The Beaded Tapestry

I am always looking for interesting places to find inspiration. This week I visited a new coffee cafe ~ The Coffee Lab ~ It sits across from Nijmegen central train station so great for people watching. It also turned out to be inspirational. Another letter from Oxford down on paper!

Dear sister,

First I need to assure you that all is well with me. I am not certain what type of information mother is providing in parallel with my letters, but I want to affirm that I am fine and have no lasting effects from my little experiment. If you are reading our messages according to  the time stamp after you arrive in New London, I assume you have already read mother’s version of the events from the last week.  I apologize in advance if this is the case since I know how worried she and dad have been and her recent letters must be full of disaster and ill news.

I will start from the beginning so you will realize why I did what I did and also the success of the final outcome.

The second week after my lecture circuit came to an end,  I found myself in an endless cycle with the data from New Zealand and the comparisons to  the Anomaly’s frequency patterns. Around and around I went, comparing my brain emissions with the music of our subject, trying to find a cause and effect between the two. Was my emotional response mimicking the patterns I received from the creature, was the Anomaly responding to my terror or was it influencing my response?  This circle of questions plagued me for weeks, leading me in an infinite loop with no way out.  I admit now that the decision I took was one of desperation and recklessness!

I packed up my essential equipment, borrowed a flitter from the college and headed out to the rugged mountains on the northern extremes of the Scottish highlands. This area is still sparsely populated after the continental submergence in the 23rd century and the emission levels in the atmosphere are still low enough to create a dead zone for my research.  It is not as good as New Zealand, but for my current purpose it was suitable enough.

I set up a temporary camp for a few days of study and sat down on a flat rock overlooking the rugged valley below to draw up a plan. Recreating the terror of my New Zealand encounter was a bit risky, but I knew I could minimize the dangers if I had an adequate plan. Mother asked my later why I had not included a research assistant in my plan.  I knew this would taint the data since my brain would know the risks were minimal, with help so near at hand, so I decided to do this alone.

Once I had mapped out the process,  I bedded down for the night, preparing myself for the ordeal the following day. Early the following morning, before the sun cleared the horizon,  I set up the scenario.  I had programmed both sets of data into my simulator, creating a mock-up of the events in New Zealand. I set up the playback using the parallel distribution process to trick my brain into reliving the occurrence. Using this method from the 21st century to simulator actual neuron functions, seemed to me the way forward in releasing me from my research conundrum. I surmised that if I could relive these events in parallel with the view from the Anomaly and the reaction from my own brain response, then I could determine what was leading.

The next step was where my miscalculation occurred.  I set the simulator on repeat, thinking it would take several replays of the program before my brain could sort out the truth behind the events.  After connecting the simulator to my receptors, I made myself comfortable within the confines of the environmentally controlled research tent.  I then pressed the controls to start the program.

There I was, back at my camp in New Zealand, the sun rising once more over the distant hills and the heat increasing to meet the day.  The smell of the distant New Zealand soil permeated my olfactory sensors, just as if I was actually back in that place.  The thrill of my research was there along with the impatience for the day to start. Then the terror of the storm bearing down on my position enter me thoughts and the pain of the instruments bombarding my body in the torrent of mud and water. The quiet calm as my mind paused along with the simulator while it stopped at the end of the data, resetting itself to restart again.  Then there I was again, at the start of the day, watching the sun rise once again above the hill, planning out my day ahead.

It was then I realized my miscalculation in the plan. I had not set up a panic button to stop the playback or a limit on the parameter for the length of the simulation program. With this realization the terror became tenfold as this added factor in parallel with the terror from the Anomaly data,  plus the response from my own data intermixed with the reading from my own time brain.

I am not sure how many loops I experienced before the replay abruptly ended just as I was viewing the first signs of lightening illuminating the violence of the storm bearing down on me.  Hands were gently lifting my head to offer liquid to my arid throat and I gulped down the much needed moisture until the offered container was empty.

Slowly opening my sandy eyes, I blinked until the figures at my prone side came into focus.  A young man in uniform knelt by my cot holding the now empty mug. Another man stood just inside the broken seal of my tent.  They were members of the Scottish park service.  It seems they had seen my camp over the past few days and seeing no visible activity, had decided to investigate.  I had been in a simulation loop for four days! The rangers sent for a medical team and I spent the next week in the medical unit in Oban.  It was lucky the older of the two rangers had enough technical knowledge to disengage the simulator from my receptors without any lasting effects.  That can be a tricky process.  It was finally determined by the medical staff in Oban that I had no lasting damage to my system and I was allow to travel back to Oxford.

So that is the bad news.  The good news is that my experiment was a success.  I now know that the Anomaly was the leading data from the accident.  It was the source of the music within my mind during the events.  The frequencies of comfort, the music of the calming and support came from out Black Swan! Only you could appreciate the significance of this outcome.

Now I only have to convince mother that I am actually in control of my life.

