edgar allan poe- Annabel Lee

It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of Annabel Lee;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.
And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulcher
In this kingdom by the sea.
The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me&
Yes!;that was the reason
(as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we
Of many far wiser than we
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.
For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling, my darling, my life and my bride,
In the sepulcher there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea.

vara asta

Si uite ca aproape s-a dus si vacanta de vara, au trecut 3 luni in care pur si simplu am stat degeaba. Ei, nu chiar degeaba, am fost la mare, in Delta, in Fagaras, zilele trecute prin Bran :P, m-am plimbat putin vara asta, nu atat cat as fi vrut, dar in fine, a fost frumos :D. Mi-am indeplinit visul de a-mi face ziua de nastere la mare- avantajul de a fi nascuta in mijlocul verii.
Am mai si citit putin in vara asta, nu tot ce ar fi trebuit, dar e ok, ma apuca tocmai acum spre sfarsit sa fac tot. Asa sunt eu, fac totul pe ultima suta de metri, dar nu prea mi-a mers rau pana acum cu metoda asta, desi sunt constienta ca ar trebui sa fac lucrurile din timp, bla, bla, bla...
Inca o chestie ce am mai descoperit vara asta, deloc in avantajul meu este jocul Sorority Life, eu una il joc pe tagged desi am vazut ca e si pe hi5 si nu mai stiu ce al siter de genul. Spun ca nu e in avantajul meu pentru ca acum nu mai pot sa ma dezlipesc de calculator, nici macar sa mai citesc blogurile si siteurile de zi cu zi, cele cu bancuri, cu stiri, si asa mai departe. Ma trezesc, aprind calcu si in fata calcului pana seara tot pe tagged.
nu-mi place, mai ales ca lunea viitoare incep scoala, ar trebui s-o las mai usor. Ma si vad la o intalnire de genul AA : Buna, eu sunt Adina si sunt dependenta de calculator si nu de calculatorul in sine ci de un joc :)))). Nici NFS nu mi-a creat atata dependenta.
Dar las' ca scap eu de ea, mai ales daca o sa fiu pe drumuri de la 7 dimineata pana pe la 6-7 seara, mai intru pe calc in weekend si de sarbatori :)))

Bancuri :D

* I had a dream last night, I was eating a ten pound marshmallow. I woke up this morning and the pillow was gone.

*- Nu mai astepta, aici autobuzele merg numai de sarbatori, - se adreseaza o doamna catre o blonda.
- Pai astazi e ziua mea de nastere!!

*O femeie casatorita se plange prietenei sale:
- De ce ma bate sotul? Spal, calc, fac mancare, totul e perfect, de copii am grija...
- Cu altul nu iesi?
- Poate din cauza asta...

*In cuseta vagonului de dormit se aude o bufnitura. Buimaca de somn, sotia intreaba:
- Ce-a cazut acolo, Nicule?
- Pijamaua, draga.
- Cu atata zgomot?
- Eram si eu in ea!

*Într-o zi, o soţie se plînge soţului:
- Dragă, sînt nemulţumită că am sînii mici.
Soţul îi răspunde:
- Ia o bucată de hîrtie igienică, freac-o între sîni şi în cîţiva ani ai să vezi că o să-ţi crească.
- De unde ştii? întreabă mirată soţia.
- Cu fundul a funcţionat, nu-i aşa?

*BARBATUL a descoperit sticla si a inventat PAHARUL.
FEMEIA a luat sticla si a inventat OGLINDA .
BARBATUL a descoperit ZARUL si a inventat jocul.
FEMEIA a luat ZARUL si a inventat VRAJITORIA.
BARBATUL a descoperit CUVANTUL si a inventat CONVERSATIA.
FEMEIA a descoperit CUVANTUL si a inventat BARFA.
BARBATUL a descoperit BANUL si a inventat COMERTUL.
FEMEIA a descoperit BANUL si a inventat CREDITUL.
BARBATUL a descoperit TRANZACTIILE si a inventat CARTEA DE CREDIT.
FEMEIA a luat CARTEA DE CREDIT si BARBATUL s - a dat dracului..
BARBATUL a descoperit MUNCA si a inventat SALARIUL.
FEMEIA a descoperit SALARIUL si iar s - au dat dracului BARBATII.
BARBATUL a descoperit FEMEIA si a inventat SEXUL.
FEMEIA a descoperit SEXUL si a inventat ..........................................CASATORIA

DUPA ASTA BARBATUL S - A SUPARAT SI NU A MAI INVENTAT NIMIC, CE NAIBA , PANA CAND SA TOT CADA DE PROST..

*Cele trei mari dorinte ale barbatului:
1.sa fie asa frumos cum crede maica-sa ca e!
2.sa fie asa bogat cum crede fiu-su ca e!
3.sa aiba atatea femei cat suspecteaza nevasta-sa ca are!

*Un orb sta la semafor insotit de un caine si astepta sa treaca. Un alt om sta si priveste scena de pe cealalta parte a drumului. Se face verde, dar cainele nu il trece strada pe orb. Se face iar verde, cainele nimic. Se repete scena de cateva ori, dupa care orbul scoate un os din buzunar si il da cainelui. Mirat, omul care observa, intreaba:
- De ce ii dati os, daca va tine pe loc si nu va trece strada cand se face verde?
- Pai am observat ca stau de 10 minute in acelasi loc, ii dau un os ca sa imi dau seama unde are capul si sa-i ard un sut in c*r ca ma tine in loc de atata vreme.

*Merge un tată cu copilul lui de 3 ani şi trece o tipă superbă pe lîngă ei, cu o rochie foarte mulată. Tipul nu poate să se abţină şi exclamă:
- Doamne, ce c*r fain!
Băiatul se întoarce către el şi întreabă:
- Ce ai spus, tati?
- Am spus cucu.
- Ce-i aia?
- O pasăre, fiule...
- Ahhh... Şi există cucă, tati?
- Mda.
- Şi un cuc şi o cucă fac cuchiţi?
- Da, fiule.
- Şi un cuchiţ şi o cuchiţă fac cuchicişori?
- Da, băiatule!
- Şi un cuchişor si o cuchişoară fac cuchişorei?
- Da, omule, ce atîta...
- Şi un cuchişorel şi o....
- Mă, băiete, am zis c*r. Ai înţeles? C*r!

vreau la mare 8->

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cvaf4GfX9CQ&feature=related

vacanta :D

Pot sa spun ca am inceput vacanta. Azi am dat penultimul examen, ultimul nu se pune, e ca si luat ;)) Si tot azi se pare ca a inceput bacul. Nu pot sa cred ca a trecut un an de cand am dat bacul. Parca ieri ma plimbam pe coridoarele liceului. Nu pot sa spun ca mi-e dor de liceu, ca nu-mi e. Mi-e dor de colegi...am avut 24 de baieti in clasa :)) nu cred ca a fost zi de liceu in care sa nu rad :))
Partea buna e ca ma duceam cu drag la scoala, pentru colegi si pentru buna dispozitie, nu conteaza ce probleme aveam acasa , daca ma simteam bine sau rau, dar cand ajungeam la scoala uitam de tot si radeam frate.....
Acum la facultate ma duc ca nu sunt obligata :)) , ca nu se mai scade media la purtare, si deoarece chiar aflu ceva nou in fiecare zi si-mi plac profesorii si cursurile si tot. Zic asta acum ca aproape am terminat sesiunea si vreo 3 luni nu mai calc pe acolo :)) Ar cam trebui totusi sa profit de vacanta asta sa recuperez la germana....hmm...mdap. Nu o sa se mai repete ce s-a intamplat in sesiunea asta.
acum...ideea de baza este ce fac eu in vacanta asta???? Pe langa germana :P
Sper sa miros marea si muntele vacanta asta....hmm si apoi?
trebuie sa gasesc ceva de facut vacanta asta neaparat. Poate o reuniune de liceu :)))

Not a drop to drink

Two thousand years ago the Romans tried to turn this desert into an oasis, a place full of rivers and lakes and canals. The Romans wanted to build big white temples and big houses under the hot sun. They wanted to turn this desert into a new paradise, full of trees and flowers and fields. They planned to sail their ships across the desert. But they failed.

The Romans failed because they looked only at the surface of the land. They tried to make the desert into a paradise with water and trees by digging canals and building aqueducts. They dug canals to connect the sea and the rivers. They built their aqueducts, long pipes to carry water, for many miles across the desert, to carry water from one town to another.

Now, I can still see some of the old aqueducts. There are a few white stone arches under the hot sun in the dry desert. They are falling down. The water in the aqueducts dried up. There is nothing left of the Roman canals. The water in the canals disappeared and the canals filled up with sand again, but if you look carefully it is still possible to see where they were. There are lines across the desert that look like very old roads.

