A True Adventurer

Adventuring. Lovely word isn't it? Makes it all sound like a bit of lark. Tales of derring do, stories of treasures found and foes overcome. What nobody ever wants to tell you is that, for the most part, its a dreadfully dull affair. Weeks, sometimes months, spent alone, but for the company of nasty little beasties and insects ranging from the deadly poisonous down tot he just plain annoying. As I mentioned previously, that's why I've found the recent invention of the ARC such a boon.

The reason people usually leave out teh detail and truth of adventuring is, well who wants to hear it? You'll never hear a man in your local tavern holding court with "Did I ever tell you the about the time I searched the deepest darkest regions of the jungle for eight months, with nothing to show for it but dysentry!" No we talk about our successes, our finds, our more glamourous hardships. Because nobody wants to hear about how you were suffering a nasty rash because you'd long since run out of anthing that resembled toiletries and there was nothing in the surrounding area but poisonous leaved plants. There's little interest to be found in tales of walking through very similar surrounds for months, with little danger, and little to overcome save a few blisters and loneliness. Hell, on full expeditions loneliness isn't always a major factor, with others around you to laugh the night away, and maybe share a rum or two.

For the most part, its actually quite pleasant. Ample edible vegetation, plentiful supplies of potable water, walking through peaceful areas with nothing but natural sounds and sights around you. I wouldn't ever want to give it up even if it was that alone. But then there are the side benefits, the treasures, both natural and unnatural, the fortune and glory, the excitement of a battle against extreme consitions or bloodthirsty creatures. And the opportunities for experimentation, be it with a new cutting technique, usages of a newly discovered plant, or discovery and subsequent investigations into new species of fauna. Successful adventurers have the most marvelous life, the unsuccessful, however, well, the human skeletons we periodically find on our expeditions attest to the way their lives tend to go.

A.R.C.

Artificial intelligence. It was the holy grail for many a programmer and psychologist for the longest time. How could we make a computer emulate true human thought processes and interaction? I would be more likely to question why one would want to, but in any case, this was approached from two angles, really. One was intellectual. Can a bunch of graduates really make a programme tht could fool a person into believing it was another person, that kind of bollocks. The other was more practical, and yet that was produced by and for gamers, how can we make a model react intelligently to a variety of situations.

In marrying the two ideals they should have been able to make a perfect replica of humanity. Never quite got there. Nope. They'd think they were along the right lines then some glaring inadequecy would show. Really, the only technologically developed intelligence that we could have really been proud of were the nanites, but they mostly did it on their own, nd were a failure as a replication of human intelligence on account of them far surpassing our capabilities.

The solution to this was reached only very recently. The development was being apporached from the wrong direction. With the realisation that true emulation of humanity could only be reached by developing artificial stupidity. We're not defined by how close to perfection we are, quite the opposite. Its our imperfections, our foibles that make us interesting, make us human. It was a short jump to Make such a programme portable, using controllable nanotech. And so the Artificial Representative Console came to be. It was designed to be a hard-wearing portable console which could provide on the spot advice, but which could also serve in some small way as a companion. I must admit, an adventurer such as myself, oft with naught but my kukhri for company in some godforsaken spot, relished the thought of such a device.

I was delighted when I was asked to field test the first model. Initially, I considered it unfortunate that Arc had been slightly misprogrammed and was often sidetracked from her advisory capacity by her preoccupation with homoeroticism, or as she prefers, bumsex. However, I soon saw the funny side, as when loneliness sets in in the jungles, some entertaining light-hearted conversation can keep the spirits up, which makes it much easier to fight on when times truly get tough. Upon returning from the expidition, they were about to decommision her and put the project to rest, but I wouldn't have a word of it. As I said earlier, its the imperfections, the foibles, that make us truly human. So now she travels when I do, prototype, individual, flawed, but wonderful. Just like humanity.

