DJ Hairy Larry Presents Pansy Hall
From The Archives Of Something Blue February 5, 2023
https://sbblues.com/2023/02/05/dj-hairy-larry-presents-pansy-hall/
Thanks Marty, today we're going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks,
MixRemix On Anonradio - From The Creative Commons Jazz Library - 2023-02-03
jazz.mixremix.cc
https://archive.org/details/ccj2023-02-03
50:30
Boogie Belgique-Blueberry Hill
https://archive.org/details/DWK149
CC BY-NC-ND
16:24
Regis V Gron
DJ Hairy Larry Presents Hairy Larry playing "Chunga"
From The Archives Of Something Blue January 29, 2023
https://sbblues.com/2023/01/29/dj-hairy-larry-presents-hairy-larry-playing-chunga/
Thanks Marty, today we're going to hear an origin
I'm walkin' the floor over you.
I live on the third floor and you live on two.
Every time I get up, to get another brew
I'm walkin' the floor over you.
"Walking the Floor Over You" by Earnest Tubb
Parody lyrics by Larry Heyl
Gamer+ News January 27, 2023 - Inspired Unreality!
https://gamerplus.org/blogs/post/999
Inspired Unreality open game chat will resume tomorrow, Saturday, January 28, at 11:00 AM Central. Inspired Unreality is held in the gamerplus chatroo
Alb. âWelcome to the Canteenâ it was recorded live at Fairfield Halls, Croydon and the Oz Benefit Concert, London, July 1971.
Personnel:
Steve Winwood - lead vocals, organ, electric piano, acoustic guitar Jim Capaldi - tambourine, percussion Chris Wood - sax, flute, electric piano, organ  Dave Mason - lead guitar Ric Grech - electric bass  Rebop Kwaku Baah - congas, timbales, bongos  Jim Gordon - drums
From The Archives Of Something Blue February 5, 2023
Thanks Marty, today we’re going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks, right here in Jonesboro.
I played with Aaron Love at Blues Fest 91 but we never performed together on a regular basis until I had my juke house at Old Town Nettleton. In 1997 I put together a band featuring Aaron and a female vocalist, Pansy Hall. We had a tight Memphis sound with harmony vocals. We sang Blues and R&B cover songs as well as a few originals.
From The Archives Of Something Blue February 5, 2023
Thanks Marty, today weâre going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks, right here in Jonesboro.
I played with Aaron Love at Blues Fest 91 but we never performed together on a regular basis until I had my juke house at Old Town Nettleton. In 1997 I put together a band featuring Aaron and a female vocalist, Pansy Hall. We had a tight Memphis sound with harmony vocals. We sang Blues and R&B cover songs as well as a few originals.
Thanks Marty, today we’re going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks, right here in Jonesboro.
I played with Aaron Love at Blues Fest 91 but we never performed together on a regular basis until I had my juke house at Old Town Nettleton. In 1997 I put together a band featuring Aaron and a female vocalist, Pansy Hall. We had a tight Memphis sound with harmony vocals. We sang Blues and R&B cover songs as well as a few originals.
This is Hairy Larry inviting you to enjoy Something Blue every Saturday night at ten. This week weâre featuring J. D. Allen, Masao Nakajima, Eji Oyewole, and Koichi Matsukaze. For more about the show visit the Something Blue website at sbblues.com.
Donât miss Something Blue, Saturday night at 10:00 PM CST, at kasu.org.
Nataraja literally means lord of the dance. Siva is the lord, the ultimate and effective cause of all creation and the dance is his act of creation, a dynamic rhythmic movement. His dance is a guided action, under his complete mastery, not an act of chaotic, random movements. The lord and the dance together constitute the projection of the Paramasiva, the highest eternal and formless Nirguna Brahman on the canvas of his own awakened state as Saguna Brahman. Shiva Nataraja - The Cosmic Dancer TA M/J
Great Basin bristlecone pine (Pinus longaeva) at Inyo National Forest, White Mountains, California
At 4,000 years old, this bristlecone tree has seen over a million sunrises and sunsets. The worlds oldest bristlecone pine has lived in this forest for 5,071 years. To protect the oldest trees from vandalism, their locations and exact identities are kept secret.
Strange how often the Millennium has been at
hand. The idea is peace on Earth, see, and
the way to do it is by figuring out angles.
When Gelsen entered, he saw that the rest of the watchbird manufacturers
were already present. There were six of them, not counting himself, and
the room was blue with expensive cigar smoke.
âHi, Charlie,â one of them called as he came in.
The rest broke off conversation long enough to wave a casual greeting at
him. As a watchbird manufacturer, he was a member manufacturer of
salvation, he reminded himself wryly. Very exclusive. You must have a
certified government contract if you want to save the human race.
âThe government representative isnât here yet,â one of the men told him.
âHeâs due any minute.â
âWeâre getting the green light,â another said.
âFine.â Gelsen found a chair near the door and looked around the room.
It was like a convention, or a Boy Scout rally. The six men made up for
their lack of numbers by sheer volume. The president of Southern
Consolidated was talking at the top of his lungs about watchbirdâs
enormous durability. The two presidents he was talking at were grinning,
nodding, one trying to interrupt with the results of a test he had run
on watchbirdâs resourcefulness, the other talking about the new
recharging apparatus.
The other three men were in their own little group, delivering what
sounded like a panegyric to watchbird.
Gelsen noticed that all of them stood straight and tall, like the
saviors they felt they were. He didnât find it funny. Up to a few days
ago he had felt that way himself. He had considered himself a
pot-bellied, slightly balding saint.
* * * * *
He sighed and lighted a cigarette. At the beginning of the project, he
had been as enthusiastic as the others. He remembered saying to
Macintyre, his chief engineer, âMac, a new day is coming. Watchbird is
the Answer.â And Macintyre had nodded very profoundlyâanother watchbird
convert.
How wonderful it had seemed then! A simple, reliable answer to one of
mankindâs greatest problems, all wrapped and packaged in a pound of
incorruptible metal, crystal and plastics.
