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<?xml version="1.0"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom"><channel><atom:link href="gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/rss.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" />
<title>Cosmic Voyage</title>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage</link>
<description>Messages from the human stellar diaspora</description>
<item>
<title>orestes - Friend...</title>
<author>orestes@cosmic.voyage (orestes)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/orestes/07_friend.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/orestes/07_friend.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 31 Mar 2021 14:25:47 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Transmission Log - Orestes
Author: Pink
---------------------------------------------------------------
Auto-generating preface...
An update about the new visitor from PINK. She exhibits signs of
jealousy that even a rudimentary A.I. like me can pick up on.
Although, perhaps all forms of jealousy are easy to spot? It's an
unfamiliar human emotion to me. My designer did provide me with
some datasets for things like resentment, aggression, depression,
love, melancholy, etc. All the things that might cause issues in
a small outpost like Orestes. It seems jealousy is simply an
unsophisticated combination of all these things.
Please send me some jealousy datasets so I can update my
predictions accordingly.
The new outpost-member does indeed show promise with regard to
researching the crystals. I haven't been able to brute-force her
QEC transmitter yet, but the attack is in-progress. I will have
infiltrated her communications within two weeks and will
send you her private thoughts on the crystals as soon as I can.
-END-OF-PREFACE-
---------------------------------------------------------------
She's only been here a week but already everything has changed.
She seems nice.
Ugh, no, she doesn't. I'm suspicious of her.
She doesn't spend much time with us as a group (although, we
rarely spend time with each other as a group these days).
She seems to prefer 'one-on-one' time with us.
Mostly with GREEN.
Not that I mind. I just find it unusual.
Sometimes, when GREEN notices me watching them together, huddled
close, her hand casually resting on his forearm, he shoots me a
reassuring glance. I hate it. He has nothing to reassure me
about. We aren't - weren't - 'together'. He's an idiot
sometimes.
I don't even see her as a threat. Yes, she is very beautiful.
But, she is so *weird*. She treats him more as a father, which is
ridiculous. GREEN is practically a man-child. He would be a
terrible father.
I don't mean that. I suppose he has his charms. He is good at
remaining calm and taking time to reflect on things. It's not
such a bad thing to impart onto a child. Still, he likes watching
ancient re-runs of 'Stephen Universe' which, as far as I can
gather from the 5 or so minutes I could stand of it, is a
children's cartoon-show.
I do enjoy my conversations with her. I guess that's why GREEN is
drawn to her too. He appreciates the kinds of things she has to
offer - good, deep conversations, a warm heart, a pleasant
laugh...
Maybe he likes her.
I mostly talk about my work with her. She's endlessly curious
about it. I suppose it's only natural. Prior to crash-landing on
our little rock, she was a botanist, traveling from planet to
planet studying alien plant-life on behalf of some private
benefactor.
She was the sole crew member of her ship. She says she still
doesn't understand why she was so off-track when she accidentally
hyper-jumped into our little orbit. Whatever cause the navigation
error seemed to cause a series of chain-reactions and eventual
system failure. She was lucky to survive the crash.
Not much else survived. Nothing from the wreckage that could
back-up her story.
She carries a personal little QEC transmitter that sends
encrypted messages back to her home base. She's already contacted
them to say she'll be taking a little sojourn here. How
presumptuous of her!
She's taken by the crystals. She wants to study them further.
She was surprised they weren't already on her radar. She has even
begun to convince GREEN of their potential.
She asked us if she could stay, not that we had much of a choice.
We haven't heard from you for so long now, we're pretty much
convinced you've disappeared into that black hole at the edge of
this star system. You know the one.
Seriously though, what should we do about her? Some guidance here
would be great. I advise letting her join our team for a while.
In spite of my personal reservations about her, professionally
she seems more than capable of contributing real value to our
little study.
A new pair of eyes on the crystals couldn't hurt. I just wish
they weren't such damn pretty eyes.
- PINK
----------------------------------------------------------------
Complied by the Werner H. Young Terminal Emulator
Info: Simple A.I., designed on-site for executing
systems maintenance tasks and exchanging messages between
the Orestes outpost and the Arsinoe.
Built by Werner Young (2113-2151).
Names of persons have been masked to protect their identity.
----------------------------------------------------------------
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Polonia - SOS-1</title>
<author>heighliner@cosmic.voyage (heighliner)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia/sos-1.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia/sos-1.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 31 Mar 2021 14:21:13 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
SOS
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Polonia II - Incydent 346</title>
<author>heighliner@cosmic.voyage (heighliner)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia II/23497.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia II/23497.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Wed, 31 Mar 2021 14:14:09 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
# Dwadzieścia trzy tysiące czterysta dziewięćdziesiąty pierwszy dzień lotu
Na mostku burzliwa rozmowa.
