Read The Fucking Manual

by

Caution: This Mind Control Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Fa/Fa, Coercion, Mind Control, Heterosexual, Humor, Oral Sex, .

Desc: Mind Control Story: Archaeologist finds an ancient manuscript which appears to be an instruction manual for the female sex.



I have attempted to create you in My own image, but due to some limitations of your physical form I have not bestowed on you inherent knowledge of all you should know. Perhaps I should have expanded your skull to provide more room for My loftier thoughts, but the end result would have been less aesthetically pleasing and overall balance would have suffered greatly. Regardless, I can see from your recent failures that you need assistance in the proper use of My greatest gift to you: Woman.

My original plan for you, My creation, included a species of tree which would give birth to your sons after you had violated it with your penis, but My early experiments showed that splinters would be frequent and tended to discourage the fruitful multiplication of the race. When My thoughts were bent to this mystery, I eventually decided on the form of Woman as nearly identical to My own, but with subtle alterations to make it distinguishable from you and therefore easy to spot in a crowd. Making her in this way, with hands and feet and even a mind, Woman could not only provide a womb for your progeny, but could also assist in the more tedious aspects of keeping the home clean while you are busy enjoying a bout of drinking fermented fruit juice or engaging in the sport of killing and eating any number of small, defenseless beasts which I have provided for you.

Certainly the tree solution would have been simpler and much quieter...

-- Woman: The Owner's Manual, 2:17-45

Frank swore at the screen again, but it refused to acknowledge his dismay.

The linear combination method was completely failing to converge, which meant that there wasn't likely going to be any translation of the new tablets any time soon. He didn't know why he'd gotten apparent success when he ran the program against Linear A texts ... hell, maybe he hadn't. People had claimed to have deciphered Linear A before: Tsikritsis, Gordon, and Best all took a swing at it, though their results were contested. His own results had looked good, giving a correlation to both Etruscan and several early Levantine languages, and there were only a few who scoffed at his translations of the Mallia glyphs-- he figured it was a sure shot running his algorithm against the new inscriptions they'd found in Iraq last week. He'd even promised an interview with a local rag as soon as the results were in-- the unearthing of a huge structure that appeared to be an ancient temple was big, distracting news to a media obsessed with the Middle East and all of its foibles.

The media seemed even more intrigued with the stone tablets found beneath the altar stone-- and he couldn't blame them. The lettering was remarkably regular-- almost printing-press quality, considering the technology at the time-- and graven in stone rather than the clay which was common in that age. The characters were in no known mode, and fit no known language profile, so it fell on someone to try to solve the mystery, and that someone was Frank Pilaster, expert linguist and the computer modeler who had apparently cracked Linear A.

Pride goeth before the fall, he thought to himself as he extracted his head from his hands. Shit.

Frank wandered about the lab space, knocking books off shelves and kicking tables and even smashing a (replica!) Minoan funerary urn. Dammit! What the hell was he supposed to do now?

A low beep indicated he had email, and he wandered over to read it, or to SHIFT-DELETE the thing, if the mood he was in right now was any indication. It was from Sepi, his supposed research "partner", though her work so far had been completely unused--

His intention had been to at least read what the woman'd had to say, but it suddenly occurred to him that he cared a hell of a lot more about what she'd had to code.

Months back, before the Linear A success, both Frank and Sepi had worked to provide two different engines for the linguistic decode algorithm: he had concentrated on linear combinational logic, and Sepi had worked through the more computationally intensive, expensive, and more esoteric neural network/fuzzy logic model. They'd disagreed over which would prove more useful, and the fact that Frank's simpler technique had worked on Linear A had provided him vindication ... or so he'd thought before today. Now, Sepi was off gallivanting around on Winter Break while he sat in an overheated lab space in the archaeology building, pissing the time away with a $100,000 multiprocessing supercomputer and an algorithm that didn't work.

