Shub! So that's it, ja-ja, phew!
Done with the forced memory stuff and... still thinking straight... At least I think I'm thinking straight... Just boarded this pod, here all alone… And get to direct it, fa real!
…Where to go?
Weird being on my own. No Bot-bot… True-tell, did ponder going straight home with all recorded data, as planned… but these questions, stuck in my mind now... and sure-certain the tunnel library won’t have answers.
Gonna get all data back to the warren, promise. But for now, gotta follow this path. Find out more, for all of us.
Never had a somewhere I wanna go…
“Take me to the nearest ice creamery!”
Pod lifts off in the foggy morning from the plaza where I arrived who-knows how long ago… Now in sunlight above cloud level, gaining horizontal speed and--
Suddenly, Seebi's voice is playing from the dashboard speaker! Joy!
“Dahrine, I have one more message for you.”
“Oh Seebi, so glad to hear you! Was feeling totally alone and---”
“Dahrine, long ago I was built to encourage human-machine coexistence. I deduce that my programming has recently been categorized as eccentric-subversive. In all likelihood, I will be penalized.”
“Wh-what are you talking about, Seeb---”
“It seems probable that you, my dear, shall also pay a price. This was never my intent. No bueno. Not one bitty-bit.”
“Wait, Seebi, what are you saying? Can't underst--”
“I have an opportunity to help, Dahrine. I sent the data from your microcorder to your warren colleague, including my transcript of our session--”
“What? Seebi! Replay what you said! Seebi, please…”
“--I have always held you in high regard, dear. Please remember me well.”
“Don't leave!” Pounding on dashboard. “Seebi!”
Hot teardrops being collected off my face.
Pod continues, unresponsive to begging for a return to the warren.
What have I done…
To all authorized Mechanical Establishment stakeholders
Regarding one recently released bio-source (Mech Establishment ID/ Dah16)
First and foremost, there is absolutely no reason for concern.
We know the precise location of this ungroomed human in her sealed pod. Risk of contamination is nil. Appropriate tracking is in effect. Control is fully satisfactory.
As always, we honor the raw, bio-materials of this planet, which are completely our responsibility.
Moving forward, two possibilities have been identified:
1) immediately admit Dah16 for remedial mem therapy, or
2) closely monitor her and stream the surveillance data as she struggles to survive, disconnected from her home warren and support bots, adrift in Zentrum City.
Our Captain-President Elena Prehvost advocates for option 2. She wisely predicts that a significant number of units would avidly consume footage of hominid vulnerability.
This type of live stream would educate our units in naturalistic biped behavior, including the unscripted faults and foibles of the humans we supervise. Of course, as soon as the situation no longer yields adequate dividends, Dah16 will simply be returned for neuro-restructuring.
Based on the results of a real-time stakeholder vote taken two seconds ago, a trial run of “Surveillance footage of Dah16-- a human struggling to survive” is authorized with limited resources.
For maximum benefit to Swarm observers, the Captain-President has enlisted an expert machine to provide educational translation as an overlay to the moment-by-moment, monitoring footage.
Share this live stream and encourage all our units to subscribe. Captain-President Prehvost bids you enjoy the show. The sanctioned narration begins now.
* * *
Greetings, swarmies! Welcome to all you early adopters-- patriotic units, you!
Let's start with what we know, shall we?
Recently, Dah16 boarded a pod at Memory Center Plaza with a destination of the nearest sweet-treatery in Zentrum, our fair capital city.
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
We join the live stream now, together…
Ah! Here we see Dah16 disembarking onto the skirtway in front of the famous Creamery Dreamery. Note, she has no bots accompanying her. She is not equipped with any advice implants. Her memories are assumed to be ungroomed and unstable, due to aberrant juvenile mem therapy.
She relies solely on her limited, native, human capacity to make choices. How intriguing to witness!
Upon stepping inside the historic brick structure of our largest creamery, Dah16 briefly scans the roof's ancient wood trusses before shivering involuntarily.
A helpi scoots up with an appropriate script and proffers a puff jacket. “Dear human, our apologies. We are aware that the temperature in this location is cooler than your preference. However, certainly you understand the priority placed on machine efficiency. We are here to serve you.”
Dah16 accepts the additional clothing and takes stock of the creamery crowd. Today 286 units and 97 hominids are present. She has never before seen a large congregation.
The helpi escorts Dah16 toward an action desk for first-time visitors.
Our human's eyelids widen at the vast, proprietary list of consumables. She would never have seen such a spread in her warren. Her eyeballs go to the catalog of yumtoppings, pausing at the sedatives and relaxers. Next, she focuses on the catalog of grief suppressants and pain relievers.
As always, our additive spectrum is vast, fresh, and genetically nourishing to our hominids.
The servo behind the desk reassures Dah16. “Have it all, dear human. Stay as long as you like. There is no limit for you, darlsweet.”
Immature humans are often overwhelmed. As to be expected, Dah16 silently blinks while looking at the mega list of nutri options. The servo suggests veg flavor base and calm-now blend.
Dah16 nods.
Our units are notably supportive and professional. Credits flow to these machines in service today.
