/sci/ - Science & Math

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984211]

Futurists of /sci/, it's that time again. You know the drill.

SINGULARITAN
EXPLODAN
NANOTECH REVOLUTAN
GOLDEN HOURAN
SPACEFLIGHTAN
FURRIESAN
POSTHUMANAN
TELOMERE RECONSTRUCTAN

[Anonymous No.1984225]

I'm pretty much lost. Care to explain?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984258]

>>1984225

It goes like this:
"In thirty years we'll have a nanotech revolution and we'll be able to make spacecraft out of dirt and rock so we'll build rockets and expand into space using water as a propellant through radio-heating, upload ourselves into computronium and explore the cosmos with Bussard ramjets while copies of us stay back on Earth taking over with android armies and establishing the GLORIOUS TECHNOCRATIC DICTATORSHIP TO BE KNOWN AS THE INSTRUMENTALITY OF MANKIND and also genetically-engineered super-furry leopard chicks to tend the bars"

[Anonymous No.1984275]

>>1984258
You are the reason we aren't taken seriously

[Anonymous No.1984281]

When I shoot all the people on the research team just after they turn the computer on and I take over the singularity for myself,

I'm gonna persecute all of the fucking furries.

[Axel the Possum No.1984291]

>>1984211

Hey, Coffee Mug! What's up?

If this thread is up after I finish my dinner, I am so totally in

[sage No.1984309]

Gray Goo seems the most likely.

[Anonymous No.1984316]

>>1984258
>Bussard ramjets

He still believes in ramjets. lol

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984330]

>>1984309

A molecular assembler is a drawer-sized machine with nanoscale parts. It can't create a grey goo scenario.

The only way for Grey Goo to become a plausible Doomsday scenario is to somehow mount a molecular assembler, a fully-functional, multi-purpose one, into a nanoscale robot, giving it freedom of motion and a power source, which is quite ridiculous (For this century, or at least it's first part).

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984346]

>>1984316

It was an example, I still prefer solar sails above all, at least for interstellar.

[Future !GUYX/6jp3w No.1984356]

Man, the sort of shit you expected.

[Anonymous No.1984368]

>>1984275
Second

[Axel the Possum No.1984379]

One has to wonder: When permanent space colonies are viable, they're likely not going to be owned by any particular government, at least not after the first generation or two. They're likely going to be corporate and designed to exploit certain resources, like operating outside certain national legal systems, or to harvest raw materials from asteroids, or to provide privacy for wealthy hedonists.

This, inevitably, will lead to the development of free outposts, as the cost of materials and building decrease. We will see a rise of nations formed and sustained mostly by people who are members by choice and not by accident or force.

Imagine tiny nations formed of like-minded individuals, and what might be accomplished...

Also, Martian frontier, once that jewel is terraformed.

[Anonymous No.1984385]

>>1984330
It certainly isn't ABSOLUTELY ridiculous; it might be impossible with nano-scale, but we already know it's plausible on the micro-scale because bacteria exist.

[Anonymous No.1984393]

>>1984379
He still thinks the state will exist when we leave the planet.

[Anonymous No.1984398]

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rLMn3_SzBiU

This is the only acceptable way for our future.

[Future !GUYX/6jp3w No.1984411]

>>1984393

>>He still thinks the state will exist when we leave the planet.

....It does.

[Anonymous No.1984415]

>>1984411
Well I meant in space sorry.

[Anonymous No.1984417]

>>1984379
>members by choice and not by accident or force.

Stop abusing delightful SciFi for your 'No Nations No Borders' shit, Zeitgeist asshole!

[Anonymous No.1984421]

>>1984275
So much truth...

[Axel the Possum No.1984445]

>>1984417

Fuck that noise. Capitalism works. Doesn't mean people aren't likely to form their own little social clades that slowly become distinct cultures once the ability to say "Screw you guys, I'm going to a new home" is infinitely easier.

Why deal with all the bullshit of your neighbours when you can just go somewhere else? You see it on the internet already with specialized forums.

[Anonymous No.1984452]

>>1984445
>mfw space is full of untapped resources, and we no longer need the free market and we adopt a biological economy

[Samefag No.1984472]

Brain in a jar in 10 years. Mark me.

I opened up my left ring finger sunday morning. "Dug around" and found nerves. I then adsorbed by a secret process which is being patented but isn't done yet some secret composition secret wires onto the cell membrane of the neurons of that nerve.

I've been working on a mouse (named Prion the Not Yet Bionic Mouse) for nearly two months getting him to control a robot exoskeleton via spinal interface, and after he died of old age (I cried) I got another one (Dopamine, the Dope-Dealing Bionic Dopemouse) and tried inducing action potentials instead of reading existing ones. I got good results but jesus fucking christ on a pogo stick that doesn't compare to actually feeling it yourself.

By passing small, computer controlled current through that wire, I was able to simulate touch.

Controlled, discrete, precise neuronal stimulation.

Niggerfucking prosthetic devices with sensations. It's simple now, but with
http://spectrum.ieee.org/biomedical/bionics/synthetic-skin-sensitive-to-the-lightest-touch
and the fact that this is infinitely scalable, up to and including spinal cord level, I will bring you within a decade Ghost in the Shell.

I promise you, /sci/.

[Samefag No.1984477]

>>1984472
Forgot picture.
DC must accompany all of my transhumanist posts.

[Anonymous No.1984488]

>>1984472
I have no issue with this.

[Future !GUYX/6jp3w No.1984489]

>>1984472

Oh, I believe it. :)

[Axel the Possum No.1984497]

>>1984452

Biological economy? Not a term I've heard before.

Would be nice, though, to have everyone enjoying the benefits of immortality, morphological freedom, and more or less free access to anything they want/need. Not available at the moment, though.

[Scia !!cjW58FjfJHZ No.1984513]

Furries are the scum of the earth, and the surest candidates for dying alone. The furry fandom will accept ANYONE, and hence attracts the worst and most pathetic people in the world. Furries are so ugly that they make Brian Peppers look attractive, so stupid that they make autists look smart, and pathetic beyond compare. FAIL doesn't even begin to encompass how bad furries have done in life. Dying alone is the best they can do, preferably in the style of Mr. Hands.

