Thursday, October 29, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
The Adventures of Debacle Darwin
Tuesday, July 07, 2009
The Adventures of Debacle Darwin
2070 AD
Sometime late in the year 2050 AD, human race entered its golden era. In 2070 AD, it was perhaps at its peak. Homo sapiens had reached a level of sentience that allowed them to flourish. The air was pure and the rivers clear. Food was plentiful. People didn’t wage wars. The gods and devils had gone to sleep and lived on in the pages of fantasy and Goth. The new symbols of worship were large and white; dome shaped monoliths that rose into the clear skies imposingly. Inside these modern mosques, atoms accelerated only to fatally end in a jihad in the heart of nuclei whose split gave birth to energy which in turn evolved and flowed like blood through the power veins of the sprawling metropolis. Sentient bots were faithful slaves who did everything from washing clothes to assembling machines, catering to driving, cleaning to teaching, banking to selling. They built more sentient bots.
Humans, then, were left pursuing art and pleasure. They pondered about science and cosmos. And from this great Darwinian mess, emerged some existential questions. Leave a man alone to his thoughts for some time, and a million questions would emerge. Many not worthy of a pursuit for an answer. But some were existential. Even less were profound. But questions all the same. And ever since the day man shed his simian ignominy and found new incredible uses for the opposable thumb, his questions needed answering - The law of human pursuit.
But man became lazy. Too lazy, to find his own answers. In every man’s laziness, though, lies an incredible business opportunity.
Chapter 1: “Answering questions since 2050”
Darwin was groggy and sleep deprived as he shuffled into the teleporter. His mood was nasty and his eyes bleary. He had spent the whole of last night tossing in his sleep pad, thinking about what he was going to say to the man he was meeting today. And by morning, he was nowhere close to a good speech than he was the night before. Muttering angrily under his breath, he started punching in the co-ordinates in his teleporter. The soft backlit keypad sang seductively under his touch.
"Please enter your charge code", a smooth digitized female voice insisted.
"fu**", Darwin muttered and quickly punched in the charge code that would capture the teleportation expense as the teleporter slowly vapourised….
**********
Darwin stood in line at Kuku's breakfast and cafe to get his morning fix of caffeine. The bot servicing his queue seemed to be especially slow in processing orders today.
"Common!", Darwin snarled,"get your fu**ing act together. Its just a fu**ing cup of coffee".
The other people around him shot him shocked and strange glances.
When his turn came, Darwin shot the bot an ugly snarl as he plucked his coffee from her hands and hurried back to the nearest teleporter. A portly woman beat him to it and tucked herself into it. Darwin stared, confused and angry. He wanted to strangle her.
"You should be taking a space ship, not a teleporter!", Darwin muttered under his breath as he found the next teleporter and clambered in and entered in his charge code.
He sighed deeply. The incredible smell of the coffee in his hand was slowly improving his mood already. Savoring the smell, he took a sip from his cup. Winced. Spit. He had forgotten sugar. As his face contorted into an ugly snarl the teleporter slowly vapourised…
Incidentally, Frong Atomizers was the largest manufacturer of teleporters in the world and Darwin was a die hard Frong teleporter fan. Ever since he was a kid who played Need for Speed: Rapid Dematerialization in which he would always play with the Frong X Series, he was in love with those mean machines. The smooth curves, the shiny metallic colors. Even as he stood there, he couldn’t help but let some of his childhood nostalgia creep as he saw the teleporters materialize in rapid succession. It was like witnessing a rapid poof poof of a magician as the slick little machines appeared and disappeared in front of his eyes.
The mood seemed to be getting better as a new teleporter materialized close to where he was standing. It looked a little different. Although it was another Frong teleporter, it did not look like the other public teleporters. This one had a big bright logo saying NL on the top and Neo-Light Consulting written beneath it. And below that in slanted font were written “Answering questions since 2030”. Darwin’s furrowed brows relaxed just a wee bit as the doors parted and out emerged three people: a woman, a rather pretty one at that, and two men – one a young cheerful just-out-of-college kid and the other a fairly old grumpy looking man. The woman, although he knew her, always made Darwin’s heart race. The kid pissed him off. And the grumpy old man made him feel good about himself.
“Morning Darwin”, the woman smiled.
“Morning”, Darwin replied and quickly turned to the other two for a curt nod of the head
“Lets roll”
(Chapter 2: Wake up and smell the space junk ...to be continued...)