Love,

Annalis

Dear Victoria,

At last the lecture circuit has come to an end and I left the audience with a final portrayal of the Anomaly.  Using words, I depicted a vibrant, functional automaton and not the crafty manipulating creature that has emerged from our current work.  I hope their overall view leaves them with no doubt that any type of intelligence hides behind its glamorous facade. I did not realize when I agreed to this assignment how difficult a task this would be. It is now done, and I can turn my full attention to the actual nature of our subject.  My mind is no longer split between analogies, but can be solidified on the central conclusion of our findings; an intelligent being with premeditated intent guiding its actions.  Only one final encounter has left a shade on my intellect.  Yesterday at the end of my last lecture,  I received a visitor.

I was sitting in my campus office, completing the final rooster from the day.  A quiet knock preceded the entry of a young woman.  When I looked up from my work, I found myself confronted with the same student who had mesmerized me several months ago during my first lecture.  She had that same expression on her face that so reminded me of you. At once I was looking at you again and not a stranger. We had not had contact since that initial conversation and I cannot recall seeing her face in the audience in the lectures that followed.

After she had taken the seat that I indicated, an elaborate story spilled from her over the next half hour.  The bulk of her tale described her journey toward the decision to study the Anomaly.  She kept referring to her difficulty with this decision in reference to what had occurred during one of the lecture she attended. She kept referring to the strange question asked at the end of the session and the need to have clarification before she returned to her studies. I vaguely remember that particular occurrence since I related it to you in one of my letters. I had been daydreaming as I viewed the periodic table depicted in a tapestry hanging across the doorway with the lecture hall.  Someone had asked a question and the entire assembly became quiet in anticipation of my response.  I had forgotten about this event and had never gone back to the recordings to review what the young man had asked. I was not even sure if the question had been captured by the lecture records since only the lecture material is captured for the archives.

The young woman (she identified herself as Lisbeth) needed clarification on why I had not responded to his question.  It seems her final thesis has been based on the finding of my passed work. Her conclusions were in direct conflict with the argument made by the man’s question during my lecture.  The discord would place her final project in jeopardy. 

I listened to her patiently knowing I would be unable to respond without first reviewing the lecture recordings.  I admonished myself once again. First for letting my mind wonder during the lecture and second for not following up with my gut feeling that the question would return to haunt me. Lisbeth seemed to think that my refusal to answer was an indication that I either disagreed with the nature of the man’s question or was avoiding the subject.  I guess I should have explained to her the real reason I did not respond, but something warned me not to. I quickly assured her I would provide information to her as soon as possible, but I needed time to assemble the research material to support my response.  She was not accepting of my answer and I could see she knew I was being elusive.  We remained staring at each other across my cluttered desk, waiting for the other to blink. When I continued to sit silent and did not give an indication of continuing the conversation, she nodded and left the office.

The first thing I did was track down the recordings of my lectures.  Luckily the audio/visual engineer is an acquaintance of mine and this search was quickly achieved. The rest of the day was spent scanning through the October data trying to retrieve the offending lecture.  After several fruitless hours I finally found the occurrence.  There I was, my silent form positioned at the lecture podium with a blank stare, lost somewhere within the colorful tapestry hanging across the hall. A tall thin man had risen from his seat, indicating that he had an inquiry for me.  When I did not acknowledge him after a few moment,  he proceeded with his question.

“Why, when all our research has focused on the functional capacity of the Anomaly, there has not been a deviation from the present focused research?  Why has your team been so adamant about including no references to the possibilities of an intelligent component in reference to the Anomaly? Why has the intelligence and purpose of the subject been ignored as an explanation for some observations? Why has no emphases been placed on the mounting evidence that the Anomaly has shown preference over some communities and not others?”

There it was! The thing I had been dreading.  A direct question I could not answer without lying straight out.  Although he did not mention the Flynn Foundation explicitly, the insinuation was there. I guess it was lucky that I did not acknowledge this question, lost somewhere between Earth and New London. It would have been difficult to respond without giving away the true nature of our current project. I believe even if I had tried to direct his question away as having no consequence to our current view of the subject,  it would have done more harm than my lack of response. Looking at the reaction of the young man on the recording,  I could see only confusion when I closed my lecture without even glancing his way.  And yes, there sitting several rows behind him was Lisbeth, but she did not have a confused look.  Her look was more deflation.  As if her whole world was collapsing and it all balanced on my lack of retort.

Now I will need to derive an answer for Lisbeth. If her thesis depends on the true nature of the Anomaly, and she needs an argument to pursue her conclusion that the Anomaly is a static object,  this question is indeed paramount.  Of course, in the end her thesis will be proved wrong by our current research,  but for now I need to keep her off that track.

I knew somehow this decision to conduct lectures would turn out to be a disaster.  I just need to do some damage control now.  Then I can move on to more fruitful endeavors.  One more lie and I hope to be done with the subterfuge. 

Love

Annalis