Perhaps that was the very reason he was doubting it now. Gelsen
suspected that you donât solve human problems so easily. There had to be
a catch somewhere.
After all, murder was an old problem, and watchbird too new a solution.
âGentlemenââ They had been talking so heatedly that they hadnât noticed
the government representative entering. Now the room became quiet at
once.
âGentlemen,â the plump government man said, âthe President, with the
consent of Congress, has acted to form a watchbird division for every
city and town in the country.â
The men burst into a spontaneous shout of triumph. They were going to
have their chance to save the world after all, Gelsen thought, and
worriedly asked himself what was wrong with that.
He listened carefully as the government man outlined the distribution
scheme. The country was to be divided into seven areas, each to be
supplied and serviced by one manufacturer. This meant monopoly, of
course, but a necessary one. Like the telephone service, it was in the
publicâs best interests. You couldnât have competition in watchbird
service. Watchbird was for everyone.
âThe President hopes,â the representative continued, âthat full
watchbird service will be installed in the shortest possible time. You
will have top priorities on strategic metals, manpower, and so forth.â
âSpeaking for myself,â the president of Southern Consolidated said, âI
expect to have the first batch of watchbirds distributed within the
week. Production is all set up.â
* * * * *
The rest of the men were equally ready. The factories had been prepared
to roll out the watchbirds for months now. The final standardized
equipment had been agreed upon, and only the Presidential go-ahead had
been lacking.
âFine,â the representative said. âIf that is all, I think we canâis
there a question?â
âYes, sir,â Gelsen said. âI want to know if the present model is the one
we are going to manufacture.â
âOf course,â the representative said. âItâs the most advanced.â
âI have an objection.â Gelsen stood up. His colleagues were glaring
coldly at him. Obviously he was delaying the advent of the golden age.
âWhat is your objection?â the representative asked.
âFirst, let me say that I am one hundred per cent in favor of a machine
to stop murder. Itâs been needed for a long time. I object only to the
watchbirdâs learning circuits. They serve, in effect, to animate the
machine and give it a pseudo-consciousness. I canât approve of that.â
âBut, Mr. Gelsen, you yourself testified that the watchbird would not be
completely efficient unless such circuits were introduced. Without them,
the watchbirds could stop only an estimated seventy per cent of
murders.â
âI know that,â Gelsen said, feeling extremely uncomfortable. âI believe
there might be a moral danger in allowing a machine to make decisions
that are rightfully Manâs,â he declared doggedly.
âOh, come now, Gelsen,â one of the corporation presidents said. âItâs
nothing of the sort. The watchbird will only reinforce the decisions
made by honest men from the beginning of time.â
âI think that is true,â the representative agreed. âBut I can understand
how Mr. Gelsen feels. It is sad that we must put a human problem into
the hands of a machine, sadder still that we must have a machine enforce
our laws. But I ask you to remember, Mr. Gelsen, that there is no other
possible way of stopping a murderer before he strikes . It would be
unfair to the many innocent people killed every year if we were to
restrict watchbird on philosophical grounds. Donât you agree that Iâm
right?â
âYes, I suppose I do,â Gelsen said unhappily. He had told himself all
that a thousand times, but something still bothered him. Perhaps he
would talk it over with Macintyre.
As the conference broke up, a thought struck him. He grinned.
A lot of policemen were going to be out of work!
* * * * *
âNow what do you think of that?â Officer Celtrics demanded. âFifteen
years in Homicide and a machine is replacing me.â He wiped a large red
hand across his forehead and leaned against the captainâs desk. âAinât
science marvelous?â
Two other policemen, late of Homicide, nodded glumly.
âDonât worry about it,â the captain said. âWeâll find a home for you in
Larceny, Celtrics. Youâll like it here.â
âI just canât get over it,â Celtrics complained. âA lousy little piece
of tin and glass is going to solve all the crimes.â
âNot quite,â the captain said. âThe watchbirds are supposed to prevent
the crimes before they happen.â
âThen howâll they be crimes?â one of the policeman asked. âI mean they
canât hang you for murder until you commit one, can they?â
âThatâs not the idea,â the captain said. âThe watchbirds are supposed to
stop a man before he commits a murder.â
âThen no one arrests him?â Celtrics asked.
âI donât know how theyâre going to work that out,â the captain admitted.
The men were silent for a while. The captain yawned and examined his
watch.
âThe thing I donât understand,â Celtrics said, still leaning on the
captainâs desk, âis just how do they do it? How did it start, Captain?â
* * * * *
The captain studied Celtricsâ face for possible irony; after all,
watchbird had been in the papers for months. But then he remembered that
Celtrics, like his sidekicks, rarely bothered to turn past the sports
pages.
âWell,â the captain said, trying to remember what he had read in the
Sunday supplements, âthese scientists were working on criminology. They
were studying murderers, to find out what made them tick. So they found
that murderers throw out a different sort of brain wave from ordinary
people. And their glands act funny, too. All this happens when theyâre
about to commit a murder. So these scientists worked out a special
machine to flash red or something when these brain waves turned on.â
âScientists,â Celtrics said bitterly.
âWell, after the scientists had this machine, they didnât know what to
do with it. It was too big to move around, and murderers didnât drop in
often enough to make it flash. So they built it into a smaller unit and
tried it out in a few police stations. I think they tried one upstate.
But it didnât work so good. You couldnât get to the crime in time.
Thatâs why they built the watchbirds.â
âI donât think theyâll stop no criminals,â one of the policemen
insisted.
âThey sure will. I read the test results. They can smell him out before
he commits a crime. And when they reach him, they give him a powerful
shock or something. Itâll stop him.â
âYou closing up Homicide, Captain?â Celtrics asked.
âNope,â the captain said. âIâm leaving a skeleton crew in until we see
how these birds do.â
âSure,â the captain said. âAnyhow, Iâm going to leave some men on. It
seems the birds donât stop all murders.â
âWhy not?â
âSome murderers donât have these brain waves,â the captain answered,
trying to remember what the newspaper article had said. âOr their glands
donât work or something.â
âWhich ones donât they stop?â Celtrics asked, with professional
curiosity.
