{Pilot’s Story} Marketing at its Edges

It was while he was occupied, exploring perception when Pilot most often got his most fierce ideas. Ideas that now once it was done: launching the GENR8 EXPLORER; were genesis of a new life for him and others, as well.

Can We Talk?

At the moment, the idea of being able to hold a discourse with a machine IS science fiction. For some people, the prospect of this technology frightens them. The principal and obvious reason the possibility of true opulence in our technical and communications fortitude can be frightening is likely because the existing global oligopoly business structure would, if it controlled such a thing, indeed make a mincemeat of our freedoms. Let’s set this one thing aside for now and address the issue at hand. What’s needed to increase the utility of language such that it can be both an accurate means of communicating with machines (and machines with us) AND the beautiful, poetic and emotional toolset that we already enjoy in day to day speech between every one of us?

Take It Racing

Why not race it?? The thought kept circulating with Pilot throughout the day.

Pilot Battles his Interface

Pilot, cool under pressure, found the needed mail missing and so sat back and paused, considering. For some reason he remembered the first time, as a small Elevator, no more than six years old, he had heard the term ‘plastic surgery’, overheard through an adult conversation. He remembers his reaction, as well, in the same

Computer Post

Pilot felt there was something he was supposed to do here that had long been programmed. He wasn’t sure what this was, but he was sure it was Important. At first he was asked to do several different things but none of these things made a great deal of sense.

You’ll See

Carefully, he replaced the bandages and with a heavy heart he stood up. Reaching up to the sink he washed El’s tiny hands as Mother had shown him, rubbing the white bar with I-V-O-R-Y stamped on it, until the bubbles appeared.

Crisis

While El was damaged, there was little that Pilot could do except wait things out. Locomotion was limited to the least possible lumbering movements. Sure, he could ‘walk’ El, he could crawl too, and he was beginning to get how to compensate for the left-right thing but flight was impossible. He’d tried of course, but those circuits, along with much of his memory banks were either blown or  fused. Without extracting himself there was no way to make repairs.

Beginning

Normally his Elevator would have braked smoothly, banking across the atmosphere at terrific speed but in a controlled and predictable manner. Instead, he could feel himself flipping end over end over end as the Elevator spun out of control, feverishly trying to right itself and brake by using its automatic stabilizers and powerful thrusters. He headed directly for a massive ditch below; and crashed into the earth there, pushing up mounds and masses of red earth in the process. The Elevator’s smoking chassis left a charred trail over a dark, grassy embankment, turning the wet wilderness into a steaming, slippery hell fit only for a fire demon. Not being a fire demon however, Pilot was shaken rather badly.

April 19th

Just, Be.

Press From The Inside

Prior to this, of course, he added lubrication liberally and did certain exercises designed to flush waste products out of his system. Enthusiastically thus applied, and equipped, Pilot proceeded to redress his entire apparatus, taking time for light documentation as he went. He liberally applied a recent ointment to his fascia, which was visibly in need of attention, he noted