LJUBICASTA KRV

- Hodao je ispred prozora slamajuci zrake svjetla. Potom ih je ugasio, ugasio je sva svjetla i ostalo je jedino nebesko zracenje ljubicastog neona. Spremio je svoje pistolje i nalio mi ljubicasto pice. Sjecam se kako sam pogledala prema van, s prozora duguljaste tamne zgrade. U isto sam vrijeme gledala tamo, gledala sam sebe, gledala sam njega, gledala sam zgradu... ali toliko stvari nisam vidjela.

- Opisi mi njega, covjeka sa pistoljima.

- Nosio je tamnosivu kosulju, imao je siroke oziljke po rukama. Ljubicasto je svjetlo padalo na njega, ali lice mu nisam mogla vidjeti.

- Da li je bilo lijepo kada je hodao ispred prozora?

- Da, bilo je vrlo lijepo. Svjetlo se razlamalo i on je postao obicna silueta.

- Sto mislis, zasto je imao pistolje, kakvi su oni bili?

- Nisu bili laserski. Bili su onakvi... starinski.

- Sto zakljucujes na temelju toga?

- Ne koristi ih za ubijanje. Mozda ih skuplja.

- Da li si to logicki zakljucila ili jedino zelis da u svom snu nisi bila u prisutnosti ubojice?

- Ne znam.

- Ne znas, ili ne zelis znati?

Tisina.

- Sto je s oziljcima na njegovim rukama? Kako izgledaju, reci mi kakvog su oblika. Sto ih je moglo naciniti?

- Bili su tanki, dugi i mnogobrojni. Jedino bi tanke ostrice mogle napraviti nesto takvo.

- Sto mislis... da li si ih je napravio sam... ili su mu to ucinili drugi?

- Mozda sam. Ali prisilno.

- Zasto prisilno?

- Ne vjerujem da bi to ucinio iz cista mira. Mozda je to bila viteska zrtva.

- Viteska?

- Ne pitaj...", uzdahne, "Pricam gluposti.

- Cesto sanjas taj san. jesi li se ikako vezala za njega?

- Za tog covjeka?

- Za cijeli san.

- Mislim da jesam.", nasmijesi se, "Koji je genij tebe stvorio da ovako izvlacis sve iz mene?

Druga se zena također nasmije, njene elektricno plave oci zabljesnu.

- Konstruirala me je i programirala doktorica Moira Aldrich. No to sada nije vazno.

- Naravno...

- Postoji li jos nesto cega se sjecas?

- Da. Mislim da se sjecam onoga sto sam kroz prozor vidjela.

- I sto je to bilo? - Alba-P456 obrati paznju.

- Cijevi. Stajale su vodoravno nasuprot zgrade. One su emitirale ljubicasto svjetlo jer njima je tekla ljubicasta krv.

- Krv? - Alba odjednom ukljuci brojne senzore kojima je potajno skenirala sve svoje pacijente cije psihoze nisu bile obicne, iste kao i u svih ostalih.

- Da.

- Zasto?

- Ne znam. Ne mogu nikako biti sigurna.

- Da li je tekucina u tim cijevima bila slicna onome picu koje ti je on nalio?

- Da, bila je to ista stvar.

- Zasto? Sto ti mislis?

- Zato jer... smo bili tek maleni dio neceg golemog.

- Poput radilice ili stanice u organizmu?

- Da.

- I to je sve?

- To je sve.

- Onda cu analizirati tvoj san uz pomoc C556 i poslati ti dijagnozu.

- U redu. Doviđenja. - uzela je svoju jaknu i polako otisla.

- Doviđenja. - prostorija utone u mrak i Alba se posveti obradi podataka sve do ulaska sljedeceg pacijenta.

Noc je na Uranu3 bila osobito lijepa i jarka, no ona ju nije zanimala.

~Skarzen Craznodensky~

I like your art very much. It is alive and strong; it enters inside me through my eyes, creating new worlds, growing...
My favorite is The Watery Death of Babylon
This is how I see it:

After the great flood, the Noah descendants tried to build Babylon - a stairway to heaven. Eventually God got tired of their arrogance and confused their languages. I imagine: if the time would twist into a circle, if the events would start to roll backwards - our towers would be tumbled down and flooded with water, but before that all the knowledge and all the words would be assembled into a single language. Universes of human thoughts and emotions would be reduced to singularities, powerful enough to be given lives of their own. Soon, all of the human race would disappear under the water, and tiny, translucent purple creatures, made of thoughts, would rise...

Saljem pricu koja se pocela događati u mojoj masti dok sam promatrala sliku pod nazivom Maintenance Hall. U propozicijama nije nista pisalo u vezi jezika, a buduci da je tekst pored slike na engleskom, cinilo mi se zabavnim da i moja prica bude. Ionako je, ako vam se kojim cudom i svidi, prekratka za Jutarnji.
U svakom slucaju, meni se slike jako sviđaju.
Tereza

MAINTENANCE HALL

"Are you sure this is what you want?"

The supervisor's voice was soft, and its eyes glowed in concern, though its face had no expression.

"Yes. I'm absolutely certain. I want to know. I want to feel."

The young android held its head high, arrogantly. Its translucent skin glowed under the bright lights of the maintenance deck. The body was shaped into a perfect feminine figure, but the mind of the android had no conception of gender.

"Implantation of those subroutines is illegal. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes. It means that in case of any malfunction I will not have the opportunity to be repaired until the next regular maintenance cycle."

"Any malfunction?" Supervisor's eyes and voice showed both concern and amusement. Then the voice became serious. Supervisor spoke slowly: "You will have to keep the subroutines for the next two months, even if they make you crazy. Even if they kill you. It will not be easy. I know, I've tried it."

"I accept that."

***

"Begin cycle 231.543. Full body regeneration. Spare parts replacement and recycling. Awareness factor: point five. Duration: one hour. Sweet dreams, Andrea!"

***

Andrea was waking up slowly. It has been her sixteenth regeneration cycle. But this time it was different. It felt different. This time she did feel it. It was strange, confusing, and inexplicable. She was aware of something new inside her thoughts - they weren't clear like they used to be.

When she opened her eyes, the face she saw frightened her. The fear rushed through her, forcing her life-support processor to send extra energy into the artificial muscles, and her body temperature increased. Only a fraction of second later, the original, logical part her mind prevailed and recognized the supervisor's face - symmetrical curves of the artificial skin were the same as they have been before, only Andrea's impression of them was different. A second emotion followed: relief. Andrea was lying still, allowing her body to relax.

"How are you felling?"

Andrea didn't answer, she didn't know how. Only an hour ago, this question would make no sense.

Few seconds later, she heard another, similar question: "What are you feeling?" Andrea looked into the supervisor's eyes. She noticed something new: warmth, care?

"I'm feeling..." Andrea realized that she couldn't describe her feelings. Too many of them, too sudden. She was vaguely aware of her body - it was shivering.

"I am feeling." She said the words again, slowly, and her voice sounded as if she was crying.