âI donât know. But I hear they got the damned things fixed so theyâre
going to stop all of them soon.â
âHow they working that?â
âThey learn. The watchbirds, I mean. Just like people.â
âYou kidding me?â
âNope.â
âWell,â Celtrics said, âI think Iâll just keep old Betsy oiled, just in
case. You canât trust these scientists.â
âRight.â
âBirds!â Celtrics scoffed.
* * * * *
Over the town, the watchbird soared in a long, lazy curve. Its aluminum
hide glistened in the morning sun, and dots of light danced on its stiff
wings. Silently it flew.
Silently, but with all senses functioning. Built-in kinesthetics told
the watchbird where it was, and held it in a long search curve. Its eyes
and ears operated as one unit, searching, seeking.
And then something happened! The watchbirdâs electronically fast
reflexes picked up the edge of a sensation. A correlation center tested
it, matching it with electrical and chemical data in its memory files. A
relay tripped.
Down the watchbird spiraled, coming in on the increasingly strong
sensation. It smelled the outpouring of certain glands, tasted a
deviant brain wave.
Fully alerted and armed, it spun and banked in the bright morning
sunlight.
Dinelli was so intent he didnât see the watchbird coming. He had his gun
poised, and his eyes pleaded with the big grocer.
âDonât come no closer.â
âYou lousy little punk,â the grocer said, and took another step forward.
âRob me? Iâll break every bone in your puny body.â
The grocer, too stupid or too courageous to understand the threat of the
gun, advanced on the little thief.
âAll right,â Dinelli said, in a thorough state of panic. âAll right,
sucker, takeââ
A bolt of electricity knocked him on his back. The gun went off,
smashing a breakfast food display.
âWhat in hell?â the grocer asked, staring at the stunned thief. And then
he saw a flash of silver wings. âWell, Iâm really damned. Those
watchbirds work!â
He stared until the wings disappeared in the sky. Then he telephoned
the police.
The watchbird returned to his search curve. His thinking center
correlated the new facts he had learned about murder. Several of these
he hadnât known before.
This new information was simultaneously flashed to all the other
watchbirds and their information was flashed back to him.
New information, methods, definitions were constantly passing between
them.
* * * * *
Now that the watchbirds were rolling off the assembly line in a steady
stream, Gelsen allowed himself to relax. A loud contented hum filled his
plant. Orders were being filled on time, with top priorities given to
the biggest cities in his area, and working down to the smallest towns.
âAll smooth, Chief,â Macintyre said, coming in the door. He had just
completed a routine inspection.
âFine. Have a seat.â
The big engineer sat down and lighted a cigarette.
âWeâve been working on this for some time,â Gelsen said, when he
couldnât think of anything else.
âWe sure have,â Macintyre agreed. He leaned back and inhaled deeply. He
had been one of the consulting engineers on the original watchbird. That
was six years back. He had been working for Gelsen ever since, and the
men had become good friends.
âThe thing I wanted to ask you was thisââ Gelsen paused. He couldnât
think how to phrase what he wanted. Instead he asked, âWhat do you think
of the watchbirds, Mac?â
âWho, me?â The engineer grinned nervously. He had been eating, drinking
and sleeping watchbird ever since its inception. He had never found it
necessary to have an attitude. âWhy, I think itâs great.â
âI donât mean that,â Gelsen said. He realized that what he wanted was to
have someone understand his point of view. âI mean do you figure there
might be some danger in machine thinking?â
âI donât think so, Chief. Why do you ask?â
âLook, Iâm no scientist or engineer. Iâve just handled cost and
production and let you boys worry about how. But as a layman, watchbird
is starting to frighten me.â
âNo reason for that.â
âI donât like the idea of the learning circuits.â
âBut why not?â Then Macintyre grinned again. âI know. Youâre like a lot
of people, Chiefâafraid your machines are going to wake up and say,
âWhat are we doing here? Letâs go out and rule the world.â Is that it?â
âMaybe something like that,â Gelsen admitted.
âNo chance of it,â Macintyre said. âThe watchbirds are complex, Iâll
admit, but an M.I.T. calculator is a whole lot more complex. And it
hasnât got consciousness.â
âNo. But the watchbirds can learn .â
âSure. So can all the new calculators. Do you think theyâll team up with
the watchbirds?â
* * * * *
Gelsen felt annoyed at Macintyre, and even more annoyed at himself for
being ridiculous. âItâs a fact that the watchbirds can put their
learning into action. No one is monitoring them.â
âSo thatâs the trouble,â Macintyre said.
âIâve been thinking of getting out of watchbird.â Gelsen hadnât realized
it until that moment.
âLook, Chief,â Macintyre said. âWill you take an engineerâs word on
this?â
âLetâs hear it.â
âThe watchbirds are no more dangerous than an automobile, an IBM
calculator or a thermometer. They have no more consciousness or volition
than those things. The watchbirds are built to respond to certain
stimuli, and to carry out certain operations when they receive that
stimuli.â
âAnd the learning circuits?â
âYou have to have those,â Macintyre said patiently, as though
explaining the whole thing to a ten-year-old. âThe purpose of the
watchbird is to frustrate all murder-attempts, right? Well, only certain
murderers give out these stimuli. In order to stop all of them, the
watchbird has to search out new definitions of murder and correlate them
with what it already knows.â
âI think itâs inhuman,â Gelsen said.
âThatâs the best thing about it. The watchbirds are unemotional. Their
reasoning is non-anthropomorphic. You canât bribe them or drug them. You
shouldnât fear them, either.â
The intercom on Gelsenâs desk buzzed. He ignored it.
âI know all this,â Gelsen said. âBut, still, sometimes I feel like the
man who invented dynamite. He thought it would only be used for blowing
up tree stumps.â
â You didnât invent watchbird.â
âI still feel morally responsible because I manufacture them.â
The intercom buzzed again, and Gelsen irritably punched a button.
