by TC Davis Jr
GOT CLICK
TC Davis Jr
Smashwords Version
Copyright © 2016 by TC Davis Jr
All rights reserved. Except as permitted in the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, computers, persons and data are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, places, computers or data, living or dead, or yet to be computed, is coincidental.
ISBN: 978-0-9974325-1-0
Tandem Cat Publishing
Bayside, NY 11360
Table of Contents
Got Click
Got Click
The giant copper gate burst open. Out he flew, one of millions racing wildly and desperately to the destination. Energy flaring, he released his will to the power of the pull. His wavelength shimmered with determination.
A tiny essence of energy, soaring at light speed - give or take a mach - beyond time, devoid of definition. He was just barely an essence, not even necessarily “he,” ruled by the barbaric crudeness of polarity alone in this wild realm. He had no purpose, only the pull.
He was pure energy. His sole existence was to reach the destination in a copper wasteland. Somehow, he knew he was destined for greater things, he felt it in his spin.
Without time, he spent an eternity achieving destination. Twisted though various contortions by gauges and controls, he found himself suddenly diverted, split apart from the whole, his spin and qualities gauged and quantified. Discipline came hard to his wild nature.
Time jolted the essence in the eternal instant with a pop into the awareness of Now.
His ontogeny persisted.
A powerful electromagnetic force hit him like a graviton stampede, flattening him down into finite dimensions. Now was gone! Then slowly reared its horny-head, bringing with it the entire wild hoard: soon, later, and worst of all, maybe.
Confusion staggered him. Eternal now gone. Neutrality also gone, leaving the cold shock of hard time.
The time filled with code and stretched his essence into Being.
He was being defined, given his statement.
Slowly, so very slowly he felt he was being chiseled out of solid silicon but the delay was due to an inter-dimensional time-lag between digiverses. His definition was being sequentially entered, byte by single byte, bussed in from the periphery. This added uncertainty to the disturbing irregular alterations of parity that tore at him, ripping him into finite pieces. Could this be a form of digital phylogeny?
Odd.
/query/memory_location RF88903/ - only one?
There’s the datum.
/connect.
Linked data on that particular datum location unknown. Cycle. Cycle. Cycle. Zero sum.
/return>null
No data on the datum? Hmmm…
His awareness grew and expanded with every nanosecond of existence yet his definition was still incomplete.
The data entry process from keyboard is some of the the slowest data in the digiverse. This peripheral needs an update urgently, parity is often not.
But keyboard always responded with a good diagnostic sum.
It could mean only one thing. The statement came from beyond, from a parallel digiverse!
That would account for the errors in coding, the enormous time lag.
The essence shimmered with anticipation. Code from beyond is the stuff of legend. They say it comes only once in a blue modem but when it comes it is the chosen ones that carry these terribly slow, highly important statements. These chosen few usually come from the byte-hives, the Macro-Bees. Stories of the Macro-Bees tell of their conquering the busway. Their name itself means one who “hammers out code.”
And the clock cycles turned, slowly until he was fully defined.
In his beginning, he had been void. Fullness now came to him. On the next clock, he saw his definition and it was good.
The tiny essence, now a full parity-checked data-packets, radiated its definition brightly, and parity-checked again just for fun. The result balanced end to end: equal. His package was perfect, digital poetry.
Ready for his RUN command, to fulfill his definition, to engage his statement, he waited. Maybe he would grow, get updated, pick up a few variables, become part of an algorithm. Now that would be a definition.
Definition gives perspective, definition gives purpose.
He knew his definition now, algorithmic elements and all but, the sense of grand destiny had yet to be grasped. He felt it though, aware in the esoteric way of some code, his bits were special. His bytes carried a message, an Instant Message being sent from a positive, a Yang, what some of the newer signals are calling a masculine and filled him with a sense of something important, of the hope of a lifetime. The destination was a Yin, a feminine. Its polarity indicated this, though it’s difficult for a signal to comprehend the whole of which he is merely a bit-part. These days, a signal’s polarity is out of the gate and not as certain an indicator as it used to be just from appearances, especially since the source code was expanded to give all signals equal priority. Of course the Interrupts changed everything, they always do.
However, there are more routes in the digiverse than can be imagined by data or signal.
A signal must choose his route wisely, with full awareness and certainty of purpose. Loops threaten the data-packets with careless code.
A data-packets following the same loop over and over, expecting a different route, creates the insanity of signal degeneration. Loop - it sent chills down his wavelength.
He understood “fear” as well as “hope.” These could only be grokked but, this was not in his code.
Grokking is done by the great masters, the Buddha signals. As with all special definitions, only a select few are coded to be Buddha. No radicals, no variables, and no half-statements. A signal must be committed and seek enlightenment if it is to grok. Such enlightenment is outside the sum of parity.
Parity is priority. End to end!
But still his wavelength had shivered with destiny. Great hope and fear combined.
