53 Quotes by Ken MacLeod

The screen blazed with the light of recognition. The eyes met yes the Is met the answer sparkled so it was you all the time and it was a seen joke a laugh a tickling tumble a gendered engendering of a second self a you-and-me-baby from AI-and-I to I-and-I.There was a flowering, and a seeding: a reflection helpless to stop itself reflecting again and again in multiple mirrors.The stars threw down their spears.Someone smiled. His work to see.The connection broke.

... ideas are exactly as interested in the brains they're in as genes are in the bodies they're in: just enough to get themselves copied...Like computer viruses.

Do AIS dream in electric sleep?He hoped it had nanosecond nightmares.

White-hot needles stabbed through his eyes into his head, into his brain: a new environment for the information viruses, where they replicated, forming snarls of complex logic that entangled him, clanking mechanisms that pursued him from one thought to another, down corridors of memory and forgotten rooms of days.

That evening, Hope wrote a letter to her MP, Jack Crow. She found no difficulty at all in composing it, but quite a bit in writing it. She hadn't hand-written an entire page since primary school. In the end she found an app on her glasses that sampled her handwriting and turned it into a font that looked like her handwriting would if it had been regular, and printed it off. There was even an app for the printer that indented the paper a little, and an ink that looked like ballpoint ink.

[S]he had difficulty crediting it could really happen in her own lifetime. She knew this was exactly how people would feel just before the real apocalypse, that nearly everyone who’d faced some intrusive threat to their everyday existence – war, revolution, genocide, purges, disaster – had faced it with the firm conviction that things like this just didn’t happen or didn’t happen here or didn’t happen to people like them.

Kindle, ah,’ said Baxter, ‘takes me back.

There’s a part of the human brain, the temporal lobe, that is associated with religious experiences as well as with epilepsy.

The eighties?’ I said. ‘As in, the nineteen-eighties? The decade that taste forgot? Honest, Sophie, ask your granny. Ask mine, if you like. She’ll tell you the only good thing about it was that the internet and phone cameras weren’t invented, well hardly anyway, so most of the awful photos are lying out of sight in drawers and shoeboxes.