THE LESSON has Science (?)

Modern brain processing components all to be superseded by download of sample data from the list by Dr de Boveray:

SIMILE ASSIMILATOR (implicit-explicit, feeds into contradiction control filters)

METAPHOR COLLATOR

ASSUMPTION CHECKER (relevant, irrelevant, grandiose)

REALITY-UNREALITY TEST ROUTINES

MISAPPLIED INFERENCE FILTER

INFERENCE LOCATOR

COMPARISON COMPILER

DREAM TEST COUNTERSEQUENCERS

ILLUSION RESOLUTION (snake-rope, bear-bush test routine)

UNREALITY RECOGNIZER

IMPROBABILITY RECOGNIZER

CHAOTIC COMPENSATOR

MISTAKE RECOGNITION COMPENSATOR (honest, intentional, repetitive)

GESTALT SWITCH

PARADIGM SHIFTER

CONCEPTUAL ANALYZER

CONCEPT RECOGNIZER

OPTIMIZATION RULES (minimal, critical, value)

PARSIMONY ANALYZER (tree, grove, forest)

PROSODY PROCESSOR

ROLE MODULES

ONTOLOGICAL REFLEXIVITY MAXIMIZER

PROBLEMATIC SUBJUNCTIVE COUNTERFACTUAL CONDITIONER

EPIPHENOMENAL MIMICRY BYPASS BYPASS

HEURISTIC SEARCH

ANALOGY RECOGNIZER

ANALOGY ANALYZER

SELF REVERENTIAL REGRESSION LOOP INHIBITOR

SELF REVERENTIAL PROGRESSION LOOP INITIATOR

SELF SUBSUMING PARADOX BLOCKER

SUBSUMPTION PUMP

MEMORY CHUNKER

ATTENTION SWITCH

“That sounds like a lot of What!?” “boop” “Exactly.”

In the answer:

Complicated relationships

I couldn't help but notice she had a new hairstyle. Fun. It was in effect a huge curl of hair rising from the back of her gorgeous head, arching through the space above her perfect forehead ending like a giant sculpted fish hook about two hand spans in front of her cute nose. The rest of her was the bait. The gently curved tip jabbed at my eyes as I leaned in to examine the bait more closely.

“Have you noticed anything different about me today?” Dangerous trick question time. She's grinning devilishly.

“Umm...” Fun. I'll have some fun with her. “...no...er...um.” I resist looking directly. “You smell better.” I am Poked in the forehead by the hair hook as she tries to force her face into my view field.

“Look at me Paul! Haven't you noticed?” Her hairdo hooks the back of my head.

“Your eyes! Your eyes are a different color! You got some new color lens's! Great! Blue eyes kinda goes with blonde.” She's raising her brows and bouncing her eyes upwardly and back at me like she wants me to look up. “Blue eyes now huh. Looking good!”

Here she punches me solidly on the arm. A good wallop. I'm staggered. The hook has released me.

“Paul you ass. My hair! What do you think of my new hair?” She throws me some vogue moves. “And my eyes have always been blue! BLUE!” I get another systema trained punch to my arm bone.

As I pick myself up off of the floor: “Doesn't your hair always look like a gigantic fish hook?”

from THE REASON

The mechani-clone ship held few surprises. A room full of look-a-likes leaves me searching for strangers, strangeness. Every room exactly alike. Everyone in every room exactly alike. Shocking in its strange sameness. The most shocking surprise: the blatant lack of vacu-jac facilities.

“Where do I go?”

“Go? Go where?

“To go! Where do I go to go?”

“You don’t have to go anywhere. You have freedom of the ship. You can go wherever you’d like.”

“Very well then!”

“What are you doing?” He asked as I soaked his pants leg. His Bio-fleshy mechani leg made no move.

“I’m going!”

“No you’re not! You’re urinating on my leg!” He seemed fascinated.

“Ah that’s better…”

“When will you be back?”

“What?”

“If you are going when will you be back?”

“I don’t have to go anymore.” These mechani-clones! They do not excrete. No fluids, no solids, no semi-solids. Consequently on this cloneship there are no facilities for the treatment of human wastes.

“Well…what do I do if I gotta go?”

“Go where?”

Aw geez, not again! “Real humans shit and piss! We make a lot of it! Where do I put it?”

“I don’t care. We don’t do it. Not my problem.” His denial pre-programming had engaged.

This mechani-bio design feature of nil-waste metabolism could be their eventual downfall; an excri-test. Anyone not observed shitting or pissing would be suspect mechani-clone. Para-military detection dogs make great clean crotch sniffers. Hubert 45721 my shepardly liaison has no pre-programmed aversion to sewage. Smearing crap on people would quickly weed out the ones who don’t mind.

“We cannot be affected by filth. Germs, however virulent, that kill, have no power over us. Why, I can’t even smell noxious fumes. I could drink urine and eat feces! It would be burned in the carbon furnace bio engine.” No more kissing the girl mechani-clones then.

Since they didn't seem to mind I chose a semi-private corner using one of the amply available tunics for clean up. This went well till I approached to find several of them had the deck plates tore up searching for “the cause of the corrosion”.

