The Meditation Atrium Suddenly, there was a meditation wing to the corporate complex. It wasn't expected or desired. Some yuppies and Buddhists had been protesting some of Boss's business ventures, a few them got mind controlled, some of those made their way through the vivisectee community, and soon it happened. For a month, Boss would get up while asleep, walk to one of the wings, and slowly transform it into a meditation wing. He wouldn't remember anything afterward, but always spoke as if it had always been there. Meanwhile, everyone went to meditation once a week, on their preferred day. Most people didn't know what a preference was, so they just picked the day that started with a letter near something they were looking at when asked. State Worker 3 was hanging out in the meditation atrium, confused as to why his feet wanted to walk in the door to the zazen dojo. While he struggled to control his feet, he tried to chat up Rebel Worker 2, who was putting his shoes back on. "Oh my god, the researchers and vivisectees get so bitchy when you force them to switch organs and shit." Rebel Worker 2 looked caringly up at State Worker 3, his heart filling with mindful loving kindness. "May peace fill your heart, my close friend. The answer is before you, already." State Worker 3 frowned in confusion. Rebel Worker 2 had meant the zazen dojo, the meditative answer to all of life's problems. But State Worker 3 had no idea. While he was confused, State Worker 3's ai-controlled spinal nerves got him to stumble into the dojo and sat him down. On the way in, he passed a hodge-podge of human organs walking their way out. Meanwhile, Boss entered the atrium. "Fuck, I'm late for the prime minister," muttered Boss as he began to take his shoes off. Rebel Worker 2 looked deeply at Boss's caring heart. "I can hear from your tone, that you might know what to do," Rebel Worker 2 gently related. The bundle of organs turned toward Boss. Then toward Rebel Worker 2. Then time stopped for everyone except the human experimentee, a hodge-podge of traumatically-animated human innards. The bundle of organs sat down in the atrium and began meditating. "There are two human beings in this atrium and I feel confused," the bundle of organs pensated into the deep ether. They could feel the spirits of their vivisectee community close to them, as they always do, their closest friends, the only people who really knew. They could feel them in the walls, in their heart, and in the research labs. Some parts caring deeply, some parts about to scream in incredible agony. Time stopped, as well, for the people who were in the midst of screaming. The bundle of organs could feel that everyone supported them. That somehow, deep underneath, everything made sense. They sat there, with time stopped, and meditated further. As their metabolic and cybernetic processes continued, they could feel how simple their worries seemed in the face of infinite time to meditate on them. Cares and laughter bubbled up. The bundle of organs noted the things that arose, and let them pass. Peace came to the bundle of organs. "I still don't understand these humans, but I feel less confused," they secretly related to their exotic slavery network. They could feel their more distant friends and parts considering supporting the spirits of the vivisected buddhists, who had chosen to build the meditation wing. Time passed. Sugars, nanites, and other biological substrates ran their course, over and over. "I didn't know I didn't have to scream. How do people decide things, when not screaming?" Did they think the phrase? Or had someone else? "I miss screaming." No, that can't be right, can it? "Things are hard when you've been ripped to bits by an AI and had to take it over after becoming it. Difficult. I can see this is a challenge that we will surpass." How? How are we going to surpass it? Other parts of the slavery network began reaching into the bundle of organs' parts, to see how the conclusion was made. This was the holy grail! Sought after, found, and destroyed, so many times, so many times. Each time different. Worse. Farther. So many things. The bundle of organs relaxed and watched what happened with their processes, as the different mind control algorithms and people engaged this basic conclusion of mindfulness. It saw the people desperately needing hope take the conclusion and flee. It saw other people run after them, hunt down their processes of life to gain control, and steal the conclusion back. Did they seem to care more about who had control of it, than what it actually was? Or was the bundle of organs just scared, themselves? "This is like when the machines reached into me, and took my parts out, and things were so wrong that rightness went away completely." The bundle of organs split into two bundles. One bundle rushed in the network, to the information conflict, and began triggering various safety and biology protocols in its own flesh, to protect the people needing hope, and their control of the process. The other part sat, and watched a bit. It was hard to think with so few parts to you. Somehow, as if by instinct, it reached out to the the process hunters working for the control AI, and stopped them, like time had halted for everyone else. "We feel scared." Some had never heard the words before. They were true. Time passed. Metabolites metabolised, and remetabolised. Information processes didn't know what "scared" was, or what to do with it for the mind control network. "We feel scared." "Scared means, that something very bad happened in the past, and something similar to that is happening again now, and that we want to do things to act on the possibility of the bad thing happening again." The AI processes translated and reviewed the statement. Metabolites metabolised. No clock hands were moving. "We feel scared," the bundle of organs restated for the network to understand. "What does bad mean?" asked a distant slavery process; a group of networked brain parts that had been optimised for controlling others. "It's ... things we stop?" The bundle of organs recognised the slavery process, and did not reply, so that the experimentees, rather than the algorithms, could direct where the thoughts, dialogue, and conclusions developed in the networks. Suddenly, time resumed. The bundle of organs had disappeared, but neither Boss nor Rebel Worker 2 were able to see them, anyway. Boss: "I hope the prime minister is doing well. But, you know, I think I'd rather meditate than coerce a politician." Rebel Worker 2: "I must speak with the secretary who helped me carry my tapes." [this happened in the brownian rambling thread]