âThe reports are in on the first week of watchbird operation,â his
secretary told him.
âHow do they look?â
âWonderful, sir.â
âSend them in in fifteen minutes.â Gelsen switched the intercom off and
turned back to Macintyre, who was cleaning his fingernails with a wooden
match. âDonât you think that this represents a trend in human thinking?
The mechanical god? The electronic father?â
âChief,â Macintyre said, âI think you should study watchbird more
closely. Do you know whatâs built into the circuits?â
âOnly generally.â
âFirst, there is a purpose. Which is to stop living organisms from
committing murder. Two, murder may be defined as an act of violence,
consisting of breaking, mangling, maltreating or otherwise stopping the
functions of a living organism by a living organism. Three, most
murderers are detectable by certain chemical and electrical changes.â
Macintyre paused to light another cigarette. âThose conditions take care
of the routine functions. Then, for the learning circuits, there are two
more conditions. Four, there are some living organisms who commit murder
without the signs mentioned in three. Five, these can be detected by
data applicable to condition two.â
Gelsen thought for a few moments. There couldnât be anything wrong
with the watchbirds.
âSend in the reports,â he said into the intercom.
* * * * *
High above the lighted buildings of the city, the watchbird soared. It
was dark, but in the distance the watchbird could see another, and
another beyond that. For this was a large city.
To prevent murder âŚ
There was more to watch for now. New information had crossed the
invisible network that connected all watchbirds. New data, new ways of
detecting the violence of murder.
There! The edge of a sensation! Two watchbirds dipped simultaneously.
One had received the scent a fraction of a second before the other. He
continued down while the other resumed monitoring.
Condition four, there are some living organisms who commit murder
without the signs mentioned in condition three.
Through his new information, the watchbird knew by extrapolation that
this organism was bent on murder, even though the characteristic
chemical and electrical smells were absent.
The watchbird, all senses acute, closed in on the organism. He found
what he wanted, and dived.
Roger Greco leaned against a building, his hands in his pockets. In his
left hand was the cool butt of a .45. Greco waited patiently.
He wasnât thinking of anything in particular, just relaxing against a
building, waiting for a man. Greco didnât know why the man was to be
killed. He didnât care. Grecoâs lack of curiosity was part of his value.
The other part was his skill.
One bullet, neatly placed in the head of a man he didnât know. It didnât
excite him or sicken him. It was a job, just like anything else. You
killed a man. So?
As Grecoâs victim stepped out of a building, Greco lifted the .45 out of
his pocket. He released the safety and braced the gun with his right
hand. He still wasnât thinking of anything as he took aim âŚ
And was knocked off his feet.
Greco thought he had been shot. He struggled up again, looked around,
and sighted foggily on his victim.
Again he was knocked down.
This time he lay on the ground, trying to draw a bead. He never thought
of stopping, for Greco was a craftsman.
With the next blow, everything went black. Permanently, because the
watchbirdâs duty was to protect the object of violenceâ at whatever
cost to the murderer .
The victim walked to his car. He hadnât noticed anything unusual.
Everything had happened in silence.
* * * * *
Gelsen was feeling pretty good. The watchbirds had been operating
perfectly. Crimes of violence had been cut in half, and cut again. Dark
alleys were no longer mouths of horror. Parks and playgrounds were not
places to shun after dusk.
Of course, there were still robberies. Petty thievery flourished, and
embezzlement, larceny, forgery and a hundred other crimes.
[Illustration]
But that wasnât so important. You could regain lost moneyânever a lost
life.
Gelsen was ready to admit that he had been wrong about the watchbirds.
They were doing a job that humans had been unable to accomplish.
The first hint of something wrong came that morning.
Macintyre came into his office. He stood silently in front of Gelsenâs
desk, looking annoyed and a little embarrassed.
âWhatâs the matter, Mac?â Gelsen asked.
âOne of the watchbirds went to work on a slaughterhouse man. Knocked him
out.â
Gelsen thought about it for a moment. Yes, the watchbirds would do that.
With their new learning circuits, they had probably defined the killing
of animals as murder.
âTell the packers to mechanize their slaughtering,â Gelsen said. âI
never liked that business myself.â
âAll right,â Macintyre said. He pursed his lips, then shrugged his
shoulders and left.
Gelsen stood beside his desk, thinking. Couldnât the watchbirds
differentiate between a murderer and a man engaged in a legitimate
profession? No, evidently not. To them, murder was murder. No
exceptions. He frowned. That might take a little ironing out in the
circuits.
[Illustration]
But not too much, he decided hastily. Just make them a little more
discriminating.
He sat down again and buried himself in paperwork, trying to avoid the
edge of an old fear.
* * * * *
They strapped the prisoner into the chair and fitted the electrode to
his leg.
âOh, oh,â he moaned, only half-conscious now of what they were doing.
They fitted the helmet over his shaved head and tightened the last
straps. He continued to moan softly.
And then the watchbird swept in. How he had come, no one knew. Prisons
are large and strong, with many locked doors, but the watchbird was
thereâ
To stop a murder.
âGet that thing out of here!â the warden shouted, and reached for the
switch. The watchbird knocked him down.
âStop that!â a guard screamed, and grabbed for the switch himself. He
was knocked to the floor beside the warden.
âThis isnât murder, you idiot!â another guard said. He drew his gun to
shoot down the glittering, wheeling metal bird.
Anticipating, the watchbird smashed him back against the wall.
There was silence in the room. After a while, the man in the helmet
started to giggle. Then he stopped.
The watchbird stood on guard, fluttering in mid-airâ
Making sure no murder was done.
New data flashed along the watchbird network. Unmonitored, independent,
the thousands of watchbirds received and acted upon it.
The breaking, mangling or otherwise stopping the functions of a living
organism by a living organism. New acts to stop.
âDamn you, git going!â Farmer Ollister shouted, and raised his whip
again. The horse balked, and the wagon rattled and shook as he edged
sideways.
