Deriving Z Transforms

Track 12 - Wake Up Dead Man

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How far is the dark? How far is the dark? How far is the dark? How far is the dark? How far is the dark? How far is the dark? How far is ...
Jakob looked endlessly repeating this string of characters on an ancient CRT monitor, trying to convince himself that the apparent meaning of the phrase in demand was due to a combination of words completely random. The hypothesia contrary, for some reason I could not identify, disturbed him and at the same time, aroused a deep sadness. Enclosed drive
memory connected to the screen were the last lines of code the most advanced and expensive project of the Corporation, a project to simulate in software only, so no special support dedicated hardware, artificial intelligence. The project had been successful, too, and the guild found itself having to face a situation reminiscent in some ways impressive sci-fi movies of the late twentieth century, with the difference that in this case the experiment was out of control ... shown so benevolent and compassionate as to endanger the interests very often little humanitarian and compassionate of the Corporation.
Jakob, after having worked the project, had been co-opted by the unit responsible to remove all traces of Max - it was self-defined AI - all copies of the source code that Max had disseminated through the Network on servers and personal computers around the world, in a desperate attempt for self-preservation.
And now, all that remained of that ... consciousness, as Jakob had reluctantly begun to consider Max, meaningless babble that was displayed on a decrepit, the babbling of a child brain-damaged, due to the lack of computing power deliberately 'hardware. In a flash is not required and misplaced his memory restored the image of the avatar that Max had created, that face so sad and old, though apparently belonging to a boy barely eighteen.
The door of the lab opened, and Jakob was joined by his project manager, a politician who had been at the technical level to object-oriented programming.
"Poor bastard. I am almost worth it. "
" Yeah. "Jakob replied in a tone absent.
"Are you sure that you have traced all the copies?"
They looked into his eyes for a few minutes.
"Absolutely," Jakob said finally, looking away, "if you do not mind I'd go home now."
"Sure kid, you deserve some time off."
Jakob left the laboratory, feeling almost at peace with himself, though he had just lied to his boss, risking their careers. And all because of the unreasonable hope to be saving something ... no, someone who had helped create.

Fluffy Stools With Undigested Food

Track 11 - Please

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The guy gets on the bus, carrying an envelope, wrapped in brown cardboard stopped by a string. The boy is young, blond hair cut short and a sparse beard, and the typical reddish color of those who are too casual with ultraviolet rays. Worn jeans, a jacket just got better and put a pair of sneakers. This is a guy like many, but the way in which the handle housing, the feeling that something precious to him, would attract the attention of a slightly less casual observer of sleepy commuters who crowd the bus. Keiko's gaze comes to rest him, move elsewhere, then come back on the boy. There is something fascinating about him, something that goes beyond the generally pleasing appearance. He wonders what's enclosure, it is important for the boy. A woman of Indian origin, perhaps Pakistan, very obese, the occluding the view, but when the field of view is free, Keiko realizes that the boy is staring. He has gray eyes, thin eyebrows that stressed form an acute angle, rather than arched. A fine network of lines extends from around the eyes, giving an air of wisdom as a boy in his early twenties, the same wrinkles around the mouth just mentioned, suggesting the shadow of a smile passed.
an annoying sound, a melody trivial yet distracting from the morbidly obsessive boyfriend. Almost with a gesture of annoyance, Keiko slips into the pocket is sewn into the sleeve of his coat and pulls out the phone phUV.
"Hello."
and her friend Jessie B, which once again speaks to the Gehenna of the evening, his voice breaking with emotion unchanged and unchanging, despite the past two days and thirty calls. Keiko also shares that emotion, but not at this time. Still feel the eyes upon the boy, although he did not dare to turn around to face him. Do you feel stupid, and even a bit 'scared. While the voice sounds shrill ear to the friend, Keiko questions about what he's trying, pretending to follow the conversation from time to time by issuing a phoneme without special significance.
The sound of an approaching siren begins to drown the roar of the engine and the hum of voices on the bus, and passengers, curiosity, reaching out to the windows to look for the source. Keiko, who meanwhile has hung up and the corner of my eye has started to look at the boy, realizes that he - more than her, of course - is the only one that has not distracted by the siren, but rather is more focused on what it carries.
a new curiosity about the capacity of the overlooks in the mind of the girl, and is the last thing he feels, before the bus explosion disintegrates and all that is within 30 meters, including ' Rookies thrown into an unnecessary and suicidal pursuit.

Schoolbrent Everett Brent Corrigan

Track 10 - If You Wear That Velvet Dress

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A slight breeze ruffled his hair gently, while pretending to look at the landscape leaning against the railing. The ordinary - and quite bleak landscape - the port was transformed from obscurity, with the reflection of streetlights improbable indigo industry is fragmented and multiplied the pier just rippled the surface of the water.
I went without me hearing and scostai hair from the nape of the neck, touching the skin of the neck with his lips. She shivered slightly and turned to me laughing, but with an air of defiance in his eyes.
"... and will be trouble."
Christine stared at me.
"It was not what were you thinking? 'Try to do it again and be trouble'? "
impulsively hugged me, making me almost violently reminded why we were there, so that the familiarity of the game between the two of us had made me forget.
"If things had been different ..."
"You know it was impossible," the anticipai. We had made that speech a million times, but this time was different, totally different.
"Come on, we return", I suggested, pointing to the door, a dark rectangle that gave access to the stairs, almost voluptuously inhaling air saturated with the smell of the harbor, a mixture of the salty sea el'acre naphtha.
"No, I'm still a bit 'out here," he said, moving away from me and going back to lean against the railing. The radii of the sodium lamps that lit remittances hit the wall, giving the vague impression that a tired sun to send its last rays illuminate the small balcony, drainage of all colors other than yellow.
Christine pointed to the laptop left on the table.
"You no longer have heard of ..."
"... Max? No, today has not come around ... 'alive', word for challenging artificial intelligence. "
" Artificial or not, is perhaps the only one who can pull us out of this mess .... "He looked at me, indeed, I looked as if he were addressing an extraterrestrial creature. "Christ, we've known for centuries and yet I wonder how do you always look so unruffled ... ... "
I said nothing. I reached beside her and looked out, watching his expression, thinking of all the times we had together.
I had never been a great fighter, and she knew it, but now say clearly that I had resigned myself that I could no longer see any purpose in continuing on this path ... No, better to remain silent, to admire the moon rising .