In this issue of Samovar, a world ruined by experiments in nano-technology, a ghostly encounter along a riverbank, and a lonely waking in the hour before dawn.
A thought surfaced in my mind: Tabula Rasa. If I want to survive this I’ll have to hurry. If it reaches my brain or my heart, it’s over. In my head I prepared a schedule to use the fluxer every three hours or as often as I needed it.
Op dat moment kwam er een gedachte in me op: Tabula Rasa. Als ik dit wil overleven dan moet ik haast maken. Als het mijn hersenen bereikt of mijn hart aantast, dan is het over. In mijn hoofd maakte ik een schema om elke drie uur of zo vaak als nodig mijn fluxer te gebruiken.
Mr. Andrés Batista did not believe in ghosts. Nor in premonitions, curses or witchcraft. He was interested only in bare facts. For six decades he had served as regional magistrate with fierce devotion to truth, justice and demonstration through tangible evidence. He considered it an insult to human intelligence to believe in tawdry superstitions. He was a self-declared enemy of lies.
Don Andrés Batista no creía en fantasmas. Ni en predicciones, ni en maldiciones ni en brujas. Para él lo único real eran los hechos desnudos. Durante seis décadas había ejercido la magistratura con fiero criterio aferrado a la verdad, la justicia y la demostración mediante la prueba confiable. Consideraba por debajo de la inteligencia humana dar fe a supersticiones “baratas”, amén de ser un enemigo declarado de la mentira.
The lonely man wakes while the sea is still dark/ and the stars waver...
L’uomo solo si leva che il mare è ancor buio
e le stelle/ vacillano...
