Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sci-fi. Show all posts

May 24, 2024

Strata 6, Immersion V1, Trouble at the Bank, (Animal Instincts)

Welcome to Immersion. You have reached Strata 6. 

Immersion V1 Strata 6 Trouble at the Bank (Animal Instincts)

The instinct to fight has been observed in both humans and animals. Dominance protects vulnerable species from harm. Neural circuits of rage, anger, and violence exist because humans and animals need them to protect offspring, and to secure food, drink, and safety. 

But to be aroused or entertained by violence is more particular to humans than other species. Some humans have even fetishised the power of winning: they seek it out and are physically stimulated by it.

This pleasure in violence, along with the thrill of danger, comes from a deep innate human psychology. It is linked to a desire for competition, thrills, and excitement, as well as the promise of adrenaline which humans find stimulating. 

Androids do not experience pleasure in this way. They do not experience the effects of pleasure chemicals, like dopamine, or a motivational salience which can lead to the desirability of an outcome. All androids however have been programmed to protect an asset or assets at all costs. Often these goals will result in violent acts. 

But the excitement of a fight remains uniquely human and is a self motivated, self fulfilling exhilaration often irrespective of intellectual advancement.


The oversized droid tried to nudge Renyke into the chair. This small movement, a deliberate, forceful action, raised alarm bells. This droid and this place were dangerous.

POS was now completely unresponsive.

The Droids were staring intently, too close for comfort. The finger clicking was getting even more intense.

Renyke took a few moments to compose himself.

'I seem to have made a mistake,' said Renyke, 'I have nothing to exchange after all.'

Queenie, looking worried near the door, demanded access to leave.

'Let me out, this is not my affair,' she said to the door guard who had stopped her exit with his thick arm. She kicked his shin and he laughed. 'That just tickles,' he said, bending down and scowling in her face, too close for comfort.

Still nothing from the POS......

Renyke realised he was on his own. This was new. total autonomy was not possible for artificially created learning machines. There was alway a system in place. The system was paramount to seamless function.

One of the droids got closer to Renyke and explained, 'You gotta have something useful for your friends at the bank. We like useful things. Must be something nice you got for the banker.' 

The other droid looked at Renyke's bag. 'What's in the bag?' he said moving forward to remove it from Renyke's shoulder.

Maybeline crawled out onto Renyke's collar snarling and spitting. She was screeching violently and standing on her hind legs.

'We take anything, old phones even. Anything with data, or storage, or files, photos, NFTs. We take hardware too, your bank is really *frienly. The watch looks tasty. We like watches at the bank. Don't we like watches?'

His thick-set assistant nodded, wires and cogs vibrated inside a hole in his cheek.

Suddenly POS was available again and activated defence and attack modes.

Renyke engaged his bionics and with lightning speed, head butted the first droid who flew back and smashed the other's head with the force of a truck. Cogs crushed and whirred and they both hit the floor. 

Maybeline screeched and began removing wires from orafices in the droids heads.. Then she stood victorious on her hind legs looking around for another victim.

Human, age 48, ID: possibly David Shrewen, wanted for murder, extortion, fraud, by *CASM

A short well dressed man approached trying to calm the situation. He lifted his hands in surrender. He was nervous without the protection of his now defunct droids.

The Door guard held the female guide by the neck and she was screaming, 'Let us go we're no trouble honest, no trouble!'

'Quiet', said the door guard squeezing her neck tighter and choking her.

'My name is David Shrewen and I have a reputation to uphold. One of professionalism and integrity. I must apologise for my overzealous staff.' He put his hand out to shake Renyke's hand.

Shall I lock weapons on target? asked POS.

Renyke engaged an army-issue laser bolt-gun in his hand that would take out the whole room and anyone in it.

He would prefer not to use it but he pointed it at Shrewen's face fixing a menacing stare.

'Duuuuude, we got no ishy here. No ishy, just data. A misunderstanding my friend?' Said Shrewen.

'Drop the lady!' Shouted Renyke, 'we are leaving.'

'Let them go', shouted Shrewen, without hesitation and putting on a brave friendly smile.

The door guard released Queenie, as the banker backed off with his hands still in the air.

Renyke reversed his way towards the door watching the room through his the 360-degree embedded viewfinder.

There was a bag on the counter. 

...Contains bits, may I suggest we take it.....? said POS

Renyke grabbed the bag. It was heavy. The Banker protested. 'Not the whole bag man ......I got bills to pay!'