Friday, June 05, 2009
Race of Nations
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Tales from the black hole - part 1
The man who stole the smiles.....
We are trying out a new routine at the office these days. We start our days at 8 and end them at 7.Working lunch. Quick coffee breaks. The works.
Why? So we can have a life in the evening. Stop the 'Burning out' from happening. Have a healthy life style. Do other things like spend time with girl friends, babies, dogs, cats...fish?. So we can grow to become strong consultants with multi-faceted capabilities!
Apparently.
Until now, you may not have truly understood the irony in all this. I am sure you couldn’t appreciate the sardonic humor of our daily office existence either. Fortunately for you, it is my fault. It is in my inability to construct coherent tales - relevant context at the start, an intrigue to start things off and the unraveling in the end - wherein lies the genesis of your ignorance.
To begin to understand the joke you would have to be introduced to an additional variable. Another parameter that makes this a np hard problem. The villain of this piece.
So, let me continue with the beginning; From the start this time.
Think of it like an old western. It isn’t really that hard to picture the office as a barren desert. In one corner is an old saloon - a favorite haunt. The locals called it Madonna. The origins of the name no one knew. But legends did float abound. Those stories are for another day. In Madonna, there is laughter and bonhomie. At this point i would request you to be just a wee bit imaginative and make up a nice little guitar riff for the background - probably a melancholic tune. Maybe some old man singing of roads not taken or the general idea thereabouts. Now the music shifts. Slowly. The strumming gets deeper. Faster. Maybe a little menacing.
Conversations cease.
The doors separate. There he stands. The most feared bad-ass of our lands. The man whose infamy preceded him. No one even knew his real name. He was known by a two-letter abbreviation made of the letter D. A common story was that he stole people's smiles and that the two letters indicated that. He did seem to have stolen the smiles around the room as he stands with his hands on his holster..err...pockets.
His strength and armory is intimidating. A small paunch punctuates his muscular frame. His eyes are armed with glasses that don’t miss a single little detail. Above all, his
Vocabulary had the toxicity to deafen his enemies. His mouth worked like a greedy gold digger of the gold rush days.
Fool's gold, maybe. But the real question was - who is the fool?
to be continued...
Friday, January 23, 2009
2015 AD: The un-poem
Its they who have won,
Its they who have won,
An old fool's rant
I had written this a long time ago...dunno why it didnt make it into the blog until now...
"Spirals. And boxes too. That's what they have over on the plateau. Don't be scared. It ain't one of those scary multi coloured spiral infinites. Besides, they have birds too. Those cute fluffy ones - multi-hued and chirpy. The predators are there too but they mostly lurked in the darker hours. Coming back to the point of the spiral, the one I am talking about is nothing like what you are expecting. How do I know what are thinking, I hear you asking. Well, lets just say that yours ain't the first dark mind I am encountering. In fact, dark is a redundant qualifier when it comes to human mind. The organ is so infinitely complex that sooner or later it is bound to churn up a combination of impulses that cross the boundary of what is popularly perceived as sanity. Who defined sanity anyway. It is just another one of those over hyped behavioral assumptions we often make. So don't be offended when I naturally assume that your mind is even now filled with dark psychedelic patterns of spirals zooming in and out. But I assure you, these spirals are different. I cannot quite put it in words. Ever had the most amazing visual in your mind which you couldn't express. Happens all the time? Yeah I've been there as well. Hell, I am there right now for my mind is filled with such rich visuals which I am unable to quite put in words. Its moments like these you realize how uni-dimensional words are. They box your thoughts within grammar, symbols and sequence. Talking of boxes, they have that too over at the plateau. No, no don't be scared, I am not talking about caskets. I am not talking about bunkers as well. But then thinking about it, you may need some bunkers there. Why, you ask me? Well I can see your face twitching with concern. Don't worry, its all good. Bunkers are just for some emergency which will never happen. Its like preparing for a nuclear disaster. You know its never going to come. I should probably talk to the minister about a bunker up there on the plateau. It will be a nice addition to the place - wont spruce up the landscape though. Which brings me back to the boxes. These boxes are basically habitats. Dull looking really but then they are there to serve a purpose and they do that effectively. Purpose is to provide a habitat?, you ask shrugging your shoulders in an understanding of the obvious. I nod wickedly and snicker a little as well. That's impolite isn't it? Well, what can I do. That's just a habit of mine. Don't interpret it to mean anything else. The boxes are fine. You'll love them.