In 1777 a Portuguese explorer called Emanuel de Melo Pimento came to this desert with a plan to turn it into an oasis. At that time in history, everybody was very excited by new discoveries in science and technology and engineering. Emanuel de Melo Pimento was a man of his times, one of the new scientist-philosopher-engineers who believed that all the problem of people in the world could be solved by science and philosophy. He believed that he could turn the hot, dry desert where nobody had enough water to drink into an oasis, into a utopia. He wanted to build a completely new city here, he wanted to build a completely new country. He wanted to call it “Pimentia”, named after himself, of course.

Emanuel de Melo Pimento had a lot of money. He had a lot of money because a lot of rich people in Portugal and Spain gave him money to go around the world and explore. These rich people invested in Emanuel de Melo Pimento’s journeys of exploration and discovery. Now they had given him money to build a new city, a new country, a utopia, to create an oasis in the desert. These rich people hoped to become even richer. Emanuel de Melo Pimento took their money and used it not to try and change the surface of the land, like the Romans, but to change what is under the surface of the desert. Emanuel de Melo Pimento wanted to dig canals under the desert, to make big underground rivers where the water would not dry up under the heat of the sun.

He failed, of course.

Some of his plans still survive. I have some of them here in my office in the Institute of Hydrogeological Research where I write this. They are very beautiful works of art. But not one of his plans was ever completed – they needed too much money, more money than even the rich people in Portugal and Spain gave to Emanuel de Melo Pimento. Instead, Emanuel de Melo Pimento spent all the money on building beautiful buildings where he could live and dream of his new city.

From where I write in my office in the Institute I can still see one of the old buildings that Emanuel de Melo Pimento lived in before he went mad and died here. He failed because he tried to look only under the land. The Romans failed because they looked only at the surface of the land. Now, I will succeed, because I am not looking at the surface of the desert, or under it. I am looking up above the desert. I am looking up at the sky.

Now, at the beginning of the 21st century we have the ability to go up into space. We have the ability to build satellites. Some people have said that I am mad, just like Emanuel de Melo Pimento, but I know that I will succeed. I have spent many years making plans to build satellites that can not only forecast the weather, but change it.

The first of the satellites went up into space last week, and now, using a computer here in my office, I am telling it what to do. The programmes I spent many years planning and designing all work perfectly.

I look up at the sky, and it is starting to rain.

It has now been raining for three weeks. It has not stopped raining for 21 days. At first, the people were very happy to see so much rain. Now the desert has flooded. Where before there was only sand, now there is water. Where there was desert, now there is sea.

But the rain that has come down from the sky has destroyed many houses. Some people now have nowhere to live. The rain was stronger and heavier than I planned. I was right to look up above the desert, not at its surface or under the sand, but I did not expect the force of nature to be so strong.

Have I too failed? I do not know. Will people in the future think of me as I now think of the Romans and of the failed mad scientist Emanuel de Melo Pimento?

I have turned the desert into a sea. We can now sail ships across the desert, like the Romans dreamed. But the people do not thank me. They have water, but they have nothing to drink.

The end

http://www.britishcouncil.org/learnenglish-central-themes-deserts.htm

deci...o sa incep cu deci ca o conluzie din tot ce "am invatat" azi: germana e grea !
prima data cand am auzit ca o sa fac germana in facultate, am fost chiar incantata, a fost un fel de "dream come true", din copilarie vroiam sa invat germana. nush de ce, nu aveam un motiv deosebit, imi placea cum suna cred.
acum, dupa aproape un an de zile de germana la facultate, vreau sa spun ca ma ia durerea de cap cand deschid manualul . Mai rau decat franceza. Nu inteleg nimic. Si cel mai grav , nu vad asemanarea aia cu engleza !! toata lumea zice ca daca stii engleza, germana o sa fie usoara. da de unde?
totul e pe invers, toata fraza, toate cuvintele sunt INVERS. dar ai zice ca fiindca m-am prins ca e invers o sa pot sa invat. nu e chiar asa.
d-bia acum inteleg expresia : parca vorbesti in limbi straine :))
pai..engleza o invat din gradinita, si pot sa spun ca o stiu, franceza o inteleg cat de cat, are si ea gramatica grea si o mie si una de exceptii, dar merge, nu e imposibila; spaniola a venit cam firesc, nush de unde, poate din telenovelele alea din copilarie:)) (am fost mare fana Thalia :)))
si acum...germana...ca nimic din ce am invatat pana in prezent
si problema uriasa si de baza este verbul !
cum s-o fi inventat verbul?
si cum doamne iarta-ma s-a ajuns ca in germana verbul sa aibe particula separabila nu pot sa-mi dau seama, e o chestie extraterestra asta
particula separabila?? wtf?
si pe langa asta, frustratrea mea adevarata si sincera nu e neaparat faptul ca nu inteleg ci ca ceilalti...INTELEG!
adica marea majoritate din cei din grupa chiar au invatat germana! fara sa stie din liceu sau generala. au intrat la fel de bombe ca mine dar o sa iasa stiind germana. eu in schimb o sa ies asa cum am intrat + hai sa zicem cateva cuvinte noi in vocabular, si multe fire albe.
da, azi am observat fenomenul, au inceput sa-mi iasa fire albe, la nici 20 de ani.
vi se pare normal? ca mi-e nu.
macar de-ar fi din cauza invatatului, macar sa pot spune ca am invatat de mi-au iesit fire albe, dar sa stiu germana :))
poate o sa visez la noapte verbul si o sa pot sa fac ceva maine la examen.
sper !

Another Sad Song

Cam aşa m-am simţit eu în ultimul timp. De fiecare dată când sunt deprimată descopăr câte o melodie în care mă regăsesc. De data asta a fost Another Sad Song de Bandidos. Am descoperit-o din greşeala cum găsesc eu toate melodiile pe utube; căutam de fapt melodii din Sailor Moon.
Azi am vazut ultimul episod ... poate d-asta sunt mai trista ca de obicei. Cred că oamenii ar trebui să-şi revadă desenele preferate şi după ce au crescut. Învaţă mult mai multe după ce le privesc cu un ochi uşor critic şi sceptic mai ales ideea de magie şi puterea dragostei şi bla, bla...
Azi mi-am dat seama încă o data de ce Sailor Moon au fost desenele mele preferate, şi tot azi, am realizat că a fost un fel de model, chiar dacă nu am observat până acum, am ramas cu multe idei şi vise şi...
Şi acum ma oftic puţin când văd că nu au fost ale mele, ci împrumutate într-un fel.
toti ne-am dorit să ajungem ca eroul nostru preferat, şi eu mi-am dorit, dar pentru mine acum e puţin ciudat că înca mai vreau să semăn cu ea în anumite privinţe. Să am încrederea aia oarba în oameni şi în lumea asta şi în visele mele şi cel mai important să le şi realizez.
Mda... sentimental shit :))
o merit. Mâine o să fiu mai veselă puţin. Trebuie să mă pregătesc pentru sesiune. O să fie ciudat totuşi că nu o să mai am episoade noi de văzut...
Trebuie să-mi fac de lucru...ceva pentru suflet.

ZIZ

The ziz (Hebrew: זיז) is a giant griffin like bird in Jewish mythology, said to be large enough to be able to block out the sun with its wingspan. It is considered a giant animal/monster corresponding to archetypal creatures. Behemoth, Leviathan and Ziz were traditionally a favorite decoration motif for rabbis living in Germany.

Some say that the ziz was created to protect all of the birds and that if the ziz did not exist, then all the smaller birds on Earth would be helpless and killed. The Ziz is also an immortal creature that terrified the people that entered its territory and those who killed birds.^{[citation needed]} The Ziz is also believed to be a simple metaphor for air and space, along with the Behemoth as land and Leviathan as the seas and oceans.

The giant ziz lives on in children's literature. He figures prominently in a story from Gertrude Landa's (also known as Aunt Naomi) 1919 collection Jewish Fairy Tales and Legends. The ziz also appears in four recent books by Jacqueline Jules and illustrated by Katherine Janus KahnThe Hardest Wood, Noah and the Ziz, The Ziz And the Hanukkah Miracle and The Princess and the Ziz. The Ziz is an awesome, fiasco-prone, but kind-hearted creature who learns important lessons from God. Note that this mythological bird is in Midrash rather than standard Jewish eschatology. (all from Kar-Ben Publishing) -

There is also the cliff of Ziz, the pass by which the horde of Moabites, Ammonites and Mehunim made their way up from the shores of the Dead Sea to the wilderness of Judah near Tekoa.

