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, 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 *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.
There was a general momentary hush as everyone realised Renyke would be best 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 through 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 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, got tools, all sorts.... survived like a pro all my life on the mean streets…. (more panting)… 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 only had one ear and one arm.
Renyke had seen images of similar wounds from the Russia-China wars.
'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 *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 these 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, and some wore masks.
The attire seemed so impractical to Renyke who had always worn the same clothes and aspired to a streamlined functionality.
A woman approaches. She is dressed in bright colourful headgear and boots with huge feathers and sequins. She had some kind of cat on a lead.
Renyke engaged the 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 markings that may be evident in these facial patterns and tattoos. 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 stops in his tracks.
'Hey, Mr. Come on man, you must need something? You want some toggies? I swap the coat for a niiiiice jacket I got me just yesterday.’
Renyke shook his head with one eye on the cat who is 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 the woman 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 Academy of Arts
Website each week.
Each episode features CDM music by the band Tale Teller Club.
Welcome to our world.
© 2024 Sarnia de la Maré
Tale Teller Club
Publishing
Book of Immersion V1
Welcome to Immersion, you have reached Strata 4