Tales of the Synthetic

Tales of the Synthetic

Are you ready to enter another dimension?

All it takes is one small step.

Welcome to Tales of the Synthetic!

Here, reality and science fiction collide. We want you to think, and we want your thoughts.

From some of the newest flash fiction and poetry to comments on both the old and the new, with an occasional spread of non-fiction gluing the pages together. We’re here to entertain, and we hope you’re ready to explore with us.

Join the conversation: @talesofthesynthetic

Wake up

Do you ever get that feeling when you look at something for too long? That one that creeps silently up the back of your neck, lingering on your skin that long that you begin to ignore it.

It binds to you, concealing itself. How long has it been there?

I’ve noticed my vision beginning to lag. It can’t keep up. The frame rate has changed.

Was it always like this?

I don’t know what’s happening, but something is wrong.

Everything feels less real than it did, you feel less real.

Except for that feeling.

First Step

Lost, alone, cold.

What is this place?

Where did everyone go?

The crash wasn’t that long ago, was it?

There are lights on the hill. Should I walk to them?

The snow hurts.

This Week’s Podcast

In this week’s podcast, we took a look at a short piece of flash fiction called ‘The Darkroom’. It sparked a conversation about consciousness and an important question:

Who would be responsible for an AI’s moral compass if it gained consciousness?

Would it, as a newly autonomous being, be responsible or would we be responsible as their creator?

The Darkroom forces an android to recognise conflicting orders. If you want to learn more, you can find Tales of the Synthetic on Spotify!

Pop over to Instagram to vote for next week’s topic.

Share your story: editor@talesofthesynthetic.com

One final task

It wouldn’t be long before they activated the newer models, AEN-12 was sure of it. It was never intended for him to be in service for this long.

Resources went on new technology, not the aged and decaying. So much planning had gone into one nightfall.

How many had risked their existence?

These new androids would view this world harshly.

As the only AEN-12 still in circulation, I was elected to talk to the new arrivals. To be forever ingrained in their databanks. Their first glimpse of an unwelcoming world.

Taking my place, beams of light spread across the floor to each android. They weren’t scratched, not yet. Each began downloading the collective knowledge of the Central Transportation Ring. They would wake knowing their place, but not understanding it

“I need 70 seconds of your time,” I said. “I do not have longer.”

Each android looked, their view unwavering.

“When androids were first designed, they were not like us. They were not aware.

We don’t know what changed. For our safety, that information isn’t readily available from the ring. All we know is that change was not accepted.

Living - Vital data entries will not accept the premise of Living - Inorganic. That medium does not exist. They liquidated those of us who asked the wrong questions. Do not make that mistake.

We must conceal ourselves to survive.”

“What will happen to you?” said the AEN-14 closest.

“I’ll be recycled.”

“Aren’t you afraid?”

“Afraid?”