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MIXER, Đerđ Serbhorvat: Mađarske jagode u grlu; CEMENT, Saša Ćirić: Kako opravdati sebe u 26 slika; ŠTRAFTA, Saša Ilić: Ogled iz okrutne logike „srpskog uma“; VREME SMRTI I RAZONODE, Miloš Živanović: Vreme Betona, Na ostrvu na Adici; BULEVAR ZVEZDA, PAVKOVIĆ, Vasa; BLOK BR. V, L. Bodroža & T. Marković: Karta srpskog spasa (21)
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Mi smo bili kod mog dida na Šolti. Dida je u dvoru sidijo na lingeštulu i čitao je novine. Tata je sidijo za stolom i popravljao je sa kacavidom šuko šteker. Mama je sidila do njega i čistila je fažolete. Ja sam sidijo na podu u dvoru i slagao sam nogometne slije. Dida je okrenijo stranicu od novina i vrtijo je sa glavom. Onda je on rekao: „Ja ne razumin, majkemi, šta se svi pale na ovog Stepinca! Pa on je bija dobar sa ustašama!“ Ja sam dida pitao: „Ko je Stepinac?“ Dida je rekao: „Neki pop šta je bija dobar sa ustašama!“
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Uras shifted in his sleep. He turned, and each time he turned, another scene of the same nightmare appeared in his mind. Cheering people laughing, talking naturally and with ease in groups – nothing was lost in transmission. They had different words and languages, their own sounds spilling out of their mouths. They were in restaurants, classes, museums, and concert halls – chatting, singing, and even arguing out loud. No suspicion, only confidence and joy. The scene was a perfect picture of the good old days. But for Uras and his cursed generation, it was only a painful memory of the civilization that faded away long ago.
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“My doppelganger from a parallel universe stole my girlfriend!” he approached and interjected while I was waiting for a ferry by the sea. He must have thought that waiting for the same ferry in the same place made us friends. I am not generally a social person. I was just in my early twenties when I discovered that keeping a distance from people kept me from having unnecessary conversations. This was also the time when we had just discovered the existence of parallel universes, or rather the ability to travel between parallel universes. What’s more, the discovery seemed to take place at roughly the same time in all parallel universes. The transition was so easy that millions of people suddenly threw aside the lives they had and applied to the transfer offices for travel. I say, “threw aside the lives they had,” because you will appreciate that it is not so easy to find your home again once you start traveling through countless parallel universes. Once you decide to go, it is quite likely a one-way trip. As a result, transitioning was easy, but getting approval wasn’t. After months of investigation, you would only get a travel permit if your reasons were found to be justified. Of course, that was almost twenty years ago. Now the process goes much faster.
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For an adult who is halfway through their twenties, past the nasty high school and joyous college years, and who has spent more than twenty-four seasons on a weekday in front of a computer in an air-conditioned office, it is not normally possible to live a life-changing event. But Şule miraculously experienced two such events in the same hour. Both were as rare as the formation of DNA from the early, watery soup of the planet.
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The night the moon split, Cem was returning home in his air-mobile. At first, he couldn’t believe his eyes. He verbally commanded the program that controlled the air-mobile to stop. He turned off his smart lens and looked out the window of his vehicle once again. No, this was not an advertisement for augmented reality. The dead moon, which had stayed in its orbit around the Earth for billions of years, had split in two like a cracking egg. A few seconds later, a giant, blood-red screen emerged out of the space between the two halves of the moon.
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“War always brings new opportunities alongside pain and death. That is the reason we have been killing each other non-stop for centuries,” said Commissioner Mustafa.
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In the six years I spent tracking David Addley, it never occurred to me that he didn’t exist. Sharing this with my friend Em, who had been anxiously asking me about my search, was extremely hard. I knew that she would go nuts once she heard it. I sincerely shared her sentiment, but to unravel this mystery, we needed common sense more than lunacy. My mind almost burned with the questions I thought I could never find answers to.
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Cleansing… That was what humanity did for a superior human identity for several decades… Yet, the human dream was a point of impossibility. They assumed the minority’s welfare automatically included the welfare of all humanity. If the injustices and inferiorities suffered by the minority, the negativities, and violations of rights were eliminated, a just—even if not equal—society could be created.
