The 0th green golf ball doesn't exist, obviously.
The 1st green golf ball has a "1" on it.
The 2nd green golf ball also has a "1" on it.
The 3rd green golf ball is a metaphor for life.
The 4th green golf ball is blue.
The 5th green golf ball is a recording of all of J. S. Bach's works as played by Bach himself.
The 6th green golf ball is a live cat.
The 7th green golf ball is a dead cat.
The 8th green golf ball is a superposition of the 6th and 7th green golf balls.
The 9th and 10th green golf balls are identical to the 1st, and can be made by cleverly cutting and transforming it.
The 11th green golf ball is all the wonderful things there are.
The 11th green golf ball is all the terrible things there are.
The 12th green golf ball is your first love.
The 13th green golf ball was mislabeled as the 14th because of superstition.
The 14th green golf ball will let you leave the Matrix.
The 15th green golf ball is Truth.
The 16th green golf ball is Untruth.
The 17th green golf ball is a program that, given its own input, will determine whether it will run forever.
The 18th green golf ball is sitting on my shelf.
The 19th green golf ball has infiltrated your life and will soon report back to its alien masters.
The 20th green golf ball is this sentence's period
The 21st green golf ball only exists on Tuesdays and bank holidays.
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Fangs for the Memories III
Ligasha generally kept its experiments to itself. In fact, I had been expressly forbidden to intrude, much to my own private amusement, on the sealed-off section of my laboratory that Ligasha had claimed as its own. So, it was with considerable interest that I followed Ligasha into the basement.
Ligasha was extremely inquisitive, as you might suspect, and very methodical. It preferred not to believe the results of any experiment that it had not personally carried out, though taking a pragmatic stance to those currently outside our little lab's capabilities. Ligasha, before it had sealed off its section of my lab, had worked itself through all of the common undergraduate science experiments. I don't mean the "science for the layman"-type experiments, though a few that didn't duplicate other results were included. I mean, fully-fledged experiments that a Physics undergraduate would have to complete. And a Chemistry undergraduate. Biology, psychology, astro-physics; I once even saw Ligasha's nom de plume in a linguistics journal, and it regularly published articles on increasing the accuracy of results (and, of course, the results that it had more accurately determined). At first, I asked Ligasha why it was so thorough and persistent. "I want to know for myself," was the constant reply, to which I could say nothing.
In any case, Ligasha, with my assistance, attached a number of electrodes and other sensors to my head.
"Are you comfortable?" it asked, and when I nodded, "Good. I am now going to read your mind."
It is hard, sometimes, to tell whether Ligasha is joking or not. Even for a pentapede, whose expressions can be nearly indistinguishable anyway, Ligasha had an excellent poker face.
"In a manner of speaking, of course. For now. I am going to monitor how your brain reacts during our conversation, and correlate it with the context of our discussion." It added, "This is only a first step, of course. I have had sufficient time to analyze pentapede brain activities and can fairly accurately determine the general concept, given a bit of calibration to the individual. I suspect that human brains will yield to quite similar analysis. This first session should only take a few hours."
Ligasha was extremely inquisitive, as you might suspect, and very methodical. It preferred not to believe the results of any experiment that it had not personally carried out, though taking a pragmatic stance to those currently outside our little lab's capabilities. Ligasha, before it had sealed off its section of my lab, had worked itself through all of the common undergraduate science experiments. I don't mean the "science for the layman"-type experiments, though a few that didn't duplicate other results were included. I mean, fully-fledged experiments that a Physics undergraduate would have to complete. And a Chemistry undergraduate. Biology, psychology, astro-physics; I once even saw Ligasha's nom de plume in a linguistics journal, and it regularly published articles on increasing the accuracy of results (and, of course, the results that it had more accurately determined). At first, I asked Ligasha why it was so thorough and persistent. "I want to know for myself," was the constant reply, to which I could say nothing.
In any case, Ligasha, with my assistance, attached a number of electrodes and other sensors to my head.
"Are you comfortable?" it asked, and when I nodded, "Good. I am now going to read your mind."
It is hard, sometimes, to tell whether Ligasha is joking or not. Even for a pentapede, whose expressions can be nearly indistinguishable anyway, Ligasha had an excellent poker face.
"In a manner of speaking, of course. For now. I am going to monitor how your brain reacts during our conversation, and correlate it with the context of our discussion." It added, "This is only a first step, of course. I have had sufficient time to analyze pentapede brain activities and can fairly accurately determine the general concept, given a bit of calibration to the individual. I suspect that human brains will yield to quite similar analysis. This first session should only take a few hours."
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)