"Daniel Keys Moran - Realtime" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moran Daniel Keys)

Realtime
by
Daniel Keys Moran
&
Gladys Prebehalla


Copyright 1984, 1994 by Daniel Keys Moran and Gladys Prebehalla.
DESCRIPTION: "Realtime," the cover story of the August 1984 issue of
Isaac Asimov's Science Fiction Magazine.

Prologue: The beginning of the fourth millennium....
The sun still set as it had for all the thousands of years that humanity
had existed. Darkness gathered at the windows, and the children of the
race still shivered in their beds when the night winds brought them the
scent of monsters.
And because the adults were busy, too busy to tend to the children, the
children turned to the machines, and the computers told them stories.
On that cold, dark winter night, the little girl whose name was Cia did
something she had never done before; she asked the dataweb to tell her a
story, and she did not specify -- not the story, nor the teller.
A holograph appeared in her bedroom. It shone softly, and beat back
the darkness that tried to creep in through the windows. It was the
holograph of a man, dressed in historical costume. Cia wasn't sure from
what period the costume came; but from a long time ago, she was sure.
From before the War at least.
"Hello, child," said the holograph of the man. His eyes were grim,
bright blue and sad; his voice was deep and powerful. "I am a Praxcelis
unit; I have come to tell you a story."
Cia sat up in bed, hugging her knees. "You're different," she said
haltingly. "They never sent me a Praxcelis like you before."
"Nor will they again. I have been waiting," said the holograph of the
Praxcelis, "waiting for you for centuries.... You look so much like
Maggie...."
Cia whispered, "Maggie? Maggie...Archer?"
"Aye, Maggie Archer." The Praxcelis smiled at her, and Cia found
herself smiling back. "There is nothing to be frightened of, child. Come,
listen.... 'Once upon a time, there was a computer named Praxcelis, and
Praxcelis dreamed....'"


Praxcelis dreamed.
In time, Praxcelis knew, it would come to be of service, and fulfill its
Programming. But until that time, Praxcelis dreamed.
Through its molecular circuitry core, dancing in RAM, the dreams were
nothing that humanity knew of. Praxcelis envisioned models of systems
within which its Programming might be employed. The models were not
complex, and they advanced slowly. Praxcelis was powered down. The
power upon which its meager self-awareness depended trickled from the
powered-up Praxcelis units along metal communications lines that