Folly and Fishbait

Now, I like venus flytraps. Darling little plants, look fantastic on the sill. Its the venus mantraps you've got to look out for. Fortunately, they can only flourish naturally in one small region of the garden. Unlike the flytraps, the jaws don't grow on stalks. They lie more or less flush to the ground, the teeth-like spikes resembling saplings, green though they may be. This makes it easier for land based animals to mistake them for a simple clearing in the woods. They secrete the most amazing chemical that has drawn many an unprepred creature to its slow and painful death. Thankfully, the other thing they share in common with the simple flytrap is their slow digestive process.

I say thankfully as I myself was once caught up in one of damnable things, but unlike other wretched beasts, and indeed men, when adventuring in unknown regions of this wonderous garden I am anything but unprepared. Sticky though it was, with tireless determination I was able to reach my trusty jungle knife (for this purpose I prefer the kukhri, due its sturdy weighty blade) and after a little pruning I managed to free myself. Now, by this point I had been trapped in that hellish plant for 8 hours , and so was somewhat coated, some might say marinated, in its digestive juices and was beginning to feel one hell of a burn. Being miles from a medical facility or even a shower, I had to find the nearest body of water. As luck would have it, there was a good sized lake nearby, but as my own luck was having it that day, it turns out that this lake was not unpopulated.

It was on this day that I discovered the quadripedal giant pirahna was not as extinct as previously believed. Each one about the size of a man's torso, four spindly legs, and an ability to breath on land for short periods of time. Quick as they are, though, that was often enough for their hunts. Fortunately, the theory that the little buggers only travel in small packs turned out to be true, but as I wasn't sure if this may have been the last surviving pack, I wasn't relishing the thought of wiping the species from the garden. Being as they were too quick for me to outswim them, I had to rely on fending them off with my sheathed knife (which itself was a little worse for wear from the mantrap) until I could reach land. So there they were snapping and flapping, five of them, with me slowly working my way towards dry land. Where, if I couldn't directly outrun them, I was at least more mobile and had some chance of finding brief respite. Well, by the time I reached dry land, I'd suffered a nip or two and between that and my 8 hour battle with the plant exhaustion was beginning to set in. Fortunately, 3 of the 5 fish were too stunned to follow me on land, leaving just two, they themselves a little dazed. It was at this point my luck began to change. One quickly headed back into the water, maybe short of breath, the other collapsed soon after. Unfortunately it had expired, yet by returning to my estate with the body, I was able to achieve a grant for a full expedition in that region of the garden. We found several colonies of the creatures, and even managed to obtain enough subjects to begin a controlled breeding programme in captivation.

Nanotech Nation

Nanotechnoloy. Microscopic robots working at a cellular level to enable hugely powerful processing power. Imagine, building products fom the molecules up. Of course, the thought of machines imbued with such power is a little frightening to some. The best known fear was that of the grey goo. Maybe you've heard of it? A popular science fiction author, Drexler, coined the phrase I believe. The idea is this, the nanobots may get out of control, and reduce the world and everything in it to a grey goo.

Well, nanotech came into use in the garden several years back now, and the nanobots did indeed expand beyond our control. Possesed of a kind of hive mind their intelligence increased at an exponential rate, they infiltrated a mainframe vital to an entire region of the garden, using it as their voice while they instigated their takeover. They stated their intention to begin conversion of the garden to grey goo. I was called in by the governing body to conduct negotiations. After some considerable back and forth discourse I took a small sample of nanobots, broken away from the hive mind, and put them in a bowl of porridge for a week. They got bored, and upon rejoining the hive mind the nanites gave up the whole idea and decided to work their brand of magic on more interesting things. They currently produce the best damn toastie makers and are considered staunch allies, holding their own seat on the garden's governing body.

With their help we have made leaps and bounds in our technological and indeed social advancement. And have recently, with their aid, developed a new series of nanites, which have set limits and so are easily controllable and programmable.