To put furfaggotry in perspective, furries are to animals what Larpers are to medieval faggotry, and the differences are sometimes very subtle. Larpers are at least willing to admit what they do is all in pretense, whereas some furs actually believe that they are their fursonas. Furfags have gone as far as raising their kids as furs, although instinctively the children realize their parents are different and ultimately reject it, thus proving that there is some hope for the human race which the furries have sought to destroy with their faggotry.


YIFF IN HELL YOU THIRD WORLD FURFAG

[Anonymous No.1984526]

>>1984497
I meant that using the economy and the free market in a pre scarcity state is unsustainable, but if we modeled our economies as a zero sum game it would work out better.

[Anonymous No.1984532]

I can't wait for our robot/cyborg/android children to reach their first alien planet and genocide its people.

[Axel the Possum No.1984558]

>>1984526

Seems sort of impossible, especially if you want to offer any form of incentive to people to develop and create new things.

[Anonymous No.1984579]

>>1984558
The flow of resources in nature is a zero sum game, and evolution requires no motivation other than survival. I just figure whatever form of human take to the cosmos, will have radically different motivations.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984771]

Orbiting a yellow dwarf in the Orion Spur there were planets, circling their sun in an endless cycle, until the spark of intelligence appeared in one, and in a fraction of the time it took nature to evolve intelligence, that sentient life began writing instead of passing knowledge from generation to generation.
In a fraction of the time it took for Man to write, they started printing words, and in a fraction of that, they built computers, then the Internet, and suddenly a species that had remained for thosuands of years as hunters-gatherers found itself in a world of towering arcologies of buckminsterfullerene and diamond buildings, laser-pushed spacecraft and great wings of buckytube taking people to the stars.
It was the Century of Wonders, the time when David Valk lived, when the splices were treated as dirt, when the Lady Deirdre sent thousands of people into space in her light-pushed spacecraft. The times of the Third Singularity, when people and their consumationalist views were crushed by a bunch of terminally future-shocked men – It all happened before the Commonality, before the days when Man could leap out and colonize the stars, before Earthport became a diamond tower shooting upward through the clouds, resting on the soft soil of what was known as Kenya for a brief period of time.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984776]

Welcome to the fifth decade of the Century of Wonders.
If you look into the homes anywhere in the world, in nine out of them you will see a machine small enough to fit on a desk. Millions of man-hours of work had lead to its construction: If the atoms that made up its molecule-sized gears, carts, and conveyors were the size of a bowling ball, the Drexler would be the size of the United States. The machine is infinitely complex, and yet as subtle as its designers could've made it. A multi-purpose, fully reprogrammable, Drexlerian molecular assembler, a machine capable of assembling matter atom by atom, with all the precision the laws of physics allow.
The hopeful though it would be the end of Capitalism, but not yet. Someone has to supply the carbon, and the power. These were minor things – Carbon is everywhere and power could be supplied by >99% efficiency photovoltaic cells or ultralight wind turbines, whose construction only became possible once the molecular assemblers were built. But someone has to tell the machine what to do. Blueprints; assembler-executable code. Entire corporations were dedicated to turning real life blueprints of machines into Drexler code, and while the Free Nanotechnology Foundation and other open-source Drexler-code-writing communities existed on the Internet, most people still proffered company-written code. So Capitalism found a way.

[Axel the Possum No.1984777]

>>1984579

Sorry, I misunderstood what zero sum means, but now I'm even more confused. Zero sum games from what my quick Wikipedia search tells me basically means "If one gains, another loses", which, if I recall rightly, is what we already have...

[Anonymous No.1984781]

>>1984771
faggotry

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984782]

In the meantime, the moon bases have been cancelled, astronauts brought back. Nobody has managed to turn profit from space, besides a chain of space hotels in LEO and a small self-sufficient Lunar hotel, and a patent-protected 815-kilometre wide Mylar disk in geosynchronous orbit, that at noon creates an artificial solar eclipse on a precise point of the Earth's surface. This point is an island bought by the corporation that built the disk, and since its construction, the value of land went through the roof and thousands of people spend their vacations in the hotels built there.
A lonely flag rests on the surface of Mars, and depleted nuclear mini-submarines lie in Europa's underground oceans, as dead as they are hidden.
97% of the Baby Boomers are dead. They came too early for immortality. But, thankfully, this means that 97% of the ethics bandwagoners are dead too. Stem cells, genetic enhancements, augmented reality implants, telomere reconstruction, nanosurgery and consciousness-accelerating drugs are finally here because there's nobody left to complain about them. And I had a Wendy Wright joke here, but no.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984788]

The new fad is to have one's eyes modded, hair metallized, and skin plasticized. Thankfully, the real-life anime fad/fetish did not last long and people went back to normality.
Earth's continental land masses have been depleted, and gigantic submarines are sent to the ocean floor to extract rare metals. Sadly for space exploration cheerleaders, this is cheaper than asteroid mining, so development in space has slowed down a bit.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984800]

Welcome to the sixth decade of the Century of Wonders.
A planet-wide grid is being built to distribute power to all regions of the world. At the same time, the Lunar Asimov Array is solving the energy crisis as the Moon-wrapping carpet of nanotech-aided photovoltaics keeps growing, its growth fuelled by self-replicating Drexlers on site, beaming hundreds of terawatts of power to Earth through towering microwave lasers. The Drexlers are not swarms of nanoscopic, self-replicating, socializing, intelligent robots, rather; they are macroscopic robots feeding trillions of atoms into macroscopic machines that hold nanoscopic telescoping booms that grab atoms from a sea of parts underneath and assemble them.
But the grid needs a special component: A room-temperature superconductor is needed for efficiency, to prevent power being lost en route, so all of the power from the photovoltaics in the Sahara to reach New York, zero loss. And the only known superconductor so far is a Carbon-Platinium alloy developed in the last few decades, assembled with atomic precision, its structure designed to allow the resistance-less conduction of electric currents. And where to obtain Platinium? The ocean floor that had fed the weakened economy of the now-fragmented China could not provide it, so it had to be extracted from the asteroids.

