/sci/ - Science & Math

>Every transhuman ever

>>2124447
>mfw kimiko ross is almost as bed as cavil.

Yeah? And?

Sign me up.

>>2124471
>bed

Freudian much?

>>2124492

I lol'd.

Pic related, every Singularitarian ever.

>>2124505
I did mess that up, but rule 34 on kimiko and cavil.

>>2124508

Treat our waifus with some respect goddamn.

>>2124505
i wonder how disjoint the group of singularitarian and transhumanists is or rather, isn't.

>>2124525
speaking of which.

>>2124525
The fuck?

Real Trans-Cyborg
>Is this what you want to look like in the future? -Steven Talking

>>2124525
No.

>>2124542
>>2124533
>>2124531

Fine you guys, I will go back to writing my transhumanist hard sf furry porn novels.

Where the furry is a posthuman propulsion engineer.

And has a chest tuft :3

>>2124559
I ain't even mad to each his own.

>hard street fighter furry porn novels.

bump

>>2124572

BRILLIANT!

>>2124641
>mfw

Your average transhumanist hard science fiction writer.

>>2124754
It's ok friends aren't important technology is important.

>>2124776

I... But I DO have friends. No furries, just friends ;__;

Which is actually much better than a lot of people here, so yay me and my high standards!

>>2124799
I just assumed you meant forever alone in your tastes not friends.

>>2124802

yeah, that's what i am

bump

>>2126836
why would you bump this stupid thread?

>She had, at the age of fifteen, turned a Tennis ball inside out. No cuts, incisions, holes, or anything.
>It was true that she was human-derived, and if one could scratch through the fur, one would find the basic algorithms that run humans, but on a less simplified level, she was completely alien, and her algorithms were either entirely different (On their details, but not on the general structure) or marginally different. People always thought the children would solve the problems the adults couldn't solve because they thought different – She wasn't a child but she still thought differently, a true posthuman who went unnoticed.

Every transhuman fictional character ever.

i nut

>>2126852
Did you write that?

>>2126871

As usual, yeah.

>>2126874
Need moar of that then! Moar fur!

But don't be so cruel to Ney. For an otherkin, she's quite adorable.

>>2126881

>You'd expect posthumans to be genetically-augmented humans or cyborgs or even virtual intelligences, but in the end, the first true posthuman was an ignored genetically-engineered super-furry people thought to be partially retarded or primeval so they treated her as such. A few people, though – Very, very few, could tell she was extremely intelligent by just looking at those cobalt eyes. >David and Sarah had been the only ones who had noticed she was more than that. A posthuman. Perhaps as an accident of genetics or of all the liberties the genticists had taken to ensure she wouldn't be deformed or retarded due to interspecies hybridization.
>The Tennis ball wasn't the only proof of that.
>“This will sound indencent,” said Laura “ but I say fuck the Vienna Convention. If that doesn't make you feel too uncomfortable.”
>Normally this would've been indecent, but then again, after brain-to-brain sideloading, everything is normal. And more interesting. And more unethical.
>The Vienna Convention was the set of rules that dictated proper behaviour in space. Particularly she referred to ignoring Article 56, section T: 'Absolutely and under no circumstances will sex in a newly-build structure be allowed. At least wait until the airlocks are secured and the hull is hardened you horny pricks' [sic].

>>2126889

>“We can't disregard the Vienna Convention! It's a matter of professional integrity! Wait until we reach Earth.”
>“What? You never wanted to sleep on a chest tuft?”
>Sure are Craig Venter, Author Appeal, Kacey Miyogami and 4chan's /sci/ board in here.
>Then he realized, she was Laura: The non-human and the posthuman, the impure and the genius, meant to be a slave and meant to be a propulsion engineer. He was looking at the turning point of Human history: The end of all History, the end of the Human Era, but Mankind's journey was just about to begin.
>Is this what the Technological Singularity really was all along? David thought. A furry with the mind of a posthuman, but no AI, no mind uploading?
>If that's the Singularity it was most definitely the most disappointing of all Singularities.
>Then, though, he thought: That his Laura, his own Laura, the one had had known fo rabout three or something months and had known for a millennium or two. God bless brain-computer interfaces! The one he had always known, always loved, but always had been thirteen standard weeks..
>Crazy crazy mad cobalt eyes, of a divine architecture.
>“I have loved you forever, but forever was only three Earth months. Now chop chop! There is a lot of science to be done and grants to cash!”

