Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 12
The Basement People (Emotions)

I searched the globe for want of you,

A friend to call my own,

My space,

A tribe,

Was this the place?

Was I really home?

And there you stood

A tree of hope

Arms outstretched

To envelope

My ravaged body

Savaged mind

This soul so lost

And you so kind.

Most humans progress through life along a path created by the society and culture they are part of. Existentialism emphasises individual existence, freedom, and choice. Androids and machines are essentialists, focusing on the inherent nature or essence of things and the assumption in fundamental unchanging truths.

Emotions are vital to help humans learn and make decisions. Feelings are experienced constantly from birth to death. A newborn baby is emotionally involved with its mother as soon as it understands she is a valuable source of food and comfort. The emotional attachment is instantaneous and intuitive.

Human emotions are essential to consistency, being part of a social group, and staying safe.

Androids have successfully been programmed with 'visceral-like' responses but these are mimicked, in essence, they are faked. Androids are trained to respond to their owners' emotions as they are not able to understand emotions themselves through their lens. Such models are trained to respond to human physical cues such as odours, pupil changes, vocal idiosyncrasies etc, and to reciprocate. We could call this 'fake empathy’.

Automatic robotic vehicles do not fear the crash, they simply ‘know’ that a collision is not desirable for the ongoing success of the mission in hand.

'We should get some *infon and *preds,’ Shabra said, thinking hard about the best time of night to get to the edge, which was renowned for tribal and gang flashpoints.

Renyke asked *POS to explain.

…It appears that Shabra is gathering helpful information to aid our journey….

Renyke was uncertain what to do. This feeling was becoming all too familiar and quite at odds with his hitherto programmed assuredness.

'You coming or what?' Shabra asks from outside the car, leading the way to a set of stairs that led down into a noisy basement.

The *robo-dog wagged its tail and sat importantly on the roof of the vehicle looking around and growling.

Shabra knocked on a large door and a camera was activated above them. They were being scanned.

The door opened suddenly and a large man with a long beard frisked them before allowing them entry.

Renyke, not used to any sort of frisking in his past life, was sensing increasing anxiety.

POS was idle.

'Welcome brother,' the guard said to Flex. 'Are you well?'

'Fine, just fine, my friend,' Flex answered, 'We continue unabated to live another day. *Vilarev!’

Both men laughed convivially whilst Renyke wondered what had amused them.

They enter a meeting place, some kind of bar. It is thick with smoke, the smell of nibs, sweat, and the streets.

A woman approaches chanting poetry with her arms outstretched.

'The sun shines bright when you let in the light, welcome, my sister of the night.' There is more convivial laughter.

She embraces Shabra and they exchange warm greetings. Excited to make new acquaintances the woman beckons the group to sit at a table.

'Ah, come, come my friends. I have a perfect place for you to sit, and please, be my guests at the bar.

The woman beckons a member of staff. 'Let's have liquor.' she says, 'bring my best for my new friends.’

Renyke asks POS for details about the venue, the location and the owner but it makes little sense, stuttering and breaking up.

.......data, unavailable..... scrambled, information…

'How come these places aren't mapped?' Renyke asked Shabra.

'Mr Renyke, you ask too many questions. 'Hiding is surviving.'

'Yes,' interjected Flex, 'and we move, we move often. The key to freedom is movement.

Nothing is permanent. Only your lungs and your heart. Only your breath and when that's not permanent, you're dead and you're ready for the *metamorph.’ Flex chuckled.

'And we know not where that will take us for certain.’

Renyke checks POS whose signal was improving.

.....*Urchs believe in various spiritual concepts but little has been documented. Oral traditions and faith seem to be passed from parents to children. I will attempt to decipher the information at my disposal….

POS was silent momentarily.

It would appear that urchs believe in the existence of dissatisfied ghost-like entities who visit the present from the future referred to as *shads.

Urchs believe that death is not the end, merely a manifest alteration, referred to as the third life. This third life is fiercely protected with love because hate manifested in individuals will be carried to the next stage of life causing agony for the entity.

They also believe that hate is so powerful that it can control what the yet-unborn will do in the future. Hate becomes a circular energy that rotates between past present and future, forging an eternal and devastating cycle of ruin across several dimensions of existence. The dead are responsible for the living, the living are responsible for the future born. To honour this mantra, enlightenment and love are the only tools required to ensure human success.

.....Urchs also believe that taking drugs or mind-altering ingested compounds will help them understand what is existential truth and meaning and that the stresses of daily existence mask these realities and render them misunderstood. Urchs believe that intoxication enables them a greater understanding of truth, and even an ability to meet the entities or ghosts of the future.

'We shouldn't stay here too long, and you shouldn't get high,' said Renyke, looking at Shabra who was drinking the free liquor.

'You are so uptight Mr Renyke.' Shabra winks.

There is a brief conversation between a man and Shabra that Renyke cannot understand.

POS has lost signal so Renyke turns to Flex.

'What is this dialect?' he asks.

'Ah, that is *zone speak, with some colour changes for the urchs. We have our own code see.’

Shabra rises, 'Let's Go! I think there is some trouble around tonight.’

Outside a small *urch child sits on the bonnet of the car.

'Can I come too?' the child asks excitedly.

'No man, This is grown-up stuff. Come see me tomorrow, now *fucksyoff.’

The child jumps off the bonnet, hugs Flex, and runs away

There is a flurry of drug and weapon traders who are hustling for sales.

Finally, they are all in the car. There is a sense of trepidation as they drive in silence to the underpass through a thinning crowd. The child appears again on the bonnet, facing forward and singing with a fist raised.

'No sweat,' says Flex, 'we will get him off the other side. He does no harm, annoying is all.'

Suddenly there is an almighty bang and the child on the bonnet is shot. Its guts are all over the windscreen, blood drips down the glass and the crowd scarpers.

Everyone on the street is screaming.

POS engages

.....99% likelihood of robbery, ambush, death. This is a red alert! You must take action! Repeat, red alert!..

There is a man in front of the car pointing an AK47 at Shabra's head.

Two other men flank the vehicle and bang rhythmically on the windows.

'Bastardos gang ain’t getting my *vicular’, shouts Shabra.

to be continued