[Anonymous No.1984802]

>>1984777
I think I'm using it wrong, what I meant was that no one ends up with a bunch of excess resources in the long run, so the drive for profit is out. If that makes sense..... Not trying to be confusing.... Sorry

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984812]

Self-replicating, fractal robots were sent to the asteroids. Feeding matter into the assemblers, they built more robots until they had enough to start a whole, automated colony. A self-sustaining asteroidal outpost. Platinium, Gold, and all the other rare Earth metals that were found on massive amounts and incredibly high purity were extracted, put on canisters built on-site, and blasted to Earth – Needles to say, the canisters were nothing more than cruise-sized cylinders with a few vernier jets.
Once an asteroid was fully colonized, some of the robots were packed and blasted to the other nearby asteroids to probe them and – If they had sufficient resources – mine them. A true Von Neumann machine began spreading through the asteroids, matter that could think colonizing, for the first time, volumes of space that had held nothing but dead matter for billions of years.
Eventually the asteroidal outposts became too large to be maintained by the semi-sentient half-AI's, and human help was needed. The space fans, especially the Open Space Movement's members (Which was then a quasi-corporative entity owning the moon base) pushed forward space colonization. Founding was denied, and even though the OSM was filthy rich they didn't have the resources to start something that big.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984819]

But the methods were there! Everyone had a Drexler at home, a molecular assembler! What happens when people realize the machine on their desk can build the parts of the most delicate of spacecraft? What happens when villagers realize they can start a space program?
Spacecraft were built – Not the crude spacecraft of the early days, inefficient Space Shuttles and non-SHLV Soyuz craft, but ultra-light polyfullerene constructions as efficient as the laws of physics allowed – out of dirt and rock, the first skyscraper-sized space planes, the first ships that took thousands of humans into cislunar space and beyond.
After a semi-catastrophic failure of the Tycho Brahe's VASIMR, its crew managed to land on the cold, rust-covered Mars.
The Marie Curie flutters in orbit around the Moon where only a handful of humans and a million robots have stood, and the IPV (InterPlanetary Vehicle) Karl Schroeder has reached the plasma currents of the solar system's most prominent world: Colonies are set up on Callisto, Ganymede, and clinging to the ice roof in Europa's no-longer-dead oceans.
Cisjovian space is now the home of matter that can think, the home of life and the furthest frontier from Earth. People were finally free, the first pioneers to escape the future-shocked streets of Earth and start their own lives in their own worlds.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984821]

Miniaturized Valkyrie rockets are fired towards the Kuiper Belt to obtain a complete maps of the terra incognita that is the cometary halo and find the elusive Oort Cloud.
People are starting to notice a trend among the young. Born in a world of molecular nanotechnology, of cured diseases, and a tamed world, they had everything – With all their needs satisfied, they became conformists, then Isolationists. Nearing the end of the sixth decade, the Golden Hour's Generation is one of luddites, xenophobes, medievalists, and ignorant fascists. Proof of how tendencies can backlash to one extreme when a society is set to the opposite.
The total antithesis of the Golden Hour had happened almost a century ago, and the hippies and peace-and-love hipsters showed up. This was the same, but in the opposite direction. Marriage was outdated. People got together, had twelve children and separated afterwards. Most people had no problem with crossdressing or fetish parties or whatever. Consensual intercourse in the missionary position for the sole purpose of procreation was so yesterday. People were content with pain amplifiers and buttplugs, common fluid exchange was frowned upon. Most babies were selected out of a sea of zygotes, to get the best genetic material, and then genemodded.
On Earth, luddism is winning. In space, colonization has taken place with such vigour that all of the old low-budget NASA plans have been forgotten and the small nuclear-electric rockets replaced with gigantic interplanetary junkyards, the small ships replaced with gigantic spacecraft trailing behind an engine module placed at the front of the ship; pulling instead of pushing; to reduce the mass penalty and get maximum efficiency.

[Axel the Possum No.1984829]

>>1984802

That seems silly as well, as taking away incentives to do better work or invent new things more or less robs a large portion of our innovation.

[Anonymous No.1984841]

W/E
bunch of priviledge 14 year old talking amongst themselves

jerk offs

[Future !GUYX/6jp3w No.1984845]

>>1984829

Yeah, invalids are a pressing social issue. But there aren't as many as you might expect.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984849]

With the new generation taking the seats of the last, he medievalists and Isolationists are outnumbering the transhumanists, the utopians, the extropianists and the idealists and the scientists: All of these are collectively called the Outsiders, for they are strangers in the caves of steel, the towering cities of ceramic beams and buckminsterfullerene walls.


Welcome to the seventh decade of the Century of Wonders.
She was a splice: Chimerical, impure, non-human, subhuman, meant to be a slave, but she would step above them all and earn a page for herself in history: The first human-derived intelligence, the beast-headed woman who owned the whole of Mankind for a day. But it was a long, long way.
Her first problem was being born in the wrong end of the Golden Hour.
Her second problem was her genome – She was a posthuman-level intelligence by design and cat-like by genetics, and they underestimated her. They thought of her as a subhuman, inferior animal when she knew far more about them than they all did. They were so linear, she, on the other hand, could attack ideas from all sides at the same time. Behind those leopard eyes there was something else. Scratch the fur and you would find Humanity, but they did not care for that. She was born in the wrong side of the progress explosion, she consorted with the first man sent to the stars, she owned Earth, she made her place in history, she found the Worldhouse, started the Commonality – But all of this lay in the wider volumes of her own light cone, and she did not know it.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984857]

That’s her story.
Laura had been made in the Golden Hour, when research grants where given away like trash. They had the robots chew off the tips of the telomeres and pull out strands of genetic material, spliced it until it fit, always taking precautions: If a liger (Tiger/lion) has more than enough issues, God knows how many back problems and such she would develop, Laura being a hybrid between two creatures of completely different genera? They took precautions so she wouldn’t be an abomination – Whether or not she would be treated as one, that was up to the maturity of Humanity as a whole – and she ended up stable and healthy: The first of the splices, the first truly human-derived, non-human intelligence.
Mankind was no longer alone, but the only alien was one of their own creation.
Born in a plastic bag in a lab in Siberia, Laura Lebedev was an athletic young woman with spotted fur and the head of a clouded leopard fitted with intelligence – Which they originally meant to be human like, but the geneticists had been allowed to take some liberties. A hybrid, with posthuman intelligence.
She was the most intelligent being in Sunspace, but they underestimated her of course. Humans are so reliant on visual stimuli: If they had taken time to listen –

[Axel the Possum No.1984860]

>>1984841

Awww, is somebody upset we're enjoying ourselves?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984864]