(http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ziz)

okok, stiu ca n-am mai postat nimic de o groaza de timp, dar d-abia am avut timp sa mai respir si nici acum n-am terminat treaba. Sincera sa fiu n-am mai citit nimic decat ce mi-a trebuit pt scoala, deci....sa mai dau inainte de vacanta de Paste(pe care ,apropo o sa fiu nevoita sa mi-o iau singura :)) ) pe la biblioteca pt ceva haios. Nu de alta, dar urmeaza partialele si apoi imediat sesiunea si iar n-o sa mai am timp de nimic ... Oricum saptamana trecuta la un curs a iesit ditamai taraboiul cand le-am povestit al 2-lea rasarit de arthur c. clarke, parerile au fost impartite dar toti au refuzat sa se puna in situatia lor, cred ca ideea de baza la ei a fost ceva de genul: asa ceva nu ni s-ar intampla noua, nu e nici o legatura. Am fost singura impotriva tuturor :)) , se pare ca nu sunt multi cei care mai citesc sf...
in fine
o sa revin

Homo sapiens declared extinct

AD 2380: After a painstaking ten-year search, from the Tibetan highlands to the Brazilian rainforests, it’s official — there are no more human beings. “I suppose I have to consider this a personal setback,” said anthropologist Dr Marcia Raymo, of the Institute for Retrograde Study in Berlin. “Of course we still have human tissue in the lab, and we could clone as many specimens of Homo sapiens as we like. But that species was always known primarily for its unique cultural activity.” “I can’t understand what the fuss is about,” declared Rita “Cuddles” Srinivasan, actress, sex symbol and computer peripheral. “Artificial Intelligences love to embody themselves in human forms like mine, to wallow in sex and eating. I’m good for oodles of human stuff, scratching, sleeping, sneezing, you can name it. As long as AIs honour their origins, you’ll see plenty of disembodied intelligences slumming around in human forms. That’s where all the fun is, I promise — trust me.” The actress’s current AI sponsor further remarked via wireless telepathy that Miss Srinivasan’s occasional extra arms or heads should be seen as a sign of “creative brio”, and not as a violation of “some obsolete, supposedly standard human form”.
A worldwide survey of skull contents in April 2379 revealed no living citizen with less than 35 per cent cultured gelbrain. “That pretty well kicks it in the head for me,” declared statistician Piers Euler, the front identity for a collaborative group-mind of mathematicians at the Bourbaki Academy in Paris. “I don’t see how you can declare any entity ‘human’ when their brain is a gelatin lattice, and every cell of their body contains extensive extra strands of industrial strength
DNA. Not only is humanity extinct but, strictly speaking, pretty much everyone alive today should be classified as a unique, post-natural, one-of-a-kind species.” “I was born human,” admitted 380-yearold classical musician Soon Yi, speaking from his support vat in Shanghai. “I grew up as a human being. It seemed quite natural at the time. For hundreds of years on the state supported concert circuit, I promoted myself as a ‘humanist’, supporting and promoting
human high culture. But at this point, I should be honest: that was always my stage pretence. Let’s face it: gelbrain is vastly better stuff than those grey, greasy, catch-ascatch- can human neurons. You can’t become a serious professional artiste while using nothing but all-natural animal tissue in your head. It’s just absurd!” Gently fanning his wizened tissues with warm currents of support fluid, the grand old man of music continued: “Wolfgang Mozart was a very dull creature by our modern standards but, thanks to gelbrain, I can still find ways to pump life into his primitive compositions. I also persist in finding Bach worthwhile, even in today’s ultracivilized milieu, where individual consciousness and creative subjectivity tend to be rather rare, or absent entirely.”
Posthumanity’s most scientifically advanced group, the pioneer Blood Bathers in their vast crystalline castles in the Oort Cloud, could not be reached for comment. “Why trouble the highly prestigious Blood Bathers with some trifling development here on distant Earth?” demanded
President Arno Hopmeier of the World Antisubjectivist Council. “The Blood Bathers are busily researching novel realms of complex organization far beyond mere ‘intelligence’. We should feel extremely honoured that they still bother to share their lab results with creatures like us. It would only annoy Their Skinless Eminences if we ask them to fret over some defunct race of featherless bipeds.” A Circumsolar Day of Mourning has been declared to commemorate the official extinction of humanity, but it is widely believed that bursts of wild public enthusiasm
will mar the funereal proceedings. “When you sum them up,” mused Orbital Entity Ankh/Ghih/9819, “it’s hard to perceive any tragedy in this long-awaited event. Beasts, birds, butterflies, even the very rocks and rivers must be rejoicing to see humans finally gone. We should try to be adult about this: we should take a deep breath, turn our face to the light of the future, and get on with the business of living. “Since I’ve been asked to offer an epitaph,” the highly distributed poetware continued, “I believe that we should rearrange the Great Wall of China to spell out (in Chinese of course, since most of them were always Chinese) — ‘THEY WERE VERY, VERY CURIOUS, BUT NOT AT ALL FARSIGHTED.’ “This historical moment is a serious occasion that requires a sense of public dignity. My dog, for instance, says he’ll truly
miss humanity. But then again, my dog says a lot of things.”



Bruce Sterling(http://www.well.com/conf/mirrorshades/) is the author of Schismatrix and many other novels and stories; the non-fiction work The Hacker Crackdown; co-author (with William Gibson) of The Difference Engine; and editor of Mirrorshades: The Cyberpunk Anthology.
Homo sapiens declared extinct
Yes, human beings have finally gone, but the 24-hour global party continues.
futures

The Time Machine

H.G. Wells

Epilogue

One cannot choose but wonder. Will he ever return? It may be that he swept back into the past, and fell among the blood-drinking, hairy savages of the Age of Unpolished Stone; into the abysses of the Cretaceous Sea; or among the grotesque saurians, the huge reptilian brutes of the Jurassic times. He may even now - if I may use the phrase - be wandering on some plesiosaurus-haunted Oolitic coral reef, or beside the lonely saline lakes of the Triassic Age. Or did he go forward, into one of the nearer ages, in which men are still men, but with the riddles of our own time answered and its wearisome problems solved? Into the manhood of the race: for I, for my own part cannot think that these latter days of weak experiment, fragmentary theory, and mutual discord are indeed man's culminating time! I say, for my own part. He, I know - for the question had been discussed among us long before the Time Machine was made - thought but cheerlessly of the Advancement of Mankind, and saw in the growing pile of civilization only a foolish heaping that must inevitably fall back upon and destroy its makers in the end. If that is so, it remains for us to live as though it were not so. But to me the future is still black and blank - is a vast ignorance, lit at a few casual places by the memory of his story. And I have by me, for my comfort, two strange white flowers - shrivelled now, and brown and flat and brittle - to witness that even when mind and strength had gone, gratitude and a mutual tenderness still lived on in the heart of man.

SUCCUSSION

a radical solution

Steve Longworth


We have just finished our retraining and now it’s time to redeploy. Whoever would have thought it would come to this? We all started out with such high ideals. Well, except me of course. If I’m really honest, I only went into medicine because I thought it would be a great way for a rather ordinary looking bloke like me to meet lots of unattached, sexy young nurses who would then be sufficiently impressed by the title ‘doctor’ to form an orderly queue outside my bedroom door (and so it proved, I’m delighted to report). I guess that’s why I’ve taken to this so easily. Ethics was never my strong suit. I’m really a rather cynical opportunist behind the carefully cultivated,
charming, professional veneer. Still, I’m apprehensive about our new role. I’ve never killed anyone before. Well, not intentionally (there was that rather unfortunate series of prescribing errors that the Trust swept under the carpet before hastily moving me on, but that’s another story). Up to now, whenever I have stuck a knife into someone it was with their consent and under anaesthesia. This new role is going to take some getting used to, but I’ve always been open-minded. That’s also why, despite the fierce scepticism and at times downright hostility of
many of my colleagues, I was willing to use homeopathy. Let’s face it, few other people were doing it and the general public are so gullible it meant that I could open up a nice little private practice and charge silly money for silly remedies with little competition. You know the theory behind homeopathy? ‘Like fights like’. So if you are treating a fever you give the patient something that causes a fever, but (and this is the important bit) you dilute it over and over
again, and each time you dilute it the treatment gets stronger. With each dilution the solution is vigorously shaken, a process known as ‘succussion’. There are those who speculate that succussion causes the water molecules to ‘remember’ the active ingredient even when Avogadro says there is not a trace of it left. Dilution makes it stronger. That’s the part conventional science
has the most trouble with, but there are studies that show that homeopathic remedies do work, even in animals, so it can’t all be the placebo effect despite the shaky theory. On the other hand I think that my bedside manner contributed just as much to the cures enjoyed by my pliant clientele as the elaborately prepared bottles of expensive water that I used to succuss. Success, suckers! Perhaps we should have noticed sooner that something remarkable was happening.
As life expectancy gradually rose throughout the early twentieth century we gave the credit to public-health reforms: clean water, efficient sewerage systems, the ending of unsanitary overcrowding and so on. When life expectancy continued to climb we pointed to our
increasingly powerful pharmacopoeia so that by the start of the third millennium just about everyone over 60 was taking a statin to lower their cholesterol and often a bagful of other prescribed drugs as well. But when we all became, to all intents and purposes, immortal, there had to be a radical new explanation. Think about this. Homeopathy has been around for 200 years, and over that period every homeopathic remedy that has ever been formulated has been taken on countless occasions by millions of people. The potency increases with each dilution. So
when you drink a homeopathic medicine it gets diluted in your total body water, then you pee it out and flush the toilet, so it gets diluted in the sewerage system. The sewage is treated in a sewage farm and pumped offshore where it is diluted in the sea. The sea water evaporates to form clouds, with the water returning to earth as rain and collecting in reservoirs. We drink the water and the cycle starts all over again. Each step in the process involves a form of natural succussion. You see where this is going. With each dilution the original medicine gets stronger. Over 200 years every homeopathic remedy ever formulated has been diluted and blended over and over and over again, millions, maybe billions of times. At the end of the first decade of the twentyfirst century a critical dilution threshold was reached. Now any glass of water from any tap anywhere in the world is the most powerful all-purpose drug ever created. No more cancer, infection, inflammation, degeneration; everyone will now live for ever in perfect health, unless they are unlucky enough to suffer a sudden overwhelming physical injury. Immortality! What a disaster. The world is rapidly overpopulating. There are simply not enough resources to go
around. We may be immune to all known diseases and resistant to ageing but we still have to eat. House prices are stratospheric as every available space fills up. Water is the universal panacea and now universal panic’s here. The world has been thoroughly shaken. In India and the Far East, where population growth is the fastest, vast suicidal religious cults have emerged and are massively popular among the young and naive. Euthanasia for the Youth in Asia!
Here we have a solution based on our own massively popular mystical belief system — the National Lottery. Everyone has been allocated a unique set of numbers and the draw takes place twice weekly. It means we have been able to find important new work for all us unemployed doctors. We used to bring succour. Now no one wants a house call, but it’s vital we force our way in, scalpel at the ready as we point the finger and proclaim the new Hypocritical Oath.
It’s you! Trust me, I’m a doctor.

