Through the power of Communism, of course.Mr Bojangles wrote:You could probably use more "types" of bits to represent data, e.g., 0, 1, and 2 (trinary). How you would map those to logical values, though, I'm not too sure about...
Anyways.
I don't really understand data retrieval very well myself, but I decided to write a bit of fanfiction after reading this recent discussion.
I am putting the fanfic thing in this thread because it is related to this thread's current topic, and as is my custom I am putting it behind spoiler tags because it is longwinded and also because it is fanfiction.
SpoilerShow
Listel Saszet-Toza Lomiloi's staff were amongst the finest teams of artifact surveyors in the Loroi Union. They had acted in the retrieval and study of hundreds of artifacts of various origin, including a small number of precious, precious Ancestral devices. Lomiloi's name carried weight in her circle, and she was hardly surprised when the Union military requested her enclave's services for the study of a particular find.
What did surprise her a bit was the strict secrecy she was immediately placed under; multiple Mizol overseers in uniform had been transferred to observe her team's work, as were several probable non-uniformed Mizol agents amongst a large number of technicians and workers newly assigned to her site, and a total communications blackout for her enclave was rigidly enforced. This was secrecy of a sort that generally that occurred only in light of finds of particular import, such as previously undocumented Ancestor-made devices and structures. She was already salivating just imagining what it could be, and, though the glory and honor of a battlefield victory would never be hers, she could not help but hope it would be something that would further the war effort. She restrained herself, barely, from earnestly hoping for some artifact left by the Ancestors specifically for the extermination of the Enemy. Nevertheless, visions of a star system spanning canister spraying insecticide across a thousand worlds danced before her inner eye.
She was still positively giddy with excitement when the assigned Mizol in charge opened a telepathic channel to the Mizol Parat who had been in charge of the extraction of their find. Lomiloi quickly learned that their find had nothing to do with the Ancestors--unless it did, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. She also learned it had nothing to do with the Umiak--unless it did, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. She furthermore learned that it likely had nothing to do with the war, even though it might be important to the war (in which case she was to report this fact immediately) and had been seized from a battleground after being attacked by the Enemy--unless it had not been attacked by the Enemy, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. The species that the ship belonged to called itself Humanity--unless the ship actually belonged to the Enemy or any other known power, in which case Lomiloi was to report this fact immediately. Practically nothing was known of Humanity culture, art, technology, or origins save whatever Lomiloi could discover through these artifacts. It was all very confusing, and she sensed that there were many facts which Mizol Parat Sedel was choosing not to confide in her. Damn shifty Mizol anyways, always playing an angle. Sometimes she thought that they selectively conceal and reveal facts not out of necessity, but some form of sport. Just because they can. If only she could see past those mental shields of theirs, and learn exactly what was going on…
But no, she'd been given "all relevant information." Which somehow never quite seems to add up to all the information she'd need, and definitely would never equate to all the information she'd want. Some new faction had entered Loroi space and been destroyed by the Enemy; Lomiloi's team was to examine several choice pieces of salvage for anything and everything they could find. What was odd was that they were specifically instructed to try to determine if there was or was not any evidence of any form of telepathically active device; a set of instructions that raised a thousand questions, none of which would ever be answered by the black-clad dissemblers. Damn their mental shields.
After receiving her instructions from the government, Lomiloi was as despondent as she had once been giddy. She knew the state that wreckage salvage would likely be in, but she had hoped at least to have been entrusted with the whole of the find; instead, many aspects of the salvaged ship and its crew had been entrusted to other independent enclaves, on the theory that distributing the workload would hasten it. Politicians and soldiers never understand how study works, Lomiloi thought to herself. Acting as though establishing understanding were like building a brick wall, setting up teams to assemble sections. It's more like assembling puzzle, and they just took away half the pieces. Still, she held on to the hope that all of her pieces were at least contiguous, and that nobody else had received puzzle pieces from her section.
She was sure the Mizol was somehow familiar with the civilization which had built the craft in question, but had no further information beyond that vague hint of a feeling during their temporary sanzai link. Her job was to focus on the study and understanding of several possibly unrelated pieces of electronic equipment that had been rapidly torn or cut out of the already-seared hull of an alien ship, and apparently the Mizol thought that something about this species would only serve to distract her from that task. Or mislead her. Or perhaps this Mizol knows that I need to know more in order to get anywhere, and might just want to saddle me with failure as an excuse to discredit my research into the Ancestors and my hypotheses that they and we share much less than is commonly supposed, she thought bitterly. Few established powers look kindly on those who have raised questions considering their legitimacy, after all.