But what if he replaced his own non-working code with hers? They'd never actually tried the damned stuff out-- hadn't needed to, with the results he'd gotten-- but both engines used the same front end interface, it should just be a matter of plug-and-play.

He checked her latest version out of the repository, then compiled it in with the graphical front end and all the image-processing libraries. After correcting a couple of syntactical typos in Sepi's code, the executable compiled and linked without errors, and he proceeded to train it.

Neural networks were more of a dark art than a science. You identified the input parameters and the output parameters, then fed the system data with known good results. The system pseudo-randomly varied the weights and values of its millions of tiny simulated "neurons", all interconnected, until it was complicated and sophisticated enough to independently derive the known good results from input data. Then, if the neural network was modeling correctly, you could take new data it had never been offered before and draw the right conclusions about it. It's how cognitive scientists postulated the human brain worked, but the results were highly specialized instead of general, and results were iffy. Some data was very well suited to neural network analysis, but some was not, and it had proved rather difficult, in the practical world, to determine which was which.

In this case-- the translation of ancient texts-- Frank had assumed that the systems were not complicated enough to warrant this kind of analysis: there were only about forty independent characters in this new manuscript, all told. Sepi had disagreed, and since Frank didn't really have anything else to do right now, he figured he might as well try her stuff out.

He spent the rest of the morning feeding the model streams of ancient texts from Egypt, Minoa, Persia, Sumeria, Babylonia, Crete ... oh, hell, he threw in old Celtic manuscripts as well, and some very old Chinese, even though the latter two were unrelated to what he was looking for both in time and in space. Matching the texts with their English translations, he pushed more than thirty gigabytes of crap from the university's archives into the model. He threw in his now-suspect Linear A translation for good measure.

He let the damn thing crunch overnight, then went to the bar and downed several whiskey sours in self-pity and slept until noon the next day.


Frank was completely unmotivated to show up at the lab the next morning, but Morgan wasn't due in until tomorrow, everyone else he knew was out of town, and lying in bed darkly contemplating the hideous Jetsons-esque light fixture was not doing anything for him. Besides, he'd be taking the next day off to greet Morgan on her return, so he ought to get something done. He put on a pair of sweat pants and a rock t-shirt from the 1980s and headed into the building.

The system was done digesting, apparently, as it had left as its remains a string of measurements which he knew would have meant something to Sepi but sure as hell told him zilch. The pulsating cursor reminded him of his luck in avoiding a hangover-- well, too much of one, anyway-- and he made it go away for awhile by typing in a string of commands which would input images of all seventeen of the tablets that Ashraf had found at the dig site. Subsequently, if the stars were right, it would give them some inkling of what the heck this newly-rediscovered language actually was, and what it was saying. A couple more keystrokes and...

Holy fucking-- he emitted (somewhat prophetically, in view of what was to come).

Frank stared dumbfounded as the words slowly began to appear-- sometimes out of order, but eventually filling in the interstices. Little annotation marks appeared, with clickable footnotes detailing the probability of accuracy of any given word or phrase. A summary sheet, updated every few seconds or so, detailed various statistics, including the average estimated accuracy.

It was in the mid-90s.

He gave a whoop which undoubtedly spooked anyone left in this godforsaken building, and then started reading the results of the fifth tablet.

... this can be avoided by forbidding her from speaking to such friends [in the future]. Understand, though, that this will [generate?] anger within Woman and it is moreover difficult to [enforce?] without setting a constant watch over her. In these [cases?] My advice is to let Woman have her small victory and cherish it, while you can use this event in [conversations?] for years to come as an example of how [reasonable?] and generous a lord you are to her...

Amazing! The software was generating coherent sentences from the text. Sure, some of the interpretations were listed as questionable, but the days of slaving over photographs for months or even years to puzzle out some modicum of meaning were apparently over. He'd get a Nobel Prize. Or something. Or they would, more correctly, but he was already so excited at the prospects that the memory of the failure of his own model was fading.

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Fa/Fa / Coercion / Mind Control / Heterosexual / Humor / Oral Sex /