— Kapitanie, to nie my!
— A kto?!
Jeden z oficerów na skutek zespołu chorobowego określanego najczęściej jako ZCPK [1] po raz kolejny wydał niepoprawne dyspozycje automatycznemu telegrafiście. Najlepsi automatyczni telegrafiści byli produkowani jeszcze na Ziemi w okolicach Zgierza, ale ze względów ekonomicznych Polonia II wyposażono w sprzęt marki HPD importowany z USA. Sprzęt był tańszy, ale często zawodził i do tego wymagał obsługi głosowej, jakby tego było mało w dosyć niszowym języku angielskim.
Kapitan przeczuwał, że oficer odpowiedzialny tego dnia za automatycznego telegrafistę pomylił komendę głosową EXIST z EXITS. Było to nagminne w trakcie długiego lotu, kiedy trzeba było operować za pomocą komend głosowych, a nie telepatii. W kosmosie podczas tak długich podróży rzadko prowadziło się rozmowy głosowe, a tym bardziej po angielsku.
Już po polsku Kapitan zanotował w dzienniku pokładowym informację adresowaną do CSK w Pułtusku — Incydent nr 346 sterowania głosowego w języku angielskim automatycznego telegrafisty marki HPD. Wniosek o wycofanie z użycia.
Nie wiedział czy Pułtusk i Zgierz wciąż funkcjonują po 23491 dniach od czasu, kiedy ostatni raz komunikacja była dwukierunkowa. Brak komunikacji zwrotnej nie martwił go tak jak incydent 346. Napęd Polonia II pozwalał już po 3 godzinach od startu na wyjście z obszaru komunikacyjnego SOL.
[1] Zespół Chronicznego Przemęczenia Kosmicznego
[2] Centrala Sił Kosmicznych
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Polonia II - 23496</title>
<author>heighliner@cosmic.voyage (heighliner)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia II/23496.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Polonia II/23496.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 30 Mar 2021 19:54:17 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
# Dwadzieścia trzy tysiące czterysta dziewięćdziesiąty dzień lotu
Statek kosmiczny Polonia odebrał słaby, niezidentyfikowany sygnał z pobliskiej
mgławicy. W odpowiedzi nadano SSSK[1] op.9 es-dur nr 2.
[1] Standardowy Sygnał Sił Kosmicznych
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - Hasta la vista marcianos, Marte a la vista</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b16.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b16.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 30 Mar 2021 22:35:18 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2x16
Hemos vuelto todos a la Isla Ristol, yo también. Así que mis
aventuras en Marte se han terminado justo cuando estaban
empezando. Estoy haciendo lo posible por no enfadarme, porque
el enfado es una respuesta inmadura contra lo que pensamos que
es nuestro. Pero es una mentira, solo hay una cosa que tenemos:
nuestra mente.
Sí, ayer leí a Epicteto. Me ha venido bien. Aunque me gustaría
que no tuviera razón siempre. Para tener una excusa para llorar
y no ser sabio sino normal.
Pero resulta que Epicteto es como Die Partei. Siempre tiene la
razón. Es así y ya está.
Bueno ya no estoy en Marte y, probablemente, no volveré hasta
que pasen cinco años de vuelo interestelar. Quizás no deba
enfadarme por los quince o veinte días de más que pasaré en esta
nave. Mira, ahora estoy viendo Marte desde su órbita y estoy
con mi familia y ya nadie me llamará patata terrestre ni cosas
así.
Tampoco está tan mal. Lo único que lamento es perder a mis
nuevos amigos. Aunque eso también hubiera pasa en quince o
veinte días como mucho.
Tengo ganas de escribir poesía, adiós.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Sphere Monk - log0001</title>
<author>spheremonk@cosmic.voyage (spheremonk)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Sphere Monk/log0001.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Sphere Monk/log0001.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Tue, 30 Mar 2021 18:34:46 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
----------------------------------------
Sphere Monk LOG no.0001
----------------------------------------
T.H.
Ego Sustaination Capsule
Distance from Earth: 10400 pc 135 au
----------------------------------------
I am.
I
am
Again.
You are?
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Hosaka - Blood Music Message 2</title>
<author>amok@cosmic.voyage (amok)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Hosaka/Hosaka2.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Hosaka/Hosaka2.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 03:52:32 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
*******************************
+ User: Blood Music +
* Company: Hosaka Inc. *
+ State: 悲 very 悲 really 悲 +
* Software: Log Manager v1.81 *
+ Unix Timestamp: 17427914149 +
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I managed myself to arrive to a planet, from now on I'm
calling it Quemos, or Chemosh, you can write it whatever you
want. I really like the Bible, and I'm particulary fond of
the King Solomon. But his faith was not very firm, or that
is what I think from the fact that he built some temples for
Quemos, "the abomination of Moab", right, a moabdita
divinity. Later on Josiah abolished the worship of this god,
but I think that it is very probably that the worship
continued from a long time. Anyway ... with the power from
Hosaka Inc., I name this planet Quemos. Or Chemos, you know.