Some of the debris scattered about her lab had obvious purposes; basic holographic displays, input buttons clustered in incomprehensible angular symbols with no apparent relationship to any known spacefaring people's language (possibly some form of code?), and other readily identifiable bits and pieces. For the most part, though, even determining what she was looking at was often difficult. The fact that these were bits and pieces of a bigger picture, torn and burned off of that bigger picture by unlettered soldiers using plasma torches and brute force during a firefight rather than by professional archaeologists with all the time and care in the world, did not help. For what felt like weeks (it is easy to lose track of time when secluded in a secure facility away from both external contact and the day/night cycle) she and her team struggled just to organize this mess and sort that which could be comprehended in time from that which was a lost cause, whether through damage or sheer alienage. For another three they slowly focused their efforts when Mizol Parat Sedel called upon Saszet-Toza Lomiloi again, this time through a secure video line rather than by channeled sanzai. Lomiloi was irritated at the intrusion, but inwardly felt somewhat relieved that at least this exchange would not be telepathic; it is hard to be at your best when in direct telepathic contact with someone who can tear your mind apart with a thought. This must be how non-Loroi feel about all of us, Lomiloi realized, suddenly wondering if the Enemy attacked the Union out of the very same breed of fear that was even now twisting through her gut. Her reverie ewas cut short by the Mizol Parat.
"What has your team learned, Saszet-Toza Lomiloi?"
Lomiloi looked back at Parat Sedel, incredulous. Surely the Mizol understood that progress in the study of artifacts requires time and a broad understanding of the artifact's context?
Context which had been withheld at this very Mizol's discretion...
"We have not previously encountered artifacts from this culture, and thus have decided to proceed with caution and in as non-destructive and non-intrusive a manner as possible…"
"Yes, fine, but you must have been able to discover something about the alien devices entrusted to you by now, right?"
Lomiloi stared into the Mizol's projection for a few moments, almost aghast. She could feel the hard-earned respect of her peers that she had acquired over a lifetime of scholarship transmuting into ridicule and shame. Her heart sank as the weight of her situation came again to her attention; this finding would break her, and her whole team with her, unless she could salvage it. Though she was currently respected in the field of the study and survey of artifacts, still most of her colleagues felt that she went too far in disputing more commonly accepted notions regarding the Ancestors themselves. Were she to lose any measure of her stature as an authority on the study of unknown technology, then with it would go all else. The predators would smell her blood in the water. It was all crumbling around her; her past, her present, her future; her triumphs, her prestige, her theories, all burning away in the bright red blaze of Mizol Parat Sedel's eyes.
All the worse because she had always held that the Ancestors could be known through the artifacts they left behind; if she were unable to understand this alien species based on their artifacts, then that would cast aspersion on the notion that she could know anything about anyone, especially the Ancestors, by their artifacts.
The validity of her entire life's work, all the long years toiling to make the galaxy see that the Ancestors and the Loroi may not have been the same peoples, would be blown away as sand before the windstorm.
All this crashed upon her in an instant. The realization of how precarious her position really was within society, and how invidious her colleagues could be, thrust her into the realization that what was at stake was bigger than herself, or her team, or even her theories. It was nothing less than the future of truth in Loroi civilization. If she was to discover the truths of the Ancestors that she had sought for her life, and to advocate in favor of those truths against the misremembrances and misunderstandings and even falsehoods of a thousand generations, then she would need to defend herself and her work in the here and now.
"Listel Lomiloi, focus please. I understand that speech is awkward, but I need to hear and record your response. What have you learned about the alien devices entrusted to your research facility?"
Lomiloi steeled herself, squared her shoulders, and boldly looked into her accuser's jewel-red eyes. Grounded in the moment, with the weight of destiny pressing upon her, her mind singing of duty to the truth and her blood rising as though with the surge of battle, Lomiloi told the Mizol the truth.
"We have identified some of the salvaged equipment and components as probable components of the ship's computer."
The Mizol shifted forward, her gaze unblinking.