But maybe it had been better that way. If Laura had been born ten years prior, during the main period of the Golden Hour she would’ve been embraced and accepted as something new. But with the speed characteristic of the times, things changed, and even the people on the colonies, the informal, open, überliberals hated her.
It would’ve been too uninteresting if it had been easy, no? She had no human rights, there was no “Bill of Universal Sentient Rights”, she was legally an animal like the apes that had been given human-like intelligence and gathered allies to help them present their case.
Her birth had happened to late, the luddites were starting to show up, and when she reached adulthood people started noticing where it was all headed.
History has always been fighting, fucking and fancy clothes.
The luddites were starting to show. A geneticist, infertile beyond science’s reach, had taken her as a child, and meant to keep Laura safe (This happened when she was an adolescent, right in the middle of the Golden Hour), and safe implied jetting her off world, to the colonies: Away from the luddites and the end of the Golden Hour, but mostly, away from the engineer who lead the team; a very proficient geneticist who had less-than-honorable intentions.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984868]

Sarah put her in a spaceplane and watched her leave. A month later, the Isolationist party won in Russia and her pseudo-mother, the only person that had been kind to her, was arrested from transhumanist tendencies.
It is also noteworthy that during that period, in the colony, Laura Lebedev – Despite being treated as an animal, but at least the colonists kept it subtle – still got asked out a lot… Mostly by Cordwainer Smith fans…
Sarah had promised her that in the colonies it would be different, that there were no luddites or xenophobes there, but it was the same. On Earth it was raw contempt, in the habitats it was slightly more polite. They didn’t hate her, in the colonies, but they didn’t like her there. Like those who voted in favor of uplifting monkeys into sentience, and then didn’t want to live with suit-wearing apes.
Humans did not want to acknowledge they were no longer the only sentient species known to them, they would’ve cried out across the whole of Sunspace if they had known Laura was a posthuman, and they would have felt embarrassed for all eternity if they had known she noticed they were lusting after a splice – Which, of course, made everyone uncomfortable. It was too indecent, too unimaginably indecent.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984887]

Interstellar Vehicle Carl Sagan had been put together around Venus. He had been selected to go, to ride the first of the great sails to the stars, to go on humanity's first interstellar flight. He would be the first man to break free from the grip of the masses and the laughter of humanity, to flutter out among the stars. It was the longest journey, across the widest ocean humanity had found: Its volume denumerable, yet incomprehensibly large. He would swim into a microscopic fraction of that ocean, thinking it was a huge, understanding its real size – Everyone knew the numbers. 4.37 light years. 276,000 Astronomical Units. 4,134e16 meters. Everyone knew that, but you don't understand how big it is until you go there and it hits you, and watch the heavens bend into two spots fore and aft, the stars blueshifting closer and redshifting away, the Sun becoming a pink dot among a background of four hundred billion Suns, and the nebulinas and MACHOs and brown dwarves passing by you, the ship's speed and time dilation allowing those to have a relative velocity and and allowing him to actually see the objects moving near him.
Him, out of all people, David Valk: His genome untouched, not out of choice, but out of the bad luck of having been born in the wrong place, and too early, while everyone else was genetically-upgraded. He was a barely augmented human baseline (The basic 75% respirocyte count: Those incredible artificial blood cells that allowed any wimp to tun for days or dive under water for hours, and of course: The genetically-tricked bacteria that produced an enzyme which accelerated intelligence), while everyone else was a superhuman.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984890]

And he had somehow stepped above them all, and had been chosen to fly the ISV Carl Sagan to the stars. For four months he flew around Earth, from interview to interview (Face-to-face, in his very special case) until the last week on Earth, where he visited the Millesgarden with a good friend and then went to Earthport to take his leave.
But there was a problem.
He had gone out there, on the mission to Titan, along with nineteen other people. Including the beast-headed woman. And Laura, well, she had come back from Titan having committed the crime of falling in love with a human.
People sometimes saw them together on Earthport – It all happened on Kenya Earthport – or in the colonies, the former being the place where they spent most of their time: It was the Golden Hour, and it had all – All thirty years of it – happened right there, right there on Kenya Earthport itself. What better place to live in?
It was illegal, indecent, disgusting – Since legally she wasn’t sentient. To Mankind she was a huge lump of meant that merely looked human, had learned to act like one, wear shoes and not make a mess. (Those poor people, those horrible, horrible people, they had no idea what they were making. If she had been allowed to live a normal life everything would’ve turned out allright – But the hate and the torment, the way she had been brought up, shaped something).

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984897]

To Mankind she was an animal, as valuable as the clouded leopardess from that Bangkok zoo that had provided the DNA.
She could stand and walk on two legs, think, talk, sign, dance, love, and do everything a human could, she was as good as any other human, as intelligent as any human, and often more, much more, not that anybody cared.
But they would know, and it would be hilarious – Very embarrassing for the people of Earth, but they would get over it.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984900]

Nobody knew they were consorting, until that last day on Earthport: A constellation of buildings, built by an engineer and a furry, on the soft soil of Kenya and surrounded by tall vegetation and sparse trees.
Spaceplanes propelled themselves into space from there, capsules rode columns of plasma generated by ground-based microwave lasers.
It was owned by the Open Space Movement, the quasi-corporation both the engineer and the furry were a part of, and Geneva Aerospace. And they were trying to get as many people into space as possible, before the luddites brought them all back to an era of stagnation.
When people found out about the two, well, they liked to pretend nothing was happening. If they had found out before, David would not have been selected – He had the expertise and the skills and the will, but it would’ve been bad publicity. Now people had to deal with the fact that the first person to go to the stars had to indecency to –
Well, you know what? Just deal with it.
The two liked to think it wasn’t love, that one couldn’t call it that. Just very good friends.
It showed.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984904]

They showed no emotion, emotions were a weak point. Others would’ve been holding hands and waving them back and forth, but they were not like that. They were always depressingly solemn: His posture as stern as that of a statue, her blue eyes as cold as superfluid Helium.
She did need a friend, in a very special way, and he knew this. He knew he was the only person who treated her as an equally intelligent sentient instead of an animal, he knew she had no choice but to love him. And David, well, he couldn't give all that love, all that kindness, to any human woman. He knew their little principles and guiding biases. He did not want all that nonsense. So you know what they say: When you can't trust people, might as well get it on with the leopard chick.
It was such an ugly-lovely story – Indecent and illegal –, and it would be remembered, and interpreted, much later. But they did not know this.
That was the day she was shot, when the xenophobes almost won: It wasn’t because she was a splice, now she had fallen in love with a human. Shit was personal now.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984913]