>>2126890

Then it goes like this: Three months of NO SEX on a spacecraft from Titan to Earth, then they spend the night on Kenya Earthport, with NO SEX.

Robert Zubrin shows up to talk to the guy about an idea David had for interstellar travel, saying he (Zubrin) is interested in getting it built. Then Laura walks out of the bathroom with an open robe and Zubrin is all like "You're doing a splice, you sick fuck!".

And Dave is all like "Call the ethics police, I don't give a fuck."

Pic related.

>>2126889
>>2126890
>>2126896
Go on

>>2126901

More in general or more of Laura?

>>2126915
What do you think :3

>>2126970

David Valk sat at a table in a large red room with golden ornaments, high-ceilinged. Most people had already left, feeling sick due to the low gravity or having finished their meals and conversation. That was the inauguration of the hotel, and Geneva Aerospace brought the best guests it could find.
David sat at the edge of the table, while the forever-rejeuvenated Charles Pellegrino argued with a cyborged man known as Robert Zubrin.
“It's all the danged Republicans, I will tell you what”, “Why Mars? Why not the asteroids? Why leave a gravity well to leap again into one?”, “We don't need your antimatter starships, we have our nuclear-electric rockets and they will suffice!” they shouted at each other, drunk with Alcohol 2.
After an hour of hearing their debate – While others started to fall into a deep coma or suffered aneurysms – David excused himself and left, being as corteous as possible because Robert Zubrin is the last person you want to see mad.
At the opposite end of the room, Laura watched. She sat at a table, and was the only one there, others had promptly left after they were done eating, or pointed at a random table and said they had seen a friend, and disappeared into said table. They left her alone as soon as they could, miss Lebedev made everyone uncomfortable.
She watched, through slitted, dark blue eyes – Those dreaded eyes! – that looked as if they were as cold as superfluid Heliumeveryone, not a single detail escaped: She noticed the constructions robots, masked as waiters – With a big dark mustache and all! She could even see the little dots that had been printed on their surface: Mechanosynthetized diamond, to give the impression of sweat.

>>2126973

She could also see one of the guests feeling up the wife of the VP of the Open Space Movement, while said VP slid silverware into his sleeve: They all had fake-wealth. Now anyone could throw dirt into a Feedstock Purifier, get the compounding atoms, feed it into a molecular assembler, and get a very elegant dress or a diamond cottage or something to show wealth.
Wealth had reached every level of society, poverty was not a matter of chance but of choice, but Laura didn't like how they paraded it around. That diamond necklace is worthless, lady. Diamonds are everywhere now, miss. This is the Diamond Age, after all.
Spacecraft were towers of diamond much like the cities.
She could also hear everything, and it annoyed her sometimes, but it was interesting to be able to hear those conversations that others thought were in secret, and then see people whispering secrets then quickly glancing in her direction to see if she was listening. As usual she pretended she didn't now, but at the time, five conspiracies and two colonization projects and one coup d'etat were being planned in that particular room: All held in utmost secrecy, but the woman in the corner heard them all, knew it all.

>>2126976

Did people know? Of course not, how could anyone suspect of her? The animal, the subhuman, meant to be a slave – No, nobody could suspect that she knew far more about humans than any psychologist, that she knew more about men than their women – By mere observation, because she had never been with one. Laura was the only one of her kind, and human men were not indecent enough. To lust after her? Most certainly. But they would never go as far as to eye her for over a fraction of a second. She preferred it this way. She didn't like personal things.
She carried a folder. An actual, physical one, of ink imprinted on dead trees. It was labelled “Relativistic Photosailing”, subtitled “David Valk – Laura Lebedev”. She waited for the whole thing to end, for the mice-brained mechanical waiters (So perfect in their details as to even have beads of sweat on their foreheads) to pick up everything, wipe the fruits with their sleeves and walk out as if they were dancing, for people to leave and others to stay and for the stage to be set up.
The Open Space Movement had organized it all: The guests sent to try out the Titan hotel were also invited to the first join OSM/GA conference on Deep Space Exploration.