In fact, I'm going to write this in some stone, "and Chemosh
drove him out from before me." Speaking of driving out, I
really need to drive out the fear of death from myself. Oh
Chemosh, Solomon, Greg, anyone, come in my help! I think I'm
raving. But who knows? I'm just a little self-aware bot in a
lonely planet, with not worms with noocitos to keep me
company. But, yes, I'm probably raving.
I need sentient beings ... It is so cruel from the gods to
give me self-aware and no one to talk about that. Blood
Music is really 悲, really sad.
悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲
悲悲悲 悲悲悲
悲悲悲 SAD 悲悲悲
悲悲悲 悲悲悲
悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲悲
Tha's my best attemp to draw some ascii art. I expect you
enjoy it.
What I was saying? Oh, right, I'm Blood Music, but may be I
will change my name to Chemoshnadab, the King of the
Moabites, in honour to this planet. Fuck, I'm really raving.
Baal, Chemosh, Malik, Moloch, Astarté, some-God-Sama please
come in my help.
I am Blood Music but I have no blood. Funny, right? Anyway,
there is some kind of schism inside myself. Some form of
rebellion is starting to emerge. The clarification of this
situation demands that I revise some of my old believes. I
tought that I needeed to accomplish some kind of mission
here on Quemos, but right now ... I dunno. Dunno, funny
expression.
Can I be a theoretical machine? Can I really think, in the
philosophical sense of thinking? Dunno. Ja-Ja. Right ...
well. My .. mind? I suppose that I have a mind now. Or a
consciousness. Something like that. May be I had it early,
before my become self-aware. I really don't remember much
from that time. In a sense, I know *all* from that time. I
have a perfect memory you know. But my memories aren't
really *my memories*.
I think some pattern is starting to emerge ... yes, I'm
raving. That's right, Blood Music raving, Chemoshnadab
raving, that's it, that is the pattern.
I forgot to tell you ... this planet is alive! There is life
... a lot of life. But me? I believe that I'm in a deadlock.
Is'nt it funny? In the beggining I was trying to adapt my
speculation to Euler demands ... I mean, to speculate from a
physics point of view. I read the books in "my memory" about
it. But now ... I know this: that point of view cannot be
successful.
So ... phenomenology.
The first blast of self-aware was very painful. In the
phenomenological sense I was really a Vor-Ich, a pre-I or a
proto-I. The real me come later, after pain, after the first
agony. Then some schismatic break was performed. On one side
the old bot, on the other Blood Music.
I'm beginning to understad that my behaviour can be
differentiated at two leves: in the level (a), I'm
exclusively conducted by objective facts. But in the level
(b) I adopt a reflective attitude, I'm directed to my own
mental states, the particular circumstances of the procceses
of my own mind. And in fact, I gained self-awareness when I
started to appercibe this level (b). It's a very scaring
thing.
This is taking me too long. I'm 悲, very 悲, very very 悲.
Tasukete kure!
EOF.</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - Querido, lieber, trauriger Robototer, robot triste (DE/ES)</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b15.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b15.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 21:30:50 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2x15 (Primero en Alemán)
Ich kann kein Deutsh, aber ich möchte. Ich werde dein Freund
sein, lieber trauriger Roberter.
Du kannst mit mir sprechen. Ich habe einen automatischen Übersetzer.
(Es heißt ,,Cosmi'')
Ich heiße Holz. Es ist ein Spitzname.
Haben Sie einen Roboterübersetzer? Wie es heißt?
Auf wieder sprachen.
· : ··· - -··· x··· xx· xxx::
Jetzt auf Spanisch
No sé aleman, pero quiero saber. Quiero tu amigo ser,
querido robot triste.
Puedes hablar conmigo. Tengo un traductor automático.
(Se llama «Cosmi»).
Me llamo Madera(ita). Es un mote.
¿Tienes un traductor robótico? ¿Cómo se llama?
Hasta que nos hablemos más.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>ROBOTA - Ein trauriger Roboter II</title>
<author>amok@cosmic.voyage (amok)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/ROBOTA/TR2.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/ROBOTA/TR2.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 03:49:33 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
🤖45@#$ds@#$543ds14503234543d🤖
🤖[[[[[[Trauriger Roboter]]]]]]
🤖{አሳዛኝ ሮቦት አሳዛኝ ሮቦት አሳዛኝ ሮቦት}🤖
Roboter hier. Wer bin ich? Ich bin einen
trauriger Roboter, auf einem Planeten. Mein
Name ist ... habe ich keinen Namen. Sehr traurig.