Earthport was, as they left, being emptied and swept, the last hundreds of people blasted into space. They had waited for the last spaceplane: David, Laura, the CEO of Geneva Aerospace and her bodyguard and friend, along with a few other people, were the last ones to go. Kenya Earthport was barricaded and surrounded and wouldn’t survive the night.
To board the spaceplane as fast as possible they chose to cut corners, the outside catwalks, some guy with a gun in the crowds below. She was wearing that nice green gown he liked, and it had become a mess of blood and fur. She lived.
A shuttle of the OSM took them to Venus, where the Carl Sagan awaited, the huge sail curved so it would fit within Venus’ shadow cone. They stayed in the station for a few days, and then the ISV was released: Angled in a way that would kill its orbital velocity, it fell straight into the Sun, and when it was close said – And David safely packed in his acceleration suit, in a tank of liquid, everything designed to lessen stress and distribute g-forces – it was turned and twelve thousand Earth gravities of acceleration, imparted onto it by photon pressure, pushed the sailship forwards to relativistic velocity. Suddenly six hundred tonnes of Carbon nanotube mesh wire were flying out of the solar system.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984923]

The entire volume of civilized space watched: Earth, the LEO orbitals, the colonies. Everyone watched, this was a turning point in history. Children were awakened and dragged by their parents, to watch the huge sail. Where there had been nothing in one moment, suddenly something appeared: An oval that stretched out, white and with Chinese characters written on its surface – Each ideogram at least five thousand kilometers long – and flying above Earth. So much light was reflected that suddenly it was day on the dark side of Earth, as the ship flew out, and the light that bounced off its sail was so redshifted that the night-turned day had a pink hue, like a constant sunrise, one that lasted twelve seconds, but was spread out all over the sky and not just above the line of the horizon. It lasted twelve seconds and then it was over, and where the Carl Sagan went a trail of roses and festivities was left behind.
It reached most of its speed during the first hour of flight, and after that, it just flew out on what little light it caught beyond the orbit of Saturn, slowly accelerating away.
Soon it had reached its full velocity, the spacecraft plowed through the heliopause, one light-day from the Sun, and fluttered out into interstellar space.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984929]

Within a single day of time-objective, it had outrun all the previous human probes: Voyager 1 and 2, having barely left the magnetosheath, were now behind. They barely moved at a few kilometers per second while the Carl Sagan could travel the distance between the Earth and the Moon in a second and two-fifths. A trip to Alpha Centauri would take four years to the Interstellar Vehicle, while the two Voyagers slowly circled the galactic barycenter and would spend hundreds of thousands of years in flight until reaching the light of another star.
Back to the small picture: He would have carried her along, Leopard Girl most certainly knew how to manage the gigantic fullerene wings pushed by the momentum of light. But the Carl Sagan only had room for one person: The entire crew area (Yes, David included, life support and computers included) had a total mass of less than two tones. That was the Nanotech Revolution. That was ultimate efficiency.
And carrying an extra gram of dead mass meant more fuel, or, in this case, more surface area, and more surface area meant both a greater area for relativistic impacts to damage the sail (Even though it would be cannibalized and disassembled for flight, only to be reassembled and redeployed for arrival, this process took time and it took too much of it, enough for the ship to encounter something) and a greater initial acceleration: The tanks barely held at twelve thousand gravities (He had been warned that they could only take up to nine thousand, that he would be killed or crippled, but even when a cyborged Robert Zubrin explained it to him, he still refused to lower the cruise ceiling. They brought in Charles Pellegrino hoping everyone’s favourite paranoid would be enough to scare David into turning the sail further away, to reduce the g-forces, but he refused).

[Anonymous No.1984935]

Oh hai, is this the local popular science wank fantasy thread?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984938]

But it did not matter, because David Valk was alive, a redshifting radio wave source fluttering out among the stars a few light-days out.

Some said the Singularity had happened. After all, who could have predicted that the seventh decade of the Century of Wonders would have 800 people living off-world, immortality, full-immersion virtual worlds, electrodynamic tethers extended through Jupiter's magnetosphere to satisfy the power-hungry colonise, furry rapist geneticists, and genetically-engineered super-furry part-human part-tiger part-leopard women dating astronauts? Who could have predicted polyfullerene strings extending into space from Earth's surface: True space elevators, or spiders genetically-tricked to produce strands of Carbon nanotubes?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984941]

Such were the Robert-Forward planets, circling Alpha Centauri Alpha with an uneasy stealth.
They were microjovian worlds, orbiting each other around a common barycenter, so close that the two had been bent out of shape, egg-shaped worlds tip to tip, so close that they exchanged gases, so close that upward-downward waterfalls of Helium rose in columns from one world and rained down on the pole of the other, entire oceans of methane shared between the two. Two worlds, a single atmosphere, storms forming in one and sliding into the other.
Such were the Robert-Forward planets, Robert and Forward, two blue microjovians, circling their sun undetected. They were too far away, too small, too lightweight: Therefore they reflected little to no light and imparted little pull on the star, but at the same time they were close enough not to get pulled out of orbit by Alpha Centauri B.
And he reached them, the Robert-Forward worlds, and studied them. There was nothing for man around them: Naturally-occurring fullerenes, water ice, methane ice, caves and the most alien and breathtaking landscapes, out there among the stars.
And he finally left them, after three years, the dust-sprinkled gravity well of two worlds scarcely larger than Earth itself was soon gone, as the ISV Carl Sagan arced away from them, until the merged into a single spot and eventually disappeared, leaving behind nothing. After reaching 97% of lightspeed, the Carl Sagan fluttered back to Sunspace.
The world watched the spacecraft coming back, trailing a continent-sized bowshock behind itself.
Laura waited for her man to come back from the space among the stars.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984949]

The luddites won, during that period. He did not know the exact date (Was it still the seventh decade, or the eight?). Relativity-lagged he had to ask the computer to tell him the date and time in Greenwich and Mecca time. David Valk was certain, though, that the luddites had won – The date was unimportant.