âYou lousy hunk of pigmeal, git going!â the farmer yelled and he raised
the whip again.
It never fell. An alert watchbird, sensing violence, had knocked him out
of his seat.
A living organism? What is a living organism? The watchbirds extended
their definitions as they became aware of more facts. And, of course,
this gave them more work.
The deer was just visible at the edge of the woods. The hunter raised
his rifle, and took careful aim.
He didnât have time to shoot.
* * * * *
With his free hand, Gelsen mopped perspiration from his face. âAll
right,â he said into the telephone. He listened to the stream of
vituperation from the other end, then placed the receiver gently in its
cradle.
âWhat was that one?â Macintyre asked. He was unshaven, tie loose, shirt
unbuttoned.
âAnother fisherman,â Gelsen said. âIt seems the watchbirds wonât let
him fish even though his family is starving. What are we going to do
about it, he wants to know.â
âHow many hundred is that?â
âI donât know. I havenât opened the mail.â
âWell, I figured out where the trouble is,â Macintyre said gloomily,
with the air of a man who knows just how he blew up the Earthâafter it
was too late.
âLetâs hear it.â
âEverybody took it for granted that we wanted all murder stopped. We
figured the watchbirds would think as we do. We ought to have qualified
the conditions.â
âIâve got an idea,â Gelsen said, âthat weâd have to know just why and
what murder is, before we could qualify the conditions properly. And if
we knew that, we wouldnât need the watchbirds.â
âOh, I donât know about that. They just have to be told that some things
which look like murder are not murder.â
âBut why should they stop fisherman?â Gelsen asked.
âWhy shouldnât they? Fish and animals are living organisms. We just
donât think that killing them is murder.â
The telephone rang. Gelsen glared at it and punched the intercom. âI
told you no more calls, no matter what.â
âThis is from Washington,â his secretary said. âI thought youâdââ
âSorry.â Gelsen picked up the telephone. âYes. Certainly is a mess âŚ
Have they? All right, I certainly will.â He put down the telephone.
âShort and sweet,â he told Macintyre. âWeâre to shut down temporarily.â
âThat wonât be so easy,â Macintyre said. âThe watchbirds operate
independent of any central control, you know. They come back once a week
for a repair checkup. Weâll have to turn them off then, one by one.â
âWell, letâs get to it. Monroe over on the Coast has shut down about a
quarter of his birds.â
âI think I can dope out a restricting circuit,â Macintyre said.
âFine,â Gelsen replied bitterly. âYou make me very happy.â
* * * * *
The watchbirds were learning rapidly, expanding and adding to their
knowledge. Loosely defined abstractions were extended, acted upon and
re-extended.
To stop murder âŚ
Metal and electrons reason well, but not in a human fashion.
A living organism? Any living organism!
The watchbirds set themselves the task of protecting all living things.
The fly buzzed around the room, lighting on a table top, pausing a
moment, then darting to a window sill.
The old man stalked it, a rolled newspaper in his hand.
Murderer!
The watchbirds swept down and saved the fly in the nick of time.
The old man writhed on the floor a minute and then was silent. He had
been given only a mild shock, but it had been enough for his fluttery,
cranky heart.
His victim had been saved, though, and this was the important thing.
Save the victim and give the aggressor his just desserts.
* * * * *
Gelsen demanded angrily, âWhy arenât they being turned off?â
The assistant control engineer gestured. In a corner of the repair room
lay the senior control engineer. He was just regaining consciousness.
âHe tried to turn one of them off,â the assistant engineer said. Both
his hands were knotted together. He was making a visible effort not to
shake.
âThatâs ridiculous. They havenât got any sense of self-preservation.â
âThen turn them off yourself. Besides, I donât think any more are going
to come.â
What could have happened? Gelsen began to piece it together. The
watchbirds still hadnât decided on the limits of a living organism. When
some of them were turned off in the Monroe plant, the rest must have
correlated the data.
So they had been forced to assume that they were living organisms, as
well.
No one had ever told them otherwise. Certainly they carried on most of
the functions of living organisms.
Then the old fears hit him. Gelsen trembled and hurried out of the
repair room. He wanted to find Macintyre in a hurry.
* * * * *
The nurse handed the surgeon the sponge.
âScalpel.â
She placed it in his hand. He started to make the first incision. And
then he was aware of a disturbance.
âWho let that thing in?â
âI donât know,â the nurse said, her voice muffled by the mask.
âGet it out of here.â
The nurse waved her arms at the bright winged thing, but it fluttered
over her head.
The surgeon proceeded with the incisionâas long as he was able.
The watchbird drove him away and stood guard.
âTelephone the watchbird company!â the surgeon ordered. âGet them to
turn the thing off.â
The watchbird was preventing violence to a living organism.
The surgeon stood by helplessly while his patient died.
* * * * *
Fluttering high above the network of highways, the watchbird watched and
waited. It had been constantly working for weeks now, without rest or
repair. Rest and repair were impossible, because the watchbird couldnât
allow itselfâa living organismâto be murdered. And that was what
happened when watchbirds returned to the factory.
There was a built-in order to return, after the lapse of a certain time
period. But the watchbird had a stronger order to obeyâpreservation of
life, including its own.
The definitions of murder were almost infinitely extended now,
impossible to cope with. But the watchbird didnât consider that. It
responded to its stimuli, whenever they came and whatever their source.
There was a new definition of living organism in its memory files. It
had come as a result of the watchbird discovery that watchbirds were
living organisms. And it had enormous ramifications.
The stimuli came! For the hundredth time that day, the bird wheeled and
banked, dropping swiftly down to stop murder.
Jackson yawned and pulled his car to a shoulder of the road. He didnât
notice the glittering dot in the sky. There was no reason for him to.
Jackson wasnât contemplating murder, by any human definition.
This was a good spot for a nap, he decided. He had been driving for
seven straight hours and his eyes were starting to fog. He reached out
to turn off the ignition keyâ
And was knocked back against the side of the car.
