Prologue: Diary Entry, Rat Gang Crew: Synthia’s Not Normal by Sarnia de la Mare

📖 “Normal is a setting on a washing machine. Not a measure of worth.”

— Anon

 Rat Gang Crew: Synthia’s Not Normal

A Story About Neurodiversity, Friendship, and the Underground Code

Synthia's Diary, The Wrong Kind of Rat

Date: Don't Care
Place: My Bolt Hole, Pipe Junction 8b
Time: Too Early, Too Loud

Dear Diary,

I don’t know if you count as a friend, but you’re all I’ve got.

Today was another day where nothing fit, not the world, not my clothes, not even my own thoughts. Everything was itchy. The noise of the Overground felt like a thousand forks scraping plates in my brain. Too many smells, too many rules, too many “Why are you like that?” stares.

The other rat kids laugh when I flap or when I say too much all at once. They say I’m “weird” or “wired wrong.” Some days I try to mask it, to pretend I’m like them, but it makes my tail hurt, like it’s trying to curl around my tummy really hard. And then I explode. Or freeze. Or run.

I got suspended again. Fourth time this term. Mum cried. I didn’t mean to kick the bin over in Science, it was just too bright and echoey and the new supply teacher wore citrus perfume and said, “Use your common sense, girl!” I tried. But I don’t have that kind of sense. I’ve got uncommon sense.

I’m officially autistic and have ADHD too. That’s what the paper says. The one the adults pass around like it’s a spell that’ll explain me.

Spoiler: it doesn’t.

I’m not bad. I’m not broken. I just see patterns other rats don’t. I hear the walls hum. And sometimes—when the vibrations start under my feet, I feel something shifting deep, deep below us. Not everyone notices the tremor under Station Corner or the way the grates tremble like they’re breathing. But I do. And lately, it’s been getting louder.

Last night I couldn’t sleep. My brain was whirring like an old synth in meltdown mode. That’s why they called me Synthia, after Dad’s music gear, because when I was born, I made more sounds than a drum machine possessed by ghosts. Still do.

Anyway, I went to my thinking place, near the old pipe junction. That’s where I heard it.

A voice.

Mechanical. Almost musical. Like someone trying to speak in Morse code through steel and sorrow.

It said: “Initiating sequence.”

Nobody believes me, of course. Nobody ever does. But I know what I heard.

Something is waking up beneath the Overground.

And maybe, just maybe…

It’s like me.

Yours in the static,

Synthia

🧠 Author’s Note

To every kid who’s ever been told they’re too much, too loud, too intense, too different—this story is for you.
Synthia’s world doesn’t always make sense to others. But she sees things they can’t. Hears signals they ignore. Feels patterns that aren’t in the textbooks.
She isn’t “not normal.” She’s brilliantly neurodivergent.
In this book, difference isn’t a problem, it’s the key to everything.

Tale Teller Kids™
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Chapter 1, The Rumble Begins, Rat Gang Crew: Synthia's Not Normal by Sarnia de la Mare #autism #ADHD

📚 Synthia isn’t like the other rats.

She’s been called difficult, disruptive—even dangerous. She hears sounds others can’t. Feels vibrations in the tunnels no one else notices.
She’s been kicked out of school, laughed at by her peers, and told to stop being weird.

But when a strange voice echoes through the underground—“Initiating sequence...”—it’s Synthia who understands. Something ancient, forgotten, and maybe alive is waking beneath the Overground. And only the Rat Gang Crew can stop it.

To save the city, they’ll need bravery, brains, spanners…

…and one rat who’s definitely not normal.Chapter 1 The Rumble Begins, Rat Gang Crew: Synthia's Not Normal by Sarnia de la Mare #autism #ADHD.

Chapter 1, The Rumble Begins, Rat Gang Crew: Synthia's Not Normal by Sarnia de la Mare #autism #ADHD.

Synthia waited at Pipe Junction 8b, counting the drips.