Welcome to the eight decade of the Century of Wonders
Eleven years of time-objective after the launch of the Carl Sagan, in 2074 – Four years going, three studying the icy moons of the microjovian world Forward, four back –, the Carl Sagan's maser messages reached the colonies, barely running ahead the 600 tonne relativistic mirror.
Michael Bachmann (The future son of another particularly disturbing Bachmann, if you can't tell), to give a good ending to his three terms as First Citizen of the Christian States of America (Since 2069. Why did the birth of a theocratic dictatorship have to happen in the 100th Anniversary of the day man first stepped on the Moon? Why out of all dates?) he ordered an antimatter-driven Valkyrie rocket to be assembled in orbit and blasted towards the ISV Carl Sagan.
The reasoning behind everyone's favourite medievalist was: He had spent 11 years alone, in space, he's probably crazy. And he is at the helm of a ship moving at 97% of lightspeed. At relativistic velocity, every milligram, if it hit Earth, would be received as a Hydrogen bomb.

[Axel the Possum No.1984953]

I'm just really fucking confused at the moment. Coffee Mug, what're you on about?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984955]

It was wider than the Earth and it could wrap itself around it, bits of relativistic sail falling through the atmosphere, tunneling down and forming wide walls of plasma radiating as much wattage as the laws of physics allowed, until they stalled and blew up.
Problem was, Mr. Bachmann didn't know that because of relativity, the trip had lasted 11 years of time-objective, but little more than three years of time-subjective from David's frame of reference. A simple-minded man like Michael Bachmann could not understand, also, that the last thing someone like David would do was go crazy. Crazy of joy and childish curiosity, sure, why not? But not crashing-a-ship-against-Earth kind of crazy.
Interstellar Vehicle Carl Sagan became a blueshifting star, for a few minutes, lightning up like a supernova in the infrared wavelengths and some visible-light ones. They thought the vibrations that had ran along the surface of the sail would shape the canister, the crew module, to death, and it would be over.
Charles Pellegrino's rocket, which he had envisioned would take the first men and women to the stars at little below the speed of light, became the weapon that destroyed such mission.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984960]

A few hours after the explosion, a message was received and broadcast to every net node in Sunspace. On the uncensored links, people could hear him screaming in the leaky canister. The transmissions ceased once the Carl Sagan plunged into the Sun. The solar wind blocked transmissions. People thought he was going to burn there, but he was not that lucky.
The battered remains of the great sail did a hyperbolic orbit around the Sun, and were catapulted back into interstellar space. Forever. No man-made ship could catch up to him before the closed-loop life support systems failed. Counting time dilation, he had 40 years for that to happen.
But before it fluttered out, it had passed so close to Mercury (Where she waited for him, in the Mercury Power Project) that they were able to have a conversation, the last one, where lightspeed lag didn't count.
After a few messages, the ship was lost in such dense regions of the solar wind that its microwave laser could not reach the Power Project. All eyes were on her: Chimerical, half-human, impure, meant to be a slave. She was the splice that owned the world.
He had given her, before drifting out into space, the keys to the Von Neumann Corporations: The self-replicating, self-improving, evolving software objects that gnawed at the economies of the world. They were as smart as an insect, but very good at what they did. She owned the total accumulated wealth of Mankind and she could've turned that against her tormentors, but she decided not to, just in case. If they had to fear her to respect her, no, she didn't like that, she wanted to make sure they didn't fear her so she never destroyed the economy.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984966]

The next day, America still stood, and so did the rest of the world.
40 extra years in a polyfullerene can with bits of string, unable to decelerate since its solar sail had been blown apart. 40 years without even the smallest chance to go back to the world he had never considered home and always wanted to escape from but in those last four years he had found a small reason to want to go back.
The two were separated by an ever-increasing gulf of space and and even greater gulf between her time-objective and his time-subjective.

Broken promises, dictators blowing up the first of the great sails, the ship that had gone on the first of the voyages of dawn, arcologies crumbling due to lack of trained personnel to maintain them (Anyone with the brains to do so left for the off-world colonies), and women who were not quite women looking through the diamondoid glass of the observation room of asteroid Kleopatra's colony, looking at the constellation of Sagittarius, trying to find the small 10 meter long canister that was there, somewhere

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984976]

Welcome to the Interplanetary Age, the era where comets are tamed for priceless Deuterium, Helium-3 and water ice, where asteroids are disassembled in days, where the orbital momentum of moons around gas giants it turned into electricity by placing moon-wrapping superconductors to interact with the plasma torus, where self-replicating atmosphere processors alter the composition of Mars' atmosphere and dolphins swim in the life-filled oceans underneath Europa's ice shell, where provolved monkeys wear suits and provolved dolphins can talk. Where the near-extinct whales are having their population restored through cloning – Not on Earth, but under geodesic domes of buckminsterfullerene and diamondoid built on lunar craters and filled with self-regulating, self-sufficient biospheres.


Welcome to the ninth decade of the Century of Wonders
Falling arcologies on Earth and towering skyscrapers on Callisto, nanofabricators failing; all over the world; due to lack of repair, and swarms of self-replicating, socializing nanorobots building megastructures on a scale never even imagine before, not even during the days of space elevators and arcologies. Massive self-replicating viruses and cellular automata-driven AI corporations flood the net and clog the markets, respectively, while in space the net keeps growing. The frontier is no longer Jupiter, now the furthest outpost is a lonely AI performing experiments on unknown nature on its colony in the Oort Cloud.
Massive burns of anyone whose genome differs from the baseline in the slightest bit, on Earth of course, while people on cislunar space – A generation born in the low-gravity environment, people as light as feathers to Earth baselines – were bodymodding themselves according to the latest fad.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984983]

Welcome to the last decade of the Century of Wonders, where for every kilograms of human brain matter there are ten tonnes of Computronium. Where Probability Mechanics has allowed hackers to flip quantum currency-based markets or control quantum computers at will and play with the Economics 3.4 system like a child would play with the newest, shiniest toy, smashing it and trying to break it to test its durability.


