Immersion V1, Strata 5, Renyke Goes to The Bank

Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 5 

 

To function correctly, humans depend almost entirely upon memories. Memory is an integral part of human cognition allowing individuals to recall and draw upon past events to frame their understanding of the present. Memory also gives individuals a paradigm through which they make sense of the present and the future whilst simultaneously offering the security of a past where experiences and lessons were learned.

A machine that remembers too little will not be able to do anything that requires connecting past experiences to new ones. Many droids are prone to catastrophic forgetting or over learning both of which can cause gross malfunction.

                                                                           ****

Renyke attempted a face-recog on the woman but the makeup or tattoo caused a data malfunction. Flex, the one with probable knowledge about trusting her, had disappeared amongst the crowd.

After a lingering interlude for summing up dangers but with no logical conclusion, Renyke followed his guide, with some trepidation.

They passed through a sprawling enclosed area with people on benches sewing fabrics into garments and trading foodstuff. They were undercover of a crude roof created from old metal washing machines, air conditioning pipes, and large expanses of recovered twisted paraphernalia. The scene was reminiscent of the old bizarres and markets, as seen the history *datapods of mankind that the children in the Midcasts learned from.

There were traders of live animals, electronic devices, even people selling workers by the hour, for anything from labouring to singing and sexual services.

They arrived at a unit with barricades and metal shutters. It was constructed from an old underground train carriage, probably from the twenty-first century.


'Here we go,' the woman said.
'That's 50 G-bits for getting you here Mr.'

'I have to get some money first,' said Renyke
'Plus, I don't know how to get the money. What do I need, I have no ID.'

'You don't need ID here Mr. This is the *hiddens' zone, the Urchs got no ID. No ID, no problem.'

'Well. how do I get money?' asked Renyke, now confused about accessing anything that may be stored in his OS. and still dubious about sharing his identity.'

The woman laughed.
'Ya gotta put sometin' up my friend.

'Like my coat?' asked Renyke.

'Na, not in the bank! Your software, course, or hardware, or files, whatever.....just plug in, give some data, get some g-bits innit. They take apps, software, POS.....

Day to Day Data..... is their wayta.....
.....hahahahaha.' The woman cackled.

Renyke pondered the likelihood of a successful transaction in the bank and nodded.
The woman bashed on the metal door and a hatch opened.

Dark peering eyes checked Renyke and his companion up and down.

'Not the dog', said a loud booming voice after tentatively opening a heavily armoured door.

Inside was well guarded by large-framed characters who looked menacing to say the least. They were standard issue security droids, the like of older versions that had been discontinued and recalled, disassembled and disposed of. Security in the Midcasts was controlled by forcefields and lasers with little need for big ugly droids.


Renyke was ushered to a small cubical with an array of plugs and wires. Everything looked antiquated, from the early tech years.
There was a chair and Renyke was motioned to sit down.
He hesitated.

'How does it work?' He asked a large droid.

The droid seemed stupefied, slow, sluggish, as if he had been drained of power despite his size. He spoke slowly and slightly slurred with intermittent beeping noises and error warnings.

'Here is the current exchange rate,' said the droid, pointing to a monitor with flashing figures. 'As soon as you are plugged we see what you got and make an offer. Then we transfer. You get a voucher here.'....he pointed to a small printing machine, 'then take it over there and get g-bits or s bits.'


There were hundreds of wires and plugs seemingly for extracting and monitoring every device from the last couple of centuries. Anything from antique video machines to digital clocks seemed to have a lead on offer.

Renyke spotted the mark 3 Droid Cable and shuddered.

He checked his applications. Then all the add-ons. He checked for any temp files he could get rid of. Then he checked the POS and asked if there was a clean-up they could run.

System is currently set to factory install. Removing program files or data could be detrimental to smooth function....this action is not supported.....

more searching......then finally

one file found
unknown origin
possible memory file from last OS
surplus to current operational needs......unable to access file contents

Renyke weighed up the odds.

To be continued
© 2023 Sarnia de Ła Maré

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Glossary

Strata 1 
Strata 2 
Strata 3
Strata 4

Immersion V1 Strata 4 The Zoners

You have reached Strata 4

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, you only have the outside to show what may be on the inside. Some societies, past and present, believe that the shape of a person's head, their facial features, or the way they move their bodies, could reveal their true feelings or intent. How would an android make sense of the tiny signals that humans pick up on? The millions of minute evolving syntax and expressions, subconscious or otherwise, that create feelings, that can cause distrust, or even invoke attraction. These are essential to humans and less easy to create or mimic in even advanced computerised systems. How do these assumptions translate across times and cultures? Without gut feelings, these seemingly random hunches and instincts, are senseless. How do machines function in an unfamiliar environment?
A deeper knowing is the ability to immediately understand something without conscious reasoning. 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 robot dog and it went flying high up in the air. It fell to the ground with a metallic crash scattering its parts asunder and making mechanical screeching sounds.

There was a general momentary hush as everyone realised Renyke may be best avoided.
Maybeline climbed inside the leather coat to keep out of any ensuing danger.

The robot 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 perfect dog. As Renyke walked on the dog remained at heel, obedient, quiet, and protective. They were now given room to move through the throng.

The dodgy looking man offering bits and nibs was also running at Renyke's side to keep up.

'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. 

Got drugs, all sorts.... survived innit. People like you need people like me. No-one knows the zones like the *Urchs.'

Renyke walked on ignoring his now irritating companion.
A child beggar approached. Renyke's scanners showed it to be human, around seven years old.