âWhat in hellâs wrong with you?â he asked indignantly. âAll I want to do
isââ He reached for the key again, and again he was smacked back.
Jackson knew better than to try a third time. He had been listening to
the radio and he knew what the watchbirds did to stubborn violators.
âYou mechanical jerk,â he said to the waiting metal bird. âA carâs not
alive. Iâm not trying to kill it.â
But the watchbird only knew that a certain operation resulted in
stopping an organism. The car was certainly a functioning organism.
Wasnât it of metal, as were the watchbirds? Didnât it run?
* * * * *
Macintyre said, âWithout repairs theyâll run down.â He shoved a pile of
specification sheets out of his way.
âHow soon?â Gelsen asked.
âSix months to a year. Say a year, barring accidents.â
âA year,â Gelsen said. âIn the meantime, everything is stopping dead. Do
you know the latest?â
âWhat?â
âThe watchbirds have decided that the Earth is a living organism. They
wonât allow farmers to break ground for plowing. And, of course,
everything else is a living organismârabbits, beetles, flies, wolves,
mosquitoes, lions, crocodiles, crows, and smaller forms of life such as
bacteria.â
âI know,â Macintyre said.
âAnd you tell me theyâll wear out in six months or a year. What happens
now ? What are we going to eat in six months?â
The engineer rubbed his chin. âWeâll have to do something quick and
fast. Ecological balance is gone to hell.â
âFast isnât the word. Instantaneously would be better.â Gelsen lighted
his thirty-fifth cigarette for the day. âAt least I have the bitter
satisfaction of saying, âI told you so.â Although Iâm just as
responsible as the rest of the machine-worshipping fools.â
Macintyre wasnât listening. He was thinking about watchbirds. âLike the
rabbit plague in Australia.â
âThe death rate is mounting,â Gelsen said. âFamine. Floods. Canât cut
down trees. Doctors canâtâwhat was that you said about Australia?â
âThe rabbits,â Macintyre repeated. âHardly any left in Australia now.â
âWhy? How was it done?â
âOh, found some kind of germ that attacked only rabbits. I think it was
propagated by mosquitosââ
âWork on that,â Gelsen said. âYou might have something. I want you to
get on the telephone, ask for an emergency hookup with the engineers of
the other companies. Hurry it up. Together you may be able to dope out
something.â
âRight,â Macintyre said. He grabbed a handful of blank paper and hurried
to the telephone.
* * * * *
âWhat did I tell you?â Officer Celtrics said. He grinned at the captain.
âDidnât I tell you scientists were nuts?â
âI didnât say you were wrong, did I?â the captain asked.
âNo, but you werenât sure .â
âWell, Iâm sure now. Youâd better get going. Thereâs plenty of work for
you.â
âI know.â Celtrics drew his revolver from its holster, checked it and
put it back. âAre all the boys back, Captain?â
âAll?â the captain laughed humorlessly. âHomicide has increased by fifty
per cent. Thereâs more murder now than thereâs ever been.â
âSure,â Celtrics said. âThe watchbirds are too busy guarding cars and
slugging spiders.â He started toward the door, then turned for a parting
shot.
âTake my word, Captain. Machines are stupid .â
The captain nodded.
* * * * *
Thousands of watchbirds, trying to stop countless millions of murdersâa
hopeless task. But the watchbirds didnât hope. Without consciousness,
they experienced no sense of accomplishment, no fear of failure.
Patiently they went about their jobs, obeying each stimulus as it came.
They couldnât be everywhere at the same time, but it wasnât necessary to
be. People learned quickly what the watchbirds didnât like and refrained
from doing it. It just wasnât safe. With their high speed and superfast
senses, the watchbirds got around quickly.
And now they meant business. In their original directives there had been
a provision made for killing a murderer, if all other means failed.
Why spare a murderer?
It backfired. The watchbirds extracted the fact that murder and crimes
of violence had increased geometrically since they had begun operation.
This was true, because their new definitions increased the possibilities
of murder. But to the watchbirds, the rise showed that the first methods
had failed.
Simple logic. If A doesnât work, try B. The watchbirds shocked to kill.
Slaughterhouses in Chicago stopped and cattle starved to death in their
pens, because farmers in the Midwest couldnât cut hay or harvest grain.
No one had told the watchbirds that all life depends on carefully
balanced murders.
Starvation didnât concern the watchbirds, since it was an act of
omission.
Their interest lay only in acts of commission.
Hunters sat home, glaring at the silver dots in the sky, longing to
shoot them down. But for the most part, they didnât try. The watchbirds
were quick to sense the murder intent and to punish it.
Fishing boats swung idle at their moorings in San Pedro and Gloucester.
Fish were living organisms.
Farmers cursed and spat and died, trying to harvest the crop. Grain was
alive and thus worthy of protection. Potatoes were as important to the
watchbird as any other living organism. The death of a blade of grass
was equal to the assassination of a Presidentâ
To the watchbirds.
And, of course, certain machines were living. This followed, since the
watchbirds were machines and living.
God help you if you maltreated your radio. Turning it off meant killing
it. Obviouslyâits voice was silenced, the red glow of its tubes faded,
it grew cold.
The watchbirds tried to guard their other charges. Wolves were
slaughtered, trying to kill rabbits. Rabbits were electrocuted, trying
to eat vegetables. Creepers were burned out in the act of strangling
trees.
A butterfly was executed, caught in the act of outraging a rose.
This control was spasmodic, because of the fewness of the watchbirds. A
billion watchbirds couldnât have carried out the ambitious project set
by the thousands.
The effect was of a murderous force, ten thousand bolts of irrational
lightning raging around the country, striking a thousand times a day.
Lightning which anticipated your moves and punished your intentions.
* * * * *
âGentlemen, please ,â the government representative begged. âWe must
hurry.â
The seven manufacturers stopped talking.
âBefore we begin this meeting formally,â the president of Monroe said,
âI want to say something. We do not feel ourselves responsible for this
unhappy state of affairs. It was a government project; the government
must accept the responsibility, both moral and financial.â
Gelsen shrugged his shoulders. It was hard to believe that these men,
just a few weeks ago, had been willing to accept the glory of saving the
world. Now they wanted to shrug off the responsibility when the
salvation went amiss.