And, finally, welcome to the Great Fires: In the arcologies, people looked around, sacred, at the fires that appeared seemingly out of nowhere, others emptied their homes and ran away. The fires had been growing for days, but nobody noticed: The diamond walls were too thick, communication between parts of the same city too sparse.
Lack of maintenance had reached a point where the arcologies were literally falling apart. Northing worked, so people had to go back to pre-atomic lifestyles. The gov'ment assured it would be temporary.
The only things that worked were – No surprise – the molecular assemblers. And now that there was no security, no armed guards, people broke into the labs and stole the blueprints of guns, then used them to instruct the battery-powered machines to make weapons. It had not happened before simply because security was too tight, and the blueprints of weapons were perfectly controlled.
Now, people made Gauss guns at home and synthesized artificial viruses, little strands of DNA that instead of killing the host would edit his or her memories, delete some, replace others, insert more. Massive amnesia. In the past, people found comfort in the idea that after a near-extinction-level-event, people would still retain knowledge. That possibility had been eliminated.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1984990]

It's 2101 now, and the off-world population has reached 800 million. They laugh and get on with their lives in nanosocialist, post-scarcity worlds all over Sunspace. Earth's population has been cut to ten million people: Peasants who thrive in forests, sometimes venturing into the half-burnt hollow shells of the arcologies to salvage what little there is left, technology they don't remember but they somehow know they should remember them, but are unable to use. These men and women live their lives knowing that they have forgotten something, something of utmost importance, but don't know what. They live their lives, blissfully unaware of what once was.
But some remember, and tell their children stories. They are stories of giants with spears they would throw at each other and to the Moon and beyond, stories of machines too small for the eye to see, stories of silver birds flying above the clouds and silver men that could out-think and out-run a man, stories of beast-headed women and great sails carrying the first people in the voyages of discovery.

[Axel the Possum No.1985017]

I admit I'm intrigued, Coffee Mug, but you can't expect me to take a story seriously when you use the term furry and have that many typos.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985022]

>>1985017

Typos are the artist's signature.

[Axel the Possum No.1985040]

>>1985022

So is this part of that book you're working on?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985052]

>>1985040

Yes. A summary, kinda.

But don't worry! There are only two furry characters! The rest are human!

And Robert Zubrin makes a cameo :3

[Samefag No.1985055]

>>1984935
>>1984841
Well, excuuuuuse me, princess.
Just making the future happen.
Don't mind me.

[Anonymous No.1985089]

PROTIP: Read Colonel Coffee Mug's story in Carl Sagan's voice.

[Axel the Possum No.1985097]

>>1985052

I have nothing wrong with anthropomorphic animals, my name should tell you that, it's just that using the term "furry" degrades the seriousness somewhat.

[Axel the Possum No.1985107]

>>1985089

...

That works better than it should...

[Anonymous No.1985110]

>>1984513
MOAR FURSECUTION

plox

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985117]

>>1985097

Well, somebody has to break the silence. Or something. I dunno. I might edit it here and there, but I wanted to throw in some humour every now and then.

>It is also noteworthy that during that period, in the colony, Laura Lebedev – Despite being treated as an animal, but at least the colonists kept it subtle – still got asked out a lot… Mostly by Cordwainer Smith fans…

[Anonymous No.1985121]

Why are we fighting guys?

[Anonymous No.1985163]

[Anonymous No.1985184]

bump

[Axel the Possum No.1985210]

>>1985117

Break what silence?

Also, morphological freedom would be a really bzarre concept when finally possible. Imagine people with the ability to change their (apparent) age, sex, even to look totally unlike any human ever has...

Of course, if virtual realities are possible in that timeframe, such ideas will probably be not that strange...

[Anonymous No.1985212]

>>1985121

Which fight?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985221]

>>1985210

>Also, morphological freedom would be a really bzarre concept when finally possible. Imagine people with the ability to change their (apparent) age, sex, even to look totally unlike any human ever has...

Well, therianthropy, at least in the story, was infeasible, so people couldn't change themselves that much. The only furry in the story was made from scratch.

[Anonymous No.1985226]

>>1985212

The furries and the fursecution and what not....

[Anonymous No.1985232]

>>1985212
the fight that's going to start now.

You're momma is so fat her core is made of degenerate matter.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985236]

>>1985226

Ah, well, some people can't understand that other people are tired of having to put up with the typical, primeval human bullshit and would rather fuck a non-human sentient. Like some virtual-reality AI. Or a genetically-engineered super-furry human/leopard female splice space bartender.

They would be either insufferable idiots or less insufferable than the standard baseline human, so it's worth the shot!

[Anonymous No.1985269]

>>1985236

>I don't know whether posthumans or parahumans would be better or worse partners so I will date one and see how it goes

Flawless.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985308]

>>1985269

It's my excuse for having social contact but NO LOVE ALLOWED. OR SEX.

[Anonymous No.1985320]

>>1985308

Wait.

You don't want to have sex?

Or love?

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985329]

>>1985320

To be honest sex seems like such a hassle.

As for love, I don't like personal things. Personal things make me uncomfortable.

[Axel the Possum No.1985362]

Question for you, Coffee Mug: In this fun little universe of yours, where atom-by-atom assembly is possible, wouldn't it be possible to assemble an organism? You wouldn't even need to do it atom by atom, just culture the cells and then stick them together using the assemblers.

[Anonymous No.1985369]

I was like FUCK YES until i got to FURRIESAN

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985370]

>>1985362

Well, good luck writing the blueprints for THAT.

[EK !wf5JJ352J. No.1985379]

jesus christ Colonel, how high are you?
brain in a jar in TEN years? bionic prostheses are in their infancy, maybe in one hundered years or so.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985388]

>>1985379

That was Samefag.

Am I being trolled?

[Samefag No.1985395]

>>1985379
>>1985379
Nigger, do you understand the words that I am speaking?
I will give you bionic prosthetics within a decade.

[Anonymous No.1985397]

>>1985388
I FUCKING LOVE THAT DOG

SO KAWAII

[Anonymous No.1985400]

there is so much unverified psuedoscientific speculation here, it's almost sickenening.
>hurr guise singularity is in 30 years, for real
>how do you know dat derp derp
>because, uh, statistics and junk\
>hella sweet brah

that PFSC comic was pretty accurate.

>>1985379
are you mentally deficient

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985406]

>>1985400

I don't believe in posthuman AI (Not in this century), but nanotech is certainly feasible, and a Singularity of simply accelerating change without AI is possible.

The Singularitarians just say "herp derp we need AI's to design nanotech for us because us humans are so dumb".

>_>

[Anonymous No.1985419]

>>1985400

>hurr there cant be scientific progress if theres poverty
>hurp durp singularity is inpossibel, humans wont ever fly, go to space, 512k RAM, etc

Your argument makes me reminiscent of swiss cheese.