Steve Longworth lives in Leicester, which was recently voted curry capital of Great Britain.

ringing up baby

Order a little sister, then order her about.

Ellen Klages

Nanny says that I am spoiled. It comes from being an only child, and not having to share holidays or cakes and always getting to sit by the window. If I had a little brother or sister, I would learn responsibility. More work for her, she sighs, but she is only thinking of my character. Thinking about me is Nanny’s job.Of course, Mother is far too busy to have a baby right now, what with the Henderson case and all. (When I have supper with her, on Wednesdays, she talks about nothing but the Henderson case.) So Nanny has arranged for a nice lady to plant Mother’s egg and do all the messy parts, then give the baby to us when it’s done."What would you like," Nanny asks me over cocoa. "A brother or a sister?"I have to think for a moment, but only a little, because a brother would be a pest and get into my best things, like Courtney Taylor’s brother Robby, who programmed her mobilephone to ring with a nasty farting sound. A sister is someone I can be the boss of."A sister, please," I say in my sweet voice. Nanny loves my sweet voice.Nanny touches a box on the wallscreen, and it glows bright pink."Birthday?" she asks, her finger not quite touching the screen, but ready.My birthday is in June. "October," I say after a minute, because I’ve had to count in my head, so her party won’t get in the way of Christmas, either."Excellent," says Nanny. "We can place our order today." She taps her finger on the screen. That box glows red."What else can we pick?" There are a lot of boxes. I finish my cocoa and stand right next to Nanny, who smells like Vermont.A nice cool green smell.She begins to read to me, scrolling slowly down. "Hair colour?" "Brown." Mine is honey blond."Eyes?" Mine are blue, so brown again. "Intelligence?" I have to think about that. I don’t want a sister who’s stupid, but if she’s smarter than me, she will be difficult to boss."Above average," Nanny decides. "Good at maths?" Hmm. I’m in second grade, and we’re doing the times tables. That could be useful. But it probably isn’t something she’ll be able to do right away. So I shrug, which is a mistake, because Nanny is very strict about manners and posture and I have to listen to a lecture before she will tap the bottom of the screen and scroll to the next page of baby parts.This page is less interesting because the words are very long and I don’t know what theymean. Bioimmunity. Cholesterol. Neuromuscular. I stare at the screen with my eyes very wide so that I don’t yawn out loud. On the side of the screen is a list, like the menu on the Emirate of Toys site, which I used by myself last year for my Christmas wants. The baby list is not very long. Babies only come in about six colours —we’re getting one that matches Mother and me. Humans are a lot less interesting than Legos or iBots. Nanny reads me all the diseases you can ask your baby not to have. Most of them are options, she says, which means we have to pay more. But I think we should pick them all, because a sick sister is not a good thing. Angela Xhobi’s sister has asthma,because she was made the old-fashioned way, without a menu, and she gets all the attention. I wouldn’t like that at all. Nanny takes a breath for another lecture, but I am saved when the iVid sings the Phone Call Song. Nanny sighs again and when she says, "Connect," I see that it’s her mother, who calls every afternoon. Mrs Nanny is quite deaf, even with her implants, so Nanny taps SAVE on the babyscreen and goes downstairs where she can shout without me hearing all the words."Little pitchers," she says to her mother as she greys the upstairs iVid. I don’t know what that means. I slump back into my chair, because Nanny isn’t here to tell me not to, and because she will be gone a long time. Her mother always has a lot to say. I stare at all the diseases, and then I see a betterword at the bottom of thescreen. PETS. We don’t harbour animals, because Nanny is allergic.(She was made the old-fashioned way, too.) But I’d like to see what we could have. I touch the screen to scrolldown for more pets, and a Bubble Man appears, to tell me about a special offer. His picture seems to come out of the wall and stand right in front of me. "Jellyfish DNA on sale," the Bubble Man says. He takes off his top hat, pulls a rabbit out of it, and holds it out towards me. The rabbit’s fur glows a soft, bright green."Wow," I say. "Bioluminescence, 50% off. Today only. Touch Box 306a to order!" He steps back into the screen and disappears with a little picture of smoke.It only takes me a minute to find Box306a and tap it to red. Then I SAVE and scroll back up to the disease boxes. It is good to leave things just the way you found them.I sit very straight in my chair, humming,because I know a secret. Once I have mybaby sister, I will never need my nightlight again. Nanny will be so proud.

Ellen Klages won a Nebula Award in 2005 for her story Basement Magic.

cry me a river...

Adieu gueule d'amour
Viens pas boire dans mon verre
Tu peux même pleurer des rivières
Pleurer des rivières
J'en ai pleuré pour toi naguère
Et salut gueule d'amour
Tu as joué, tu perds
Alors va pleurer des rivières
Pleurer des rivières
J'en ai pleuré pour toi naguère
Tu m'as cassé, presque cassé
Le coeur en deux
Il s'en est fallu de peu
Tu te rappelles ? Je me rappelles quand tu disais
L'amour, c'est imbécile
L'amour, c'était pas pour toi et
Adieu gueule d'amour
J'ai besoin d'changer d'air
Alors va pleurer des rivières
Pleurer des rivières
J'en ai pleuré, à quoi ça sert ?
[Instrumental]
Adieu gueule d'amour
J'ai besoin d'changer d'air
Alors va pleurer des rivières
Pleurer des rivières
J'en ai pleuré, à quoi ça sert ?
Pleurer des rivières, à quoi ça sert ?

Ce vor cu adevarat femeile?

Tanarul rege Arthur a fost invins si inchis de monarhul regatului vecin. Monarhul ar fi putut sa-l omoare, dar a fost miscat de tineretea si idealurile lui Arthur. Asa incat monarhul s-a oferit sa-i redea libertatea in schimbul raspunsului la o intrebare foarte dificila.Lui Arthur i s-a dat un an pentru a afla raspunsul la intrebare; daca dupa trecerea perioadei de un an el nu avea raspunsul va fi condamnat la moarte. Intrebarea cu pricina era: "Ce vor cu adevarat femeile?" O astfel de intrebare ar lasa perplex chiar si pe cel mai invatat dintre barbati, iar pentru tanarul rege Arthur era o chestiune imposibila. Dar cum tot era o optiune mai buna decit moartea, a acceptat propunerea monarhului de a avea raspunsul pina intr-un an. S-a intors in regatul lui si a inceput sa intrebe pe toata lumea: pe printesa, pe preoti, pe intelepti. A vorbit cu fiecare dar nimeni nu a putut sa-i dea un raspuns satisfacator. Multi oameni l-au sfatuit sa consulte pe batrina vrajitoare - ea era singura care i-ar fi putut da un raspuns. Dar pretul era mare - pentru ca vrajitoarea era faimoasa in regat pentru preturile exorbitante pe care le cerea. Dar ultima zi a anului sosi si Arthur nu avu incotro, decit sa mearga la vrajitoare. Ea accepta sa-i dea regelui raspunsul la intrebare, dar Arthur trebuia sa accepte pretul ei mai intai: vrajitoarea a cerut sa se casatoreasca cu Gawain, cel mai nobil dintre cavalerii Mesei Rotunde si cel mai bun prieten al lui Arthur. Tanarul Arthur a fost terifiat la auzirea cererii vrajitoarei. Ea era cocosata si hidoasa, avea doar un singur dinte, mirosea ingrozitor si scotea sunete dubioase. Nu intalnise niciodata o creatura mai respingatoare. In consecinta a refuzat sa-si forteze prietenul sa se casatoreasca cu ea si sa indure asa o povara.

