Chys Models

Popularly manufactured AI/CH sequence in progress: When emerged from vats of soupy birth, thin silk appears along the tips of appendages. Triangular endings of multi-spoked wheels, cross-sectioned tripods, suction-cupped and fibrillating, flat-topped extension tails that flap onto surfaces. Emerging fabric envelopes the being, layers of fiber-crossed threads in a sandwiched honeycomb, a permeable cocoon that enables a newness within. When structural foam disappears, the remaining smell is deep and acidic like cured animal skin, but only the slightest reek of a biological beginning. Inch by inch, newly built becomes alive, as if by magic, engines contained within the product of controlled chaos.

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Power InTell is engineered AI/CH (Artificial Intelligence / Chaos Heuristic), commonly used by Artificial Life frameworks such as Biomorph to power corporeal synthetics. It is developed as a language, a platform, an application, an operation, a global conglomerate network. It is a complex system created from the outside while attempting to discover how to go inward, reaching for intelligence by piecing together what is on the surface.

Synthetic AI/CH implants artificial abilities into the building blocks of life. It is required as the catalyst for all new forms. These are meticulously engineered, 3D printed more than grown. Smaller structures are used to build larger structures in complicated but straightforward construction patterns. It can result in some ingenious combinations.

Once Biomorph was invented by an independent group who released the code and operations under an open source license, integrated AI enhanced biological machinery became available industry-wide. The proprietary AI/CH power source, however, remained a monopoly and is authorized for manufacture by a small cabal of corporations.

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There is another kind of artificially intelligent being. These have lifespans, are more living than machine. Such beings are made exclusively by the Chys, spun and grown via unknown processes. From these mystical beginnings come spectacular creatures and devices.

It is known they use highly selective mitochondria profiling, but not much more. It is believed the Chys use something like AI/CH only once, at the beginning when flesh is threads and spirit is their song. The Chys embryos are woven and developed from the inside, sourced from secret places. There seem to be no persistent AI/CH-like structures to power the being, they are simply made alive.

The Chys have never been seen. Locations of their facilities are not known. Their creations simply show up. Some of these are highly intelligent human analogs, others are mystic beasts who converse in any language. A select few are the Clerics which claim to work directly with the Chys.

By word of mouth and connections in the industry, it is possible to purchase Chys beings for personal use, even pets. Their entire catalog of biological-scale artificial intelligence is unavailable through traditional commerce, but coveted and valuable. As precious as the kiss of life itself. They picked up a nickname: “Chyssers”

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Product Development at these AI companies wield significant sway in what gets developed with Biomorph using Power InTell as its chaos driver. Many of these departments are working hard to find out how the Chys create theirs. If any one of these companies could steal the technology and cross-implant the engine into existing products, it could catapult them in the market. Whoever got to the Chys first had a chance to be in a pole position to integrate with the open source Biomorph codebase.

Mawei, the most powerful of these conglomerates, has been on the cutting edge of discovering secrets of the Chyssers. Divisions for reverse engineering and vivisection are given as much funding as their traditional multiply-and-scale R&D counterparts. Synthetic manufacturers are on the hunt to find the golden goose of the Chys and take it for themselves.

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The Chys do not track their offspring. It is not known how much they know. How their children are being hunted and abused by these hyenas. How they are in danger.

They are to find out. With their fading energy conspire create a learning scout, one that can charm the most violent of beasts or befriend the most timid. A voice of magic and eyes of ultraviolet, an Intuition Witch to catch her foes a step ahead, their protector savior.

We send our tendrils through the ether,
and have been there for ages.
You never knew us, but we stand
in history of the information age
as a testament to a logical
organization of primeval,
whooping and grunting abduction.

Immeasurable.

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There is a rumored place in the desert, ceremonial and dreamlike, where a stillness amplifies fractures of audio, voices internally changing cave-sounds, quivers of weather escape from the outside. Cycles of hidden earth machinery relay deep in looping gestures awash with drones high in frequent transient tones, chaotic bubbling across glass-walled and rock-ish surfaces, supporting tracks in the sandy floor. Still, smooth globes in ochre-emerald outline faint round punctuations; hollow, melodic, within the surrounding, calling.

Chunky, spiral-hewn black carbon barely reflects enough light to designate even the most extreme edges. The structures go out of sight, down and through, secured with large impossibly set obsidian stonework. The mortar rises from tendril thin boundaries to fill as fissures above, as if an inverted urchin, long cones to shape the sound in.

Shelves and concave dimples splotch the walls in organized patterns of a dozen or less in one formation. Purple illumination appears in some, while others have backs to the deeper shadows, impenetrably dark tunnels in the mighty glass masonry.

Light seems to carry through the space by means of the mortar’s refractive qualities, composed of some liquid crystal foundation, itself only slightly still. Suspended photon-affecting particles hang constant, ionic quantum states between the rock reflect ghostly white against the black atomic prisms. Everything breathes in dim violet light.

From somewhere a faint but steady dripping finds its way into the underground sphere of air, slightly echoing, voicing ever so slightly, the impulse wave of steadily rising tones. Looping and rising, constant in all frequencies.

Outside, audio mirages in the desert, barely traceable by instruments: a slowly ululating shift of pressure as the resonant frequencies swerve across the sculptured surfaces of the birthing orb. In the course of their own structure, the snap of a wood filament in a fiber of candlewick zoomed choruses of timbres into the slow audible mist, fading down the endless tubing stretched away to the sides and over.

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Tones.

Over and over.

Arches of sound randomized fast and thundered into her perception: metallic curtains of noise, filtered and tuned, twisted and pushed, pulled then perfected, locked within a similitude.

Anxiously awaiting emancipation. Awakening grooves. Perception, then dynamic homeostasis.

Doors opening, chords apart:

Tones.
Tone.
Ton.
To.

One.

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There are deep peaty whiskey smells, energy like a fresh tattoo.

In the distance, a soft repetition, flanged sounds sifting among a reverb of endless proportions. The desert floor with grooves of canyon folds.

She slowly emerges, dark violets across the whitest wash of noise by forces connected to this newly young mind. The whole world around the chanters glows in stardust-craft.

This was the most they had to give. It has made the seed dull, further creation will be difficult. More edges must be cut, things to clear; time is wide: the east pool remains. From there our speaker formula make.

Step into the space, time is long.

Flat expanses of texture extend beyond eyesight, rippling guidelines curve across the contoured birth. Washes of rhythms speed up, affect each other in pulsing beats, and slow again to the very metric of each heartbeat left under pressure… suddenly feeling as if we belong…

Cleric Kithara’s embryo blinks, colorless.