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Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Books. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 29, 2024
Monday, October 28, 2024
Strata 13, The Book of Immersion, The Fight, (Hormones)
Strata 13
The Fight
(Hormones)
The Book of Immersion
Volume 1
www.taletellerclub.com
CDM music by Tale Teller Club
Illustrations by iServalan Homotech 23
Welcome to our world.
© 2024 Sarnia de la Mare
Tale Teller Club Publishing
When a human is put under stress from within their environment, there is an increase in anxiety and stress hormone, epinephrine, also known as adrenaline. This hormone 'rush' can feel like anxiousness, nervousness, or excitement. Human soldiers, for example, have been seen to find extreme violence euphoric, ecstatic, and even addictive.
Feelings of 'amped up' anxiety are necessary for survival. Often the hormone rushes in such extreme situations will lead to a human's increased ability to concentrate, feelings of immortality, and a distraction from pain. Blood vessels contract to direct more blood to major muscle groups, increasing strength for up to an hour after any such stressful event.
The power of a machine, an android, an artificial intelligence program, etc., is not linked to hormone releases. The ability to increase strength could be programmed into robots as an extra storage source when needs must, but such resources are prescriptive and controlled through innate programming. Most humans are unaware of their innate strengths and may be rarely tested to call upon them, unlike a machine whose reserve banks are permanently ready.
Humans under the influence of long-term stress, in situations of domestic abuse, for example, will not function correctly and may die prematurely.....
Renyke slowly opened the window as if to speak to the robber. They stare intently at each other, both calm.
'What you doing, man? Ya fucksyfool,' Flex whispers angrily from the rear of the vehicle. 'Windows are bulletproof!'
At the same time, Shabra opened her window, smiling innocently at the robber.
'OK, OK,' sure, I got bits, G-bits too; it is all yours, Mr.' Plentyful are my pockets; hold your rockets... just let me get them out of my coat, yeah?'
The robber looked nervous; he was barely an adult.
'Don't try anything,' he said, stepping forward and bringing the gun closer to Shabra's face.
Flex, realising that he better act fast or risk being an onlooker, quietly opened the window hatch on the roof, muttering under his breath about not hanging out with strangers again.
'These dopes gonna get me killed!' he said.
Renyke's extension arm suddenly engaged, adding two feet or more to his normal reach, and in a hundredth of a second, Renyke grabbed the threatening assailant by the throat. With a sharp squeeze of his Adam's apple, the victim fell to the ground in complete silence, with an instantly broken neck.
His bulging eyes popped from his skull as he hit the ground and rolled into the gutter.
............threat to right is exterminated............remaining threat to life ...left and front of carriage....POS was guiding the scenario with a running commentary and an endless stream of situation mapping, statistics, and diagrams.
Simultaneously, Shabra, still smiling, held up one hand in surrender. The assailant lapsed his concentration, focusing on his friend, who had disappeared from the other side of the vehicle. The man with the AK-47 at the front did the same.
'Where is he, where is he?' shouted Shabra's target.
His standing friend edged an inch to check and saw a wet glistening eye.
Almost in unison Shabra and Flex regained control, taking on one robber each.
Shabra, barely flinching and with great dexterity, cut the robber's throat like the wild animal she hunted for lunch. His blood gushed out, hitting the vehicle and Shabra's face and hand.
'Ah, not the car, man! Blood takes a damned long time to clean off,' she said as she closed the window. She wiped the knife on her trousers. 'This is some mucky night', she mused nonchalantly as Flex performed his expected role atop the vehicle.
Renyke closed the window after retracting his arm, also aware that things seemed under control.
.... assailant left is exterminated.....The POS continues the running commentary.
....Assailant front, in line of fire of the human named Flex...
Flex, now shouting threats and whoops from the top of the vehicle through the tank-like hatch with his torso, had engaged his own mental autopilot buttons and retrieved his favourite hand pistol from one of the many pockets in his long coat.
He fired three bullets for good measure, penetrating the robber in front of the car.
'Take that Bastardo,' Flex shouted as the first bullet penetrated the centre of the man's forehead.
The robber dropped the AK-47, taking the other two shots into his bouncing body on the ground.
The hail of bullets caused screaming, shouting, and general mayhem as people on the street ducked and scrambled for cover.
'Dum arse men, a poorly manned ambush indeedy! Speedy but greedy,' said Shabra as she shined the blade with a spit and polish, grimacing at the assailant's blood, and then smiling at her rhyming skills.
She wasted no time after checking everything was in order. She engaged the car and ran over one of the muggers, whose guts now covered her wheels.
'Argh, not again!
Flex was hooting and screaming from the roof.
'Take that, you mudderfinks!
'Get down,' demanded Shabra. 'We are not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves.'
'Flex apologised. ' But that was fun. You two are good. Erm, but what's with the weird arm, Renyke man?'
Shabra looks at Flex in the mirror and says, 'Well, we've only seen a few of his skills so far. He's a droid after all.'
'Of course, said Flex. I do forget. He seems so, you know...
'Hmmmmm, he really does,' agrees Shabra.
'I was designed as a housekeeper; the arm extensions were a Metacoms feature to assist in the stacking of shelves and other household duties. I am also able to clear blocked drainage pipes and rescue stranded animals from trees.' Renyke rambled with pride.
'Great,' said Shabra, laughing with Flex and bringing the vehicle to a halt. 'So you won't mind washing the car windows then.'
to be continued.....
© 2024 Sarnia de la Maré FRSA
Books by Author Sarnia de la Maré FRSA
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Strata 12, Immersion V1, Shabra and the Basement People (Emotions)
Strata 12
Shabra and the Basement People
(Emotions)
The Book of Immersion
Volume 1
www.taletellerclub.com
CDM music by Tale Teller Club
Illustrations by iServalan Homotech 23
Welcome to our world.
© 2024 Sarnia de lamaré Tale Teller Club Publishing
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.
Welcome to Immersion, You Have Reached Strata 12.
'We should get some infon on any 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 the POS to translate.
It would seem 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 robodog 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.
The 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 the 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.
'And we know not where that will take us for certain.'
Renyke checks the POS with an improving signal.
.....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.
It would appear that they believe in the existence of dissatisfied or pained ghost-like entities from the future.
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.
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 'real real' and that the stresses of daily existence mask these realities and render them misunderstood. Urchs believe that getting 'high' 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.
The 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.
The 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 aint getting my vehicular', shouts Shabra.
to be continued...
©2024 Sarnia de lamaré FRSA
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