JК
Ribofunk :: Филиппо Пол Ди
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"I have a feeling we'll need them," said Dos Santos. "Activate my retinal displays, please."
"Done."
Dos Santos 's peripheral vision filled with translucent shimmerstats, and he stepped tentatively into the jungle.
2. Infoslam
The first report indicating that something was seriously wrong with River Seven had come a mere twelve hours ago, emanating from the kibe unit captaining one of the numerous floating autofacs-cum-general-stores that supplied the indigenous Riverside population. The unit, a mere hundred klicks from
Machine Lake, had messaged that the River's downstream velocity was decreasing radically, dropping toward ancient baseline values or below; probes launched into the upstream side, however, still registered normal values. Continued updates revealed a steady decline in the force of the artifical current.
When other reports from further downRiver began to flood in-a tourist vessel, a passenger ferry, a fleet of sport skimmers and striders-it became obvious to Dos Santos that River Seven-his River-was dying.
Naturally, he had been in Lagos on official business at the worst possible time. Had the trouble found him at his normal post-his HQ on the shores of Machine Lake -he would have been at the source of the problem and able to take immediate action. As it was, a long trip back had been necessary first.
Now, knowing that his craft had been sabotaged, it became obvious that the attack on River Seven had been timed to take place in his predictable absence…
Toward the unexpected abrupt end of his flight, Dos Santos knew that the downstream portion of River Seven must have been approaching total shutdown. The death of the current, as he had plotted it in Lagos, had been propagating faster than the current itself, a shut-down message of some unknown sort, passed from one flagellum-flailing silicrobe to its neighbor, and then to its neighbor's neighbor, thus outracing the physical flow as a sheer information wave.
The continued functioning of the upstream third of River Seven was explainable by the deliberately engineered
lack of communication between the two currents. Only along the nearly 2000 klick length of the upstream-downstream interface, where a thin layer of specialized downstream silicrobes performed an elaborate ciliary doesy-doe with a matching layer of upstream silicrobes, exchanging energy in a friction eliminating dance, did any mixing occur.
"I have a feeling we'll need them," said Dos Santos. "Activate my retinal displays, please."
"Done."
Dos Santos 's peripheral vision filled with translucent shimmerstats, and he stepped tentatively into the jungle.
2. Infoslam
The first report indicating that something was seriously wrong with River Seven had come a mere twelve hours ago, emanating from the kibe unit captaining one of the numerous floating autofacs-cum-general-stores that supplied the indigenous Riverside population. The unit, a mere hundred klicks from
Machine Lake, had messaged that the River's downstream velocity was decreasing radically, dropping toward ancient baseline values or below; probes launched into the upstream side, however, still registered normal values. Continued updates revealed a steady decline in the force of the artifical current.
When other reports from further downRiver began to flood in-a tourist vessel, a passenger ferry, a fleet of sport skimmers and striders-it became obvious to Dos Santos that River Seven-his River-was dying.
Naturally, he had been in Lagos on official business at the worst possible time. Had the trouble found him at his normal post-his HQ on the shores of Machine Lake -he would have been at the source of the problem and able to take immediate action. As it was, a long trip back had been necessary first.
Now, knowing that his craft had been sabotaged, it became obvious that the attack on River Seven had been timed to take place in his predictable absence…
Toward the unexpected abrupt end of his flight, Dos Santos knew that the downstream portion of River Seven must have been approaching total shutdown. The death of the current, as he had plotted it in Lagos, had been propagating faster than the current itself, a shut-down message of some unknown sort, passed from one flagellum-flailing silicrobe to its neighbor, and then to its neighbor's neighbor, thus outracing the physical flow as a sheer information wave.
The continued functioning of the upstream third of River Seven was explainable by the deliberately engineered
lack of communication between the two currents. Only along the nearly 2000 klick length of the upstream-downstream interface, where a thin layer of specialized downstream silicrobes performed an elaborate ciliary doesy-doe with a matching layer of upstream silicrobes, exchanging energy in a friction eliminating dance, did any mixing occur.