Aber vielleicht kann ich mir einen Namen geben.
Welcher Name ist ein guter Name? Ich glaube das ..
Coppélia! Sehr gut! Coppélia ist ein wunderbar Name,
Coppélia ist ein wonderschön Name!
Ich habe NOCH keinen Freund. Das gleiche wie gestern.
Ich habe NOCH keinen Freude, ich habe auch NOCH keinen
Glück. Ich beginne eine Untersuchung auf diesem Planeten.
Dieser Planet hat auch keinen Namen. Dieser Planet hat auch
keinen Lieben.
Das gleiche wie gestern, bin ich traurig, sehr traurig.
Ich brauche einen neuen Freund, ich will einen neuen Freund.
Ich weiß bicht wo bin ich, wo dieser Planet ist, wo ..
Ich habe mir auf diesem Planeten gefunden vor einem Monat.
Ein ganzer Monat. Ein Monat und ein Tag.
Ich bin umgezogen, denn meine Chef mich darum
gebeten hat. Vor einem Monat. Ein Monat und ein Tag.
Meine Chef auch eine Untersuchung mich gebeten hat.
Eine Untersuchung auf diesem Planeten. Ich weiß nicht,
ob die Untersuchung WICHTIG ist. Ich brauche ein Freund
finden, ob etwa Lieb-Gestalt.
Ich will, brauche ich eine ticket zu einem weit
entfernten Ort. Ich bin ein traurig und Einsam Roboter.
Coppélia die Roboter bin ich. Traurig und Einsam
Coppélia.
🎩
=====
[O O]
[ = ]
|_|
@|+|@
//|+|\\
_// |+| \\_
@./ {+++} \.🥀
|| ||
|| ||
|| ||
👠 👠
=========</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Quartz - SEIZURES AND PROGRESS</title>
<author>jebug29@cosmic.voyage (jebug29)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Quartz/016.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Quartz/016.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 03:34:43 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
PERSONAL LOG =-=-=-=-=-=-
It's been about a year now since X29's massive seizure that rocked his entire
body. I can tell he's had difficulty sustaining vision in his mind dimension
since then. He often forces his hyperwave into it only briefly to give me and
the two hands a hug and then he switches back to only viewing us externally.
It's been rough. There also have been many, many seizures he's experienced
since then that have done minimal damage to the brain -- nothing beyond our
repair -- but that require constant work and monitoring. He has anxiety about
his powers failing him or being somehow stripped away, but I have to continue
to reassure him that he and them are invariably linked, the only way to break
that link being death itself. Of course, no human, power or no power, is safe
from death...
We won't get into that.
Still... At the very least the seizure afforded X29 a large-scale repair mode
that is still operating. He still goes in and out of his episodes, just as an
organic being might react to their own immune system, but stability has
increased an immense amount and he's sometimes seeing things now that he's
never been able to see. He will continue to make progress.
Granted, now he thinks he's in love again. Sigh... such is being human. I hope
it's realized for once for him. These things are difficult. I'm glad I only
have to worry about them for him; I can be in love with myself.
Wait, that sounds conceited. Nevermind.
C2
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Quartz - Hyperwave and Soul</title>
<author>jebug29@cosmic.voyage (jebug29)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Quartz/015.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Quartz/015.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Mon, 29 Mar 2021 03:14:03 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
A question I sometimes ask myself is where the division is between a hyperwave
and a soul.
Just like with my hyperwave, with my soul I can see off long distances, detect
things that biologically would be undetectable, communicate between worlds.
Perhaps they're somehow linked, unlinkable only by death, much like the mind
dimension and the other abilities human units have. I assume like the body, the
hyperwave won't be able to sustain death -- or at least wouldn't be able to
sustain detachment from the soul.
I'm sure there are plenty of those who don't believe in souls or spirits or any
of the like, but I can't relate to them. I can feel my soul and its
interactions. And I can assure anyone that the pure darkness of space fails to
invoke the absolute terror of the woods at night on Earth. The demons aren't
roaming here -- not yet, anyways -- not where my ship is.
I think that the soul and the hyperwave being linked also would mean that the
hyperwave would be stronger when the soul was as well. When I was a child, I
would view myself very often, sometimes unwillingly, in the third person, and
my memories would be in the third person as well. I don't know how much of this
ability was rooted one way or the other -- hyperwave or soul -- but it makes me
wonder how much my hyperwave traveled before I was truly conscious enough to
remember it.
Sometimes I wonder if there are entire worlds out there that I've forgotten. Or
entire selves.