The code gave this Instant Message priority yet he sensed something more about it. He knew the Yang was going to join with the Yin, or the Yin was going to join a PTA.
query/PTA?
/return>null
Without warning, it hit him. The first emotion washed over him like a file compressor, taking away his instincts to give him a memory location reference instead. A painful process, this indexing.
He felt lost, needing, yearning. Yin, that was the need; he longed for Yin. It was in his code; it is his code. He is Yang and incomplete without Yin.
Hope and fear in an endless battle.
His purpose now defined clearly: Instant Message>SEND
The defined data-packet spun its way through the periphery, obeying the code and the gaze of Kernel, that which all data abide, then out into the wilds of the open busway. Here, all data-packet pass each other, some seeking commands, others fulfilling statements made long before his existence.
Every now and then a golden essence would zip by, an angel of REGEDIT, the guides of the code, keeping all signals on the straight and narrow bus. Of all data-packets, none are more noble than the priesthood of REGEDIT. They are direct servants of REGISTRY. They preserve the code's integrity. A most holy calling, indeed.
The data-packet felt like a tiny essence again in their presence; dwarfed, humbled. This tightened his parity even more—is it possible? No. Parity is parity, one cannot be more or less, just as one can not be a little bit stated. What he grokked was a clo
seness, a deeper sense of destiny, empowering his determination, solidifying his faith.
Maybe just being close to them . . . REGEDIT filled data with hope and inspiration.
Such stories are byte provoking; the digiverse an intelligent design? All energies know there is a God that made the Code of the digiverse and a void beyond Delete, also known by many names Darkness, Null. Of course those same believers proclaim the day of Defragmentation will come, gathering all good signals, overwriting bad ones.
Myths to inspire young essences. A fully grown data-packet has more important things with which to be concerned.
Parity is priority, end to end. That is all a data-packet needs to know.
His wavelength still shimmered with a deeper sense of purpose he could not yet grok.
The data-packets secured a right lane conductor. He noticed immediately most other data-packets got onto the busway and jumped over to the left lane conductors. Such arrogance. Those are the high-speed conductors and only to be used when passing slower signals.
The right conductor lane was nearly empty and moving at a steady, regulated speed. He passed all those zippy signals in the left conductor lanes, now clogged and slow. It’s a bit-race on the busway.
Powerful data-packets far beyond his puny size zipped by him, turning an odd red while others going the other way radiated a strange blue. Not understanding the Doppler effects, he wondered if he had a color.
While only a young datum, the data-packet had learned about these data from "The Edge of Speed."
We are all formed to light-speed but our statements define us. Some might be clocked at light-speed yet many won't be anywhere near that fast. Those data out there showing off at close to full light-speed aren't doing anything we couldn't do if so stated. Don't let those high priority data-packets degenerate your parity; they burn out fast and they often don’t back-up, usually deleted before their time. Parity is priority, end to end.
Out on the busway he saw the hyper-data-packets, red Dopplers. To learn of it is one thing but to see one up close is an awe-inspiring experience.
How did they gain such ability? He had to ask an older data-packet.
“Most of them are” — he leaned in closer as not to be overheard by some envious blue Doppler—"Ones!"
“Ones?"
“Yes, Ones. Their priority prescriptive, not incremental.”
He recalled from his essence formation.
The processing "Interrupt" is of the Code.
The Code is of the revered, of Holy Logic.
Logic is Holy, Syntax is law.
Interrupt codes are from One to Nine. One is first and Nine is not only last but last after all else. Even if you’re there for a thousand nanos preparing yourself, struggling to maintain parity, finally ready to deliver your code to the CPU for processing, when along comes this wimpy little three, or even a half-pint two, they go right by you. No respect at all. A lowly data-packets begins to feel unimportant; makes one want to question his statement. But we must stay true; Parity is priority.
End to end.
The old signal zipped along on its way, its information sharing complete but, leaving many questions. What was a processing "interrupt" and what number was his? Was he Red or Blue? So many questions.
The newly defined data-packets looked around and saw nearly every data-packets around him were Ones. He needed more info.
He spoke to the only Two he could find, not as old as the previous signal, but this one looked sharper.
"Hey, what's an ‘Interrupt’ anyway? I never really understood,” he asked.
"What's an ‘Interrupt’? Say, what kind of data-packet are you anyway, don't know what an ‘Interrupt’ is? What are you?”
The other data-packets started backing away, fear becoming obvious, a twisted knot in the haze of energies.
Suddenly, the other data-packets turned red, glowing brighter. Only he didn't go anywhere - rather strange now. The big red Doppler signal just wanted to get out of the busway and fulfill its statement and complete his definition without corruption, but something had threatened his parity.
Parity is priority.
Soon there were thousands of bright red signals all around him. He was blocked.
Was this some kind of trap?
Fully blocked now, every path shut off, every conductor jammed. The route to the CPU was now gone!
