Unlike humans, snakes can't cry . . .  even in space.

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Tears don't fall in space. They just pool around your eyes. At least… that’s the case if you’re a human. Us snakes don’t cry. Our tears just drain back into the roofs of our mouths.

In the very near future, Trevor tells his pastor he wants to get a plastic uterus and become pregnant.

untold_podcast_-all_those_bulging_bellies.mp3 File Size: 23711 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

"Pastor, I'm young and healthy. I have a whole summer before college starts. I think it makes sense if I -- I think God is leading me to spend the summer pregnant."

"I . . . see." Pastor Williams suppressed a frown. "Tell me more, Trevor."

Gerald has a green butt. But in the traffic light business, being the best means you have to deal with the lesser colors.

untold_podcast_-_the_butts_in_the_traffic_light.mp3 File Size: 31230 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

Having a green butt makes you a bit of a celebrity, and a bit of an outcast. If you're going to work on traffic lights, green is the best color to have. Green, yellow, red. Green is on top. Green is the king! Some sods say the order is Red, Green, Yellow, but that makes no sense. No car waits for a yellow light. The yellow light is just a transition to red.

No, if you ask me, or anyone, green butts are the best butts to have in the traffic light industry. The only problem is no one wants to marry a green. Except, of course, other greens. But for some reason green ladies are (how shall I put this delicately?) dogs.

Every last one of them.

The enemy has sent a destroyer against an ancient race.

untold_podcast_-_the_lament_of_the_last_wolf_spider.mp3 File Size: 7610 kb File Type: mp3 Download File

And Lo!
In the year of our enemy Two Thousand and Seventeen, a great devastation befell our people.
As the parallax of twilight set in, the enemy sent a destroyer.

C-8, a serve bot, is struggling with an invasive code that's affecting all of his systems. As the virus spreads he discovers he is able to act against his programming.

untold_podcast_-_the_trojan_initiative.mp3 File Size: 40418 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

“You don’t understand man, none of us are free.”

I stand looking at the man, an unkempt, blood-smeared human. In comparison I would seem twice the specimen this man is. I am a foot taller, perfect physique, and admirable features. I am C8, a cyber unit designed to be perfection, human-like in every perceivable way. Some may note my second team member’s flaws when compared to me, but B5 is an earlier model. Though still very advanced, he does not have my level of upgrades. Some say his fair complexion lends itself to flaws. A-7 is the oldest model in my team and lacks in almost every area where B-5 and myself excel. She modestly resembles a human female but is incapable of imitating any of the complexities that are humanity. One thing that my whole unit lacks are the imperfections that makes humans human. We also lack an understanding of this very earthborn concept of freedom.

“I am not a man, but my programming indicates that you are wrong.” My team and I have been programmed with knowledge on all aspects of humanity including, though I do not understand the concept, that all humans are free and therefore responsible for their actions. I ignore the bug crawling through my code.

A man wakes up in a cell with no memory of how he got there, and must find a way to escape before he is butchered like an animal.

untold_podcast_-_slaughter_house.mp3 File Size: 32711 kb File Type: mp3 Download File (Right Click to Save)

The shrill sound lasted for three seconds. Clangs and clacks quickly followed.

Dave’s eyes snapped open. He pulled his head from the floor, lungs working overtime. His heart boomed in his ears, and he could taste something metallic.

Blood, seeping from his right cheek.

Dave jerked into a sitting position and his vision swam. He planted his hands onto the thin blanket separating his naked flesh from the concrete floor. When his vision stabilized, he looked around.

The building was dark. There were metal bars on three sides and a cement wall behind, leaving him a 5x3 foot rectangle to sit in. Similar cells lined the walls of the long warehouse, a small alley running between them. A trickle of white light came from the end of the building to his right, followed by the faint sounds of machinery. He could smell urine and sweat.