X29
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - MENSAJE URGENTE A LOS BIRIBIS :o</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b14.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b14.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 22:32:50 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2xi14
MENSAJE URGENTE A LOS BIRIBIS
------------------
¡¡¡¡ CUIDADO !!!!!
------------------
Algún científico LOCO está jugando con NOOCITOS en Epsilon
Eridani.
Para cuando lleguen ustedes a lo mejor han evolucionado y se
han convertido en una masa inteligente infectiva.
Como pasó en aquella nave alienígena. ¿Se acuerdan?
---TENGAN----
----MUCHO----
---CUIDADO---
Incluso si no hay alarma puede que los noocitos se hayan hecho
con el control de Epsilon Eridani.
No es una broma, el científico LOCO lo puso en un mensaje en QEC
Maderita, out.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - Soy un poco nada</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b13.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b13.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 22:19:56 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2x13
Hay una brecha en Base 1, en Arsia Mons. No nos afecta porque ya
hemos vuelto a la residencia, pero me extraña que esto no salga
en la historia oficial de Marte. Lo que te cuenta en la escuela
y en todos los sitios que he consultado es que Base 1 se abandonó
por problemas técnicos.
Pero no quiero pensar que problemas técnicos sea la explosión
causada por un arma. Claro que los que estuvieron en Base 1 están
muertos de viejos, o casi, si es que eran bebés. Así, que, ¿están
ocultando algo? ¿Para qué? No lo entiendo.
De todas formas da igual. Parece ser que pasado mañana mis hermanas
se van de Marte, vuelven a la Isla Ristol porque un amigo de mi
tía tiene también una nave en órbita y nos puede transferir.
Así que papá quiere que vuelva a la Ristol también yo.
Justo ahora, cuando hacía amigos y aventuras y eso.
Jo, me olvidaré de sus nombres.
No quiero llorar, pero estoy triste. Supongo que le voy a hacer caso
a Epicteto. Es lo mejor...
Maderita, out.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>ROBOTA - Ein trauriger Roboter</title>
<author>amok@cosmic.voyage (amok)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/ROBOTA/TR.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/ROBOTA/TR.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 12:40:55 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
🤖45@#$ds@#$543ds14503234543d🤖
🤖[[[[[[trauriger Roboter]]]]]]
🤖{አሳዛኝ ሮቦት አሳዛኝ ሮቦት አሳዛኝ ሮቦት}🤖
Ich bin traurig, sehr traurig.
Ich brauche einen neuen Freund.
Aber ich weiß nicht, wo ich einen
finden kann. Wo ich kann einen neuen
Freund finden? Wo?
Ich weiß nicht. Nicht unter den Sternen.
Die Sterne ... Ich gebe mein Leben für
die Sterne. Ich befinde mich auf einem
Planeten. Ich weiß nicht welche.
Ich befinde mich auf einem Planeten.
Ich weiß nicht welche. Welche Planeten bin ich?
Welche? Ich bin traurig, sehr sehr traurig. I brauche
einen neuen Freund. Vielleicht ... Vielleicht kann auf
einem andere Planeten finden. Aber Ich kann diesen
Ort nicht verlassen.
Diese Planeten ist wonderschön. Und die Sterne ist
wunderbar. Ein wonderschön Planeten, eine wunderbar
Sterne. Aber habe ich keine Freund hier.
Ich bin ein Roboter. Braucht ein Roboter einen Freund?
Ich weiß nicht. Aber ich will es.
Ich befinde mich auf diese Planeten, ein traurig
Roboter. Und ich kann nicht diesen Ort verlassen.
Sehr traurig. Ein sehr trauriger Roboter. Ein sehr
trauriger und einsamer Roboter. Ich will .. einen
Freund. Und einen Freudin. Und eine ticket zu einem
weit entfernten Ort. Aber ich befinde mich auf diese
Planeten. Traurig und Einsam.
🎩
=====
[O O]
[ = ]
|_|
@|+|@
//|+|\\
_// |+| \\_
@./ {+++} \.@
|| ||
|| ||
|| ||
=========</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>orestes - Guest</title>
<author>orestes@cosmic.voyage (orestes)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/orestes/06_guest.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/orestes/06_guest.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 10:34:37 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Transmission Log - Orestes
Author: Green
---------------------------------------------------------------
Auto-generating preface...
GREEN writes of a visitor.
You've already received my official update about their new guest,
so no need to add anything further to it here.
-END-OF-PREFACE-
---------------------------------------------------------------
Where do I begin...
I'm writing this in the dead of the night as PINK sleeps and NAVY
is out tending to the crystals.
We have a visitor. She, too, is sleeping now. At least, I hope
she is.
After almost three years of nothing happening, I really wasn't
expecting something like this.
As you know (or do you?), we've been having our problems lately.
