Turkish | English
Gelecek Bir Seçimdir
Bir dörtyol ağzındasın. Dört seçenek var önünde.
İlki seni buraya getiren yol.
O yolu seçip geldiğin yere dönmeye çalışabilirsin.
Bu kavşakta kural yok. Ne işaret ne de kılavuz bulabilirsin bu kavşakta.
Sana ne yapmanı, hangi yolu seçmeni söyleyecek kimse yok burada…
Seni buraya getiren yolu düşün. Sola döndüğün zaman o yolu hatırla.
Burada her şey farklıdır. Belki yolun kıyısı ağaçlarla süslüdür, geldiğin yolun çıplaklığına kıyasla…
Belki sadece sen biliyorsun bu yolun neye benzediğini.
Belki biri – arkadaşın, sevgilin olabilir – bu yolda senden önce yürüdü.
Belki şimdi orada. Bu yolu onun yolu olarak tanıyorsun.
Senin de yolun olacak mı? Belki. Sade sen biliyorsun.
Arkandaki ve solundaki yolları hatırla önündeki yeni yola bakarken.
İleriye bakarken hatırla. Şeffaf bir pencere camından bakar gibi.
Arkanda ne varsa, önündeki yolda da hemen hemen aynılarını görebiliyorsun.
Ama sen bu yoldaki çukurları ve tümsekleri biliyorsun. Değil mi?
Yolun sonunu görüyor musun? Ne kadar uzağı görebildiğini sade sen biliyorsun…
Şimdi dön ve sağına bak…
Göremiyor musun? Doğru, çünkü bu yol ilerideki yol gibi şeffaf değil.
Donuk bir pencere camından bakar gibi… Gözlerini kapat.
Yolunu bulmakta yardımcı olamaz zaten gözlerin.
Ama bu yolun haritası var sende. Hayır, cebinde değil. Oraya bakma. Hiç bakma.
Şimdi görebiliyor musun? Düşündüğünden daha parlak, değil mi?
Bir taslak gibi, ama buna rağmen sağlam ve dayanıklıdır.
Evet, öbür yolların hatıralarını bulabilirsin bu haritada.
Arkandaki, önündeki ve solundaki yolların hepsinin anıları burada.
Ama ne arkan ne önün ne de solundur bu güzergâh.
Eğer yardımcı olacaksa, şunu bil ki başkaları da bu yolda yürüdü. Şimdi oradalar.
İnanır mısın, onların haritaları seninkine çok benziyor…
Güneşin, gözle görünmeyen bir yere dövmelenmiş gölgesi gibi.
Onlar da senin gibi gözleri kapalı yürüyorlar bu yolda ara sıra sendeleyerek…
Sana bağlı. Bu kavşakta kural yok. Kılavuz da yok.
Gitmen gereken yolu gösterecek kimse yok…
Turkish | English
The Future is Choice
You are at a crossroads. There are four paths before you.
The first is the one that brought you here.
You may try to go back if you wish.
There are no rules at this crossroads. There are no signs, no guideposts.
There is no one here to tell you where you should go, what you should do…
Think about the road behind you. Remember it as you turn to your left.
Whatever the road behind you is like, this one is different.
Perhaps it is lined with trees, while the other lay bare upon a flat landscape.
Perhaps. Only you know.
Someone – perhaps a friend, a lover – has already taken the road to the left.
Perhaps he or she is there now.
You think of the road to your left as their road. Will it be your road?
Perhaps. Only you know.
Remember the road behind you and the road to your left as you look ahead.
It is like looking through a pane of clear glass.
Whatever lay behind you, you can see that it lies ahead, too.
But you know the potholes and the crags in the road that lies before you. Don’t you?
Can you see the end of the road?
Only you know how far you can see…
Now, turn to your right.
You cannot see? No, that is true, for this road is not clear like the road ahead.
Close your eyes.
Your eyes cannot help you find your way on this road.
But you have a map of this road. No, it is not in your pocket. Do not look there.
Do not look.
Can you see it now?
It is brighter than you thought, isn’t it? It is an outline, but solid for all that.
Yes, you can find reminders of all the other roads on this map.
But this road is not the road behind you, the one to your left, or the one dead ahead.
Are you afraid?
If it’s any help, I can tell you that others have taken this road. They are there now.
Would you believe it, their maps look a lot like yours… tattooed somewhere the eye cannot see,
like the burning shadow of the Sun.
They, too, travel with their eyes closed – at times stumbling…
It is up to you.
There are no rules at this crossroads. There are no signs, no guideposts.
There is no one here to tell you where you should go…
I got the letter this morning from one of the big five. This is the ms they accepted.
To Kill a Mockingbird
Machine wash at 40 degrees on a fast spin. Wash separately. Iron.
It’s going to be published as a children’s book next year. They want me to pad it out a bit but essentially they are raving about the idea. This they love – my two fingered salute to them I sent out believing I was about to be turned off for being a crashing failure. My stories of The Amazing Arctic Sinking Man, OAP Extraction, Finn with a fish swimming in his eye, locusts and rusting submarines, paper bullion – all rejected for this. Continue reading “An Android Wakes Part 8 : To Kill a Mockingbird”
Our final postcard from the future comes from Professor Saul Deveraux himself, inventor of the Retro-Temporal acceleration technology being deployed at Geneva’s ‘Even Larger Hadron Collider’ to send messages back in time…
I hope you’ve enjoyed the previous nine messages over the last nine months. The same time as the gestation of a human child, perhaps not coincidentally. You see, the Retro-Temporal Postcard Program is very much my baby, my lifetime’s work, albeit so well assisted by thousands of other dedicated scientists, the world over. I thank them all.