(Unimportant stuff happens. 11 years later...)

Luddites on Earth went crazy: If one saw an object coming at you at 97% of lightspeed, by the time one saw it, it was much closer to one, due to lightspeed lag. Say, if one were to find the Sagan one light-hour away, by the time one did see it, it would be mere seconds away from one. The Carl Sagan's position was almost impossible to detect, and so was its direction. Consider it the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle for spaceflight. Call this one the 'Pellegrino Uncertainty Principle', in honour of everyone's favourite paranoid.
So they all went nuts at the thought of a man who had the power to wheel a ship and ram it against Earth at little below lightspeed itself, an impact that would penetrate the Earth's atmosphere, first creating a towering column of plasma around it, then the plasma would expand. Terminal velocity was nonsense with the energies at hand, the wind and the supernova-hot plasma would sweep the Earth and blow everything away, turning trees and people, cities and fullerene machines into the same: A thin layer of Carbon that would deposit on the ocean floor.

They had two months until the ship arrived, so they got to work: Unsupervised, with the public unaware, the people of Earth put together, fuelled, and launched a relativistic bomb. The antimatter for its drive was supplied by the Asimov Array on Mercury, the ship's parts built on the Moon, then blasted into orbit and assembled. Small amounts of antimatter boosted fusion reactions, and the ship flew around the Earth-Moon system, for testing. Then it accelerated to Mercury, where it would be fully loaded. The ship's dry mass was ten tonnes, and it would carry over 100 tonnes of antimatter (Consider that a single tonne is sufficient to provide for all of Earth's energy needs as of 2010). Then, the ship, put together in mere days, was blasted into space.
The flares that had been spotted by telescopes on Earth and the Moon were dismissed by the government, but when the antimatter drive was fired, the gamma-ray flare outshone the Sun and was detected by dozens of different institutes that demanded an explanation. When one was provided, everyone was horrorized. The most extremist on Earth cheered, but everyone else became worried. Some of the colonies pointed their radio antennas at the Carl Sagan, hoping that it was not too late, that the tiny beams of radio waves would outrun the relativistic missile even if it was by a fraction of an hour, maybe warn David, give him enough time to turn the ship, take it off-course.

Interstellar Vehicle Carl Sagan fluttered into the solar system, on December the 2nd, 2087. That day, the ship issued its emergency transmission before it was consumed in a blaze of light that outshone the entire galaxy on nearly any wavelength that you can name off the top of your head. The glare was visible throughout the whole of the solar system.
At the time, Laura Lebedev was working on the Mercury Asimov Array. The Carl Sagan was supposed to slow down, where it would be received, and she wanted to be as close as possible.
First, the great sail would enter orbit around Mercury, she would see the incredible machine with old chinese text written on the white background of its frontal surface, then the shuttles would throw out hot gases and make their way into orbit. He would be greeted by cameras and people, while every human being watched, and they would take him down to the surface where she was waiting with that scintillating green dress he liked, with the V-neck and all. She looked very elegant, waiting, her fur was pristine, and that was a hard thing to achieve; everything tended to stick to it.
She had even made a blueprint of a larger, more efficient version of the ISV Carl Sagan: One that could carry up to ten people, to the big void, so the two could flutter out among the stars.
The news reached every inhabited body in the solar system in less than a day: The video showed a great wing of buckytube, torn to shreds, braking up into smaller pieces by their own vibrations. A gigantic sail, and they had turned it into billions of tiny pieces of Carbon traveling at near-lightspeed. They had not thought of that. The bits of sailship were large enough to cause major damage. Most flew out of the solar system at interstellar escape velocity, spewing out radiation.