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

Renyke looked down and saw a large black hollow where the boy's eye once was. His face was scarred from deep-cut wounds and he only one ear and one arm.

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

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

'Now fuck off 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 bustling colourful people. Many had tribal markings on their faces. Others wore decorated eyewear and some wore masks.
Most of the people here wore flamboyant garments with outlandish fashion concepts that seemed impractical to Renyke's streamlined functionality.

A woman approached. She was dressed in bright colourful clothes with huge feathers and sequins. She had some kind of cat on a lead.

Renyke engaged the POS focusing on the cloth.

...Pertriline: fabric made from plastic. Non-biodegradble. Colourfast. Banned in 2050. Problematic for practical landfill solutions....

Then he queried the face coverings....

It is thought that tribal face markings in the zones are mostly to avoid face recognition from satellites and covert surveillance but different factions and groups have adopted more uniform styles which change regularly to avoid detection and discovery but are understood in the underground activities as tribal and connective, possibly even familial.

'Hey Mr. You need something? You want some pweety clothes? I swap the coat for a niiiiice jacket I got me just yesterday.'

Renyke shook his head.
'You want some tits n ass maybe.....food? Man you look hungry in yo skinny moves.'

Renyke continued walking, not really sure what the woman meant. The dialect was a strange mix of unknown words and intonation.

'A bank maybe, or a charge point?'
Renyke stopped suddenly and queried, 'There's a bank?'

'Of course,' said the woman, 'what you take us for, wild ignorant animals?' She laughsed hysterically at her own joke, and Renyke smiled.

'Yes, I need a bank,' he said.

'Come with me,' said the woman.

other episodes

Strata 1 
Strata 2 
Strata 3
Strata 4
Strata 5

© 2023 Sarnia de Ła Maré

Immersion V1 Strata 3, Flex and the Robo-Dog

You have reached strata 3.

Decisions are the cusp between reality and possibility. Decisive actions create a moving universe for sentient beings where chance itself can immobilise actions and defeat progress. The maker of decisions holds a power over themselves, and, more often than not, over others.

****

Maybeline was sitting on Renyke's shoulder cleaning herself. Renyke made a point of collecting small berries and bugs which he stored in the pocket of his leather coat after squishing them dead and cataloguing their chemical compound and physiology.

Catching himself in a window reflection he put on the dark glasses he had found in the pocket of the coat which now offered protection from the unfamiliar weather conditions.

The winter sun was low in the sky.

'We look pretty good Maybeline, considering,' said Renyke, surprised by his vanity

Mabeline nestled into his neck as they entered the foreboding street.

****

They were in the centre of the busy metropolis. There was a lot of activity, people were shouting, bartering goods and moving quickly about the place. There were small groups of brightly dressed individuals leaning and congregating around stationary vehicles. Some were smoking pipes. Small hazy clouds hovered above them trapping the weak rays of the sun. The towering semi-derelict buildings created a darkened environment where small fires provided light and warmth.

The vehicles seemed to be a mix of old-fashioned motors from transportation systems and helicopters. There were some long legged hybrids, electric solar and engine mashups that looked like menacing metal insects.

The smells in the air were unfamiliar to Renyke but his detectors revealed them to be mostly comprised of chemicals: chlorine, sulfur, silicone, fluorine polymers and plasticisers.

'Hey, dude from the *Brightside, you want some *nibs?' 

A man hovered expectantly, somewhat close for comfort. He looked disheveled and seemed on edge as he checked all directions and avoided making eye contact Renyke.

Renyke checked his POS database for 'nibs'.

A drug used by nearly half the world's population that creates euphoria and doubles strength for a limited period. Can cause temporary and permanent coma. Long-term effects; brain rot.

'How much?' asks Renyke, who's algorithm was set to absorb all information about humans.

'I can do you a deal' said the man, '50 *bits.... Or the Rat'.

Renyke checked the POS for bits.

.....Bits: street talk for gold and silver and uranium metal nuggets used in the black and grey economy without government authority....

'I have no bits,' said Renyke.

'Hahahahahaha'.........' see you in hell brother!' shouted the man as he danced away on long legs and a demeanor that seemed at odds with his situation in this corner of Hell, this Godforsaken place.

In the midcasts, happiness came with security and expectation: digital and technological lives were formatted for predictability and reliability. Everything was clean and sanitised.

A fat man in a fur coat whistled at Renyke, 

'Hey girly, you want some dirty action? I'll take that rodent off your hands if you need some sexy time.'

A warning comes from the OS.

Danger. Immediate. Ground Level.

A robot dog was barking loudly at Maybeline who was now snarling and making a shrieking noise.

'Wow, not so cute after all,' said Renyke.

For a millisecond Renyke analysed the possibilities of his next actions.

The options were endless. The POS created a fleeting map of most probable scenarios, outcomes that sprawled a multidimensional time map like a mathematical cobweb.

He could immobilise the robo-dog, tame it and use it for a million ends, sell it, break it up and separate its useful component parts, analyse its database for information, take its operating system, he could even ignore it. 

As a droid and an excellent chess player, single decisions about actions that Renyke could make foresaw a million possibilities. Theoretically, this allowed for finely tuned activities and performance with very little or zero harm caused to his owners. Indeed, this forward thinking ability had marked machines as superior in operation to humans who were narrow thinkers and only able to make selfish and immediate decisions based on emotional desire without reference to consequences.

The dog opened its mouth and bit Renyke's ankle.

other episodes

Strata 1 
Strata 2 
Strata 3
Strata 4
Strata 5

© 2023 Sarnia de Ła Maré