Stephen's Secure Blog #203
These stories about Stephen began was when he was 10 years old, and
moving to a new part of the country to attend a special school for
gifted students, in the 1950's. This was from a time before computers
would fit on a desk, and when people communicated with friends in other
countries by actual letters sent through the postal service. He wrote
225 of them to a friend. He stopped writing to his penpal, but found he
still wanted to record his life, in case he lost his memory again, and
wrote 30 entries in his first logbook. Then he wrote to an artificial
intelligence called Geenee, in the master computer in his school for
gifted students, which he started attending in 2016. Now it's after
2018, and he's continuing to save his memories in a secure blog.
All characters are fictitious, even if some of them might have names
that belong to some actual people, or act like people we know.
The stories may not be posted in chronological order.
Stephen is 16 in this story, in the Summer after year 6 of his special
school.
Stephen's Secure Blog #203 "Art in the Stands"
START Page
It was a good spot for me to do some painting, but there wasn't much
going on I wanted to paint. At least not the first day. So I decided to
paint from my own memory. I wasn't observed by outsiders, which Rose,
Hawk, and Mark, took care of, so I could do anything I wanted, with
Srinoy assisting. I used the new 3D acrylic technique, but in a much
easier way. From the knowledge I had gained from the experiment on
Allguard, I was able to program most of the 3D effects, such as the
particular layer patterns of the crystals in the paint, so I could
spend most of my concentration on the composition. I painted all kinds
of scenes, from children at play, to Mongols murdering townspeople in
raids. I painted love and fighting, craftspeople at work, preparing
food, making tents, even sleeping. And duals, very dramatically.
Temujin was in some of them. I marked those with a code on the back.
Some were portraits. The paint dried very fast, so the canvas boards
could be easily stored without too much care.
After the first day, the manager wanted to see what I had done. We
showed him. His eyes almost popped out, and he said a lot of wows.
There were only a few paintings of the festival, and I told him why,
and that there would be more later. He wanted to know how they could be
so three dimensional, and I explained, but he got lost in the science.
I said "That was the new idea I had, and this is the first time I'm
doing it for public use. The museum will get them." He said "You could
make a lot of money selling them." I said "I don't need money, so why
should I take it from people who do?" He opened his mouth to say
something, and then couldn't figure out what to say. Srinoy said, "When
you do that, it would be more interesting if you wiggled your tongue."
He snapped his mouth shut, and I laughed, and said, "Good one!" Srinoy
and I hugged. The manager had to smile.
The next day, I took what I had learned from the day before, and set
up more programming, so all I had to do was compose the painting, with
a mental image, and tell the programs to work, and the painting
appeared in seconds, and with my usual brushstrokes. If I didn't like
it, or wanted to change something, I threw it out and did it again,
with the modifications, and fine tuned the programs. I threw a lot out
in the morning, but by the end of the day, I wasn't throwing anything
out. The manager was happy there were more paintings of the festival.
The next day was different. I thought I had the technique down pretty
well, so I allowed myself to go into a managed trance. I painted
Temujin's life. Even the parts of it I never saw. He still didn't have
red hair. After I was done, I discovered I had done something new. On
the backs of the paintings were descriptions of what was on the front.
After the festival closed for the day, we took the paintings directly
to the museum. I said to the director, "We have a problem." We showed
him the paintings. He said "Amazing!" I said "Well, yes. A new
technology. And all scenes are true. The problem is the subject." He
said "I don't see the problem." I said "Well, you might now. He never
did have red hair." His mouth dropped open. We didn't say anything, not
even Srinoy, out of respect for his dilemma. When he could, he said,
"So that's who he really was." I said "Yes. There is a description of
the painting, on the back of each one." He looked, and said, "Scholarly
work." I said "Thank you. We know from experience, that what I paint in
a trance is true, even if I never experienced it, even of the future. I
was not alive when he did what he was famous for. I died when he was
18. We were best friends. He killed me. I was 17. All that is in the
book I will give you. Are you ready for something else which might
shock you a little?"
He said "No, but say it anyway." I said "We have a technology which
enables us to copy memories, and put them in a kind of storage. The
video files I gave you in the camera weren't made by that camera, but
were memories of one of us who witnessed what happened. I have total
recall, and can give you movies of my life as a Mongol, even the moment
when Temujin was standing over me with his sword in my chest, crying.
Do you want them?" He whispered in shock, "The museum must have
should be shown or not. I was then, but I am not a Mongol now. It is
not my right to decide. However, I will publish my book, but without
mentioning hair color. That should relieve you of a little pressure,
anyway." He nodded. I said to Srinoy, "Do you think he's going to hate
me for doing this to him?" Srinoy said thoughtfully, "No, but he could
have, if he had known what you could have given him and his people, and
didn't." We looked at the director, and he nodded. Then he said, "I
want all you can give us." I said "Alright. There is something you
should know. There will be duplicates safely stored. In case of
accidents and other bad happenings. A lot of great things have been
lost to history due to natural and man made disasters." Srinoy said,
"The Library at Alexandria." We all nodded at that.
I said "It could be possible his hair changed when he got older, and
could have looked different in different light. Mine changed from
blonde to white, very recently. And I didn't choose that!" The manager
looked a little hopeful then. I said "We did put some odd things in our
hair. His might have reacted to them over time." He said "What things?"
I told him, and his eyes almost popped out of his head. I grinned and
said, "And that's in the book, too." Srinoy said, "It could start a new
thing in men's fashion." I said "I hope not! Women washing their faces
in it was bad enough. At least they rinsed it off! No, not the Mongols,
but in other societies that did happen, and still does in a few
places." Srinoy said, "I don't want to kiss them." I laughed. Then I
said, "You already have. Remember, it happens involuntarily, when they
director, "Sometimes I think knowing it all, is a little too much!" He
said "I know just what you mean!" They shook hands. I was pointedly
ignored, which I thought was funny.
END Page
--
++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Grant
|
|