Ancient Mythology: The Birth of Gilgamesh
Our exploration commences in ancient Mesopotamia, where the epic tale of Gilgamesh, inscribed on cuneiform tablets, provides a glimpse into the origins of human cloning. In this ancient myth, the goddess Aruru molds a figure out of clay, effectively cloning Enkidu, a companion for Gilgamesh. This mythological account reveals an early concept of human replication, foreshadowing the idea of human cloning that would later captivate the minds of modern scientists.

Ancient India: The Creation of the Prajapatis
Traversing the boundaries of time and space, we find ourselves in ancient India, exploring the rich tapestry of Hindu mythology. In the Rigveda, a collection of ancient hymns, the creation of the Prajapatis presents an intriguing parallel to human cloning. Prajapatis, often described as the progenitors of all beings, are said to have replicated themselves, giving birth to numerous divine entities. This notion of self-replication bears resemblance to the idea of human cloning, where genetic material is duplicated to create new life forms.

Ancient Greece: Prometheus and Epimetheus
Our journey takes us to ancient Greece, a land steeped in mythology and philosophical contemplation. In the myth of Prometheus and Epimetheus, we encounter a tale that alludes to the concept of human cloning. Prometheus, a titan, fashions mankind out of clay, shaping them in the likeness of the gods. While this account does not explicitly mention cloning, the act of creating humans from inanimate materials parallels the process of cloning, wherein genetic material is used to produce genetically identical organisms.

​Although the term "human cloning" might not have been explicitly mentioned in ancient texts, echoes of this concept can be discerned in the mythologies and narratives that span across civilizations. From the creation of Enkidu in Mesopotamian myth to the replication of Prajapatis in Hindu mythology, and the sculpting of humans by Prometheus in Greek lore, the ancient texts provide glimpses into humanity's age-old fascination with the idea of replicating life. These stories serve as a testament to our enduring curiosity and desire to explore the boundaries of our existence.

So, what did you think of this article compared to the previous ones? Full disclosure: this one was written entirely by ChatGPT (the information has not been double checked). As a Sci-Fi author, I'm facinated with the growth of AI and it's potential uses, and love to explore its possibilities. In future posts, any use of AI will be to support my own writing (I still want to do that myself), but I wanted to see what it could do. Perhaps I'll try agian in a year or two, and see if it's made any progress. 

Luckily for me, one of my friends, John Laakso, is a talented voice actor. Even luckier, Cyberpunk Valentine touched upon a creative nerve of his.

Together we hashed out a script—well, he hashed, I threw in my two cents—and he recorded his own cyberware commercial. Listen to a shady dealer sell his cybernetic implants on John's blog. High tech for low creds.

You'll get a kick out of the ad; it's really well done, sound effects and all. This is the first of several, so I’ll let you know as soon as the next one is out.

For more information on John and his services, head over to his website at www.vocalgravity.com

Who’s your favorite robot of all time?

There's plucky R2-D2 from Star Wars, always ready with an insult for his befuddled companion C-3PO. Or the Terminator, a killing machine humanized by Arnold Schwarzenegger’s muscled thumb. How about Data from Star Trek, the machine who wants to be more human through the power of disgusting drinks?

Dalek, the Iron Giant, Bender, the Cylons, HK-47, Dot Matrix, Optimus Prime, Mega Man ... the list of greats is so long we need one of their positronic brains to help us organize it.

In this installment of Future of the Past, I'll look under the skin of one of the earliest androids—even before the term android became popularized in the late 1800s. “Android” comes from the combination of the Greek prefix ander- meaning “man,” (as in male person) and -droid, meaning “have the form or likeness of.” Looks like a man. Sorry ladies.

The word "robot" came along later in the 1920s, derived from the Czech word robotnik, meaning "forced worker." Not to be confused with Sonic the Hedgehog's arch nemesis, Dr. Robotnik. I wonder if the name made the man, considering his evil plan included turning animals into robots. His parents really railroaded him there. But I digress.

While many ancient myths speak of creatures brought to life through magical or divine intervention, mechanical, human-like constructions were less common.