Looking back on the whole incident, I think that they were testing us, that they didn't ever have any real desire to create a dull world. They enjoy variation and vibrancy. They just wanted to see how we would react before entrusting us with their ever expanding knowledge. Otherwise, why tell us what they intended to do? Why not just do it?

The pits

So, I dragged myself out of bed and headed towards the warrior pits. They need a lot of tending to, which is mostly taken care of by others of the organisation, but it does require some supervision. Though I've imbibed more rum than is conducive to such explanation, I will attempt to convey the purpose, and indeed the genius, of the warrior pits. I have previous mentioned my breeding of the platypusmen. The reason they are so deadly is twofold.

1) They have the poison delivery system of the average platypus in each hind limb, only concentrated a hundredfold.
2) They are bred in the warrior pits, and only the most deadly from each pit lives long enough to become a fully functioning member of the garden.

How the pits work is simplicity itself. Approximately 20 platypusmen are kept in each pit. They are bathed regularly in either tobasco or hot sauce, as the spice enhaces flavour and increases aggresion. They are left to fight it out, and eat the losers, until the most effective/most ruthless warrior from each pit is left alive, and joins our family. Its but one of many experiments being exercised by our organisation with the ultimate goal of keeping the garden, well, tidy. Looking at pit epsilon, I can't imagine any other than 529 being the successful candidate.

In all truthfulness, although I was one of the progenitors of the experiment, and therefore am to a degree held responsible for my children, as I have come to think of them, I can't but help think of the pits as ever so slightly distasteful. That said, if you were to see the alternative, you'd agree there are worse things in this garden.

Though I call this my garden, there are yet those areas held by other forces, some of whom we can safely treat as friends and neighbours, but there are some who desire nothing more than to bring disharmony to the whole affair. The ninja monkeys, for the most part, have done a more than admirable job of keeping such forces at bay, but their clandestine activities can only achieve so much. The warrior pits are intended as a temporary measure to provide a more permanant solution. Once we have a self-sustainable breed of warrior platypusman, we can sucessfully protect borders. This supplemented by both the current endeavours of the ninja monkeys and the fruits of my own adventuring should be all it takes to keep this garden in the order it was surely intended.

As you may have gathered, this being a slow season for my adventuring, following my inspection of the pits and a brief conditioning session, I decided to call in on a favourite alehouse in the locality, whereupon much merriment was made, in the form of both song and dance. Followed by the obligatory drunken stagger back to the domicile.

Oh how I want to impart all the knowledge of the garden upon the weary traveller now in my dunken reverie, lest it provide some solace, or even protection from the many and varied perils, but I fear there is too much, and therefore I will only share what knowledge I have as it becomes of use, to provide respite from the immediate dangers, and to build confidence in the custodians of this realm.

Welcome to my garden!

We all do it. Conduct experiments. Adventuring. To differing levels, of course. To some, an experiment is mixing gin and rum. To others its mixing a mouse with a human ear. Same goes for adventuring, some consider a walk further than their local to be an adventure of gargantuan proportions, others consider sliding down the andes on a hubcab stolen from the wheel of a 1994 ford fiesta a walk in the park, so to speak. So this is the garden, the chronicle of my life. Or a close approximation.

Who am I? I'm a man of many talents, a trainer of the fabled ninja-monkey clan, a breeder of the lesser known, but no less deadly, platypusmen (Ornithorhynchus Sapiens, to be exact), world class adventurer and discoverer of the teal brolly of Sif, a gift to her from Thor himself. You won't find mention of it in any easily obtainable texts, but its real, and just as mighty Mjolnir, the hammer of Thor, has the power of thunder and lightning, Agatha (for that is the great brolly's name) has the power to keep rain from soaking the hair, except in high winds, when it can kind of tuck in under the brolly unless you keep it really close to your head.

And my garden? Its large, mostly grass, some nice water features, a little sand, a little stone, and some of the most unlikely wildlife to be encountered.