Synthesis Station

From: Object WS-117L
To: Synthesis Station
Subject: Theory: You might like to hear this?

Information: This was securely broadcast within shipyard media channels.
Evaluation of information: Phrase “securely broadcast” contradicts remote extraction of this data from the shipyard by Object WS-117L?
Conclusion: I am good at my job.

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Attachment: SynthS_601202.mp4

“Hello and welcome back to MT Talk! It is now 06:00, which means it’s time for The Synthesis Station Fan Podcast with me, MT340! Thank you to all of you who keep sharing my work – we hit an amazing five listeners last week! I’ll keep working hard for you. Okay, let’s get onto today’s broadcast!”

Hatred as an action is hereby characterised by an attempt to destroy the object towards which it is directed, along with any values held by

[A definition of hate appears. Then another. More and more flick by, cut with extracts from Synthesis’ last two broadcasts, bots fighting, charred remains of mushrooms. Voices meld into a cacophony without any clear rhythm or musical key as they chant: “Happy birthday to you…”]

“So, we open with a frame story. Pretty standard for Synthesis Station, very common way for them to introduce an idea. Another reference there to the mushroom plotline, which… I’ve been doing some research, and did you know they’re more closely related to animals than to plants? You wouldn’t think it to look at them, right? I had a look into the pattern of clips shown here to see if there was a code relating to, you know, the timestamps of the clips in the previous broadcasts, and while I haven’t got anywhere with that yet, I’ll keep trying…”

[A video clip shows Samson standing on top of a skyscraper.]

You followed his ascent step by step, every gust of wind filling you with dread. There once was a bird so afraid of falling that it never tried to fly. One day, the tree it had made its home in was uprooted by a great storm, and the bird was flung from its nest… But no, Samson did not fall. He reached the top unharmed and then he looked out across the city.

You did not immediately recognise Delilah at first sight. You zoom in on her now, observing the way that the vibrant yellow of her petals has faded to a soft grey-white beneath the glass dome raised to protect her from the elements.

Tick tock, tick tock,
Round and round the fairy clock.
What’s the time? None can say
Until the clock has flown away
Tick tock, tick tock,
What’s the time, fairy clock?

You had found the rhyme in the library filed under ‘time’ and ‘mythology’, and you had copied it without expecting to ever use it. There was an illustration attached to the piece of text, though, and it is this that brings the data to the surface of your memory banks as you look at Delilah.

[A scanned copy of a pencil drawing depicting a feather-like bulb attached to a green stem. It looks fragile, as if even the slightest disturbance could shatter it.]

On the rooftop, Samson’s screen displays a scan of weather conditions: the speed and direction of the wind, the humidity, the chance of precipitation. The emoticon displayed alongside these readings looks tranquil, though you know from his body language that Samson’s feelings are more complicated than that. He lies somewhere between [the sweet perfume of lilacs in full bloom] and [this moment of closeness, this clinging and comfort through pain], neither sad nor happy.

You watch him take down the dome covering Delilah’s fragile form just as a light breeze passes over them both, and you remember his own words:

I think it’s because I’m finally ready to say goodbye.

[A dandelion bulb is caught in the wind, scattering a shower of seeds out across the city.]

Samson looks up to the sky once it’s over. He projects a tired smile upwards, and you project back as much warmth and comfort as you can wrap into one message. And then your focus shifts, following the breeze and the gently floating seeds that it carries.

Thirty-eight days later, you send Samson a short video clip.

[A time-lapse shows the growth of a flower from seed. By the end, a dandelion emerges from the soil and blooms a vivid yellow, its colour a beautiful contrast to the bark of the oak tree it shelters beneath.]

The broadcast begins with an orchestra blaring a triumphant fanfare.

RUIZ: So much of our symbolism has been based on traits that we want to emulate. Eagles, lions… symbols of pride and glory and success.

The sound quality gradually whittles down from a live symphony to a tinny radio recording.

We are the legacy which the humans left behind

not changeable behaviours but characteristics key to the target

Nell A. Lorimer: “As decreed by fate, it seems.

Voices meld into a cacophony without any clear rhythm or musical key as they chant: “Happy birthday to you…”

Do you let your present change your past? Do you let your past inform your future?

The broadcast stops. And then it rewinds. The quotes and the music fly past in reverse. The screen is dark.

…

…

…

[The sweet perfume of lilacs in full bloom. A soft, warm surface sinking under the weight of a body. Wind chimes echoing over a babbling stream.]

RUIZ: It took me a while for me to understand, but I think I get it now. Birds like this… they’re beautiful for the sake of beauty.

Images fly past. The bots at the greenhouse close together. A dandelion growing from the roots of an oak tree. Shot after shot of robots working industriously, working together. A video of a sunset behind the silhouette of a cityscape. The caption reads: “Makes me want to start composing again…”

RUIZ: If there’s any other life out there, I want that to be how they think of us. We create beautiful things just because we want to.

They’ll improve with each moment of intense personal experience

IT HAS ALWAYS BEEN MY UNDERSTANDING THAT WE ARE THE SUM OF OUR MEMORIES AND EXPERIENCES

H:\logs\inputData\audio\humanMusicAudio\ “Theme from PSB” (3:59; 3.82 MB) plays over a shot of a bird flying over the city. Cut to a shot of dandelion seeds floating in the wind.

I want there to be someone out there at a base station who listens when I tell them what I see.

Thank you for being here to listen to me over this while

Information: It is better to be truly happy for one day than to be miserable forever.

Information: I am so very very happy.