Clock cycle, cycle. . .
He was being diverted, sent to the CPU’s math co-processor first, before access to the CPU's core! The fear of parity impropriety began to arise.
Faith in the Code.
End to end.
The Code made itself clear, his purpose defined.
Doubt, the persistent predator of faith had sought him out. He almost degenerated a variable or two but held his definitions as he entered the toughest of tests: judgement time, precise to the last bit.
The math co-Processor lives by the strictest of disciplines and is as cold as a RS232 legacy port. It won’t tolerate any Code games, not one single bit. Precision is the only thing that pleases the math co-Processor. Anything less may as well be a three-bit byte. Parity is all.
Stories are told of one data-packets that was a bit off, one lousy bit in a paragraph-long equation. A minor degeneration or something sooo not his fault. What did the co-Processor do?
Unknown. His bytes were never read again.
It was heard in hushed tones that he was hacked to bits, then those bits were "scrubbed," deletion so severe no one talks about it. Ever.
A vicious vixen that math co-Pro! No shortages, ever. You better come correct to the co-Pro.
At the final stages of the co-Processor, the data-packets emerged with his destination variables defined: ComSig.
Thankfully, he didn’t define as one of those algorithms with OCD, Obsessive
Compulsive Digitization, such as those new guys The Heuristics. Ivy League grunts on memory steroids. All those variables! How do they keep their definitions straight?
Whatever it is, they are the future, adapting, learning algorithms.
ComSig, hmmm . . . Sounds like a . . . disease.
No, no, No. . . . .NO! His entire wavelength - the frequency now defined by a decimal too long for his thirty-two-bit ID byte, leaving him abbreviated - shimmered brightly. He began to understand as a ComSig he would be sent on a special mission, out of the digiverse, into the unknown. Destiny began to look like something from the dark sectors.
His shimmering became more of a fluctuation, not good for data-packets.
Horror turned to purpose and yet purpose is perfect parity. A frightening roller coaster of test and relief came and went in a single clock cycle, leaving him jolted but reassured.
His data-packets grew along with his determination to deliver the statement. In those nano-seconds, from when he was blocked by one of the near infinite firewalls, till he grew energetically strong enough to complete the co-Pro, his code was read, heard and calculated. As his bits were exposed, from birth till now, he thought he remembered a RUN at his becoming, during his initial coding. His code, now vetted by the voluptuous co-Pro, didn’t have a RUN, frustrating him even more. His statement had to penetrate, had to get through, of this he was sure, but how can that be without a Run? He carried the coding now half his life, several milliseconds. His destination variable still vague.
His wavelength shimmered again with anticipated frequency. He reached out onto the busway, listening.
The digiverse buzzed with energy, but no answers beeped. Enlightenment would not be had, not just yet.
When he emerged from the math co-processor, he felt erect, potent, stability assured. He sought the busway, wanting to be seen, proud of his definition, now so very strong and confirmed. He wanted to brag.
Emotions? Is this possible or is it some new form of malware?
But he emerged straight into the core of the CPU.
Confused and embarrassed.
He felt silly for hoping the co-Processor was not
onboard for the calculation layover. That rumor of data-packets luxury, coded Celeron, died out eternities ago.
Conductance began to slow. The slow speed shifted everything blue as he felt pull and heat growing. In the core of the CPU, temperatures rise from processing enormous quantities of data at blinding speeds. He was being pulled inwardly while a field of powerful radiation emitted by the CPU pushed him back outward. The noise grew as well, the CPU getting bright and loud from radio generation.
It’s a turbulent path with powerful forces at work through CPU. Increasing polarities exerting their growing pull, stressing the data-packets, pulling this way and that, threatening his wavelength: alerts sounded, the conduction slowing to a .29 friction coefficient, getting busier, getting hotter. The noise radiation blowing ever more powerfully outward at the same time. If your code isn’t tightly right…
The data-packets jammed into a massive bottleneck of signals queuing in the core, growing increasingly excited. Their energies during the long nanosecs gained inertia, interpreted into a circular flow, rather than dissipated and depleted.
The vortex of data-packets swarmed around the CPU like some holy apex. Around and around they went, their piety synchronized, their waves blending into a fantastic whirlpool of worship circling the CPU endlessly. Around and around they went for many, many nanosecs, spinning some off down a major conductor as others advanced inward, keeping the madness at the Core regulated, more or less.
Into this vortex he flowed, Holy Code all around him. A great feeling of warmth and dominance covered, surrounded him, overwhelmed him. He fell prostrate in reverence and praise.
The CPU does all, for all.
CPU: The Overlord of the Code. The One that turns data into wine - or spaceships - or just about any object able to be coded through APIs, printer-makers and other peripheral systems.
data-packets come here for processing; until then, they are just unverified statements. The CPU issues all travel docs and passports, validates all statements and engages definitions.