So where does this idea of artificial humanoids come from? Many of us might sling our index fingers toward early science fiction pioneers like Isaac Asimov, who devised the three laws of robotics. Which were something about robots having to be sexy, homicidal, or hilarious. That's three, yeah?

Well ... those might not be entirely accurate. You can find the real ones here.

No one disputes Asimov's influence when it comes to peopleish robots, but, as the theme of this series suggests, we're going to jump back much further in search of android origin stories.

The time is ancient, and the place is Crete, an island in the Mediterranean and—more importantly—a stash pad for (one of) Zeus’ consorts, Europa.

She landed this all-expenses-paid abduction when Zeus transformed into a bull, waited for her to mount, then swam to the island. I know, Greek myths are all sorts of messed up.

To stop any would-be invaders from getting up in his *ahem* bidness, Zeus needs a guardian for Crete. Of course he turns to Hephaestus, the Greek god of blacksmithing, maker of automatons, employer of golden umpa lumpas, and ugliest of the pantheon—the last one's not a relevant point, I suppose.

So which callous, egocentric jackass fells our brave defender? None other than Jason, of Jason and the Argonauts fame. This hero, heroing away without regard to who he steps on to make a name for himself, comes upon Crete. Jason's lover Medea—who's also a witch—tricks (or drugs, depending on the version) Talos into allowing her to remove the bolt holding in his ichor (read, motor oil). His life force drains away “like molten lead,” and boom! I assume it made a loud “booming” sound when he keeled over.

On a side note, the bolt was located in Talos’ heel, a weakness similar to Achilles, thus confirming the ancient Greeks’ foot fetish.

So one of our first androids, a predecessor to all the snarky, funny, empathetic, badass creations to follow, was little more than a glorified security guard. I believe, deep down, he had ambitions, dreams, goals. To open his own ice cream shop, maybe. I know this was before ice cream, or refrigeration, but who knows what amazing things Talos could’ve come up with, given better employment opportunities?

While at an aroma therapy session in an abandoned radar installation, I accidentally tapped into a pirated neural feed—possibly due to the transceiver parts I inhaled.

The static is as ragged and thick as a New Year’s hangover, but I’ll assemble what I get into something approximating coherent thought.

Lucky for us, the first transmission I picked up fits right into February's Valentine theme.

Transmission Transcript:

...Despite all your artificial assistants, we predict a sixty-six over six times six percent chance you’ve forgotten to spend your money in the right direction for this special day.

Fear not, I’m Vento Yaster with Nester's Neural Network coming direct to your brain to save you with some last-minute deals from our sponsors. Remember: the three Ns mean you win!

Is the ol’ ball and no brains always harping on you for not following them around wherever they go? No? Well, surprise them anyway by jumping out from behind their favorite kiosk—or from the adjoining bathroom stall—just to say “I love you so much I can’t ever not know your exact physical location at all times” with Tera Tech’s ForEverywhere location tracker!

The beautiful part about this never-apart device: there’re two delivery systems. The software version installs directly into their cerebral implant, integrating into the firmware so it’s nearly impossible to remove—and to detect!—without a complete reformat. The other, more intimate option is a micro-tracker injected into the C1 vertebrae, just below the base of their skull. Only way to be rid of you is to chop off their own head! Physical installation extra. If that ain’t love, then love is a waste of IOUs.

Speaking of debts...

We’ve all been in need of a quick infusion of funds from time to time. And we’ve all done things we’re not proud of to get it—I know I have! I’m still waiting for my children to stop saying they have no father. You weren't grown in a lab, kids! So what if I auctioned off your childhood memories. Get over it! (static) right, yes, I know, shut up.

The point: you needed money. So you used a carton of fermented algae and vending machine sleeping pills to knock out your significant other long enough to remove an organ for resale. Don’t say you haven’t, we’ve read your credit report!

Best of all, when they attempt to use the Xomo organ, the soothing voice of Sheevo Gnoe explains they’ll get a working replacement as soon as your software seance business turns a profit.

Buy now while their body is still warm ... and asleep!

Slide me a tall glass of liquid nitrogen because these deals are overheating.