Gawain auzind care era propunerea vrajitoarei, a vorbit cu Arthur si i-a spus ca nici un sacrificiu nu era mai mare decat viata regelui si ocrotirea Mesei Rotunde. Asa incat nunta lor a fost stabilita si vrajitoarea a dat raspunsul la intrebarea lui Arthur: "What a woman really wants is to be in charge of her own life. (Ce vrea cu adevarat o femeie este sa fie stapina pe propria-i viata)"

Toti au stiut ca vrajitoarea a grait adevarul si viata lui Arthur a fost crutata. Si ce nunta au avut Gawain si vrajitoarea! In timp ce Gawain era gentil si curtenitor ca intotdeauna, batrina vrajitoare nu a ezitat sa-si etaleze relele maniere, facindu-i pe toti sa se simta prost. Seara nuntii sosii. Gawain sfortindu-se, intra in dormitor. Insa ce priveliste il astepta! Cea mai frumoasa dintre femei era intinsa pe pat! Stupefiat Gawain intreba ce s-a intimplat.Mindretea de fata replica: de vreme ce el a fost atat de dragut si gentil cu ea pe cand aparea ca o vrajitoare, ea va arata jumatate de timp ca o vrajitoare si cealalta jumatate va fi o frumoasa femeie. Si-l intreba care din cele doua aratari vrea el sa fie ziua si care noaptea?Ce cruda intrebare! Gawain se gandi: in timpul zilei o frumoasa femeie sa se mandreasca cu ea prietenilor, dar in timpul noptii, in intimidate, o hidoasa vrajitoare? Sau sa prefere pe batrina vrajitoare in timpul zilei, iar noptea pe cea mai frumoasa dintre femei cu care sa imparta multe momente intime?

Nobilul Gawain a replicat ca o lasa pe ea sa aleaga.Auzind asta ea a anuntat ca va fi frumoasa tot timpul pentru ca el a respectat-o indeajuns incat s-o lase sa fie stapina pe propria-i viata, sa ia propria-i decizie.

Morala: "Daca nu-i lasi femeii tale sansa la propria alegere (in fiece lucru), lucrurile vor lua o intorsatura urita!"

Black Anggie

by S. E. Schlosser

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren't careful.
It didn't take long for rumors to sweep through the town and surrounding countryside. They said that the statue - nicknamed Black Aggie - was haunted by the spirit of a mistreated wife who lay beneath her feet. The statue's eyes would glow red at the stroke of midnight, and any living person who returned the statues gaze would instantly be struck blind. Any pregnant woman who passed through her shadow would miscarry. If you sat on her lap at night, the statue would come to life and crush you to death in her dark embrace. If you spoke Black Aggie's name three times at midnight in front of a dark mirror, the evil angel would appear and pull you down to hell. They also said that spirits of the dead would rise from their graves on dark nights to gather around the statue at night.
People began visiting the cemetery just to see the statue, and it was then that the local fraternity decided to make the statue of Grief part of their initiation rites. "Black Aggie" sitting, where candidates for membership had to spend the night crouched beneath the statue with their backs to the grave of General Agnus, became popular.
One dark night, two fraternity members accompanied new hopeful to the cemetery and watched while he took his place underneath the creepy statue. The clouds had obscured the moon that night, and the whole area surrounding the dark statue was filled with a sense of anger and malice. It felt as if a storm were brewing in that part of the cemetery, and to their chagrin, the two fraternity members noticed that gray shadows seemed to be clustering around the body of the frightened fraternity candidate crouching in front of the statue.
What had been a funny initiation rite suddenly took on an air of danger. One of the fraternity brothers stepped forward in alarm to call out to the initiate. As he did, the statue above the boy stirred ominously. The two fraternity brothers froze in shock as the shrouded head turned toward the new candidate. They saw the gleam of glowing red eyes beneath the concealing hood as the statue's arms reached out toward the cowering boy.
With shouts of alarm, the fraternity brothers leapt forward to rescue the new initiate. But it was too late. The initiate gave one horrified yell, and then his body disappeared into the embrace of the dark angel. The fraternity brothers skidded to a halt as the statue thoughtfully rested its glowing eyes upon them. With gasps of terror, the boys fled from the cemetery before the statue could grab them too.
Hearing the screams, a night watchman hurried to the Agnus plot. To his chagrin, he discovered the body of a young man lying at the foot of the statue. The young man had apparently died of fright.
The disruption caused by the statue grew so acute that the Agnus family finally donated it to the Smithsonian museum in Washington D.C.. The grieving angel sat for many years in storage there, never again to plague the citizens visiting the Druid Hill Park Cemetery.

The Invisible Hand

Allan M. Lees

It’s funny how frequently the public’s idea of something is far from its reality. Hollywood thrives on this misperception, of course, but so does science. Canvas one hundred people at random about their notions of science and you’ll get a litany of descriptions involving white coats, rationality and the pursuit of knowledge. In theory science is about exploring the
unknown and pressing back the boundaries of knowledge, whereas in practice it’s all about writing up ever more grant applications and pressing back the boundaries of plagiarism.
The dirty little secret of science is that most of it is mediocre at best. Science is, by and large, something done by those of us who don’t want to expose ourselves to the hustle and bustle of commerce. Of course, saying this out loud is heresy, and if I were still a working scientist I’d be expelled from the lab or institute in which I’d managed to create some kind of refuge from the cold hard world. But I am no longer a working scientist; at least, not directly. Now I am
more of a … well, one might say, prime mover.
Seven years ago my life was that of a typical young male scientist: most of my spare time was spent trying to impress the latest female intern with dates in cheap restaurants and much specious waffle about how one day I’d have a place for her in my own lab. But mostly it was all about writing grant applications; rewriting grant applications; waiting to hear back from the study groups that score grant applications; and then inevitably writing yet more grant applications after the first lot was rejected. I quickly learned that study groups were comprised of older scientists whose best work had been done years ago. They would reliably approve grants for barely incremental mini-steps that were essentially near-copies of what had already been done before. No really new or radical grant proposal was ever funded.
Everyone knows the story of Craig Venter, the man who first sequenced the human genome: he wrote a grant application for funds to sequence part of his own genome and had his grant rejected by the highest and most eminent scientific authorities on the grounds that such a thing was totally impossible … and he then carried out the first sequencing just three weeks later. The
big innovations such as the silicon chip, the telecommunications revolution, software,
jet transport … every thing important came out of industry, not academia, because commerce must respond to basic human needs. Research science was stagnant, conservative and dead-ended. Until me. One evening I was sitting in my dirty bedroom, perched on a pile of old men’s
magazines, typing up yet another grant application when I decided to do some basic research of my own: find out the composition of the study group that would review my latest grant proposal, discover their biases, and skew my proposal to pander to their prejudices. It’s something the more senior lab members had been doing for years, of course, but no one talked about it openly.
As I was reading an online article by one study-group member, I came across the phrase that changed my life, and by extension the entire future of science. The eminent professor in question was bemoaning the sheer volume of grant submissions that had to be reviewed. She said: “We
have to read hundreds of grant proposals each year in order to approve a mere handful. It absorbs far too much of our time.” That banal utterance changed everything. That night I abandoned my semifinished proposal to study the effects of α-lipoic acid on a cloned passive-aggressive subspecies of Caenorhabditis elegans and began to write a software program to
automate the evaluation of grant proposals. It took me three months of hard work, but the result was worth it. I sent it out into the world anonymously via e-mail lists and free download sites. Naturally no one would consider using it, no one would admit to using it … but within a few months it was evident that grant proposals were being processed far more speedily than before.
It would have been criminal negligence if I hadn’t taken advantage of the opportunity. I made my first fortune with my revolutionary grant-proposal-generation service, the yin to my first program’s yang. I accepted online bids and the winners received system-generated proposals that would get a 100% score when evaluated by (my) grant-evaluation software. As word spread, bids grew in number and size and within six months I was seriously wealthy. And I could have stopped there. Bill Gates would have stopped there. I think even Sergey Brin and Larry Page would have stopped there. But I didn’t. If years of reading lads’ mags had taught me anything, it was that more is better. From time to time I had updated the algorithms in my anonymous grant-evaluation program to stop other people from writing grant-proposal-generation software that would score as highly as my own and thus undermine my highly profitable monopoly. Now I set out to modify my program with a higher purpose in mind: by altering the scoring algorithms I could essentially determine what types of research would get funded. I, alone, could steer the direction of fundamental science across the entire scientific world. For the first time, research science could be focused on mankind’s most fundamental desire. And thus I focused it. And that is how the entire scientific establishment, some two million researchers around the world, physicists, biologists, chemists, astronomers, botanists and even neo-classical anthropologists, have come to unite as one around the study of life’s single most important problem: how to achieve reliable male organ enhancement. ■

Allan M. Lees has been creating stories for his children since they were very little and he will continue to do so until they are old enough to steal a car and escape. Allan’s very modest literary success to date includes several published stories, a now-deservedly out-of-print novel, a radio
play, and many megabytes of wasted hard-drive space. The invisible hand A granted wish.

