Ricardo Miranda Zúñiga

Structural Patterns

Reflections on Art, Technology and Society

Archive for the ‘Fiction’ Category

Latest Podcast Story

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Nearly a year ago in January 2023, I encountered a series of after-school activities on my commute home from the Upper East Side to Brooklyn. During my commute, I regularly check my brokerage app. I collapsed that commute’s observations into a very short story titled “They Took All My Money in One Day” and then posted the story on this blog. As I maintain a podcast of short stories, really Science Fiction short stories, I decided to add my own story to the podcast, although it’s not Science Fiction. The story is however dystopian, a current-day dystopian reality… It’s only four minute listen:

https://www.ambriente.com/immersiveWorlds/

https://www.ambriente.com/immersiveWorlds/index.xml

Apple Podcast link: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/immersive-worlds/id1707925334

Written by ricardo

November 28th, 2023 at 6:28 pm

Posted in Fiction,New York

Immersive Worlds Podcast

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I have been a “New Media” professor since 1999 and while teaching technical production courses, I have learned that it can be inspirational for the student to interweave fiction into these courses. The short stories that I select relate directly to the technical material, such as web development. For example, a story such as E.M. Forster’s 1909 “The Machine Stops” is both inspirational and illuminating. Most students do not consider how a 1909 fiction may reflect contemporary life. Over the years, I have developed a list of such readings and I have decided to read, record and publish these readings. Although I am not a voice actor, I hope someone might enjoy these readings. (I am also enjoying creating the illustrations for these readings.)

The recordings are available via the browser and as a Podcast:

https://www.ambriente.com/immersiveWorlds/

https://www.ambriente.com/immersiveWorlds/index.xml

Apple Podcast link: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/immersive-worlds/id1707925334

There are currently two stories available:

“The Machine Stops” by E. M. Forster published in November 1909 issue of The Oxford and Cambridge Review. Perhaps due to radio and an expanding telephone system and inventions such as the Nipkow disk and mechanical televsions Forster was able to envision people communicating via hand-held discs. But even with these 19th century inventions, Forster’s world in which people live in isolation and communicate via a live image seems incredibly prescient. Due to apocalyptic wars, humanity retreated into the earth and constructed a gigantic machine to tend to all their needs. After hundreds of years, the Machine is a god-like construction, until it begins to break down.

“With Folded Hands” by Jack Williamson published in the July 1947 issue of Astounding Science Fiction. Following World War II and the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, Williamson felt that “some of the technological creations we had developed with the best intentions might have disastrous consequences in the long run.” Today, with the rising use of artificial intelligence, Williamson’s short story seems as relevant as when it was first published in 1947.

Written by ricardo

September 19th, 2023 at 9:03 am

They Took All My Money in One Day

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Walking along the 86th Street and 2nd Avenue Q platform, I heard screams of agony from a young voice. Between loud crying and guttural sounds, I distinguished the phrase, “They took all my money in one day.” The words repeated over and over as inconsolable screams with pauses only to breathe while crying.

I couldn’t see who the boy was, but as I quickened my pace out of curiosity and to reach the far end of the platform before the southbound Q arrived, the cries got louder and louder. Finally, I was in eyesight of the tortured creature; a boy who looked about six wearing a blue blazer, white shirt, and khaki trousers, light brown hair neatly parted to one side. The boy was accompanied by his father, an older middle-aged man, athletic in appearance.

The father kept his left hand on the boy, rubbing his back and gently squeezing the shoulder. His right hand held a briefcase. He was speaking softly trying to console the boy, but the boy did not appear to hear a word that the man said as the crying and screaming – “They took all my money in one day…” did not stop. The boy’s chest was heaving, large tears falling down his cheeks. In the short time that I could see them, I observed the boy’s face redden. Myself a father, I was intrigued. Had the boy been bullied by schoolmates who took his money?

I put aside my goal to make it to the far end of the train and board the last car, which at the Brooklyn Church Street stop leaves me right by the stairs leading toward my home. I was now hoping the train due in two minutes would be delayed so that I could learn about this boy’s lament.

The father and boy had slowly made their way to a steel bench at the center of the platform. The father sat down to be at eye level with the boy. They had their backs to the southbound side of the platform that I had been walking along. So I walked toward them, considering taking a seat on the same bench, but really just trying to get close enough to hear the father and get a sense of what had happened to this poor boy.

It was 3:30 in the afternoon and on my way to the subway, I had walked past similarly uniformed boys of various ages. Certainly, this boy attended an Upper East Side private school – The Buckley School or Saint David’s maybe Dalton? Perhaps his money was spent by the twelve or thirteen-year-olds buying pizza on Lexington. This was a group of unruly boys in the same uniform. I had to brush against the blue-blazer’d mob as they monopolized the width of the sidewalk just outside of Famous Famiglia at 84th and Lex. I could easily imagine those older kids taking money from a six-year-old just for laughs.

I now heard the father repeating to the boy, “This is just part of the game, it’s how it works…” as he held the boy’s arm. I was now discreetly watching. I observed the boy reach into his pocket, his chest still heaving, tears still streaming down his face, but he had stopped repeating the phrase. The boy pulled out an iPhone, cupped it in his small hands, and with a couple quick thumb swipes opened a trading app. The app in dark mode presented red, negative numbers, and a plummeting sparkline. The boy stared down at his phone as the screen blurred with tears.

Written by ricardo

January 19th, 2023 at 3:11 pm

Hole in the Meadow

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The hole suddenly opened up in the middle of the park! Right at 7:30am, last Tuesday a hole grew from nothing to a 30 meter radius at the center of the north side of the Long Meadow. It occurred in an instance. At least 30 frolicking dogs disappeared into it. Fortunately, the majority of the owners happen to be standing along the perimeter; so perhaps only 10 owners died or rather disappeared upon the appearance of the hole. And then there were five more or so that flung themselves into the hole after their dogs. Most stood mouths agape or collapsed to their knees blindly staring into the abyss.

Now the military has cordoned off the north section of the Long Meadow and a team of investigators descended down the hole on ropes from military helicopters. When the ropes were reeled back up, they were empty. Zero communication has emanated from the hole. Meanwhile, the owners of the lost dogs and their friends have placed memorials along the perimeter of the cordoned area. Flowers, dog portraits, favorite dog toys, bones, sticks, leashes and even a few statues form the doggy memorial border.

Written by ricardo

February 13th, 2020 at 6:08 pm

Posted in Fiction