comfortable tunnel I’d built.

I knew and felt dissatisfaction on several levels but couldn’t comprehend how to proceed. After all, I was doing what I’d always done, and that had always worked. Yes, I understood that I was growing older. I understood my new vision.

The disenchantment grew. I resumed meditation. I knew I was frustrated and the frustration fed anger, resentment, impatience and hostility. I sought balance.

I achieved much better balance but the disenchantment remained. I resumed working on recording dreams. Meditation was done. Journals of thoughts and feelings were written. I’m a writer so I write. I realize now how much I write to understand what I’m thinking.

My understanding of myself expanded but I developed little insight into what else was needed. Extreme restlessness arose. Where do I go from here?

I began to see that I needed to break out. I tried small changes. I recently tried ‘opposite day’ and then attempted to so things differently to break up my routines. Walk different patterns on my walking routines. Play different music. Read different genres. In this, I addressed symptoms that were results of the issue but not the root causes.

Now I have a better idea of where I’m at and what I need.

Onward, one more time.

0

Sciencing….

Yes, science is a noun and not a verb but it’s human nature to advance using words in other manners. This use came out out of a beer conversation:

Friend: “What have you been up to?”

Me: “Sciencing and writing, mostly. Socializing.”

“How’d that work out for you?”

Yes, besides writing and reading, I’ve been sciencing on the side: sciencing (verb) – to peruse and read about scientific discoveries.

I doubt it will catch on. Purists are probably already praying to grammar gods and making sacrifices to ensure it doesn’t.

First up was Ethan Siegel’s post about a super-Earth possibly missing from our solar system. He is writing from a paper being published. The authors posit that our solar system isn’t the norm and that giant rocky planets are being discovered, contrary to expectations.

A missing planet? What evil non-scientific forces might be behind this scientific discovery?

From the article:

Having small, rocky worlds in the inner solar system and large, gas giants in the outer solar system isn’t the norm, as we might have expected. Gas giants and rocky planets, it turned out, could be found anywhere, with large worlds just as likely as small ones to be close to their parent stars. The planets that we were finding showed that there’s nothing forbidding gas giants from becoming “hot Jupiters,” and in fact they turned out to be quite common. But the second surprise was even more puzzling, and came thanks to the pioneering work of NASA’s Kepler space observatory. While rocky, Earth-sized worlds — and slightly larger and slightly smaller rocky worlds — were common, as were Neptune-and-Jupiter sized worlds, there was a third class of planet that was the most common of all. In between the size of Earth and Neptune lied a possibility we had overlooked: a super-Earth (or mini-Neptune) world. As it turned out, there were more super-Earths than any other type.

Other exciting and intriguing information came out of Popular Mechanics through a Jay Bennett article about “Virtual Particles” hopping in and out of existence and neutron star.

About 400 light-years from here, in the area surrounding a neutron star, the electromagnetic field of this unbelievably dense object appears to be creating an area where matter spontaneously appears and then vanishes.

Quantum electrodynamics (QED) describes the relationships between particles of light, or photons, and electrically charged particles such as electrons and protons. The theories of QED suggest that the universe is full of “virtual particles,” which are not really particles at all. They are fluctuations in quantum fields that have most of the same properties as particles, except they appear and vanish all the time. Scientists predicted the existence of virtual particles some 80 years ago, but we have never had experimental evidence of this process until now.

New reports are always exploding out of the Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland, and resulted in an article I read in Wired about Feynman diagrams 0n strange numbers emerging from the tests. As an old science fiction reader and a Doctor Who fan, anytime we start talking about physics and strange numbers, I start wagging my tail.

Feynman diagrams were devised by Richard Feynman in the 1940s. They feature lines representing elementary particles that converge at a vertex (which represents a collision) and then diverge from there to represent the pieces that emerge from the crash. Those lines either shoot off alone or converge again. The chain of collisions can be as long as a physicist dares to consider.

To that schematic physicists then add numbers, for the mass, momentum and direction of the particles involved. Then they begin a laborious accounting procedure—integrate these, add that, square this. The final result is a single number, called a Feynman probability, which quantifies the chance that the particle collision will play out as sketched.

Joseph Dussalt and the Christian Science Monitor published an article asking if Einstein could have been wrong about the speed of light being a constant. Their article actually covers scientific efforts being made to prove Einstein incorrect, why, and under what circumstances.

In his theory of special relativity, Einstein left a lot of wiggle room for the bending of space and time. But his calculations, and most subsequent breakthroughs in modern physics, rely on the notion that the speed of light has always been a constant 186,000 miles per second.

But what if it wasn’t always that way? In a paper published in the November issue of the journal Physical Review D, physicists from the Imperial College London and Canada’s Perimeter Institute argue that the speed of light could have been much faster in the immediate aftermath of the Big Bang. The theory, which could change the very foundation of modern physics, is expected to be tested empirically for the first time.

There’s a lot to read, discuss and digest out there beyond the US Presidential election, new literature, Brexit, demonstrations and protestors, holidays, sports, wars and cats.

Now get out there and science.

 

 

0

Part One

I completed Part One of ‘Long Summer’ today and reflected on that. It is the first draft.

Part One. Three hundred pages. Seventy-seven thousand words.

I began it July 9th, 2016. A down computer interrupted my work on it. I was without the computer for several weeks while it was sent back to HP for repairs and returned to me. Then it took a few weeks to find the groove again. I basically lost the end of July and most of August.

Still, in thinking about this novel as it evolves and expands, I believe this novel could have three parts. More parts are conceivable as I learn more about these other worlds and civilizations, and the multiple, complicated plots develop. I don’t want to release or publish any of it until the entire novel is completed. As large as Part One is, I’ll probably release each novel as a part, but again, I don’t want to do so until they’re all done.

This could be a very long haul.

2

So….

So the big question to ask this Thanksgiving Day is how to explain to the police why I was following a stranger, a guy who I always saw at the coffee shop, a local musician who once played with Janis Joplin.

…And why I was looking in his window….

…And why, if I didn’t kill him, I’m the last person to see him alive…?

Other than the murderer, of course.

So, really, the question is, do I tell the police anything or just pretend like I know nothing?

They say that if you’re innocent, you have nothing to fear. I’ve watched enough television police procedurals and read enough news accounts to know that explaining something like this will be challenging. Being believed will be harder.

So….

3

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