Dancing with the devil

byS. E. Schlosser

The girl hurried through her schoolwork as fast as she could. It was the night of the high school dance, along about 70 years ago in the town of Kingsville, Texas. The girl was so excited about the dance. She had bought a brand new, sparkly red dress for the dance. She knew she looked smashing in it. It was going to be the best evening of her life.
Then her mother came in the house, looking pale and determined.
"You are not going to that dance," her mother said.
"But why?" the girl asked her mother.
"I've just been talking to the preacher. He says the dance is going to be for the devil. You are absolutely forbidden to go," her mother said.
The girl nodded as if she accepted her mother's words. But she was determined to go to the dance. As soon as her mother was busy, she put on her brand new red dress and ran down to the K.C. Hall where the dance was being held.
As soon as she walked into the room, all the guys turned to look at her. She was startled by all the attention. Normally, no one noticed her. Her mother sometimes accused her of being too awkward to get a boyfriend. But she was not awkward that night. The boys in her class were fighting with each other to dance with her.
Later, she broke away from the crowd and went to the table to get some punch to drink. She heard a sudden hush. The music stopped. When she turned, she saw a handsome man with jet black hair and clothes standing next to her.
"Dance with me," he said.
She managed to stammer a "yes", completely stunned by this gorgeous man. He led her out on the dance floor. The music sprang up at once. She found herself dancing better than she had ever danced before. They were the center of attention.
Then the man spun her around and around. She gasped for breath, trying to step out of the spin. But he spun her faster and faster. Her feet felt hot. The floor seemed to melt under her. He spun her even faster. She was spinning so fast that a cloud of dust flew up around them both so that they were hidden from the crowd.
When the dust settled, the girl was gone. The man in black bowed once to the crowd and disappeared. The devil had come to his party and he had spun the girl all the way to hell.

Un tanar novice si un calugar se plimbau prin gradina manastirii, citind si comentand impreuna diferite pasaje din Biblie.La un moment dat au simtit nevoia unei tigari, dar, nestiind daca incalca vreo regula fumand in timpul studiului, s-au hotarit sa ceara, dupa masa, permisiunea parintelui staret.Cand s-au intilnit a doua zi, calugarul fuma linistit, spre nedumerirea novicelui:“Frate, mie staretul mi-a interzis sa fumez, tie cum de ti-a permis?”“Nu stiu… Tu ce i-ai spus?”“I-am cerut sa-mi dea voie sa fumez in timp ce citesc Biblia.”“Vezi, aici ai gresit. Eu i-am cerut sa-mi dea voie sa citesc Biblia in timp ce fumez.”

Rapunzel

Rapunzel, Campanula rapunculus (rampion), a congener of the -common harebell. It has a long white spindle-shaped root which is eaten raw like a radish, and has a pleasant sweet flavour. Its leaves and young shootsare also used in salads - and so are the roots, sliced.

There was once a man and a woman who had long in vain wished for a child.At length the woman hoped that God was about to grant her desire. These people had a little window at the back of their house from which a splendid garden could be seen, which was full of the most beautiful flowers and herbs. It was,however, surrounded by a high wall, and no one dared to go into it because it belonged to an enchantress, who had great power and was dreaded by all the world. One day the woman was standing by this window and looking down into the garden, when she saw a bed which was planted with the most beautiful rampion(rapunzel), and it looked so fresh and green that she longed for it, and had the greatest desire to eat some. This desire increased every day, and as she knew that she could not get any of it, she quite pined away, and looked paleand miserable. Then her husband was alarmed, and asked, "What aileth thee,dear wife?" "Ah," she replied, "if I can't get some of the rampion, which is in the garden behind our house, to eat, I shall die." The man, who loved her,thought, "Sooner than let thy wife die, bring her some of the rampion thyself,let it cost thee what it will." In the twilight of evening, he clambered down over the wall into the garden of the enchantress, hastily clutched a hand ful of rampion, and took it to his wife. She at once made herself a salad of it,and ate it with much relish. She, however, liked it so much - so very much -that the next day she longed for it three times as much as before. If he was to have any rest, her husband must once more descend into the garden. In the gloom of evening, therefore, he let himself down again; but when he had clambered down the wall he was terribly afraid, for he saw the enchantress standing before him. "How canst thou dare," said she with angry look, "to descend into my garden and steal my rampion like a thief? Thou shalt sufferf or it!" "Ah," answered he, "let mercy take the place of justice, I only made up my mind to do it out of necessity. My wife saw your rampion from the window, and felt such a longing for it that she would have died if she had not got some to eat." Then the enchantress allowed her anger to be softened, and said to him, "If the case be as thou sayest, I will allow thee to take away with thee as much rampion as thou wilt, only I make one condition, thou must give me the child which thy wife will bring into the world; it shall be well treated, and I will care for it like a mother." The man in his terror consented to everything, and when the woman was brought to bed, the enchantress appeared at once, gave the child the name of Rapunzel, and took it away with her. Rapunzel grew into the most beautiful child beneath the sun. When she wastwelve years old, the enchantress shut her into a tower, which lay in a forest, and had neither stairs nor door, but quite at the top was a little window. When the enchantress wanted to go in, she placed herself beneath this and cried, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel,Let down thy hair to me." Rapunzel had magnificent long hair, fine as spun gold, and when she heard the voice of the enchantress she unfastened her braided tresses, wound them round one of the hooks of the window above, and then the hair fell twenty ells down,and the enchantress climbed up by it. After a year or two, it came to pass that the King's son rode through theforest and went by the tower. Then he heard a song, which was so charming that he stood still and listened. This was Rapunzel, who in her solitude passed her time in letting her sweet voice resound. The King's son wanted to climb up to her, and looked for the door of the tower, but none was to be found. He rode home, but the singing had so deeply touched his heart, that every day he went out into the forest and listened to it. Once when he was thus standing behind a tree, he saw that an enchantress came there, and he heard how she cried, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel,Let down thy hair." Then Rapunzel let down the braids of her hair, and the enchantress climbed upto her. "If that is the ladder by which one mounts, I will for once try my fortune," said he, and the next day when it began to grow dark, he went to the tower and cried, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel,Let down thy hair." Immediately the hair fell down and the King's son climbed up. At first Rapunzel was terribly frightened when a man such as her eyes had never yet beheld, came to her; but the King's son began to talk to her quite like a friend, and told her that his heart had been so stirred that it had let him have no rest, and he had been forced to see her. Then Rapunzel lost her fear, and when he asked her if she would take him for her husband, and she saw that he was young and handsome, she thought, "He will love me more than old Dame Gothel does;" and she said yes, and laid her hand in his. She said, "I will willingly go away with thee, but I do not know how to get down. Bring with thee a skein of silk every time that thou comest, and I will weave a ladder with it, and when that is ready I will descend, and thou wilt take meon thy horse." They agreed that until that time he should come to her every evening, for the old woman came by day. The enchantress remarked nothing of this, until once Rapunzel said to her, "Tell me, Dame Gothel, how it happens that you are so much heavier for me to draw up than the young King's son - heis with me in a moment." "Ah! thou wicked child," cried the enchantress, "What do I hear thee say! I thought I had separated thee from all the world, and yet thou hast deceived me!" In her anger she clutched Rapunzel's beautifultresses, wrapped them twice round her left hand, seized a pair of scissors with the right, and snip, snap, they were cut off, and the lovely braids lay on the ground. And she was so pitiless that she took poor Rapunzel into a desert where she had to live in great grief and misery. On the same day, however, that she cast out Rapunzel, the enchantress in the evening fastened the braids of hair which she had cut off to the hook of the window, and when the King's son came and cried, "Rapunzel, Rapunzel,Let down thy hair," she let the hair down. The King's son ascended, but he did not find his dearest Rapunzel above, but the enchantress, who gazed at him with wicked and venomous looks. "Aha!" she cried mockingly, "Thou wouldst fetch thy dearest,but the beautiful bird sits no longer singing in the nest; the cat has got it,and will scratch out thy eyes as well. Rapunzel is lost to thee; thou wilt never see her more." The King's son was beside himself with pain, and in his despair he leapt down from the tower. He escaped with his life, but the thorns into which he fell pierced his eyes. Then he wandered quite blind about the forest, ate nothing but roots and berries, and did nothing but lament and weepover the loss of his dearest wife. Thus he roamed about in misery for someyears, and at length came to the desert where Rapunzel, with the twins to which she had given birth, a boy and a girl, live in wretchedness. He heard a voice, and it seemed so familiar to him that he went towards it, and when he approached, Rapunzel knew him and fell on his neck and wept. Two of her tears wetted his eyes and they grew clear again, and he could see with them as before. He led her to his kingdom where he was joyfully received, and they lived for a long time afterwards, happy and contended.