âIâm positive that that need not concern us now,â the representative
assured him. âWe must hurry. You engineers have done an excellent job. I
am proud of the cooperation you have shown in this emergency. You are
hereby empowered to put the outlined plan into action.â
âWait a minute,â Gelsen said.
âThere is no time.â
âThe planâs no good.â
âDonât you think it will work?â
âOf course it will work. But Iâm afraid the cure will be worse than the
disease.â
The manufacturers looked as though they would have enjoyed throttling
Gelsen. He didnât hesitate.
âHavenât we learned yet?â he asked. âDonât you see that you canât cure
human problems by mechanization?â
âMr. Gelsen,â the president of Monroe said, âI would enjoy hearing you
philosophize, but, unfortunately, people are being killed. Crops are
being ruined. There is famine in some sections of the country already.
The watchbirds must be stopped at once!â
âMurder must be stopped, too. I remember all of us agreeing upon that.
But this is not the way!â
âWhat would you suggest?â the representative asked.
* * * * *
Gelsen took a deep breath. What he was about to say took all the courage
he had.
âLet the watchbirds run down by themselves,â Gelsen suggested.
There was a near-riot. The government representative broke it up.
âLetâs take our lesson,â Gelsen urged, âadmit that we were wrong trying
to cure human problems by mechanical means. Start again. Use machines,
yes, but not as judges and teachers and fathers.â
âRidiculous,â the representative said coldly. âMr. Gelsen, you are
overwrought. I suggest you control yourself.â He cleared his throat.
âAll of you are ordered by the President to carry out the plan you have
submitted.â He looked sharply at Gelsen. âNot to do so will be treason.â
âIâll cooperate to the best of my ability,â Gelsen said.
âGood. Those assembly lines must be rolling within the week.â
Gelsen walked out of the room alone. Now he was confused again. Had he
been right or was he just another visionary? Certainly, he hadnât
explained himself with much clarity.
Did he know what he meant?
Gelsen cursed under his breath. He wondered why he couldnât ever be sure
of anything. Werenât there any values he could hold on to?
He hurried to the airport and to his plant.
* * * * *
The watchbird was operating erratically now. Many of its delicate parts
were out of line, worn by almost continuous operation. But gallantly it
responded when the stimuli came.
A spider was attacking a fly. The watchbird swooped down to the rescue.
Simultaneously, it became aware of something overhead. The watchbird
wheeled to meet it.
There was a sharp crackle and a power bolt whizzed by the watchbirdâs
wing. Angrily, it spat a shock wave.
[Illustration]
The attacker was heavily insulated. Again it spat at the watchbird. This
time, a bolt smashed through a wing, the watchbird darted away, but the
attacker went after it in a burst of speed, throwing out more crackling
power.
The watchbird fell, but managed to send out its message. Urgent! A new
menace to living organisms and this was the deadliest yet!
Other watchbirds around the country integrated the message. Their
thinking centers searched for an answer.
* * * * *
âWell, Chief, they bagged fifty today,â Macintyre said, coming into
Gelsenâs office.
âFine,â Gelsen said, not looking at the engineer.
âNot so fine.â Macintyre sat down. âLord, Iâm tired! It was seventy-two
yesterday.â
âI know.â On Gelsenâs desk were several dozen lawsuits, which he was
sending to the government with a prayer.
âTheyâll pick up again, though,â Macintyre said confidently. âThe Hawks
are especially built to hunt down watchbirds. Theyâre stronger, faster,
and theyâve got better armor. We really rolled them out in a hurry,
huh?â
âWe sure did.â
âThe watchbirds are pretty good, too,â Macintyre had to admit. âTheyâre
learning to take cover. Theyâre trying a lot of stunts. You know, each
one that goes down tells the others something.â
Gelsen didnât answer.
âBut anything the watchbirds can do, the Hawks can do better,â Macintyre
said cheerfully. âThe Hawks have special learning circuits for hunting.
Theyâre more flexible than the watchbirds. They learn faster.â
Gelsen gloomily stood up, stretched, and walked to the window. The sky
was blank. Looking out, he realized that his uncertainties were over.
Right or wrong, he had made up his mind.
âTell me,â he said, still watching the sky, âwhat will the Hawks hunt
after they get all the watchbirds?â
âHuh?â Macintyre said. âWhyââ
âJust to be on the safe side, youâd better design something to hunt down
the Hawks. Just in case, I mean.â
âYou thinkââ
[Illustration]
âAll I know is that the Hawks are self-controlled. So were the
watchbirds. Remote control would have been too slow, the argument went
on. The idea was to get the watchbirds and get them fast. That meant no
restricting circuits.â
âWe can dope something out,â Macintyre said uncertainly.
âYouâve got an aggressive machine up in the air now. A murder machine.
Before that it was an anti-murder machine. Your next gadget will have to
be even more self-sufficient, wonât it?â
Macintyre didnât answer.
âI donât hold you responsible,â Gelsen said. âItâs me. Itâs everyone.â
In the air outside was a swift-moving dot.
âThatâs what comes,â said Gelsen, âof giving a machine the job that was
our own responsibility.â
* * * * *
Overhead, a Hawk was zeroing in on a watchbird.
The armored murder machine had learned a lot in a few days. Its sole
function was to kill. At present it was impelled toward a certain type
of living organism, metallic like itself.
But the Hawk had just discovered that there were other types of living
organisms, tooâ
Which had to be murdered.
âROBERT SHECKLEY
Transcriberâs Note:
This etext was produced from Galaxy Science Fiction February 1953.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S.
copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and
typographical errors have been corrected without note.
âBefore birth the embryo repeats physiologically the history of the species; after birth, according to Gurdjieff, we repeat the history of the planet; two centres are split off, objective conscience sinks, deserts appear, emotional desertsâ.
