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Showing posts with label Book of Immersion V1. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Book of Immersion V1. Show all posts

Thursday, May 30, 2024

Strata 7, Jarome and the Scritters, (Trade and Barter) Book of Immersion V1


Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 7

Critter from the Book of Immersion V1 Strata 7

Humans have developed uniqueness from animals through a process of cognitive evolution. 
They are exceptional cultural learners and can read situations. 

These skills have enabled them to develop complex trading tools. They rely heavily on these skills to create abstract cerebral and linguistic representations when placing themselves in various situations.

The cultural and socio-political environment in which humans have evolved has led them to acquire the cognitive skills, particularly mathematical, to support a sophisticated disposition along with a capacity for reciprocal cooperation. Humans understand conceptual ideas of property and exchange value. 

Humans are savvy, humans broker deals.



Outside there was an optimistic sun and the people bussied around the market unaware of any of the commotion that had occurred in the bank.

The POS informed Renyke that he had lost negligible battery power and there was no damage to his mechanical structures.

The robot-dog and the cat had waited patiently outside the bank and now trotted diligently at their sides.

Maybeline returned to Renyke's pocket for a nap.

'You got my *bits?' asked the woman

'For nearly getting us killed?' Asked Renyke contemplating the difference between, irony,  sarcasm and humour. POS began to explain but Renyke shut her out. He really did not want to know at this juncture.

'Listen Mr whoever you are, there's many a hiccup ahead. You are in the *zones now, you need to get used to the hiccups. 'Sides, I gotta feed my cat. She aint no robot like that mutt.'

The robo-dog gave a little yelp and lowered its head in shame.
Queenie's cat moved closer to Renyke and sniffed the air for any scent of lunch.

Renyke took something from the bag, the smallest nugget he could find, and handed it to Queenie. 

'That is very generous of you,' she said, taking the payment and subtly raising an eyebrow with the tiniest of smiles. The payment was excessive and the cat would eat for a month. Renyke was none the wiser. 
Then Queenie was gone, running into the crowds as lithe as the cat behind her. A blue feather shimmied to the ground. For some reason Renyke was compelled to pick it up and put it in his pocket and Maybeline wrapped it around herself. 

Back on the main street Flex approached smiling and jaunty. Renyke was reassured to see him.

'I need a vehicle Flex, something to get me to where I am going,' said Renyke.

'Yes, yes, yes Mr. Leather Man, where you goin' is where I'm goin'. Let's find a veee-hicle. Jerome, he is the car man, he got cars, and bikes and scoots..... and copters, and airships so they say.'

'Take me to Jerome,' said Renyke.


****

Flex took Renyke into a disused concrete building as the robo-dog curled up and waited outside.

There are the echoes of voices, activity and motor engines being revved from another part of the building. There is a smell of fuel and mumbled communications. Somewhere too there is music.

Flex beckoned Renyke to Jerome's office, a ramshackle room filled with books. More books than Renyke had ever seen. Books were no longer used in most homes or schools and the paper shortages after the warmings had meant that they were no longer being produced commercially. Paper had become heavily taxed and there were also problems with scritters. 

Scritters were large crawling insects that had been genetically made in a laboratory by the Russian military. They were a fusion of a cockroach and a wasp but there wings had become lost in the process. Critters were highly protective and thus easily trained.

They looked deformed with big insect heads and metal body parts. At birth scritters are born with a soft back. They seek protection from any material that offers a hard shell. Because of the huge landfill areas all around the world, the rubbish of hundred's of years had provided the perfect materials for protection. Plastics and metals were abundant. 

During the Russia China wars scritters had been used to carry tiny incendiary divides on their backs were not affected by the nerve gases. But after the wars, the scritters had bred like wildfire, devouring paper and trees and nesting in book spines where the glue offered a perfect cocoon for pupae. Whole libraries had been mutilated by them. They were a scourge on the planet and another reason so many houses were built on stilts in the *Midcast Projects as scritters were terrified of heights.

The more paper they ate, the more they reproduced. Books and paper matter that had not been digitally copied had been devastated and lost forever.

'A car you say?' asked Jerome. 'I got plenty, but the fuel....we got no fuel. We are working on some alternatives, but all prototypes so far. They cut off our fuel after the riots. And the food supplies. I have been missing gummies, I loved those.'

Renyke nodded as Jerome continued....

'Transport is a big problem. You'll be better off walking, my friend, if you can get through the tunnels. But there are booby traps all around the perimeters here in the zones.'

Renyke checks the POS for details but the tunnels are unchartered. 

The POS seemed to be struggling with connection and was operating intermittently.

'I have a hybrid cart,' continued Jerome. 'It runs on solar but only for about 3 hours per full charge if you do under 40km. And if it is a cloudy day, an hour. I can let you take it for 3000 G-bits. It won't get off the ground without jet fuel but it can drive on flat ground well enough. It doesn't hold the road well, but if you are a good driver, it won't be an issue.'e it but 

Renyke asks POS how to drive it but it is glitching again.

'Can you drive?' Renyke asked Flex.

Flex laughed... 'Of course I can.'

A scritter crawls across the floor and Jerome stamps on it. A black tar oozes from under his foot.

Jerome sees Renyke might be changing his mind about the deal. 

'I will take TELL You got some TELL?"

The POS gets a signal......

...TELL: abbreviation of Tellurium, found in copper ore. Used in mobile phones, especially older versions where it was added to other metals improving their strength and hardness and reducing corrosion. Rare due to demise of traditional copper mines. 


Renyke begins to feel confused about whether to get the vehicle and asks the POS.

I am not programmed to have opinions. I do not have access to data about the vehicle, it has no computerised system. The seller seems to be shield protected. But Redact is within easy walking distance for a Mark 3.

Renyke looks at Flex and then at Jerome. A scritter is crawling up his boot and he throws it off with a kick. He feels a rising panic and a thumping in his chest which he does not recognise. Why was it so important that he not make a mistake? Why was he not able to understand the virtue or danger of the exchange? 

Finally, Renyke says, 'I will walk.'

Jerome shrugged his shoulders and stamped on another scritter mumbling, 'time waster' under his breath.

Flex, looking aghast, sighed.


To be continued
© 2023 Sarnia de la Maré



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The Tale Teller Club Official Podcast is called the iServalan Show and is available on iTunes, Spotify etc.
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The Tale Teller Club is a captivating platform that weaves together art, literature, and music. Founded by British author, artist, and composer Sarnia de la Maré (also known as iServalan), it offers a multisensory experience for the cerebral cortex. Here are some features of the club:


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Animation Films by Tale Teller Club for the Book of Immersion Series are available on YouTube

Links to episodes of Immersion written and illustrated by Sarnia de la Maré FRSA, published by Tale Teller Club are below





Friday, May 17, 2024

Strata 4, Immersion V1, The Zoners (Meeting Strangers)


 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 maybe.....food? 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.




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


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© 2024 Sarnia de la Maré

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Strata 7, Jarome and the Scritters, (Trade and Barter) Book of Immersion V1

Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 7 Humans have developed uniqueness from animals through a process of cognitive evolution.  The...