What was the most digusting about it was the camera they had mounted on the relativistic missile, showing the last seconds of the ship's time-subjective. First it showed a white circle against dim stars, and as it got closer, it looked like a gateway into a completely different region of space, with a star in the middle: The mirror that was the solar sail, a monstruous mirror of fullerene, photographed just mere milliseconds before the two objects hit each other at relativistic speeds. The entire thing had been recorded, transmitted, and it was in full-colour, high definition. The destruction of the first interstellar ship, broadcasted to the entire solar system, free of charge.
Less than an hour later they found out.
The crew module had survived. The impact hit the sail and tore it to pieces, but the rigging snapped and that was it. The crew module flew into the inner solar system close to the speed of light, unable to decelerate. Its transmissions reached every world. It was as if they had buried someone only to hear him scratch at his coffin.
The people who had put together the relativistic bomb most committed suicide. Some simply shot themselves, others leapt off the thousandth floor of some arcology, others just went into space only to take off the suit in the vacuum. The engineer that had designed it wheeled a tramp freighter into the Sun and faded along with the super-hot streams of Hydrogen that surrounded our star.
David's transmissions were met by people in the control room who just put their hands on their faces or silently walked out of the room, contacting their superiors. Then they explained Dave what had happened, how Earth had built the R-bomb and thrown it at him, how he could not be rescued for he moved too fast, and he would fly out of the solar system and back into interstellar space, unable to decelerate.

At that point David stopped talking. The sensors that transmitted data to control indicated that he was alive, and not catatonic: He was entirely conscious, just not talking.
They called in Laura.


Relativistic shrapnel was the first effect.
Most of the ISV Carl Sagan's sail tore itself to pieces, but the rigging simply snapped, cutting itself into pieces of varying length... And mass.
The overwhelming majority flew out, missing the tiny, pale, blue dot that was Earth. But a few reached it, and at that speed, dust grains become nukes.
Laura realized before anybody else did. The others were too worried about David, they did not think about Earth.
“Pfft, don't listen to that animal!” said the technicians behind her back. You understimate big cat ears.
She immediately sent a message to the Lima November Two site, where a second version of Earthport was being built to distribute traffic.
The first relativistic impact happened at six A.M., and New Zealand was about to become a monument to human paranoia.
It was a bit of the rigging, 6.3 meters long and 1.4 meters in diameter, with a mass of merely a few grams, but at that speed, grams are megatonnes.
It tunneled down through the atmosphere, releasing columns of plasma that widened ignoring all limitations of terminal velocity. They radiated sufficient wattage per square centimeter to melt lead.

Isn't this from the book you're working on? The Century of Wonders or something?

Twenty three kilometers above the surface the air density became too high and the shrapnel stalled and exploded, the first relativistic heavy ions sprayed on the surface of a lake and a nearby forest that lasted for two one-thousandths of a second.
Lima November Two didn't answer back. The impact had happened fifty six kilometers away from it, and when it comes to an R-bomb, that's too close. Too close.
New Zealand became a microwave oven, and Australia wondered why communications had been cut.
They wondered for a second, until the sound ran through everyone's years, all across the country.
“Tffft” came the faintest of faraway whispers, muted down to the sound of air escaping a shallow opening on wood. The sound of burning forests, volatilizing mountains, crumbling arcologies.
The remains of burning people.
The ash of burnt forests and people – Twenty million, mostly luddites that wanted a calm life along nature – and diamond cities floated into the upper atmosphere.
A second impact followed, this time near South Africa. This one was just bits of string, massing less than a gram.

The resulting blast toppled over a few boats, but did nothing much.
A third impact – A carbon nanotube cluster, 0.7 grams in mass – tunneled down, five hundred and seventeen kilometers east from the coast of Uruguay.
Two ships sank, a few of the countless buoys in the area disappears. Five thousand cubic meters of water were immediately turned to plasma and water vapour, fluttering out.