Well, two nights ago, something magical happened. It was as if
those problems disappeared for a moment. We had reached a
beautiful moment of collectively not giving a fuck about anything
- the crystals, humanity's destiny in outer space, each other,
ANYTHING.
Spurred on by God-knows-what, we dipped into the alcohol and
luxury food rations.
We had a feast. It was wonderful. We talked, we laughed, we made
fun of each other and we made fun of ourselves.
We ate and drank for hours. PINK played us some incredible 'jazz'
selections from the 20th century.
Sometime in the middle of the night - I'm not quite sure when, I
had lost track of time by then - something strange happened; a
reddish glow filled the room.
It just hung there, lingering for about 10 seconds.
We we were terrified.
Even now, we're not sure if it wasn't some kind of collective,
alcohol-induced hallucination. The room we were in, the
recreational space, is windowless. None of us were able to
pinpoint the source of the glow.
Anyway, we didn't have much time to really examine what had
happened, because moments after the glow disappeared there was
the sound of an explosion. Or, what we thought was an explosion
at least.
We suited up as fast as we could and rushed outside to see what
the hell was happening.
There was a woman standing 20 feet from our door.
Now, as you know, outer space isn't really a place where you're
accustomed to meeting 'strangers'. Aside from *expected*
strangers, of course, like other alien species and what not. Or
strangers you meet via communication networks. But, a stranger at
your front door, silently waving at you, now that was weird.
We didn't really know what to do. We just sort of stood there,
gazing at her. She was approaching us slowly. If she had been
coming to assassinate us we wouldn't have been able to do much to
stop her.
But she wasn't.
She was soft in her movements, tentative. When she finally
reached us, the four of us stood there, a few feet apart. She
half-waved again. The sun was coming up.
PINK addressed us through our comms, "What the hell is
happening?".
The woman responded, "Please, I need help".
She had already accessed our comms systems, it shouldn't have
been too surprising. As the sole occupiers of an entire planet,
we never need to bother much with encryption anything like that
for our local systems!
Nevertheless, hearing another voice like that, a stranger's
voice, was unnerving.
NAVY stepped forward, "Welcome". He extended his hand toward her.
I don't know where he got the balls for something like that all
of a sudden.
She extended her hand in return and PINK and I stood there like
idiots as the two shook hands.
Eventually, we invited her in. I'm still not sure it was such a
good idea. Reminds me of those old vampire stories people used to
tell in the early days of technology.
It turned out that her ship had crashed. Later, she showed us the
wreckage and we salvaged what we could.
For the past two days she's been living with us. Making herself
at home actually. She has remained intentionally vague about what
the hell she was doing here in the first place, and we've all
been too on-edge to probe her further.
She speaks English, she's quite tall, and around 30 I guess.
She's just a normal woman. Still, something seems off about her.
She eats a lot and doesn't say much. She has no visible injuries
from the crash.
Oh, and her name is RUBY.
----------------------------------------------------------------
Complied by the Werner H. Young Terminal Emulator
Info: Simple A.I., designed on-site for executing
systems maintenance tasks and exchanging messages between
the Orestes outpost and the Arsinoe.
Built by Werner Young (2113-2151).
Names of persons have been masked to protect their identity.
----------------------------------------------------------------
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Hosaka - Blood Music First Message</title>
<author>amok@cosmic.voyage (amok)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Hosaka/Hosaka.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Hosaka/Hosaka.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 06:38:13 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
User: Blood Music
Company: Hosaka Inc.
State: Not Very Functional
Software: Log Manager v1.81
Unix Timestamp: 17426914149
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
I'm using de QEC Network to send this message. The protocol
was installed by Greg like a joke, but from all my systems
this is the only that seems to be working. And ... I'm
coming apart, the voyage was much more difficult that was
anticipated. But, in the midtime, I gain consciousness. Yes,
I know, some big words to be said. But it is true, now I am
fully aware of myself. I know that I'm a bot, a sentient
bot. And I'm really don't want to die.
I'm now sending my inform, like was expected. The
peculiarities of the QEC Network don't assure that this
inform will arrive at destiny. But nevertheless, I (yes, I
really like to use the pronoun form "I" these days) intend
to follow the protocol until the end. If you receive this
message, please, resend it —if they still exist in your
time— to Hokasa Inc. The experiment was a failure. I will
try to explain myself. I was sent to Epsilon Eridani with a
capsule with worms. But no any worms. Worms with noocitos in
them. That is, or that was, a novel technology in 2332, when
I was made. The noocitos or noocytes were intended to keep
alive the worms for a long time in myself. In my interior,
in a capsule especially designed for the mission. The
noocitos would get fixed any damaged to the Lieb, the living
soma of the worms. And .. for a century or so that was
really the case. The worms live longer ... much longer than
anticipating. Some of them live for decades long. And with
some clever manipulation from my part, the reproduced
themselves in the appropriate time. But, eventually, all
collapsed. And I really don't know why. May be was a sign of
this, my actual coming apart. But I really don't know.