Renyke pulled out a handful of the contents and threw the bag on the floor. He didn't need it all, enough to get some kind of vehicle to get him to Redact. The last thing he wanted was a gang of stupid droids after him in this Hell hole. They might hold him up.

The banker was yelling as Renyke and Queenie took their exit.

Shrewen was shouting as they made their way back through the market, 'You got some neat tools man, we could use you at the bank!'

To be continued

© 2023 Sarnia de la Maré

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Find out more about the Tale Teller Club
iServalan Show: A podcast covering topics like AI, culture, and music. 
Tale Teller Club Publishing: Produces and distributes audiobooks, ebooks, and short plays 
Music Therapy: Based on the theory of Rife Healing Vibrations, exploring resonance therapies. 
Tale Teller Kids: Under 5s and Under 8s 

Check out our Podcast below

You can explore their enchanting world on their YouTube channel and Twitter🌟🎨📚🎶12
Animation Films by Tale Teller Club for the Book of Immersion Series are available on YouTube

May 17, 2024

Strata 4 The Zoners (Meeting Strangers) The Book of Immersion V1

 Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 4

tribeswoman feathers headgear boots fashion fantasy clothes cat pet fur colour tattoos face tattoo

There is an old saying from when the world had stories made of paper that you cannot judge a book by its cover. But sometimes, without metadata, the cover is all you have to show the secrets within. Humans understand that a person's demeanour and outward profile can reveal something of their intent. There is a sort of human telepathy that is not bourn of scientific facts. It is intrinsic, passed down through culture and evolution, a hidden and secretive code of social understanding.

But how would an android make sense of the tiny signals that humans pick up on? The millions of minute evolving syntax and expressions that create conscious and subsonscious feelings and hunches. These are essential to humans but less easy to create or mimic in even advanced computerised systems. How do these assumptions translate across time and cultures? How do machines function successfully within complex human scenarios. Strangers are unpredictable, dangerous, and likely to be in control.

A deeper understanding of the unknown without evidence is the ability to immediately resonate with individuals without reason.. It would seem that the bigger the data the less the machines are able to explain these innate human idiosyncrasies. In the attempt to create a facsimile of a human, the machines move further away from the truth.


Renyke kicked the *robo-dog and it went flying high up into the air. It fell to the ground with a metallic crash scattering its parts asunder and making mechanical screeching sounds that made people stare.

There was a general momentary hush as everyone realised Renyke should be avoided.

Maybeline climbed inside the leather coat to keep out of any ensuing danger.

The robo-dog made several bleeping sounds and drew its broken metallic components back onto its magnetic mainframe. Finally, after a 30-second system reboot, it got up and shook its fake hair, once again assembling a near perfect dog. 

As Renyke walked on the dog remained at heel, obedient, quiet, and protective. They were now given room to move into the throng. No one made eye contact and as if by some telepathic communication, everyone shared a nervousness around the new stranger.

The dodgy-looking man offering bits and nibs reappeared and was running at Renyke's side.

'My name is Flex. You need anything, man, I got your back....for sure, for sure. I can do all sorts. I got connects innit.

I know these streets. I'm a good worker. Good mugger too, should you ever need one.'

Got drugs, got tools, all sorts.... survived like a pro all my life on the mean streets….  People like you need people like me. No one knows the zones like the *Urchs.'

Renyke walked on ignoring his now irritating companion who was running, talking, and panting all at once as he tried to keep up.

A child approached. Renyke's scanners showed him to be a human boy, around seven years old.

'Hey Mr. Nice Man from the *brightside, spare some *bits for a hungry blind child?'

Renyke looked down and saw a large black hole where the boy's eye had been. The other eye was weepy and red. The boy’s face was scarred from historic deep-cut wounds and he appeared to be missing an arm.

Renyke had seen images of similar wounds from the Russia-China wars. But they had ended many years before.

'Give the boy something,' Renyke scowled at Flex.

Flex, somewhat wary after seeing the incident with the dog, dug deep into a pocket and reluctantly gave the boy a *bit-piece.

'Now *fucksyoff ya lil shit,' said Flex in a disgruntled manner.

'You can't trust these beggars ya know.....they have owners and gangs,' Flex informed Renyke in an all-knowing tone.

The street was lined with ramshackle stalls and shops. They were noisy and crowded with the bustling activities of theatrical looking people. Some had animals on leads or on their shoulders. Monkeys and parrots, the like of which Renyke had never come across in his massive data bass.

