Kiasma Revisited

by Mimu and the Rest

The first enigma arose immediately upon arrival. Where is this building of
supposedly modern art? None of us conceded to actually know of its
whereabouts, yet we did locate our objective very quickly. The next problem
arose when it turned out that only people under 18 can enter free of charge.
25 currency units is quite steep for something that does not serve any useful
purpose. The 20% student discount soothed our minds barely enough to allow us
to fork over the necessary credits and to move on to inspect the exhibition,
Alien Intelligence.
        Up the slope and up another and up a set of stairs and then some.
Stopping only briefly to catch our breaths, we entered without hesitation,
and sadly were nearly driven right back down by the shocking sight before us.
In the room we had arrived in, there sat several ancient computers on
pedestals, with their monitors emitting glum green light, and revolving on
their own accord. It seemed as if every computer directed their wicked green
gaze directly through us and shivers ran up and down our wavering frames.
What could it all mean?
        It was then that I realized some jerk had rigged simple mechanics
beneath every monitor, and the green light seemingly emanated from simple
oversized lightbulbs for which the monitors had happily traded their innards.
Resisting an urge to discorporate a pseudo-living computer as a warning to
the others, we instead set out to fathom a reason for such an odd display of
antiquities. We could scarcely contain ourselves as we found an unimaginably
cute 9" monitor, which instantly triggered a possessive trait in one of our
travelling companions. We had to drag the poor fellow down to the next room
to regain his senses. Now, I evaluated, these computer-look-a-likes could be
one of two things; a silly cow / happy camper convertor (nnnnggghhhh!!
*dance*!!!) or a demonstration of the possible consequences of a highly
developed artificial intelligence got loose.
        Next we stumbled upon a room with cranes hanging from the ceiling,
made of wood and some electronics. Curious, we explored among the limp
appendages, which was a severe mistake that nearly cost us our lives. Without
warning, two of the cranes jerked, pointing their blood-shot eyes at us, and
started groping at us. Unfortunately, my friends had left their enchanted
silver axes home and my spellbook had cola stains in it, so we had to retreat
from the foul carnivore machinery. We did get away without any serious
damage. Only then did I realise it was some sort of enchanted forest
simulation, or cybertrees, results of a twisted scientific test horribly gone
wrong.
        Gathering ourselves, we moved off to a new room, this time one with
a magnificent view out to the city. This room was occupied by a single
computer unit, and some neon graffiti covered one wall, randomly flashing
pink. This computer did not seem hostile after a cursory inspection, and I
decided to try to make contact with it. Was this perhaps the mastermind
behind these grotesque projects? Some text could be read from the monitor,
and it apparently was awaiting further input. I tried typing in a greeting,
to which it answered by asking me whether I would like to take it to our
leader. This confused me to no end, for I had just moments ago requested the
same thing from the computer. After some further communication, I had come to
the conclusion that the computer was merely running a weakly trained
psychiatrist program.
        We also discovered a window to another dimension. Strange forms
floated past at a relaxed pace. When I tried to touch them, I noticed there
was a transparent wall between us. However, my touch seemed to aggravate the
creatures, for they accelerated their movement. Confounded, we poked at the
window and gazed into the other world, spying on its inhabitants. My mystic
powers were not enough to penetrate the shielding, but then, I do reckon the
Netherworlds are far more interesting than that abstract universe of simple
blobbies. So no big loss there.
        We explored further, and came upon a sound generator, an object
description creator, a whatsit and some totally uninteresting pieces of
static equipment. There was also a slide nearby, one that spirals down some
two times and ends on a soft platform. I reckoned we should try it out, but
my party didn't feel this to be useful in any way. After some consideration,
I decided to give it a try anyway, and dived into the metal tube. As I had
some experience of that kind of slides, I knew better than to sit upright. If
one doesn't lie down, one is bound to bump one's head on the inner walls of
the spiral tube-slide, which can really cause an awful headache. It took us
five minutes to reunite our adventuring party (during which we solved several
quests and saved all life on earth).
        Our group then spent several moments in analysing the exhibitions we
had witnessed. Had we not been well-travelled swashbucklers, we would not
have understood any of the art. Was this supposed to be a representation of
Alien Intelligence? For none of what we had seen so far had been anything
more than mere productions of sick minds with no constructive use. The
computer psychiatrist was actually about twenty years old, and clearly had no
resemblance whatsoever to any intelligence at all. All those works may have
had something to say to enlightened admirers, but not to us, simple-minded
yuppies as we are. Satisfied, we donned our highly enchanted yet trendy
clothes and set out for the exit. And off into greener pastures with us it
was...