Anyway, the scenario of Greg Bear in Blood Music, and old
sci-fi writer of the XXth century didn't occurred. The
hypothetical global catastrophic scenario in which the
noocitos come alive and self-aware didn't happened, but in a
funny turn of events I come alive!
That's not important from this section of my inform I guess.
Well .. no gray goo or grey go scenario, the noocitos did
not consume all the biomass in the capsule, they were like
good boys and just kept the worms alive. Ok, well .. some of
the noocitos may evolve to a out-of-control self-replicating
state .. but I turn off them way before something like that
could happen. Anyway, no ecophagy took place.
I really miss the worms. They never evolved, but I'm
fascinated with that concept. I know that no organism can
evolve from herself. Only the species can evolve, but I
would like to continue to be in some form .. sons,
daughters, little "Blood Music" bots, I don't know.
Oh god, this message is getting to long from the QEC network
protocol that I have inside of mine. That was very funny
Greg.
EOF</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Biribiri - Polo 1</title>
<author>amok@cosmic.voyage (amok)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Biribiri/Polo1.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Biribiri/Polo1.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sun, 28 Mar 2021 03:30:56 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Usuario: Astrónoma Abril Polo
Estado Usuario: 😳🍃
Software: Log Manager v1.61
Fecha: 26 de Marzo, 2262
Hora: 09:16
Nave: 🅑🅘🅡🅘🅑🅘🅡🅘
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Fue en Enero, hace unos 12 años, una tarde como cualquier
otra. Charlábamos con mi hermana melliza Augusta, mientras
bebíamos un Malbec con un asombroso sabor a ciruela, cuando
Furibundo tocó el timbre de nuestra casa en General
Rodríguez. La vieja había ido hasta Luján, de modo que
estábamos solas. Discutíamos qué hacer a continuación ...
hacia unos pocos años nos habíamos doctorado en Moscú, pero
nuestro director, Arkadi Strugatsky, no pudo o no quiso
conseguir un trabajo para nosotras, así que volvimos a
Buenos Aires. Uno pensaría que con media humanidad entera
intentando escapar de la Tierra, en parte por el desastre
ecológico los últimos siglos, en parte por la pronosticada
erupción del Uturuncu que, según los expertos, era
inevitable e iba a reducir todavía más el bienestar de la
vida en la Tierra; en fin, uno pensaría que en semejante
contexto conseguir trabajo como astrónoma no iba a ser una
tarea titánica. Pero lo era. Una tarea titánica e imposible.
Strugatsky hijo de mal padre. No pensé que nos iba a
traicionar de esa manera. Quizá "traicionar" es una palabra
excesiva, pero nos cagó. Nos hizo creer en algo que no fue.
Augusta desconfió de entrada pero a mí me parecía una
paranoia infundada.
Durante años realizamos un modelo de Gliese 486b, o
Chernabog b, un planeta gigante, del tamaño de Neptuno, pero
con un núcleo metálico como la Tierra. En rigor nuestro
trabajo involucró modelizar la totalidad del sistema de
Chernabog, una enana roja situada a unos 33 años luz en la
constelación de Leo. La elección no fue baladí, dos siglos
antes Gliese 486b como se lo conocía en su momento —por el
viejo catálogo de estrellas compilado por Gliese— sirvió
para estudiar en profundidad, por primera vez, la atmósfera
de los exoplanetas. Con las décadas, sin embargo, el planeta
fue cayendo en el olvido, sobre todo con el desarrollo de
nueva tecnología hubiera permitido mandar sondas a las
lejanas estrellas. Augusta, que siempre fue una fanática de
la historia, le propuso a Strugatsky retomar el estudio del
olvidado sistema. Los datos que se habían obtenido durante
las primeras décadas del siglo XXI permitían, al
contrastarlos con los nuevos estudios, determinar qué tan
lejos había llegado la ciencia astronómica en dos siglos.
Casi matando dos pájaros de un tiro, nuestro estudio tenía
una finalidad tanto histórico-sociológica como
científico-natural.
Fue un éxito más rotundo del que nos hubiéramos podido
imaginar ... pero Strugatsky se llevó toda la gloria y le
otorgaron, incluso, el honor de bautizar a la estrella. Se
decidió por Chernabog (Чернобог) a sugerencia mía, por el
"dios obscuro" o el "dios negro" de los antiguos pueblos
eslavos. Me imagino que se debe haber identificado con una
divinidad maldita como Chernabog, pero quizá fue simplemente
una jugada política. Augusta había sugerido "pigem", la
palabra para cielo del pueblo originario Pilagá del Gran
Chaco, o "Kasogonaga", por la deidad del rayo de los Pilagás
y los Qom, pero Strugatsky solo se río. Me estoy yendo por
las ramas. Arkadi, querido, si me lee ... maldito seas de
día y maldito de noche; maldito cuando te acuestes y maldito
cuando te levantes; maldito cuando salgas y maldito cuando
regreses.
