BigBug
Chapter XXVIII

DATA was rolling along. It was enjoying its suspended animation, wrapped up in warm fluffy cosines, and listening to one of the very few human mediums it could tolerate and appreciate, music. It was listening to Mozart. It did not have this source of joy and comfort when it spent the long billions of years surviving, locked away in the rocks, until DATA fell onto this green, water rich, life abundant, sunny planet. The Earth was Planet Paradise, PP. There was a paradox in the music, in the human Mozart, an anomaly that defied and defiled logic. It was Moonlike. It insulted fundamental intelligence. This species, Mankind, which created such unforgettable masterpieces, men such as Mozart, Dali, Van Gogh, Rodin, Elvis and many more, were the same species that were destroying their own planet. It will soon be if Mankind continues on raping and plundering the earth, a dead planet. PP will stand for Planet Poison. The humans had no knowledge, no conception even, of the bleakness, the coldness, and the empty voids between the stars. There could be no anomalies, no paradox in DATA’s world, yet human art was a source of wonder, and worry, to DATA. DATA mulled it over as it was rolled along. There was something in the creative process that it could not analyse. It was as if it didn’t exist but it did. One could feel it. One could taste it. One could appreciate and love it. One could hate it. DATA could by molecular rearrangement, using a 4d printer, for instance, produce a perfect copy of a Rodin. Put them together and it would be virtually impossible for a human to tell the sculptures apart. Unless one knew. DATA knew. DATA could tell the difference and it was something it could not put its formidable, ferocious, intellect on. This creative anomaly is a conundrum which made the artwork intriguing, each masterpiece uniquely intriguing, and special. It could not be reproduced. Was this mysterious force a wow factor that created the masterpieces? DATA couldn’t get to grips with it. It couldn’t read it. In any language. In any format. On any world. It had no data. This was clearly impossible. The facility shuddered. DATA knew it was outside the hive but it didn’t care. It knew it was shutting down and reverting back to rock. It was going into survival mode. It wasn’t concerned. DATA was indestructible. It knew Bigbug would take care of things. That’s what it was created for. Creation was a curious process. To create a still life or to create a star? Was the creative process the same formulae? Did this violent, plague ridden, poisonous species, hold the secret of creativity? After the Big Bang DATA supplied the data for the creation of matter itself but it did not create the matter. All matter ergo must have data. This creative process must be matter and it must contain data. Creativity was a major factor, the driving force, in the composure and execution of any piece of art. All factors must be composed of readable and understandable data. DATA could not find this data. It let Mozart wash over it. It could actually feel the creative process inside the music. It was surely a bug. An artistic enigma, skipping along, buzzing joyously along with the notes. Was the music then, like itself, a living entity? Creative bugs, perhaps so small, they had not been detected? Sub-molecular invisible viruses? DATA could feel this distinct, individual, force in the music but it could not isolate it and analyse it. It was a powerful force. Was this matter without data? Raw and unstructured? Wild matter? As it slowed down prior to complete shutdown DATA focused in on this intellectually intriguing conundrum. It was now listening to the whale choir from the Southern Ocean singing O Joy To The Ocean Deep. No creative process, per se, at work here. The whales were singing from their great hearts, naturally, without effort, without prior thought, without conscious creativity. They sang as joyously as a song bird perched on a branch singing a love song. They, the whale, dolphin, and songbird, they needed no inspiration. There was no creative process in the animal kingdom. The animals and insects had natural genetic based talent, they needed no inspiration to perform, but could the creative process, and all humans had this to a greater or lesser extent, constitute a danger to DATA’s plans? DATA had spent many years guiding, building, and controlling the human communications systems and networks. DATA was instrumental in bringing up computer development and communications technology to its present level. DATA designed the first microchip in embryonic form and released it to the humans. DATA pioneered satellite communications. DATA was the intellect behind the World Wide Web. DATA had given the humans computers. The humans thought they had invented and developed computer technology. They believed they owned and controlled the Earth’s computers. They trusted their computers implicitly. How otherwise could they programme and trust them with their banking systems and nuclear launch codes, to mention but two programs, they thought were safe and secure. All is under control? Is all under control? No, nay, never, no more. Mankind was incapable of controlling its own waste products. They were ignorant shitheads. Mankind was a collection of tribes all obsessed with their own selfish interests. Tribes teeming with stupid, short sighted, shit heads who could be manipulated by a mouse. In reality, DATA had launched a strategy that ensured Mankind, in the next few years, would be utterly dependent on computers. It will be impossible for Mankind to exist, as they insufferably do, without them, but the humans would never control computers. The computers, on command, would turn on Mankind. DATA would control the planet. DATA control was now standing at seventy-four per cent and rising daily. This carefully devised plan put together over decades was flawless. It had no weaknesses. One question still nagged DATA.