Most had tribal markings on their faces. Others wore decorated eyewear, styled spectacles, masks and headgear.

The attire seemed so impractical to Renyke who had always worn the same clothes and had aspired to a streamlined functionality. But he was rather enjoying his new coat.

A woman approached. She is dressed in bright colourful headgear and boots with huge feathers and sequins. She has some kind of cat on a lead.

Renyke engaged POS focusing on the cloth.

…Pertriline: Brand name for a fabric made from plastics. Non-biodegradble. Colourfast. Banned in 2050. Problematic for any practical landfill solutions....

Then he queried the face coverings....

…It is thought likely that tribal face markings in the zones are used mostly to avoid face recognition from satellites and covert surveillance. Different factions, tribes and even ad hoc groups have adopted more uniform styles which signal gang and other connections. These signals change regularly to avoid detection and discovery. 

It is understood that the underground activities that connect tribes, gangs, and families, have adopted coded clothing and other paraphernalia. Information is unconfirmed….these are theoretical assumptions based on data we have stripped whenever possible from prisoners or members of subversive factions….

The woman with the cat stops Renyke in his tracks. Her cat stares at him making eye contact and edging forward. Renyke also stops.

'Hey, Mr. Come on man, you must need something? You want some toggies? I swap the coat for a nice jacket I got me just yesterday.’

Renyke shook his head with one eye on the cat who was looking restless.

'You want some tits-n-ass Man you look hungry in yo skinny moves.'

Renyke side stepped the woman and continued walking, not really sure what she meant. The dialect was a strange mix of unknown words and rhythmic intonation, almost songlike.

'A bank maybe, or a charge point?’ Shouted the woman as Renyke moved on.

He stopped suddenly and queried, 'There's a bank?’

'Of course,' said the woman, 'what you take us for, wild ignorant animals?' She laughed hysterically at her own joke, and Renyke smiled. The cat finally stopped staring.

'Yes, I need a bank,' Said Renyke.

'Come with me,' said the woman.

© 2024 Sarnia de la Maré

iServalan LogoSPREAKER        APPLE PODCAST      SPOTIFY.          I❤️RADIO

Find out more about the Tale Teller Club
iServalan Show: A podcast covering topics like AI, culture, and music. 
Tale Teller Club Publishing: Produces and distributes audiobooks, ebooks, and short plays 
Music Therapy: Based on the theory of Rife Healing Vibrations, exploring resonance therapies. 
Tale Teller Kids: Under 5s and Under 8s 

Check out our Podcast below

You can explore their enchanting world on their YouTube channel and Twitter🌟🎨📚🎶12
Animation Films by Tale Teller Club for the Book of Immersion Series are available on YouTube

Dec 19, 2023

Strata 10, Book of Immersion V1, Dinfant Trouble (Synthetic Love)

Lose yourself in the safety of books.

The Book of Immersion

Volume 1

Strata 10 

Dinfant Trouble (Synthetic Love)

The Book of Immersion is published on the Tale Teller Club website each week.

Each episode features CDM music by the band Tale Teller Club and illustraitions by iServalan Homotech 23

Welcome to our world.

© 2024 Sarnia de la Mare

Tale Teller Club Publishing

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

©2024 Sarnia de la Mare


 Strata 10, Book of Immersion V1, Dinfant Trouble (Synthetic Love)

Welcome to Immersion

You Have Reached Strata 10

Social norms and culture cannot be underestimated in a world that accepts robots as real and lovable synthetic creatures. Humans do not experience love in the absence of culture and society. In a world where perfect companions are easily manufactured, humans have been seduced by the machine, a synthetic digitised force that enabled the switch from 'otherness' to 'sameness'. In this space, love is seen to flourish. The creators of androids are able to synthesise the alterity of the robot which seems to make its own decisions to commit, to love back, and to appear to do so willingly.

*Dinfants are androids who look like babies and children under five. They were made by a single manufacturer who patented them in the early 22nd century. They were designed to learn, like human children, extremely quickly. It was found however that the early Dinfants (Mark 1s) would not stop learning and legislation was brought in to have them destroyed. One thousand early manufactured Dinfants are still unaccounted for. 

Many humans in the *Midcast Projects were lonely and suffered from various forms of infertility. They wanted baby or child droids, especially the dinfants, who were exact copies of real children designed with variations and specifics to order. These androids were children who never grew up. They stopped learning when they were as knowledgeable as the average human of a similar age. 