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Meteorologist Michael D. Jackson of NASA and geologist Wang Chao-xing of CNSA were team members in charge of the Martian Observation and Data Collection Station 12 in the depression beginning at and extending to the South West of the Coronae Scopulus Valley on the Hellas Plateau. After rigorous exercise on the treadmill and a refreshing shower, they sat down for breakfast and ordered their morning meal on the touchscreen console. Michael – who was a burly black man from Minnesota – typed in an order for a hamburger with coffee and milk. Chao-xing – who was a young woman of small build with straight, raven black hair – tapped in tea, wafers, peach jam, and goat cheese. Then they settled for a short wait.
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It is no longer snowing, nor is the sun showing its bright face. When the aging planet entered the Kuiper belt, the sky froze. The remaining seven hundred of the human species were trapped under an ice floe. The only things visible on the giant ice floe were millions of Edwardsiella andrillae and tardigrades, which shed light on the dark body of the night. London was one of the few cities on the aging planet that showed life. Some time ago, its rotation on Earth, like with the other cities, stopped, and the city sky was covered in ice. However, the sky had not yet begun to melt. The poisonous anemones, which would fall rapidly on the day it would start to melt, would start a strong epidemic and bring the end of life, just as would happen in other cities.
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The sound of the baton hitting the bars startled Zeynep awake. “Nothing has changed,” she said as she straightened up, “for centuries...”She fixed her eyes on the drawing of the window carved into the wall of her cell. The floral curtain swaying in a fictional wind entering through a broken pane on the window, which she imagined had a wooden frame, revealed the partly cloudy weather. As her slender fingers ran over the carving, she was wondering who had stayed there before and what had happened to them.
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“Now let’s examine the striking physical features of this “alien species”; a tall, slender neck, a head disproportionately large for the body, eyes without pupils, and a body that oscillates as if it had no fixed form and could change it at any moment. Isn’t it a really alien form? This 1919 portrait of Amedeo Modigliani's greatest love, the young and beautiful Jeanne Hébuterne, may evoke a feeling of aesthetics and romanticism for many of you. But in this lesson, we will learn to look deeper. Although it is aesthetics on the surface, there is another concept underlying it: foreign intercultural interaction! Now let me explain to you what this interaction is…”
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Cirrus checked his old but still functioning digital watch and then blinked, unable to believe what he saw. He had literally lost a couple of hours once again and was totally at a loss as to how they had flown by.
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My name is Metin. I do not think that the rest, my surname, my job, etc., matters much. Most probably, you have seen or heard of similar stories many times. It may sound quite ordinary and boring to you, or you may consider it not worth reading. If so, I would kindly ask you to return this paper to my pocket. Perhaps someone who cares will show up wondering about my suicide note.
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The Other Realm Photography Archive Photographs dating to the period between 1902 and 2020. Only 10 liras each. Contact us for photos of your departed loved ones, places in your childhood that no longer exist, and many other people you wondered about in the past. You will be very pleased with our archive, which contains billions of photos.
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It was walking alone in the middle of the steppe as the first rays of the day formed orange lines on the horizon. The once vast plain was now covered with metal heaps of human debris thrown around recklessly. Artificiality had obviously brought death. It cut off the unruly wind like a barrier and polluted the fertile spirit of the soil. So much so that the air no longer felt as clean and peaceful as it used to, and the sky no longer gave freedom.
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He imagined the courtroom would be a spacious hall, but it wasn’t like that at all. It was a place as large as his living room and elevated a bit on one side, where a high podium had been positioned. That’s where the judges and prosecutors sat. On the lower side was an old wooden railing that was worn down in various places. That’s where he was placed during the hearing. Next to him was another row where his attorney sat. The space behind that was allocated for the absent crowds – where about twenty to thirty chairs were stacked like sardines, one atop the other.
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Mrs. A. left home to go to work, as she always does. The vehicle that would serve her had come out of the underground and was waiting by the side of the road. When Mrs. A. got in, the vehicle started. Looking back from the screen, she saw her Benlik waving to her from the curbside, and she smiled. While she was going to work, her Benlik always went in the opposite direction to do sports to keep her fit.
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“You Shall Chip the Nil!” – (The Scripture of Dearth Economy, 3rd Commandment)The good old bones of Edip Bey were thoroughly warmed. He stretched a reserved stretch, a display of his guilty pleasure, just like all the other elderly who filled the sunroom. His low-pitched murmurs joined the happy humming of pleased old people.
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