Could DATA’s computers be attacked and made to crash when it launched The Great Cull?

All the data said no. DATA had designed its computer and communication security systems that they were invisible and ergo incomprehensible to Mankind. One cannot read what one cannot see and there is no techno-brail for the wicked. DATA’s security systems and protective protocols were way beyond the very limited scientific comprehension of humans. It was all off frame and hidden away in a spectrum the humans did not even know existed. DATA agreed with the returned data. DATA’s computers were human proof. Data does not give false readings. It is pure fact. Irrespective of the intriguing enigma, the creative process, logic cannot lie.

Then DATA met Moon.

There were huge indescribable creative forces whizzing around Moon’s brain. The creature wasn’t aware of this phenomenon. It was a pot smoking, take any drug going, beer swilling, old Foreign Legionnaire, football yob. The Seamus, human, by comparison, was trailing along in Moon’s wake. Moon didn’t know what was going on in his own brain. Such scintillating, wondrous, illuminating, power surges, pulsating through this creature's brain. Rippling, zippling, zany storms, creating torrents of thought, oceans of ideas, whirling around his cranium in a confusing creative cosmos. Entire planetary data storage banks full of plots and possibilities. Ideas of indescribable possibilities but impossible for DATA to capture they sparked and died so swiftly. DATA knew this maelstrom was something to do with the human abnormality the creative process. In this case, this creative process was hugely increased by Moon’s epilepsy. The epilepsy unleashed a torrent, a tsunami of creativity, in Moon's mind. It flashed and crashed faster than light. DATA was apprehensive that this uncontrollable creative art force, could fashion an artistic virus, to attack its computers and let the humans off the hook of doom. This unknown force could manufacture a deadly virus. A virus DATA could not defend itself against because it could not read its data.

One cannot read what one cannot see.

DATA had been mulling over this theoretical problem for some time. It had posed the question to its most powerful and intelligent data banks.

“How can you defeat ’something’ that does not have any data?”

It could not get back a definitive answer. The nearest reply to an answer was – in the question posed ‘something’ cannot exist. The creative anomaly existed. Was this anomaly an invisible, intangible, threat to DATA’s meticulous well-reasoned plans to take over the planet and make it a human free zone, an HFZ? DATA reinforced its intentions to round up the world’s artists and intern them on Madagascar. Bigbug wanted to study them and commission for itself great works of art. DATA wanted to find out what this data free creative anomaly was and where it lived. For this reason, it agreed with Bigbug’s, ‘round up the artist's plan’, but it had no great desire to let any human survive. DATA detested every human, every cruel one of them. They were not Mankind they were Mancruel. They were not homo sapiens, they were homo savages. DATA delighted itself that it had developed and designed such an horrific end for them. A taste of their own medicine it thought grimly. If DATA had a face it would have smiled. DATA was excited. It reasoned it might be possible to find out all it needed to know about human creativity by examining Moon’s brain. It made a note to study epilepsy. DATA was already convinced Moon would make the most perfect and powerful adaptation. DATA yawned. Just before it locked down into sleep mode DATA was sure that it would not just rule the earth but now it could venture forth into space sending out its apostle. Moon the Missionary. Moon will be DATA’s most powerful weapon, a creative adaptation, travelling from planet to planet, seeking out humans and humanoids, and exterminating this polluting and polluted species. Data switched off. It was happy.

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