With all the hours spent up in virtual space, who has the time—or the orifices—to fulfill your partner’s every whim? I do, for one. Call me, aha! (static) But the next best option is Fun Gunzer’s Leisure Playhouse. A candied buffet of the least-defective recalled pleasure androids still on the market. Ignore the warnings, focus on the low, taut-bottom prices!

Let’s move on to the most important aspect of your partner: their looks!

Imagine this: it's a beautiful evening beneath the flood lights, you're staring long and deep into their eyes and think: this is my soulmate, the only one for me ... at least until the contract expires! Aha!

But really, time stops, it’s just the two or more of you, and everything is perfect ... except for their face. You’re not sure what the problem is, but it drives you up the wall and out the window.

Want the answer? Of course you do. That's why you tune in. And to be told all your fears are justified. They are!

So, what's the problem with your partner's face? It’s not yours! No one’s face is better than your own! So give the gift that looks back at them every day, from every reflective surface, until the end of days. Pick up a Dr. Gentlemen's clone surgery gift card while supplies last.

Planning the perfect date or a romantic couple’s getaway takes a lot of effort. You have to listen to your partner’s whining about the rights of vat meat stem cells. You have to convince your boss to give you the time off, and make sure a bot doesn't replace you in your absence. And to top it off, you’ve actually got to go! Or, do you?

Why not let Flashback Factory’s dedicated team of engineers craft the memories for you? Really, what’s the difference? If you think you’ve been to the resort hotels of Sukaya, there’s nobody except everybody else to tell you otherwise!

Don’t stop there. Get remembered as the greatest lover ever, (static) reliable, likable, or just plain tolerable. Use your imagination—or let Flashback Factory do that for you, too.

With these gifts, your loved one is sure to love you back! And if they don’t, they probably aren’t worth the trouble anyway. On to the headlines ...

:Transcript Ends

Disclaimer: The views reconstructed here don’t necessarily reflect that of the blog author, his affiliates, or his imaginary friend Pete.

Aliens invade, unfathomable technology, mass casualties, enslavement. Human hybridization follows to help the aliens acclimate to our world. We cast fearless explorers into space to seek humanity’s salvation … and so goes a sliver of the “science fiction” genre.

Who gave us the blueprints for this infinity box we now store so much in?

The Founders, the Mothers and Fathers of Science Fiction, these titles evoke names like Jules Verne, Mary Shelley, and H.G. Wells, who worked between the early 1800s to the mid-1900s. Does this mean sci-fi was born a hundred years ago? Two hundred?

Not even close.

Put on your extra-capacity time machine pants, because we’re going back almost two thousand years.

A True Story targets classical Greek myths, exaggerating tales of heroes to a point where they stretch so far beyond their original shapes as to become something else entirely: science fiction.

The title itself plays with us, as the story is the opposite of true, though Lucian is honest about his lies:

“I see no reason for resigning my right to that inventive freedom which others enjoy; and, as I have no truth to put on record, having lived a very humdrum life, I fall back on falsehood--but falsehood of a more consistent variety; for I now make the only true statement you are to expect--that I am a liar.”

His lies have gotten more mileage than most people's truths.

A war rages around them, fought between the Moon people and the Sun people over colonization and territorial disputes of the North Star. Territorial disputes, the forever problem.

 The war ends, but Lucian’s journey continues. Upon returning to Earth, a whale swallows his crew. Having bumbled into someone else’s house, they battle fish people with Aquaman-esque assistance from dolphins, emerging victorious. Even poking fun at myths, Lucian can’t help make himself a victor.

They island hop across an ocean of milk, running into several “liars” of classical fiction like Homer (author of the Odyssey, not the donut-muncher). Lucian chops the story off here, promising more adventures in future installments. But, as far as we know, none ever came. A liar to the last, Lucian was; though he said he would be, so does that mean he was telling the truth all along?

....

A True Story overruns with puns and innuendo lost on modern audiences. Further obscuring the humor, Lucian throws most of his satirical jabs at works that no longer exist. He must have been a riot in his day.

Lucian dreamed up enough ingredients for even the most epic space operas, still fresh after two thousand years. Yum.