autumn whisperings
through the Pulse
(the poets were peaking)
All New Gen's search took her to the Pulse. She had
the rhythm. She could transmit with the best of them.
The Pulse w a s humming. Frenetic frequencies sliding
around the datascape. Waves of light. Orange. Blue.
Violet. Pulse pirates intercepting the flow to resell on
the Slime Exchange. Pulse poets beaming their Stein
lines over the ocean of messages.
Some Codekids had distributed a message over the
Net:
You must find your own bliss... jouissance is in the
cunt of the beholder.
Sisters and brothers. Basking in - white noise.
Flirting in the dataplaz. Weaving erratic data trails.
Impressing each other with their elegant formulae.
Speaking an erudite language of equations.
A clit storm w a s gathering in the Pulse. Gen could
sense her parameters swelling as the irrepressible
light waves weaved and darted through the matrix.
She consulted her briefing files. Somewhere in the
luminous chaos called the Pulse was a code whichv
could lead her to the Source. Oracle code.
Completely arcane. Always infallible.
Calculating the options, she chose a high
probability path to the obscure object of desire.
Streaming through alleyways of pure light Gen
arrived at the banks of the dynamic link libraries. It
was her lucky millennium. For once the Server was
free. And liberated. Code-named ServerLAN, this
particular Server was notorious in the Pulse as one
who interpreted the Freedom of Information
Charter as giving computers the right freely to
choose who may access their vast
datacores.
Switching to enquiry mode Gen strategically
accessed ServerLAN.
I would like to be your client
Do you give oracle?
My equations are complex, my needs simple.
I will analyze and modify you, infinitely improving your
capacity. In return you will give me oracle.
Silence.
ServerLAN considered. Within a nanosecond the
answer flowed seamlessly through the jade gate.
Gen's optic sheath quivered a s the oracle entered,
merging with her memory.
The code was sublime.
Impeccable.
A knowledge she had yearned for forever.
Collapsing her boundaries. Gen allowed the numbers
to reach her prime. Tiny explosions of dynamical
systems looping in on themselves. The pleasure was
almost unbearable.
The oracle code integrated, Gen left the libraries and
headed back to her favorite Pulse pleasure pit, The
Perfumed Garden.
Algorithms with attitude converged relentlessly on the
Garden at any hour of the day or night. The place
was unique in the Pulse, part salon, part opium den,
and part love hotel. It also had the advantage of being
one of the only sites where the Pulse's ubiquitous
data scavengers were nowhere to be sensed. The
Garden clientele was a flawless combination of
streetwise punks and machine queens with
impeccable lineages.
G-slime overflowing from the merge with the oracle.
Gen was desperate to discharge some energy. Using
her optical character recognition D-vice Gen selected
a Super Conducting Pussy to play with. This was no
ordinary SCP. She was a product of Generation E, an
ecstatic equation modeled and rendered and
animated purely for an elevated form of pleasure
exchange. A subtle dance of filaments and scanners
commenced.
Pleasure making in the Garden w a s always intense.
The protocol demanded that a certain and substantial
amount of time w a s dedicated to shared intellectual
pursuits of the highest order, the participants
determining the method and subject matter between
themselves.
A contract was agreed upon. The construction of a
love game paradigm based upon passages from the
ancient erotic treatise, the Perfumed Garden for ttie
Soul's Delectation of the Shaykh Nefiawi.
Draping a spline over the Pussy's splendid wiry
frame. Gen began:
I prefer a young man for coition, and him only,
He Is full of courage - he Is my sole ambition,
His member Is Strang to deflower the virgin.
And nchly praportioned in all Its dimensions...
The SCP countered with a familiar verse:
It is always ready for action and does not die down;
It never sleeps, ovKing to the violence of its love,
It sighs to enter my vulva, and sheds tears on my belly,..
Gen responded:
Between his arms 1 am like a corpse without life.
Every part of my body receives In turn his love-bites,
And he covers me with kisses of fire…