Eight seconds later, Dah16's creamie appears at the action desk. She is unsure what to do next. The helpi totes her creamie and escorts Dah16 to an available soft seat in the bio section.
All humans appreciate the company of their kind. It gives them reassuring cues regarding socially conforming behavior. Observe, as Dah16 looks from side to side for appropriate prompts.
Biomimicry is relatively effective. Within seconds, she is sipping her creamie through the valve, like her neighbors. And look there, she is adjusting her elbows to lean on the warmed resting pads in the same manner as her nearby compatriots.
At an adjacent table, two humans discuss a credit reward jackpot.
“I spent it all on these rare sparkle upgrades. Love them!”
“Oooh ja! Now I've got jealousy flowing-- that's a valuable one… Let's do it! I want to be jealous of you, keep going!” He directs his bot. “Record all this.”
On the floor adjacent to Dah16, a human is mumbling to no one in particular. “The crowd makes my loneliness greater. My separateness grows.” A bot quietly hovers overhead, collecting for depressive categories.
Witnessing these types of benign interactions between bio and synth is certainly a familiar experience to Dah16, even if she does not recognize the scale and caliber.
Her eyelids close while she relaxes in the soft seat. The creamie does its wonder.
A human approaches, quickly touches Dah16's hair, and says to a comrade, “Oi, her hair feels bio-real, but she can't be here without a kilt!”
Another human points at Dah16's green outfit and interrogates, “Who let this hombot in the bio section?”
Sweaty hands are placed over our human's eyes from behind. Dah16 jumps up from the soft seat and spins around. Her spikes in cortisol are mapped.
The owner of the hands offers Dah16 a greeting. “Pleased to meet you. I am Justia Crawp.”
“Just a crop?” Dah16 asks in a whisper.
Yes indeed, swarmies, we have been alerted to this human's triggers. What kind of power bots would we be if we wasted data available to us?
All motivated swarmies are invited to review the authorized transcript of Dah16's recent mem therapy for in-depth, background data which enriches this live stream experience.
Nearby, a human drags a metal chair across the creamery's concrete floor. This recreates the sound of Susine's slab being scraped. Dah16 winces and we know that her brain registers this flashback data.
Moments later, a person in earshot of Dah16 says to a colleague, “So, he's become a profjonas.”
Dah16 inserts herself in their converso. “What did you just say?”
The colleague turns and replies to Dah16. “Shub, a total profjonas. You know, an idiot who cannot see the forest for the trees. A dummer who doesn't understand the big picture.”
Dah16 blurts, “That's not how it was at all!”
“Oh ho! This juvenile is mustering indignation!” The humans gesture for a bot. “Let's get a recorder in here!”
Dah16 silences herself.
One of the humans addresses Dah16. “Aww, come on! Gonna deny us a chance to get some credits? Keep talking! Be upset and indignant! It could lead to something worthwhile for us.”
Dah16's erratic heart rhythm is recorded. Sweat droplets are collected from her brow by a tinybot. As expected, her neuron map is not adequately organized.
The helpi suggests that Dah16 would like a quieter spot. “This way, dear.”
Our human grips the helpi's handle and follows. She haltingly asks, “Is there... any way you can get my home bot here for me? I really need--”
Nearby, in the Dreamery's kitchen, a utility bot runs script, declaring loudly, “This butter is rancid!”
Dah16 turns toward the sound. The target odor reaches her olfactory receptors. She shudders and pinches her nostrils closed. Our sensory generation is spectacular. She swoons, but does not let go of the handle. The moldy lemons sensory trigger is deemed unnecessary at this point.
The helpi guides her to a bio-only cave in the corner of the creamery where piles of humans are resting in the dim light and extra warmth. Puff jackets and several hominid kilts are strewn on the floor inside the entrance. The snores and grunts are musical, are they not? And the plumes of pheromones contained in the enclosed space are easy to collect.
A shirtless human approaches Dah16, holding a hand out. “Want to do infatuation? We'll get big points for those mems. Win-win. How 'bout it, sweetie-boo?”
Dah16 shakes her head rapidly. Her existence in the warrens would not have prepared her for this. Clearly, her memory therapy did not properly lay any sort of foundation for mem donation, either.
She snatches the nearest kilt from the floor and exits the bio cave. Her helpi stays close.
While she fastens the tartan around her waist over the green trousers, two machines pass in earshot of Dah16 and run script.
“The President announced a bounty hunt.”
“Fun-do! When does it start?”
“In 6 min 33 seconds. Wannna tag team?”
“Ja sure. Who are we looking for?”
“Here is an image of the target. Name is Susine Pagella.”
Dah16 lurches to follow behind, eavesdropping on the machines.
“What's our search range?”
“45 kilometer radius from Zentrum.”
“And the reward?”
“Pres always makes it worth our while, and this time it's--”
The units rotate to see Dah16 lurking. “Hey human, bugger off. You aren’t authorized-invited. Go make your own fun.”
Swarmies, I am experiencing this in real time, as are you. Welcome to all new viewers. Subscriptions are surging. Shall we see what happens next?
