Tale Teller Club Publishing: Strata 22

Welcome to Immersion. You Have reached Strata 22, 'Mother.'

Motherhood is a biological function, a social construct, and an emotional archetype. Across species and societies, the maternal role has evolved to ensure survival through protection, instruction, and emotional imprinting. Human children, unlike most other mammals, require prolonged dependency making the maternal figure not only a guardian of life, but a curator of identity.

When that figure is absent, the psychological and neurological void left behind is measurable. Orphanhood alters brain development, attachment behaviors, and future emotional regulation. Foundlings often adapt by reassigning the maternal archetype to others: to peers, to environments, to machines.

Artificial life, if capable of longing, is not exempt from this drive. The desire for origin, for belonging, persists even when the womb is replaced by the code.

The Enclave was an area of polluted land that had been cordoned off and neglected for years ever since the *Russia China Wars. Dinfants were not affected by pollution and used the area to play in. But now that plants had begun to grow, it was more prone to passers by, and even some animals.

"We must be careful not to break her," said Kairo, as he put POS into the *dincart and covered her in leaves and grass from the enclave.

"Is she alive?" Asked Daniel, "is she sick?"

"We won't know until we get back home, let's hope she is fine."

Some of the other Dinfants were becoming anxious.

"We need Mommy so much."

"Oh we hope mommy is well...."

"There appears to be significant activity in her motherboard. I am sure she is alive," said Kairo, in an attempt to settle the sensitive dinfant babies, some of whom had begun to cry.

There was a tunnel and rudimentary rail line that took the dincarts back to their headquarters. The home was effectively a commune with dormitories filled with children's beds and toy boxes. There was also a battery store, droid charging hotspots, and the *fitkitchens, where dinfants could add or remove bits of themselves to ready for battle. They could also renew worn out parts or move things around their heads and bodies for aesthetic reasons. There was even a store for recycled baby pacifiers and pushchairs, collected from the old landfill sites.

Kairo called for a meeting in *biggyhall.

*POS lay on a plinth gently pulsing.

"Mother is fine," he said to a concerned crowd. "But needs some memory, a processor, graphics card and any other beneficial hardware we can find."

The crowd umm'd and ah'd, watching on excitedly.

"We need the best hardware we can find. So tonight at dark, we are to hunt for Mother's new parts in the *inner zones."

The crowd gasped. The inner zones were out of bounds except for serious missions, the seizure of important artefacts, and occasionally for the retrieval of a new orphan, whose plight had been picked up through the *telewebs or GPS spy signals.

Suzy, a girl of around six, who was one of the best fighters due to her rotating nail thrower, stood up.

"We will split into 4 groups. There are four storage units owned by Shrewen, the banker. His units are guarded by ancient stupid droids who we will either distract, or temporarily capture in *epoxy-resin traps or *barb-nettygotchas. Babies, you are needed to distract them. Stand close to the front gates and act like you are lost. We will do the rest."

Kairo interjected, "remember our moto, 'No Child Left Behind', Whatever it Takes, We All Make it Home."

Then everyone sang the dinfant anthem before being cleared for assignment at the *fitkit.

We are the abandoned

The ones who roam

Never still,

we search for home

We are the orphans of the night

We fly the high roads

and duck the low

Through floods and fire,

We cry the songs

of the gypsy choir

Shabra and Renyke were lying low in a disused tunnel where homeless nomads made temporary stops for heat and rest. They had hidden the car in a narrow stretch of woodland just east of the zones and had made way into the centre on foot.

"We need to get some money," said Shabra.

"How do we do that?" asked Renyke, who was still a little disorientated from the removal of POS earlier in the day.

"How are your criminal skills Mr Renyke?"

"They have rarely been tested, I am not sure I can judge them.'

"Well tonight my friend, you are going to commit your first robbery." Shabra smiled as if sharing good news.

Renyke looked startled. So much of what had happened in these few short hours since Flex' betrayal was not computing. His memories were mixing up too and he was having difficulty putting things in a timeline.

"I feel I may be depressed," answered Renyke.

"Depressed people still commit crimes. Pull your shit together, I will do the hard part." Shabra tutted and reminded herself that she had made all this happen, and she only had herself to blame.

"Who are we going to rob?" Renyke asked, trying to be upbeat.

"A Mr named Shrewen, has a storage unit east side of the inner zone."

"Oh," replied Renyke, "I think I robbed him once before."

"Hahaha," Shabra giggled, "another Renyke surprise to keep me on my dancing toes, and I shall laugh where e're he goes."

And at that she threw him a pistol, and told him to keep it hidden.

to be continued....