the wolf and the seven little kids

There was once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she wanted to go into the forest and fetch some food. So she called all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the forest, be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will devour you all - skin, hair and all. The wretch often disguises himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one bleated,and went on her way with an easy mind.
It was not long before someone knocked at the house-door and cried,"Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the little kids knew that it was the wolf, by the rough voice; "We will not open the door," cried they, "thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf went away to a shop keeper and brought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this and made his voice soft with it. Then he came back,knocked at the door of the house, and cried, "Open the door, dear children,your mother is here and has brought something back with her for each of you."But the wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw them and cried, "We will not open the door, our mother has not black feet like thee: thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf ran to a baker and said, "I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, "Strew some white meal over my feet for me." The miller thought to himself, "The wolf wants to deceive some one,"and refused; but the wolf said, "If thou wilt not do it, I will devour thee."Then the miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like that.
So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at it and said, "Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back from the forest with her." The little kids cried, "First show us thy paws that we may know if thou art our dear little mother." Then he put his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen,the fifth into the cup board, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The youngest in the clock-case was the only one he did not find. When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and began to sleep. Soon afterwards the old goat came home again from the forest! Ah! what a sight she saw there! The house -door stood wide open. The table, chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when shecame to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the clock -case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept over her poor children.
At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with her.When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and snored soloud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged body. "Ah, heavens," said she, "is it possible that my poor children whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then the kid had to run home and fetch scissors,and a needle and thread, and the goat cut open the monster's stomach, and hardly had she made one cut, than one little kid thrust its head out, and when she had cut farther, all six sprang out one after another, and were all still alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the monsterhad swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! Then they embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a tailor at his wedding. The mother,however, said, "Now go and look for some big stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he is still asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones with all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he was not aware of anything and never once stirred.
When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, and as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a well todrink. But when he began to walk and to move about, the stones in his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Then cried he, "What rumbles and tumbles Against my poor bones?I thought 'twas six kids,But it's naught but big stones."
And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in and there was no help, but he had to drown miserably. When the seven kids saw that, they came running to the spot and cried aloud, "The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round about the well with their mother.

Covenant

Crystal Arbogast


The mass of helmets lurched backward as the landing craft plunged into the dark water. Sea spray glistened on the surface of everything it touched, catching the light of the artillery fire. Private Eddie Hagen glanced at the faces of the men around him. Some were praying, while others held pictures or mementos of sweethearts and family before carefully tucking them away inside of their jackets. The rest stared into the unknown, their faces expressionless, betraying no inner feelings.
'This is it, Buddy!'
Eddie managed a smile in return for the hearty slap on his shoulder and twisted around to acknowledge a friend.
'We're finally gonna kick some Nazi ass!'
Vince DeLanzio grinned down at Eddie. ''Remember, kid, the rules are the same just like it was in the old neighborhood. Stick with me. We'll both do just fine. Besides, your sister will never marry me if I let any thing happen to you.
''You know something, Vinnie, that's really funny. She told me to watch out for you.'' Suddenly, both men were distracted by an explosion which sent more spray into the craft. The roar of airplanes filled the sky. As they passed overhead, the black and white 'invasion' stripes painted on their lower bodies could be seen. The markings let the Allies know that these were their own, for protection against their anti-aircraft guns. The soldiers watched them as they made their way through the flack and over the cliffs.
'Son-of-a-bitch! Do you see that shoreline, Vince? How the hell are we gonna make it up those cliffs? We'll be sitting ducks, just waiting for Fritz to blow us all to hell!'
'They're blowing us all to hell now, Bud! Personally, I'll take my chances on that beach than in this deathtrap. Look over there! At least two of these babies less than a mile off have sunk!' Eddie attempted to adjust his gear and renewed his grip on his rifle. Amid the chaos and ever increasing artillery fire, he thought of his last visit to another beach, Coney Island. During his high school years, as the weather grew warm, he would cut classes with Vince and hitchhike to the beach. Vince had always been the bolder one. Orphaned at an early age, he had been raised by an aunt. Without a father's guidance, he had grown up streetwise and cocky.
On the other hand, Eddie had the advantage of a loving, structured family life. His dad was a kind and forgiving man. It was his mother's Irish temperament which had kept him on his toes. His sister, Tess, had the same fire and beauty as their mother. Vince had been smitten with Tess for years. In fact, Eddie was sure that his friend was in love. Vince and Eddie had signed up for the Marines at the same time. After basic training, the two had strutted like peacocks before family and friends. As full-fledged fighting men, they would now join in the fight against the Hun. When the time came to say good-bye, Eddie avoided the look in his parents' eyes. He could not avoid Tess, though. With tear-filled eyes, she made him promise to look out for himself, as well as Vince. She then turned to his friend, placed her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him for the first time. Vince watched her run upstairs to her room, leaving him weak in the knees. Regaining his composure, he said his farewell and walked out of the door. Suddenly, the barking of orders from the platoon leader interrupted Eddie's thoughts. The back wall of the craft crashed into the water and the throng of men moved forward. Plunging into the icy surf, the Marines gasped as the cold wetness penetrated their clothing. The dark, green depths caused many to flounder, already weighted down with excess gear. This, combined with the mortar fire aimed at them from the top of the cliffs, caused many to believe they had seen their last day.
As Eddie struggled toward the shore, a bullet pierced through the man in front of him, causing him to fall backward. He looked into the lifeless eyes before the sea covered the soldier's face and claimed his spirit. A second later, Eddie felt a sharp pain in his side. Before losing his balance, he felt a strong arm lifting him up. 'Are you okay, buddy?' Eddie shook his head in reply as Vince struggled to maintain his own bearing. The water became shallower, but rolls of barbed wire presented another problem. Others cried out in pain as they fell or tripped onto the biting barricade. Finally, the two spied an opening and scrambled to the shore, quickly followed by others.
'Where are you hit, Ed?'
Concern shown in Vince's face as his eyes searched for the source of the red stain, which slowly traveled downward. 'Just beneath the shoulder. Man, it stung like hell, at first. Now it's kinda numb.' Eddie gasped and dropped his head onto the wet sand. 'Give me your gear.' Eddie raised his head as he felt his friend unbuckle the pack, and ease the straps from his shoulders. 'What are you doing, Vince?' 'I want you to start crawling toward the cliff. See that niche over there? Head for it. You can't make it in your shape with all this gear. I'll be right behind you. Now, go!' The firing intensified, but Eddie said a silent prayer and clawed his way to the wall of rock. Bodies of dead and dying were all around. Ironically, they served as a protective shield. As he approached his destination, a hand reached out and grabbed at the collar of his jacket, pulling him to safety. Within the shelter of the rock, Eddie could see others inside the crevice.
'Can you see my buddy?'
'Don't see much of anything moving right now, mate.'
Eddie peered into the dark corners and recognized the British uniforms. A clicking sound engulfed his ears, and he realized that it was his teeth. Knowing he could not restrain his fear, he wanted at least to control his trembling. Glancing at the man next to him, he noticed that he, too, was shaking. The mist from the sea began to rise, only to mingle with the smoke from the mortar fire. Eddie lay against the cliff, feeling weak and helpless. More men were coming ashore, and staying alive. They were making progress. He wondered how much longer the battle would last, and where Vince was. Looking out at the edge of the beach, he saw the back of a familiar figure. With soldiers scrambling back and forth, Eddie found that he could not take his eyes from the lone form. Slowly, the man turned, and faced Eddie's questioning stare. The left side of his face had been blown away with shrapnel. His arm hung limply at his side. Even with half of his body badly torn, Eddie knew that it was Vince. Both men looked at each other. Eddie could not speak or move. He could only gaze at the face of his friend. Finally, Vince turned, and disappeared into the smoke and chaos of battle.
'Sorry about your mate, Yank. He'll probably turn up down the shoreline somewhere, where we're supposed to be.'
The voice broke into Eddie's trance, and pulled him back. Still he could not speak. The look in Vince's eyes before he vanished played over and over again in Eddie's mind. It had been a look of satisfaction at knowing that his friend was safe, and that he had kept his promise to the one he loved. It had also been a final farewell. Later on, as the medic finished dressing his wound, Eddie found himself lying in one of a hundred rows of injured and dead soldiers. The glory of war was all around. Blood stained the sand, and the ongoing explosions of battle sounded in the distance. For now, though, the moans and crying of men filled the air. 'Here, pal, have a cigarette.' Eddie looked at the medic's face and murmured a 'thanks' as he accepted the offer. Still trembling, he brought the cigarette to his lips and inhaled slowly. Lying back, he could only think of the fact that he was on a beach. It was chilly, just like Coney Island in the Spring. Coney Island. He peered over just as a handful of more British soldiers made their way between the rows of bodies. One stopped to shift the weight of a load that he carried over his shoulder, before resuming his journey. Eddie could see that it was the body of a young Private, arms hanging limp and lifeless. The medic stopped the man, and lifted the head of the boy.
'You're wasting your time, Mac. This one's dead.'
Continuing his trek, the soldier replied over his shoulder.
'I promised his Mum that I would look out for him.'
Shaking his head, the medic turned his attention to the next link in an endless chain. 'Promised his Mum.' The words rolled over in Eddie's head. Promises. The entire beach was filled with broken promises, yet Vince had managed to keep his. The cigarette slipped through his fingers into the sand. The sun now shone through the haze, resembling a Ferris Wheel in the distance. Water lapped back and forth on the shore, and the cry of gulls, somewhere, phased into the laughter of children. Eddie closed his eyes, and wept.