[Anonymous No.1985430]

In a hundred years people will go back and read the internet archives and laugh at what we thought the future would bring

[EK !k.tNUf3IRs No.1985434]

>>1985419
>>1985406
do you have any solid evidence to support your claims?
I would like to see it, in order to enlighten myself and others.

[Samefag No.1985436]

>>1985397
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C62CImWKAww&feature=related
The things he has seen...cannot be unseen. ;_;
>>1985400
Dopamine, the Dope-Dealing Bionic Dopemouse wants to have a word with you. He will walk over to you, despite having a spine severed a bit more than a centimeter below the base of his skull, because my interface is capable of interpreting his action potentials at single neuron resolution and directing a robotic walker.

He will then proceed to look at you angry, because mice can't talk, duh.

[EK !k.tNUf3IRs No.1985460]

>>1985436
that mouse seems absolutely amazing! can you get some pictures for us?

[Samefag No.1985472]

>>1985460
I'll jack my friend's camera phone tomorrow. My own phone has gone through the wash and attempting to take a picture results in a bunch of moonrunes with the elucidating english word "FAIL" in all caps.
:(

[EK No.1985482]

>>1985472
great. I might not be here tomorrow, so take my email address.

[Samefag No.1985508]

>>1985482
He's not really that impressive. He's just a mouse with what appears to be a few black hairs sticking out of his back. He's got no big gaping wounds on him, or anything. The back of his neck is healed, and the only thing that is transdermal is a set of really small secret material secret secret wires of secrecy.

It's only secret until I get the patent on this bitch, ask 0.5% or less royalty to live and love off of (I care little for the riches of this world) and then it's public and humanity is given the option to cast off its flesh.

Oh, and cripples. That's how I've spun it for the NIH people. Dopamine and Prion were model systems for my NIH grant for neuroprosthetics. Hopefully I get fat wads of taxpayer money to further my research.

[Anonymous No.1985573]

lol Coffee Mug, you're going to be a 300 year old cyborg running away from the most voluptuous women in the civilized galaxy just waiting for a genetically-engineered super-furry waifu because you got bullied during high school or something and can't stand people.

that's kinda sad

[Anonymous No.1985605]

>>1985508
sure is unverifiable claims in here...
>I have a cyborg mouse that can do algebra but I can't show any physical evidence of it.

[Anonymous No.1985609]

>>1985089

Reading ANYTHING in Sagan's voice makes it ten thousand times better.

[Anonymous No.1985610]

>>1985605
>I have a cyborg mouse, but I can't show any physical evidence of it;s cyborgness
fixed, whoopsies.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985612]

>>1985573

Well, I don't have much of a choice, don't I? Consider the /b/tards in the endless b'awwww threads, complaining about how their girl is going out with a skinhead or they don't have the courage of telling their little sweethearts how they feel.

The thing is, I don't have a sweetheart, have never had one (In the past few years). I am incapable of feeling anything for others except some friendship, but that's as far as it goes. I guess I can lust after a baseline human, but that's it. The way I was brought up, what do you expect? 60% of the people I have met are snakes, insects, parasites, hawks dressed as doves, stuff like that. And the remaining 40%, those are either friends or sympathizers, but they are probably just the same as the others, potential homicidal maniacs and backstabbing traitors. Since I know super-furries won't come within my meatbody lifetime, I hold it as some sort of subconscious excuse to maintain emotional distance from people, and it seems to work.

And don't get me wrong, it feelsbadman.jpg, but I'm getting over it.

[Samefag No.1985628]

>>1985610
I'll take pics tomorrow, but I tell you it's not impressive at all. He's a mouse, a bit along his back is shaved, there's some scar tissue, and what appear to be a few black hairs.

[Anonymous No.1985631]

>>1985612

Mugs, you giving up far too easily.

You're just putting the pussy on a pedestal, man.

[Samefag No.1985638]

>>1985610
Also the cyborg bit is not physically connected to him. It's not like I made an exoskeleton, or anything particularly complex. He can ride on it (I made a little plastic saddle-thing for him to lay on) but he's not inside it.

[Anonymous No.1985648]

>>1985628
you said that previously. I have a hard time believing anyone intelligent enough to invent neuroprostheses would go on 4chan.
could you show us something more substantial? a cross-section of a previous experiment or unlabeled designs or something. not trying to steal patent btw

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985660]

>>1985631

I guess. Maybe. I dunno, but I think it's all part of a very complex psychological defense mechanism I have come to call the Eliza syndrome.

See attached pic.

[EK !uucIbqjoOQ No.1985666]

>>1985508
after it's been completed, link us the documentation of your patent. timestampe it too. you can blur out the name and other identifying features.

[Anonymous No.1985678]

>>1985666
>666
Oh shit son, you better do what the woman says!

[Samefag No.1985714]

>>1985648
Intelligent people have downtime in the evenings. I used to play WoW, then I became bored of that and came here for my downtime.
Would you rather consider that intelligent people spend all their downtime drinking? Does that conform more to your stereotypical image of intelligent people? :D


It also turns out if you apply a pretty small current along the secret wire of secrecy you change the voltage enough to open voltage-gated ion channels in the axon membrane to stimulate an action potential opposite the direction of current, leading to generation of sensation.

[Samefag No.1985718]

I've also left out key steps, so don't try this at home. The secret wire of secrecy is actually kind of complex (How does it stick to the neuron and not float around? How do you get many of these in parallel?) so it's not quite as simple as I've depicted.

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985776]

Also this.

[Samefag No.1985784]

>>1985776
Compassion for the xenos? Suffer them not to live, my child!

[Colonel Coffee Mug !phJ7yIcs.Q No.1985948]

>>1985784

I lol'd.

[Anonymous No.1987678]

bump

[Anonymous No.1987725]

Technocracy first, furry lover later. Much much later.

[Anonymous No.1987736]

>>1985718
Damit samefag, now you've got me interested in solving the problem of keeping the wire close. Is it something to do with the myelin sheaths?

[Anonymous No.1987745]

>>1985612
>my meatbody lifetime
That's the key point right there. Your meatbody. You're going to discard it in 40 years anyway and get a replacement. After that you just wait until what you want becomes available. Problem solved.

[Anonymous No.1989226]

bumo