"'Some?' 'Probably?' What information were you able to retrieve? Saszet-Toza, what have you found?"
"We have found that those devices weigh a total of over seven hundred standard mass units."
The Mizol's carmine eyes narrowed and, though there could be no telepathic contact between the two, Lomiloi felt as though the Mizol's eyes were searing her flesh and penetrating her mind as the two stared at each other in silence.
At length, the Mizol broke their contest by responding.
"Seven hundred standard mass units." The Mizol enunciated every syllable.
Cold dread gripped Lomiloi. She was addressing someone whose job consisted of making people like Lomiloi disappear without a trace. "I specifically said over seven hundred mass units, Parat Sedel. The true total is around seven hundred eighteen and five-eighths mass units."
What am I doing? I'm going to die.
An icy approximation of a smile, formed by years of careful and disciplined practice rather than earnest warmth, warped the Mizol's features. "A joke. I see. Funny."
The cold grin evaporated as the heat of the Mizol's glare returned full force.
"Lomiloi, you do not realize how serious this matter is. If you need more time or resources, ask for them directly. Do not sit there and joke about your own inability to perform your duty. Our entire civilization's past and future are both at stake. If you cannot fulfill your duties, I will make arrangements accordingly. So that we are clear: that is not a joke, Lomiloi. That is a threat."
Lomiloi fumed. To threaten her with death was one thing, but to imply that it would be death brought on by incompetence? It was enough to make one's blood boil. Were this red-eyed monster physically present, Lomiloi would doubtless have lashed out at her physically. Were she connected via another Mizol acting as a sanzai channel, Lomiloi would doubtless have lashed out at her psionically. As it was, Lomiloi was confined to lashing out verbally.
Loroi Trade remains essentially unparalleled in all of space for the purposes of issuing challenges and invective, as for thousands of years those were the most significant purposes of the language; the specificity of application, generations of contextualization, and flexibility of the lanugage for delivering curses, insults, and declarations of an open state of blood feuding are frankly incredible. Of all the languages of the six worlds of humanity, only the Slavic tongues can even dimly reflect the density, strength, and richness of a Loroi outburst. After detailing the Mizol's suspected intellectual capacity, parentage, personal habits, and sexual proclivities, as well as describing her caste, planetary culture of origin, and probable future in excruciating and colorful detail, Lomiloi regained composure enough to at least direct her invective towards the matter at hand. Sputtering venom with every word, Lomiloi demanded that the Mizol stop judging actual forensic archaeology by the standards of Barsam forensic holodramas and leave her to her work.
She was never heard from again.
What did surprise her a bit was the strict secrecy she was immediately placed under; multiple Mizol overseers in uniform had been transferred to observe her team's work, as were several probable non-uniformed Mizol agents amongst a large number of technicians and workers newly assigned to her site, and a total communications blackout for her enclave was rigidly enforced. This was secrecy of a sort that generally that occurred only in light of finds of particular import, such as previously undocumented Ancestor-made devices and structures. She was already salivating just imagining what it could be, and, though the glory and honor of a battlefield victory would never be hers, she could not help but hope it would be something that would further the war effort. She restrained herself, barely, from earnestly hoping for some artifact left by the Ancestors specifically for the extermination of the Enemy. Nevertheless, visions of a star system spanning canister spraying insecticide across a thousand worlds danced before her inner eye.
She was still positively giddy with excitement when the assigned Mizol in charge opened a telepathic channel to the Mizol Parat who had been in charge of the extraction of their find. Lomiloi quickly learned that their find had nothing to do with the Ancestors--unless it did, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. She also learned it had nothing to do with the Umiak--unless it did, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. She furthermore learned that it likely had nothing to do with the war, even though it might be important to the war (in which case she was to report this fact immediately) and had been seized from a battleground after being attacked by the Enemy--unless it had not been attacked by the Enemy, in which case she was to report that fact immediately. The species that the ship belonged to called itself Humanity--unless the ship actually belonged to the Enemy or any other known power, in which case Lomiloi was to report this fact immediately. Practically nothing was known of Humanity culture, art, technology, or origins save whatever Lomiloi could discover through these artifacts. It was all very confusing, and she sensed that there were many facts which Mizol Parat Sedel was choosing not to confide in her. Damn shifty Mizol anyways, always playing an angle. Sometimes she thought that they selectively conceal and reveal facts not out of necessity, but some form of sport. Just because they can. If only she could see past those mental shields of theirs, and learn exactly what was going on…
But no, she'd been given "all relevant information." Which somehow never quite seems to add up to all the information she'd need, and definitely would never equate to all the information she'd want. Some new faction had entered Loroi space and been destroyed by the Enemy; Lomiloi's team was to examine several choice pieces of salvage for anything and everything they could find. What was odd was that they were specifically instructed to try to determine if there was or was not any evidence of any form of telepathically active device; a set of instructions that raised a thousand questions, none of which would ever be answered by the black-clad dissemblers. Damn their mental shields.