Alchimistul

PROLOG

Alchimistul luă o carte pe care o adusese cineva din caravană. Tomul era fără copertă, dar reuşi să-i identifice autorul: Oscar Wilde. În timp ce-i răsfoia paginile, găsi o povestire despre Narcis.
Alchimistul cunoştea legenda lui Narcis, frumosul băiat care-şi contempla zilnic propria frumuseţe într-un lac. Era atît de fascinat de el însuşi că într-o bună zi a căzut în lac şi a murit înecat. În locul acela, a apărut o floare care s-a numit narcisă.
Dar nu aşa îşi încheia Oscar Wilde povestirea. El spunea că atunci cînd a murit Narcis, au venit
naiadele ― zeiţele izvoarelor şi ale pădurii ― şi au văzut lacul transformat dintr-unul cu apă dulce, într-un ulcior cu lacrimi sărate.
― De ce plîngi? au întrebat naiadele.
― Plîng pentru Narcis, răspunse lacul.
― Ah, nu-i de mirare că plîngi pentru Narcis, continuară ele. La urma urmelor, deşi noi am alergat mereu după el prin pădure, tu erai singurul care puteai să-i contempli de aproape frumuseţea.
― Dar Narcis era frumos? întrebă lacul.
― Cine altul poate şti mai bine decît tine? răspunseră, surprinse, naiadele. La urma urmelor, doar pe marginile tale se apleca el în fiecare zi.
Lacul rămase tăcut o vreme. Într-un tîrziu, zise:
― Îl plîng pe Narcis, dar niciodată n-am ştiut că el era frumos. Îl plîng pe Narcis pentru că de fiecare dată cînd se apleca deasupra apelor mele, eu puteam să văd reflectată, în fundul ochilor lui, propria-mi frumuseţe.
"Ce povestire frumoasă", spuse Alchimistul.

Zdrentulita

basm englez


Intr-un maret palat, la malul marii, traia odata un lord batran si foarte bogat, care nu avea nici sotie nici copii in viata, avea doar o nepotica al carei chip nu-l vazuse niciodata. Batranul isi ura nepotica caci la nasterea ei, ii murise cea mai draga dintre fiice. Cand batrana doica ii adusese copila, el se jura ca, atat cat va trai, nu se va uita la ea, nu avea decat sa traiasca sau sa moara, lui nu-i pasa.Asa ca-i intoarse spatele, se aseza la fereastra si privi peste intinderea nesfarsita a marii, varsand lacrimi amare dupa fiica lui care se prapadise, pana cand parul sau coliliu si barba carunta ii crescura mult peste umeri, se incolacira peste speteaza scaunului sau si patrunsera prin crapaturile din dusumea. Lacrimile sale, care picurau pe pervazul geamului, sapasera un sant in piatra si curgeau ca un raulet in mare.In tot acest timp, nepoata lui crescu fara ca cineva sa-i poarte de grija. Doar doica cea batrana se mai indura de ea si, cand nu era nimeni prin preajma, ii dadea ceva resturi de la bucatarie sau cate o rochita rupta luata din sacul cu zdrente.Ceilalti servitori de la palat o alungau cu lovituri si cuvinte de ocara poreclind-o Zdrentuita si aratau cu degetul spre picioarele ei desculte si umerii golasi. Si asa crescu ea, mai mult nemancand si imbracandu-se cu te miri ce, petrecandu-si zilele prin campuri si pe carari. Singurul ei tovaras era gascarul care, atunci cand ei ii era foame sau frig sau era obosita, ii canta atat de vesel din fluier, incat ea-si uita de necazuri si se pornea sa danseze cu galagioasele gaste.Asta pana intr-o zi cand oamenii prinsera a susoti cum ca regele facea o calatorie in tinutul lor si ca intentiona sa dea un mare bal in orasul invecinat pentru toti domnii si domnitele din tinut la care printul, unicul sau fiu, urma sa-si aleaga nevasta.O astfel de invitatie sosi si la palatul de pe malul marii si servitorii o dusera batranului lord, care inca mai sedea la fereastra, varsand lacrimi amare. Dar, cand auzi despre ce era vorba, isi zvanta lacrimile si ordona sa i se aduca foarfeci cu care-si taie pletele lungi si barba, apoi trimise sa-i aduca haine scumpe si bijuterii si se imbraca. Ordona sa se puna seaua de aur pe calul cel alb, ca sa poata iesi in intampinarea regelui.Zdrentuita auzise si ea vestea si se aseza in usa bucatariei plangand ca nu poate sa-l vada si ea pe rege. Cand batrana doica o vazu asa, se duse la stapan si-l ruga s-o ia si pe nepoata lui cu el la balul regelui. Dar acesta s-a incruntat si i-a zis ca nu vrea sa auda de fata. Auzind asta, Zdrentuita fugi sa-i povesteasca prietenului ei gascarul cat e de nefericita ca nu poate merge la bal. Gascarul o asculta apoi ii propuse sa mearga impreuna in oras sa-l vada pe rege. Ea a privit insa cu tristete la picioarele-i desculte si hainele zdrentuite. Vazand-o gascarul a scos fluierasul si a inceput sa cante, iar fata imediat s-a veselit. Baiatul a luat-o de mana si, cu gastele deschizandu-le drumul, au pornit spre oras.N-au mers prea mult, cand un tanar chipes, imbracat frumos, veni calare spre ei ca sa-i intrebe incotro s-o ia ca sa ajunga la castelul unde se oprise regele. Cand afla ca si cei doi merg tot acolo, descaleca si merse alaturi de ei tot drumul. Gascarul isi scoase fluierul si canta o melodie duioasa. In acest timp, tanarul tragea cu coada ochiului la fata pana ce se indragosti de ea. Isi lua inima in dinti si o ceru de nevasta.Dar Zdrentuita rase, zicandu-i ca i-ar sta tare bine cu o nevasta gascarita, apoi adauga ca el ar trebui sa-si ia nevasta una dintre domnitele pe care le va intalni la bal.Cu cat ea il refuza, cu atat tanarul o ruga mai aprins. In cele din urma, ca s-o convinga de sinceritatea sa, o implora sa vina la bal la ora douasprezece noaptea, asa cum era imbracata, desculta si impreuna cu prietenul ei gascarul si cu gastele acestuia.Cand se lasa noaptea si sala de bal era inundata de lumina si muzica, iar domnii si doamnele dansau in fata regelui, tocmai cand orologiul batea ora douasprezece, pe usile enorme intrara Zdrentuita si gascarul, urmati de cardul de gaste. Strabatura sala, in timp ce doamnele susoteau. domnii radeau, iar regele privea nedumerit.Dar cand ajunsera in fata tronului, tanarul se ridica de langa tronul regelui si veni in intampinarea lor. Luand-o de mana pe Zdrentuita se intoarse spre rege si-i spuse ca ea era mireasa aleasa de el, caci tanarul era chiar printul in cinstea caruia se dadea balul.Inainte sa termine ce avea de spus, gascarul duse fluierul la gura si incepu sa cante, iar in timp ce canta, hainele Zdrentuitei se transformau in vesminte stralucitoare, o coronita de aur era in parul ei, iar cardul de gaste se prefacuse intr-un alai de paji care-i duceau trena lunga.Toti cei din sala au remarcat ca printul isi alesese de nevasta pe cea mai frumoasa fata din tinut.Gascarul s-a facut nevazut si nimeni nu a mai auzit de el de atunci. Batranul lord s-a intors la palatul sau de pe malul marii, la curte nu putea ramane caci jurase ca nu-si va privi niciodata nepoata. Cred ca l-ati putea vedea, caci el tot mai sta langa fereastra, plangand amarnic si privind departe spre intinderea nesfarsita a marii.