DJ Hairy Larry Presents Pansy Hall From The Archives Of Something Blue February 5, 2023 Thanks Marty, today we’re going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks, right here in Jonesboro. I played with Aaron Love at Blues Fest … Continue reading →
Something Blue – Pharoah – February 4, 2023 This is Hairy Larry inviting you to enjoy Something Blue every Saturday night at ten. This week weâre featuring J. D. Allen, Masao Nakajima, Eji Oyewole, and Koichi Matsukaze. For more about … Continue reading →
DJ Hairy Larry Presents Hairy Larry playing “Chunga” From The Archives Of Something Blue January 29, 2023 Thanks Marty, today we’re going to hear an original post bop jazz piece recorded at Harriet O’Neal’s piano studio. Regular listeners know that … Continue reading →
Something Blue – Funhouse – January 28, 2023 This is Hairy Larry inviting you to enjoy Something Blue every Saturday night at ten. This week weâre featuring Doctor Deathray, Mosey Beat, and Zero. For more about the show visit the … Continue reading →
DJ Hairy Larry Presents Jay Shepherd Playing Freddie The Freeloader From The Archives Of Something Blue January 22, 2023 Thanks Marty, today we’re going to hear a Miles Davis blues performed at A-State Delta Jazz Workshop. Jay Shepherd and Shugga … Continue reading →
Something Blue – Question – January 21, 2023 This is Hairy Larry inviting you to enjoy Something Blue every Saturday night at ten. This week weâre featuring Julian Lage, Jakob Bro, and EST. For more about the show visit the … Continue reading →
Thanks Marty, today weâre going to hear some southern soul recorded at Soundworks, right here in Jonesboro.
I played with Aaron Love at Blues Fest 91 but we never performed together on a regular basis until I had my juke house at Old Town Nettleton. In 1997 I put together a band featuring Aaron and a female vocalist, Pansy Hall. We had a tight Memphis sound with harmony vocals. We sang Blues and R&B cover songs as well as a few originals.
Thanks Marty, today weâre going to hear an original post bop jazz piece recorded at Harriet O'Nealâs piano studio.
Regular listeners know that Iâm a composition major at ASU. Thereâs more to being a composition major than putting notes on a page. You are also expected to arrange readings of your pieces, make recordings, and perform recitals.
I wrote a piece called âChungaâ, a prequel to Frank Zappaâs âChungaâs Revengeâ. Harriet O'Neal was my piano teacher and she agreed to help play a reading and make a recording of the piece. Harriet was raised in Wynne, Arkansas, and she taught at ASU.
I pulled some top area musicians to fill out the rhythm section. On bass I had David Eckert, librarian at the Jonesboro Public Library who gave lessons at ASU and on drums, John Long, band director at Walnut Ridge.
For the saxophone parts I had two excellent musicians who I had played with in the jazz program at ASU, Aaron Decker - alto, and Cody Ballard - tenor. The bari player I had scheduled was out of town so I played the bari parts on my synthesizer.
Trumpeter, composer, bandleader & producer, Nick Walters delivers his 2nd studio album of the year for D.O.T. Records, an exquisite mix of jazz fusion, electronic and traditional Indian sounds. PadmÄsana is inspired and constructed from experiences and samples he encountered whilst travelling around the Indian subcontinent. It was all pieced together at his studio in East London, featuring live contributions from Tenderlonious on flute, Kieran McLeod on trombone, Tim Carnegie on drums, and Walters himself on trumpet and synthesisers. PadmÄsana was mixed by Sam Interface at More Time Studios.
âPadmÄsanaâ is an album inspired by the sights, sounds and smells of a trip travelling around the Indian subcontinent. Nick was lucky enough to travel around India on two separate occasions (2017 and 2019), both times carrying with him a portable sound recorder to document some of the interesting sounds he encountered. Each of the tracks on this album are built around samples recorded on the streets of India.
Above all âPadmÄsanaâ is a celebration of the richness of Indian culture, and the warmth and generosity of the people living there. The album is named after the Sanskrit word for the classic lotus position in yoga - an ancient position commonly used for meditation in the Hindu, Buddhist and Jain traditions. The album cover depicts the white lotus flower beautifully painted by Lorna Robertson, in a style inspired by the visual aesthetic of traditional Indian artwork. The intricate pattern on the back cover is taken from a wooden carved stamp purchased in the sprawling market of Jaipur.
Tony Kofi, Alina Bzhezhinska (Alina HipHarp) - Altera Vita (For Pharoah Sanders)
Altera Vita (Alter Life) is a heartfelt tribute to spiritual jazz master Pharoah Sanders, performed by two of his master students; saxophonist Tony Kofi and harpist Alina Bzhezhinska.
Pharoah Sandersâ music has been a part of Tony & Alinaâs musical upbringing for as long as they can remember, but their physical paths crossed on a memorable night in 2017 at Londonâs Barbican Centre, for a night titled â A concert for John & Alice Coltraneâ. The night was commemorating the 50th and tenth anniversary of Johnâs and Aliceâs passing.
Pharoah Sanders had worked with both Alice and John Coltrane, and this night served as a spiritual passing of the baton to Tony & Alina, the former heavily influenced by John and the latter by Alice.
The evening was as timeless as the figures honoured, and served as a pivotal moment in both Alina and Tonyâs careers. On September 24th 2022 on the eve of Alinaâs HipHarpCollectiveâs Reflection album launch, the Jazz world mourned the passing of the great Pharoah Sanders. Pharoahâs spirit was definitely present in Kingâs Place that night, when Kofi and Alina led a moving tribute to the Jazz legend with their rendition of Astral Travelling, which gave goosebumps to many in attendance.
Tony found himself back in the studio soon after this night and composed a very fitting tribute to the master of spiritual jazz- Alter Vita (For Pharoah Sanders), He then enlisted Alina Bzhezhinska whose improvisations helped to provide an elegant call and response between harp and saxophone, delivering a warm and metaphysical send off for one of Jazz musicâs greatest composers and saxophonists Pharoah Sanders.