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Animal Cloning Comes to Hollywood
Kate Thompson writes "A week after San Francisco's Genetic Savings and Clone revealed the sale of their first cat to a customer, the Boston Phoenix reports that GS & C acknowledges it has been hired by anonymous buyers in Hollywood to bank genes of show business animals."
FP !
They were sitting in front of a fireplace on pillows, huddled together, listening to a record, thinking how much has changed, how much has not changed. The flickering digits on the player reflected the flicker of the artifical fire. In the darkness, their shadows were cast on the flat open tundra. Despite the snow, the air was unpleasantly warm. They sat like this a while, eating cherries. When the time came, the thing lifted up.
That was the entry. They came in large numbers, looking for the huddled ones. Those knew they were coming, but they did nothing, until they could smell them. With a blink of the eye, a whizz through the sticky air, a drop of fake blood failing to melt the plastic snow, they got them.
In the next stage, they began to see the floating things, screaming around the tall egoistical structures, avoiding the dark crevices of woe. This place was devoid of zoning laws, with the church next to the tavern, enveloped by a giant bladder.
Multiplicty was sitting in a pulsating blue line art chair. Algorithm was having a beer at the brown cardboard table in the empty tavern. Meaning was busy, being all of this. The single orb of rotating light illuminating this scene was a Conciusness. The forms which could thus be discerned were the Model. The light went out. The Model disappeared. The next visitor could enter, living in the mind of the deceased.
Clarity faded, the forms jellied, cubical. The scene became null, but a reference to it remained, somewhere. A dangling memory. When Time came, the dangle was steadied, streched and chopped like ripe strawberry, ready to be cycled again into waste. This analogy is stupid.
A gallery of artifical hands, posed. An endless corridor of gestures. The images bouncing between the terminal facing mirrors like a lensing photon, ready to set something off, coherently. Resonating with the predefined notions, the knowledge, the past of the comprehender. Stupefied by them, they ingored him, who stands alone in the cavity.
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