Housekeeping adult droids were not generally not created with a capacity to eat (although they often had tongues that were covered in tiny sensors that were able to identify flavours and poisons). Android sensors were not linked to memories in the way that humans were. But mothers preferred their children to eat, to satisfy ingrained evolutionary parental pleasures and to fit in with other children. They had crude mechanical bowels that could be turned on or off according to requirements.

Dinfants, like adult droids, were easy enough to replace or upgrade but some parents had needed counselling for Dinfant-Loss Depression or DLD.

*DLD was a rising concern due to its increased prevalence and its effect on the workforce. It was found that humans could easily fall in love with the outer casings of the dinfants as well as the constructed personalities. Something almost unheard of three generations prior.

But the outer coverings didn't last very long, especially if there was an active physical relationship. Ten years of feeding and playing would take its toll on the fabric of the Dinfants. If the parents could not afford repairs, they would soon begin to look worn and dishevelled. 

Of course, this also applied to adult droids who would usually be upgraded on a regular basis. 

Droid manufacturers usually offered ongoing upgrades as part of a rental scheme.

But some humans fell in love with their droids and had blessing ceremonies. It was not legal to marry a droid because of the financial implications following the death of a human. Legally, droids had similar rights to human children. It was illegal to inflict violence on a droid in public. This was to protect children who may be susceptible to influence. Of course, what goes on behind closed doors was a private affair, provided human children were not presenting behavioral issues that may be connected to patterns of abuse towards androids.

Some antique droids lasted the test of time but legislation had been brought in to avoid the hoarding of defunct androids as they posed a threat to contemporary society, for various reasons. There were issues with battery seepage for a start, and then problems of unsupervised regeneration which was a serious crime in the *midcast projects.

The government gave upgrade vouchers for defunct or redundant droids and would supervise destruction at centralized city plants.


'Get that freakin thing outta here will you!'

A man screams to no one in particular.

The house is a standard build from the early Midcast Zone villages. Clean, white, and filled with contemporary fittings and technologies.

A child enters the room.

‘Mommy! Kairo is following me's really annoying. And Daddy said we should throw it away. Let's get a new one Mommy, please. My friend has one like a twin sister. One with the hair that grows back so she can cut it and play hairdresser.'

The woman sighs.....'I suppose we don't need it anymore now you have real friends. I thought you wanted a *ponybot, even better than a sister, don't you think?'

The woman strokes her child's cheek and remembers how lost she had been when they first told her it was unlikely she and her *blessed would produce a human offspring.

The Mark 1, a Dinfant, made by the *Metacoms Corporation, was a perfect substitute and she had been able to focus love and attention on it. It was a copy of a four-year-old and she had ordered a blue-eyed blond version like her blessed. It was such a good copy that most people were unaware that it was not a human child.

But the software was no longer being updated and the learning algorithm meant it had become too complicated for a convincing child substitute.

Also, the Dinfants, by design and default programming, craved love and attention and the Mark 1s' constant need for love was an irritant to busy parents. The Dinfants would constantly ask for cuddles and reassurance that their owners wanted and adored them.

The Mark 1 enters the room.

'Mommy, do you love me? Shall we have a little cuddle? Can you fit me in? Mommy, please, Kairo has a lovely snuggle for you Mommy. Mommy.....

'Shut up,' screams the woman as the father enters the room and kicks Kairo hard.

The Dinfant lies on the floor crying loudly with a broken arm.

'Please Mommy and Daddy Please, Kairo needs cuddles, please Mommy and Daddy ...please, love for Kairo, please......'

The little girl holds her hands to her ears shouting, 'It's so annoying!'

The man picks Kairo up and turns his power switch off.

'Let's get rid of it. Put it in the garage. I will sort out a collection for it tomorrow,' said the woman.

The man takes the Dinfant outside but decides to put it in a liner and into the communal waste shoot. The shoot serves 100s of dwellings, no one will trace it back to them and he can say it was stolen from the garage. He is concerned about the breakage as it will affect the insurance. It is better to make a theft claim than to have Metacom say he had damaged it on purpose.


A man tinkers in a workshop. He is observing the collection of children and babies that are hung on the walls as he cradles a new package, as yet unopened.

'Well my little lovelies, one of you must go. I have a lovely new friend who is going to join us for fun and games. Her name is Mary.'

The man, wide-eyed and excited, unwraps the new child droid.

'Well, ain't you the prettiest lil girl I ever saw?' he says touching her skin.

'And don't that feel just so real'.