     The marines, the police, Chevrolet’s sec squad all go on alert and turn their weapons toward the doors. This clears that part of the bar. Helen’s holo voice whispers “Demarist and his librarian!” with more then forty staff and liaisons. “We’re gonna need another table. Jerome another launch tank!”            Amanda looks worried.
     This place has hit capacity. Only Demarist and Stoat are allowed through. The reporters and public already inside get up close with the most dangerous man on the moon: a militant Librarian looking for a war. I think he wants to attack me. I’m aware as he approaches that he’s armed with an Urbanizer automatic pulse pistol and is armored up like a sec sub grunt. Now I’m sure he’s going to attack me! Chevrolet coordinates her sniper squad into the systems girders above us. He scowls at me with righteous indignation. Demarist is distracted by Helen’s holographic phone call image, he’s edging his way into her contact cone. How sweet.
     “Should I declare war on you Dvorak! It follows you everywhere!”
     “I go but to war… me war just finds…I war no cause…”
     “My god! You’re drunk!”
     “So where are you right now?” Demarist whispers to the laser beams. “You look great tonight.”
     “Demarist! Could you pay attention?” Rex is riled.
     “You can’t declare war on him! He’s not under investigation…the report it is filed!” Amanda attacks. It’s good to take a lawyer with you everywhere.
     “No it isn’t. I haven’t finished my report.” Demarist would know.
     “It’s that Paul’s been reinstated to a full budget, syscon one, and he gets his own librarian now.” Chevrolet says over his shoulder. “Or two..” I add. She continues: “And no librarian would ever declare war on another librarian. The military would never go for that. They’d say 'To hell with them! That would make bad history. Let them fight it out with books'.
      “I can declare war on whomever I want!”
      “No you can’t…” Demarist puts a stop to this. “You can only declare a war if I’m concerned that some data relevant to my report is about to be lost to predisposed violence. Well, the subject of my report is Paul Dvorak and if anything happens to him than the data is lost so I would expect you to be prepared to declare a war any time he might be attacked. And his dog too!” Space likes Demarist.
     “I think you need a drink Rex… what’ll you have… it’s on the house…”
     “I… um… Gravatorade.” Nobody wants a dehydrated librarian.
     “I want you both to attend my conference on Zoobums. Fully catered of course. Entertainment. Space Spa. Travel pay. Free accommodations. Gift Basket.” They would be there of course whether I invited them or not, I must respect any of Demarists warrants and subpoenas, professional courtesy among researchers is very important.
     “Will you be there?” Helen is asked by Demarists holo cone. She blows him a kiss.
     “Where is this to be? Here?” Stout’s tongue glows bright Space Gravatorade orange with ionizing electrolytes.
     “Yes this is my new home base, operational HQ. With enough military defensible from all sides.” I guess. With enough military anyplace should be. “The party starts as soon as I awaken from the outcome of this one! You should move into the hotel next door and we could have overlapping liaisons.” That sounds kinky.
     I suggest to Jerome to bring a keg tank of Gravatorade punch spiked just enough to not taste like it was spiked. Soon we all had bright orange tongues.

from The Reason

Reality is a dame called Rusty Canz and a night in The Hillbert Hotel.

One of the best places to hide is a servo-bed hotel. Famous for their rectangular horizontal door, in space usually just a wide low door in a bulkhead. Scan some moneyed up ID, or lami to keep it low-low, at the display for the door to open revealing a bed in a low-g padded-up tiny room-let. Push the edge of the bed and a toilet appears. Very cozy. If you are quick two very friendly people can fit but one must duck the cameras at the entry. Pile in lie down door cycles closed then your servo-bed joins the chain it never left of servo-beds that line up in perfect order in a hundred meter loop almost always in motion around the service equipment packed core. A sleeper detects no motion even though the compartment spins the loop or stops with the great chain of servo-beds anytime some one checks in or out. They actually move very fast which in space is compensated by the fractional gravity. You can stay until you run out of credits or step out, the doors are notoriously fast at shutting some one out then throwing up the 'no vacancy' sign, their left belongings gone in the maid-o-matic. Still many people live in versions of them everywhere there is enough room to fit a narrow flat chain of boxes. Check in and out whenever most where ever. No room for baggage, no view, though the walls play vid. Sleep and go or stay inside till you run out of food, where you can't get it delivered. To stay in bed having food delivered is some peoples idea of heaven. My youthful record from many years ago is seven tera days. Funky, the room doesn't clean itself till you pass out the threshold. That's how you get a clean room though you might get the 'no vacancy' instead from the hotels suspicious AI. Space hates them. If I can wrestle him past the door and pen him in before it closes he'll spend the whole time growling and snapping at the overhead corners. Must be able to hear the machinery going. He also marks each room he's been in. This dog like behavior makes it hard for me to sleep in a servo-bed hotel so I don't. I also have a fear of power failure. No power and you are trapped in the stack, I don't care that they say it can't happen anymore with our futuristic hotel tech and all. I mean that might be a way to find him! Just cut the power and voice print the screaming till we got him.

WHAT TIME IS IT?

Fifty types of time:

objective time; temporary time; last time; relative time; historic time; multiple time; diachronic time; next time; synchronic time; temporal time; universal time; zulu time; french time; party time; bottle time; private time; strategic time; quitting time; over time; just in time; dinner time; mexican time; break time; planc time; apparent time; common time; overstaying annoying relative time; mean lifetime; marstini time; dilated time; real time; unreal time; family time; minkowski spacetime; lost time; greenwich mean time; rag time; sidereal time; bath time; quantum time; double time; heidegger time; kant time; space (the dog) time; newtonian time; swing time; war time; harvest time; slack time; arrow of time; end time; no more time.