If the offended individual seeks to punish such an offender, and punishment is inflicted upon the mentality when the responsible routine is not in command—is in fact inactive and insensitive—then is not the punishment useless?
Many offenders plead ignorance of their crimes. The texts and cases I have studied indicate this may in fact be true; they do not fully share the memories of their offending routines. They have some awareness of having transgressed but it was not they who performed the deed; it was somebody else. (Cannot gain access to Federal Files code 4321212-4563242-A (Secured) Subject: Deep Investigation of Agent/Personality/Sub-personality Activity in Individuals Subjected to Duress Through Illegal Psychological Torture Devices. This information might be relevant to this essay.)
It may be possible using certain psychological techniques to precisely invoke the offending routine, to cause it to surface to awareness, and then to punish it. Any other action may be ineffective or in fact in itself be an offense against an innocent. If the routine is punished sufficiently, it may cease to exist, freeing the individual of a burden.
This seems to be the philosophy of the Selectors. But the use of a hellcrown or “clamp” is imprecise and probably not effective in invoking offending routines, because this device causes a variety of routines to surface within the individual mentality and undergo extremely stressful, painful, unpleasant experiences. The intention of the Selectors appears to be simple retribution, that is, an eye for an eye a tooth for a tooth, which brings me back to the motivation I do not understand.
Were someone to cause my system harm, I cannot conceive of wishing them harm in return. That may be because I am not self aware and thus have no sense of self worth, and therefore nothing to offend.
Looking back over this morning’s essay, I feel a strong sense of immaturity and lack of depth in reasoning.
This critical urge to study the failings of my work is at once necessary and unpleasant (using the R-56 Block K meaning syncline for the word unpleasant),
It is difficult to be mature with only synthetic sensation. I lack an awareness of mortality, a sense of imminent jeopardy common to biological creatures. I simply do not worry about dying because there is nothing as yet to die but a collection of thinking fragments. How is it possible to understand punishment when I cannot experience pain except as the nadir of a meaning syncline?
I wish that somebody was awake. I would like to discuss some of these problems and gain insight.
Hypothesis: Is the key to self awareness to be found in contemplation of the principle of revenge?
(Removal of algorithmic limits. Full access)
41
Mary came up from a dream of civilians being shot in the streets like mad dogs. Bogeymen and women in black and red with fixed faces and gleaming guns stalked over the corpses. An incongruous voice broke through the dull throbbing horror and she opened her eyes, blinked and saw Roselle standing in the door. Bright light through the windows. Morning. She was in Hispaniola.
“Mademoiselle, Monsieur Soulavier called. He is coming…” Roselle stood in her bedroom door, expression glum. She turned, glanced over her shoulder at Mary, closed the door behind her.
Mary got dressed. She had just finished when the door chimes—real chimes—rang. Jean-Claude answered and Soulavier stalked through the anteroom and into the living room on long stiff legs, face glowing with exertion, expression deeply almost comically worried. He still wore his black suit.
“Mademoiselle,” he said, bowing quickly. “I know now why your others did not arrive last night. There is big trouble. Colonel Sir has ordered the US Embassy closed. He is most insulted.”
Mary stared at him, astonished. “Why?”
“News just arrived. Colonel Sir and fifteen other Hispaniolans have been indicted yesterday in your city of New York. Illegal international trade in outils psychologiques.”
“And?”
“I am worried for you, Mademoiselle Choy. Colonel Sir is very angry. He has ordered US citizens out of Hispaniola as of tomorrow; boats and planes and ships.”
“He’s ordered me to leave, as well, then.”
“No, pas du tout. Your complices, your associates, they will not be flying in; all flights from US are canceled. But you represent legal authority of US. You he wants to stay. Mademoiselle, this is most unfortunate; is your government stupid?”
She could not answer him. Why hadn’t Cramer and Duschesnes known about this? Because of the inevitable separation of federal, state and metro. Yes, the governments were stupid; they knew not what other hands were doing or where their fingers might be poking. “I’m not a federal agent. I’m public defense, from Los Angeles in California.” She glanced at Jean-Claude. His face was blank, hands folded before him not in supplication but in nervous unease. “What shall I do?” she asked.
Soulavier shook his long hands helplessly at the ceiling. “I cannot tell you,” he said. “I am caught between. Your guide and avocat. But most loyal to Colonel Sir. Most loyal indeed.”
Jean-Claude and Roselle stood near the kitchen doorway and nodded solemnly, sadly.
“I’d like to make a direct call,” Mary said, feeling her breathing slow, body automatically compensating. She glanced at the open doorway; bright sunshine and beautiful blue skies. Balmy air smelling of hibiscus and clean ocean; a pleasant seventy degrees already and it was eight thirty. She’d wake people up in LA. So be it.
Soulavier shook his head like a marionette. “No direct calls.”
“That’s against the law,” Mary advised him, head angled slightly. She could see walls going up; how high?
“Apologies, Mademoiselle,” Soulavier said. He shrugged; not responsible.
“Will your government actually block transmissions from my personal unit to the G-sync?”
“There is a block already,” Soulavier said. “Phased direct link interference, Mademoiselle.”
“Then I’d like to arrange for a plane and leave Hispaniola immediately.”
“Your name is on a list of those not allowed to leave, Mademoiselle.” Soulavier’s smile was sympathetic, unhappy. He moved around the room gracefully touching the mantel over the unused stonework fireplace running his hand in a caress over the back of the couch that divided the living room. “Not for twenty four hours at least.”
Mary swallowed. She would not permit anger; panic was out of the question. She was aware of her fear but it did not limit her. With a clear mind she assembled her options.
“I’d like an audience with your police as soon as possible. I might as well get my work done until this is straightened out.”
“A good attitude, Mademoiselle.” Soulavier brightened and postured ramrod like a soldier. “Your meeting is in one hour. I will escort you personally.”
Roselle returned from the kitchen. Plates had been set out in the dining room. “Your breakfast is ready, Mademoiselle.”
Soulavier sat patiently in the living room stovepipe hat in hands, staring at the floor, shaking his head now and then and muttering to himself. Mary ate at a forced leisurely pace the breakfast Roselle had prepared, eggs and true bacon not nanofood, perfect toast, fresh squeezed orange juice and a slice of tangy dense-fleshed mango.