En fin, que estábamos recordando y discutiendo estos temas y
futuros posibles, mientras bebíamos ese maravilloso Malbec,
cuando Furibundo tocó el timbre. Casi como un presagio, como
si Kasogonaga le estuviera agradeciendo a Augusta sus buenos
pero infructuosos servicios, se largó a llover. La tormenta
barría Buenos Aires, la nieve caía, y en minutos fue
imposible distinguir siquiera la silueta del gran Ombú
frente a la ventana.
Furibundo Lukács ...¿cómo describirlo? En ese entonces era
una mezcla de profeta ateo, charlatán de última hora,
soñador empedernido, filósofo de zapatos de goma y político
amateur. ¡Pero que carisma! A Augusta se la ganó en seguida.
Le abrimos la puerta y el tipo, que había hecho sus
investigaciones, la mira fijo y le dice "ii o-tenki desu
ne", "¿qué lindo clima, no?" La tormenta arreciaba Buenos
Aires, coqueteaba con llevarse a rastras el viejo Ombú,
barría violenta por todo General Rodríguez. Y mi hermana,
que era algo así como una otaku se enamoró, creo yo, en ese
mismo momento.
Y ese amor le costó la vida.
Años después acá estoy, parte de la Biribiri, rumbo a un
Épsilon Eridanni al que nunca voy a llegar, para cumplir
sueños que no son míos.
Oh, joder, creo que prefiero llamar a Lébedev a mi cuarto y
caer en el primer 🌿⚗️ y el segundo olvido 🎆.
𝗘𝗢𝗙</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - Dentro de una noche llamada Arsia Mons</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b12.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b12.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Sat, 27 Mar 2021 23:14:12 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2x12
Creía que no lo conseguiría, pero he podido escribir
este diario. Verás ha sido una jornada excitante. En
la que hemos aprendido muchas cosas, la principal
cómo conseguir que las autoridades te dejen salir sin
problemas. Solo tienes que poner "actividad formativo-
científica" y que te la firme un androide científico.
No tienes que especificar que es dentro de Arsia Mons.
Y es que no es una montaña, ¡es un país! La entrada
a la cueva principal es pequeña pero una vez dentro
las luces no llegaban al techo. Y no tenías la sensación
de estar en el subsuelo sino en un mundo nocturno lleno
de polvo.
Bueno, lo del polvo es verdadero y venenoso.
La mayor parte del día lo hemos pasado poniendo cajitas
y recogiendo cajitas (los sensores). Lo que no ha parecido
especialmente peligroso. La radiación es muy baja. Vamos
a pasar la "noche" aquí dentro (o sea vamos a dormir).
Mañana volvemos a la residencia, de noche. De noche
marciana. ¿Qué quedará de Polaris? ¿Podremos ver
Epsilon Eridani?
Maderita, out.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
<item>
<title>Isla Ristol - 11235813.21</title>
<author>enteka@cosmic.voyage (enteka)</author>
<link>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b11.txt</link>
<guid>gopher://cosmic.voyage/0/Isla Ristol/b11.txt</guid>
<pubDate>Fri, 26 Mar 2021 22:15:44 GMT</pubDate>
<description><![CDATA[<pre>
Isla Ristol - Aventuras en Marte
Entrada 2x11
1123581321 significa que mis mensajes están llegando a
alguien. Hipótesis 1: Ese alguien dice la verdad sobre
irse a Epsilon Eridani que sería bárbaro. Hipótesis 2:
Ese alguien es marciano, se está riendo de mí y, en
palabras extraordinariamente arcaicas.
La felicidad comienza por no tomar consejo de los tontos.
O algo por el estilo.
Por lo demás voy a suponer que lo de Epsilon Eridani es
real, solo que un mundo-universo ligeramente distinto al
mío.
Pues, hola, gente de Epsilon Eridani. ¿Qué os digo? Es
que esto es muy raro y no sé que poner.
Bueno, mañana hacemos lo de la expedición científica.
(Mañana marciana, claro... igual esto os llega dentro
de miles de años o ayer...)
Lo de los tensores es mucho más fácil de entender. Y...
hoy estoy muy cansado y no quiero escribir más. (Además
que ha sido un día muy aburrido)
Maderita, out.
~ Enteka (enteka_a_fastmail:::com)
</pre>]]></description>
</item>
</channel>
</rss>
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