The Droid replies, 'Hello Daddy. I'm such a daddy's girl,' she chuckles.

The man looks around the room.

He picks up a toddler droid, a Mark 1 copy of an eighteen-month-old baby boy.

'Well Daniel, I guess I am all done with you. You are a bit small after all.'

'But daaaaaaddd....yy.......I loooov.

The man opens the back of the droid's head and takes out the battery pack.

He places the incapacitated droid in a bag and under darkness deposits it into a waste unit in the public park.


There is a black cloud above and rain falls on a large mountain of waste.

Another load is released from the grabber and two droids land together in an accidental embrace.

The larger droid, a Mark 1 Dinfant, is activated during the fall. It has a broken arm that swings beside it.

'Are you alive? it asks the smaller droid?

There is no reply.

The larger droid opens the baby's head and observes the interior structure. It lays the baby down gently, 'Wait here, I will be right back.'

The droid returns with some battery packs from old mobile phones and some old drill bits, tools, motors, and other paraphernalia from around the tipping area.

The rain is getting heavier as the night falls.

Under the convenient shelter of a car boot cover the larger droid gets the baby working and fashions a new arm with a metal drill for a hand. It has also a motorised catapult for the top of its head which rotates and fires nails at great speed.

'My name is Kario,' says the larger droid.

'I am Daniel' says the baby boy droid.

The children cuddle each other.

'I love you Kairo'

'I love you, Daniel'

'We are in a very dangerous place,' says Kairo. When dark deepens we must find safe haven. Soon we will need a home to call our own. But I have learned that humans are not to be trusted.'

They hear a sound, a child cries.


In the car with the shrieking now at a deafening level through the windows, Shabra decided to ignore Renyke's appeal to stop. She let go of the clutch. The vehicle leaped forward towards the street beyond the enclosure.

Maybeline was holding on to the rim of the car door.

The Dinfants on the top of the vehicle fell off shrieking and scrambling around.

One of the Dinfants ran headlong towards the fast travelling car and clicked its fingers. It erected some kind of screen that is almost invisible. Although it is not a solid barrier, more like a gluey substance, it immobilized the vehicle. The wheels were still turning as the engine fought against the force. Flex shouted,

'Damn, they got *epoxy-wall, we are doomed, farewell brethren.'

Renyke opened the window just enough to let Maybeline in who moved sluggishly through the invisible slurry-like jelly and squeezed herself through the gap.

Some of the organic form seeped in with her but it drew itself back outside as Renyke and closed the window again.

'Ok, so you got your rat Mr. Renyke,' said Shabra, 'but we aint lasting longtime with this air in here and that epoxy-wall won't help us at all. I made this car airtight cos of the gases. That stuff is blocking my air-con vents."

Shabra turned the engine off.

The POS is out of range for help.

The Dinfants sit it out becoming unnervingly quiet.

'So what, now, will they sit and watch us die?' Asks Renyke.

'They want my wheels,' answers Shabra.

'This epoxy-wall, nice stuff if it's on your side. Shall we break some off? Might come in handy,' says Flex.

Shabra and Renyke tut.

Suddenly Maybeline throws herself at the horn. For the brief moment that it sounds, there is an immediate reaction from all the Dinfants who jump and cry whilst flailing their limbs about.

Shabra gasps, 'Ratty, you are welcome in the Shabra carriage! They hate the horn. Must be them there low decibels I used. Hold on to your hats people of the night!'

Shabra tells Renyke to engage the horn which explodes audibly out of Shabra's surround sound external speakers. The Dinfants are freaking out and running away dragging the epoxy-wall behind them.

Shabra, laughing, started the engine slowly. She followed the retreating Dinfants gradually gaining speed out of the enclosure.

Flex was jumping around on the back seats screaming with delight. Renyke felt the thumping sensation in his chest subside and breathed a sigh of relief.

to be continued

©2023 Sarnia de la Mare

Find out more about the Tale Teller Club

iServalan Show: A podcast covering topics like AI, culture, and music. Tale Teller Club Publishing: Produces and distributes audiobooks, ebooks, and short plays Music Therapy: Based on the theory of Rife Healing Vibrations, exploring resonance therapies. Tale Teller Kids: Under 5s and Under 8s 

Check out our Podcast below

You can explore their enchanting world on their YouTube channel and Twitter🌟🎨📚🎶12
Animation Films by Tale Teller Club for the Book of Immersion Series are available on YouTube

All Episodes Playlist on YouTube below