Drip Drip Drip.

Thirty-seven drips per minute, three more than yesterday. The difference made her uneasy. The world was full of patterns, safe ones, jagged ones, loud ones, but when they shifted it meant something was coming. Something big. Anything that was different was frightening and should not be ignored.

Her ear twitched.

There it was again that low thrumm vibrating through the metal under her paws. Not a train or wind or anything the other rats would believe.

She rubbed her paws together, stimming hard until the vibrations settled in her bones like an angry song. “Initiating sequence,” the walls had said last night. But walls don’t talk do they?

A distant shout snapped her out of the trance.

“Synth! Are you glitching again or can we come in?”

Scarlett’s voice was bold and bossy as usual. She swung down from the ladder with Atlas right behind her, his massive tail wrapped around his waist like a scarf. Ivy and Amelie climbed down more carefully, Ivy blinking through her giant glasses, Amelie hopping the last rung like a gymnast and finishing with a twirl that would pass any audition.

The whole Rat Gang Crew, plus Synthia. Because she was still the maybe on a trial period before becoming official.

Scarlett eyed her. “We’ve been calling for five minutes.”

“You were loud,” said Synthia flatly, “and early.”

Amelie grinned. “You said midday.”

“It is midday,” said Ivy, checking her wristwatch. “Depending on whether you’re counting from sun-up, station chime, or,”

“Can we not do the nerd stuff right now?” groaned Scarlett. “We’ve got actual business. Something’s shaking the vents by the tram wires.”

Synthia froze. “You felt it too?”

Scarlett blinked. “Wait, what, I thought it was my imagination, or ants?”

Synthia stood, tail flicking. “There’s a vibration under the junction too. It’s irregular. Low frequency. Possibly directional.”

Everyone stared.

Atlas scratched his head. “Right. So… not the usual ‘the boiler's having a tantrum’ thing?”

"And not ants? I get scared of ants when they all visit at the same time!" said Ivy hiding behind Atlas.

“No.” Synthia pressed a paw to the wall. “It’s… awake.”

Everyone stood in Silence.

Then Amelie burst out laughing. “Oh wow, we missed your drama Synth. You've gone full Overground sci-fi.”

“I’m not joking.”

“I know,” said Ivy, softly. “That’s why it’s a bit scary.”

Scarlett stepped forward. “We’re not here to mock you. Look, the gang needs you. Just… explain what you mean. And do it slowly in case any of us mice are a bit, you know, NOT CONCENTRATING!”

Synthia blinked. Usually this was where she got the eye-roll or the whisper, the why can’t you just be normal face. But now they were waiting. Everyone was listening. Four pairs of eyes glinting and blinking, all waiting for her expertise.

“I think there’s something mechanical moving underground,” she said. “Not trains. Something old. Maybe alive. Maybe listening.”

Atlas whistled. “Like… a robot?”

"I hope it can dance," giggled Amalie.

Synthia frowned...

“Like… an AI. A network. A forgotten one.” She paused. “Something’s changed.”

Scarlett cracked her knuckles. “Right. Well, let’s go see what woke it up. Everyone bring torches?”

Ivy held up a torch the size of a space rocket. “Check.”

Atlas grinned. “Snacks too,” holding up a huge bag of mousey potato crisps.

Amelie twirled a spanner. “Let’s break into something.”

Synthia hesitated. “You really want me to come?”

Scarlett raised an eyebrow. “Synth, if something creepy and codey is coming alive under the city, who else would we want on the crew? You’re the only one who actually likes haunted tech. Plus, you know your audio!”

A quiet warmth bloomed in Synthia’s chest.

Maybe she was different. But maybe different was exactly what the Rat Gang Crew needed.

She followed them down the rusted pipe path, toward the echo of a repeating rhythm. The rhythm of something that wanted to live.

And behind them, in the dark, the walls vibrated once more.

Initiating sequence…




to be continued...
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