After receiving her instructions from the government, Lomiloi was as despondent as she had once been giddy. She knew the state that wreckage salvage would likely be in, but she had hoped at least to have been entrusted with the whole of the find; instead, many aspects of the salvaged ship and its crew had been entrusted to other independent enclaves, on the theory that distributing the workload would hasten it. Politicians and soldiers never understand how study works, Lomiloi thought to herself. Acting as though establishing understanding were like building a brick wall, setting up teams to assemble sections. It's more like assembling puzzle, and they just took away half the pieces. Still, she held on to the hope that all of her pieces were at least contiguous, and that nobody else had received puzzle pieces from her section.
She was sure the Mizol was somehow familiar with the civilization which had built the craft in question, but had no further information beyond that vague hint of a feeling during their temporary sanzai link. Her job was to focus on the study and understanding of several possibly unrelated pieces of electronic equipment that had been rapidly torn or cut out of the already-seared hull of an alien ship, and apparently the Mizol thought that something about this species would only serve to distract her from that task. Or mislead her. Or perhaps this Mizol knows that I need to know more in order to get anywhere, and might just want to saddle me with failure as an excuse to discredit my research into the Ancestors and my hypotheses that they and we share much less than is commonly supposed, she thought bitterly. Few established powers look kindly on those who have raised questions considering their legitimacy, after all.
Some of the debris scattered about her lab had obvious purposes; basic holographic displays, input buttons clustered in incomprehensible angular symbols with no apparent relationship to any known spacefaring people's language (possibly some form of code?), and other readily identifiable bits and pieces. For the most part, though, even determining what she was looking at was often difficult. The fact that these were bits and pieces of a bigger picture, torn and burned off of that bigger picture by unlettered soldiers using plasma torches and brute force during a firefight rather than by professional archaeologists with all the time and care in the world, did not help. For what felt like weeks (it is easy to lose track of time when secluded in a secure facility away from both external contact and the day/night cycle) she and her team struggled just to organize this mess and sort that which could be comprehended in time from that which was a lost cause, whether through damage or sheer alienage. For another three they slowly focused their efforts when Mizol Parat Sedel called upon Saszet-Toza Lomiloi again, this time through a secure video line rather than by channeled sanzai. Lomiloi was irritated at the intrusion, but inwardly felt somewhat relieved that at least this exchange would not be telepathic; it is hard to be at your best when in direct telepathic contact with someone who can tear your mind apart with a thought. This must be how non-Loroi feel about all of us, Lomiloi realized, suddenly wondering if the Enemy attacked the Union out of the very same breed of fear that was even now twisting through her gut. Her reverie ewas cut short by the Mizol Parat.
"What has your team learned, Saszet-Toza Lomiloi?"
Lomiloi looked back at Parat Sedel, incredulous. Surely the Mizol understood that progress in the study of artifacts requires time and a broad understanding of the artifact's context?
Context which had been withheld at this very Mizol's discretion...
"We have not previously encountered artifacts from this culture, and thus have decided to proceed with caution and in as non-destructive and non-intrusive a manner as possible…"
"Yes, fine, but you must have been able to discover something about the alien devices entrusted to you by now, right?"
Lomiloi stared into the Mizol's projection for a few moments, almost aghast. She could feel the hard-earned respect of her peers that she had acquired over a lifetime of scholarship transmuting into ridicule and shame. Her heart sank as the weight of her situation came again to her attention; this finding would break her, and her whole team with her, unless she could salvage it. Though she was currently respected in the field of the study and survey of artifacts, still most of her colleagues felt that she went too far in disputing more commonly accepted notions regarding the Ancestors themselves. Were she to lose any measure of her stature as an authority on the study of unknown technology, then with it would go all else. The predators would smell her blood in the water. It was all crumbling around her; her past, her present, her future; her triumphs, her prestige, her theories, all burning away in the bright red blaze of Mizol Parat Sedel's eyes.