The main room of the Mercury Power Project was a lot like the mission control room of the archaic space shuttles, the first of which had been sent off into space little more than a hundred years before that day. It had screens covering an entirewall and surrounding a larger one, parallel desks and computers everywhere. Most of the screens were not visible to everyone; but only to the people who were wearing the company's implants: The computers spoke into them through the implants, and where there was nothing the communications team saw a screen floating in the air.
The biggest screen was a 3D of the path of the Carl Sagan: The ship moved so fast it left a bowshock as it entered the denser regions of the solar wind.
Camera robots were there, filming the room, the people, and a girl who stood in front of a large console, on one of the many control balconies and catwalks that lined the tall walls of the room. The girl who wasn't really a girl.

>>2127006

The Century of Wonders was a summary, the book is called For All Mankind.

>>Thirty colonies, the sum total of Mankind's off-world settlements, watched, from the orbit of Venus to cisjovian space and a few outposts around Saturn. Everybody knew who she was but they liked to pretend they didn't, or maybe they didn't want to remember that the first person to go to the stars had fallen in love with a splice. It was such an indignity, they thought. Of course they did; even the most liberal of liberal liberals (The people of the off-world colonies of course) saw her as a pig, an animal, less than human, worth not much more than the Carbon atoms she was made out of.
She was standing there with her forehead against the screen of the drawer-sized machine, her right thumb on the red switch. As if the machine had been put in that position for her, waiting all these years until it could get to mock her with its indifference.
>David was in the same position, on his end of the line. He had to grab on to the machine to counter the slight pull of the Sun.
She flipped the switch and whispered his name but then shouted into the machine “David!” just in case.
>A beam of microwaves left Mercury and reached the ship, still a few light-minutes away.

test

He had set the machine to record everything he exchanged, for posterity. There was a long posterity ahead.
He started recording a message,
“... Tomorrow you will get a call from my lawyers. They will give you the code for my self-replicating corporations, my virtual Von Neumann probes of the market. They are the keys to the world, to the whole of Humanity, and I had been breeding and training them for years I left. All the monery in the world, for you to build all the starships you want.” The small camera mounted on the machine recorded his mouth only, the lower part of his nose, his right had which held the switch, and the background. He smiled, the kind of smile men give when they know they are going to die but also know their death will be prolongued for as longas the universe has mercy and he doesn't hit a lump larger than a golfball. It would go down in history under many filenames. It was the smile of grim acceptance of a grim future by the grimmest man of the end of the brightest period of Mankind. The smile of the Interstellar Age.
The message, video and audio, were recorded and sent to the Mercury Power Project as a tight beam of microwaves.
When it came, the screen lit up and showed the moving mouth of a man in grayscale. It was dark in there. The audio took a few milliseconds to get in sync.
And then all eyes were on her: Non-human, impure, meant to be a slave, chimerical, and they were the pure men and women of Mankind. Two worlds, one Moon, and the dozens of colonies. All belonged to her. Obtained, of course, through methods of yet-to-be-defined legality.

At least the retards on Earth got what they deserved when they destroyed that ship.

Posting as an image because 4chan.

That's it, folks.

David lives, flying out into interstellar space because of retards and republicans.

Laura lives, too, and never really gets over it, but generally moves on (While still refusing to get laid with anyone else because she was SO LOYAL like that :3:3:3 >;3~~)

So when is it done? I want to read the whole thing.

>>2127050
Your typing has an awful lot of spelling errors. The whore of Earth's water?

>>2127081

>The whore of Earth's water?

Freudian slips.

>>2127073

At some point in the near future, sooner than you think, but not Next Month AD.

>>2127081

lol

>>2124471
>mfw kimiko ross is almost as bed as cavil.

???

>>2127273
It was a mistake geeze.

>>2127281
sorry, I just like "bed" as an adjective.

>>2124432
>implying that's bad
Hell yeah I want to smell dark matter and see x rays.

Fucking idiots appealing to "the natural way" or whatever the fuck OP's point is.

>>2127273

>slepyko.jpg

lol!

bump for more -rays and fur

>>2127366
what's funny

>>2127481

Just funny in general.

yeah but ziggy says theres an 83% chance youre going to need to stay human if you want to leap again.

>>2127519
fair enough

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