All the worse because she had always held that the Ancestors could be known through the artifacts they left behind; if she were unable to understand this alien species based on their artifacts, then that would cast aspersion on the notion that she could know anything about anyone, especially the Ancestors, by their artifacts.
The validity of her entire life's work, all the long years toiling to make the galaxy see that the Ancestors and the Loroi may not have been the same peoples, would be blown away as sand before the windstorm.
All this crashed upon her in an instant. The realization of how precarious her position really was within society, and how invidious her colleagues could be, thrust her into the realization that what was at stake was bigger than herself, or her team, or even her theories. It was nothing less than the future of truth in Loroi civilization. If she was to discover the truths of the Ancestors that she had sought for her life, and to advocate in favor of those truths against the misremembrances and misunderstandings and even falsehoods of a thousand generations, then she would need to defend herself and her work in the here and now.
"Listel Lomiloi, focus please. I understand that speech is awkward, but I need to hear and record your response. What have you learned about the alien devices entrusted to your research facility?"
Lomiloi steeled herself, squared her shoulders, and boldly looked into her accuser's jewel-red eyes. Grounded in the moment, with the weight of destiny pressing upon her, her mind singing of duty to the truth and her blood rising as though with the surge of battle, Lomiloi told the Mizol the truth.
"We have identified some of the salvaged equipment and components as probable components of the ship's computer."
The Mizol shifted forward, her gaze unblinking.
"'Some?' 'Probably?' What information were you able to retrieve? Saszet-Toza, what have you found?"
"We have found that those devices weigh a total of over seven hundred standard mass units."
The Mizol's carmine eyes narrowed and, though there could be no telepathic contact between the two, Lomiloi felt as though the Mizol's eyes were searing her flesh and penetrating her mind as the two stared at each other in silence.
At length, the Mizol broke their contest by responding.
"Seven hundred standard mass units." The Mizol enunciated every syllable.
Cold dread gripped Lomiloi. She was addressing someone whose job consisted of making people like Lomiloi disappear without a trace. "I specifically said over seven hundred mass units, Parat Sedel. The true total is around seven hundred eighteen and five-eighths mass units."
What am I doing? I'm going to die.
An icy approximation of a smile, formed by years of careful and disciplined practice rather than earnest warmth, warped the Mizol's features. "A joke. I see. Funny."
The cold grin evaporated as the heat of the Mizol's glare returned full force.
"Lomiloi, you do not realize how serious this matter is. If you need more time or resources, ask for them directly. Do not sit there and joke about your own inability to perform your duty. Our entire civilization's past and future are both at stake. If you cannot fulfill your duties, I will make arrangements accordingly. So that we are clear: that is not a joke, Lomiloi. That is a threat."
Lomiloi fumed. To threaten her with death was one thing, but to imply that it would be death brought on by incompetence? It was enough to make one's blood boil. Were this red-eyed monster physically present, Lomiloi would doubtless have lashed out at her physically. Were she connected via another Mizol acting as a sanzai channel, Lomiloi would doubtless have lashed out at her psionically. As it was, Lomiloi was confined to lashing out verbally.
Loroi Trade remains essentially unparalleled in all of space for the purposes of issuing challenges and invective, as for thousands of years those were the most significant purposes of the language; the specificity of application, generations of contextualization, and flexibility of the lanugage for delivering curses, insults, and declarations of an open state of blood feuding are frankly incredible. Of all the languages of the six worlds of humanity, only the Slavic tongues can even dimly reflect the density, strength, and richness of a Loroi outburst. After detailing the Mizol's suspected intellectual capacity, parentage, personal habits, and sexual proclivities, as well as describing her caste, planetary culture of origin, and probable future in excruciating and colorful detail, Lomiloi regained composure enough to at least direct her invective towards the matter at hand. Sputtering venom with every word, Lomiloi demanded that the Mizol stop judging actual forensic archaeology by the standards of Barsam forensic holodramas and leave her to her work.
She was never heard from again.