Will you people of the early twenty-first century believe that these messages are real? –That we in the 23rd century, really have mastered such incredible technology as to be able to send information back in time to you? As I write, there is no evidence in any of our libraries or history annals that these attempts were successful. But I confidently expect to go to the same data sources tomorrow and find that history has updated itself. Of course it will. But will I know? This paper I write on would have to disappear into thin air, in order for me not to know, and that seems unlikely. So history is going to change and we’re going to see it change, almost instantly before our eyes. How extraordinary. That has never happened before in the history of our planet. Or has it? You see the irony? Continue reading “Postcard From The Future #10”
Mr Cricklewood ran his fingers over the paper. Raising the letter to his nose he breathed in and let the smell transport him to bluebells, birdsong, young love.
Sighing he replaced the letter in the envelope, slipped it back with the others. Around him: panelled walls, a stained glass window showing a picture of a mockingbird, oak spindles of a staircase that once led him to her embrace. It was time, he thought.
He walked over to the writing desk.
His old fingers creaked and clicked as he sealed each letter with wax, the smell filling his nostrils. When each was dry he lifted it to his lips, kissed it, said goodbye. Continue reading “An Android Wakes Part 7 : OAP Extraction”
This month’s postcard from the future comes from an information technology technician…
Everybody in the past thought we’d be building robots here in the future, didn’t they? Well, you got that kind of half right and half wrong I guess, all at once. Let me explain. There’s tons of robots alright, except that none of them look human. Dust-vacuuming robots for the home, grass-mowing and weeding robots for the garden, garbage robots for the street sweep-up. These guys are all just a foot and a half high by two feet long at most. They don’t have silly faces on them and they don’t talk back. Mostly they don’t talk at all, just get on with it. Continue reading “Postcard From The Future #9”
He was watching Master Chef when it appeared over his retina. At first his brain miscalculated and inserted the angel fish into the programme, where it swam through the steaming crust of the Mockingbird pie. Then after a moment the fish popped out of the screen and passed through the wall into the hallway.
Finn blinked and rubbed his eyes, looked at his watch. It was late. He really should get to bed earlier. He turned off the TV and sighing got to his feet. As he did the image of the fish appeared again: flickering with the beat of his eyelids.
He tried closing his eyes but the fish was still there floating in a sea of blackness. It turned, swam towards him and disappeared. Finn slapped his hand over his eyes, stumbled and knocked over the cans of beer at his feet. Continue reading “An Android Wakes Part 6 : Is That a Fish in Your Eye?”
This month’s postcard from the future comes from a 23rd century policeman…
A message to the past, eh? Tell you what, I’ve always loved reading detective novels and I’m kind of envious of you guys back then with real crime and real criminals. All we get to do these days is fill out forms and liase with sociologists and behavioural psychologists. In fact, I had to get a degree to get this job. Surprised eh? Yeah, in theory I could still “beat the crap out of a punk” (God, I love that old 20th century noir cop patois), but I rarely get the chance these days. My history tutor used to tell me that all those old crime novels were “romanticised” and “escapist” but that strikes me as weird. What kind of screwed-up century were you living in where murder, robbery and rape seemed like escapism? Oh I know…. I’ve answered my own question. I enjoy reading that stuff now because I’m bored and there’s so little crime today, but come on guys, you had plenty of the real things, wars, famine, terrorism, plagues, riots… why did you have to make up shit too? Continue reading “Postcard From The Future #8”
No-one would believe him but Albert Mockingbird had discovered the elusive Hawking Particles whilst visiting his great aunt at Scunthorpe. He’d spotted them next to her bed floating with her false teeth. He could recall the precise eureka moment with clarity as he’d picked up the glass, noticed the unusual weight to it, and swallowed the fluid – his aunt’s teeth bumping off his shoulder and falling onto the paisley carpet.
Of course he had known he couldn’t risk staying there a moment longer, the Bureau for Scientific Discoveries had been following him for months and wouldn’t hesitate to kill him in order to assign the discovery to one of their paying clients. Scribbling a note, he left without waking his aunt and headed for the airport intent on smuggling them through customs.
His boss at CERN had smiled when he confided in him the day after and he was retired off: a carriage clock the answer to his breakdown. So sad after a life-time’s work, they had said. Albert knew though. He could feel them buzzing around his body like fire flies. Continue reading “An Android Wakes Part 5 : The Amazing Arctic Sinking Man”
This month’s postcard from the future comes from a 23rd century medical practitioner…
My area of speciality is the old, or Senetics as we call it, a word which will be unfamiliar to you people of the past, if what the scientists are saying is correct and they can indeed send a message back to you. In your time when people became advanced in years they had no choice but to decay slowly, their skin giving way under the onslaught of the sun’s radiation, their bowels becoming unreliable, their bones brittle. In short, by one route or another, they usually died a slow, painful and undignified death. I have great admiration, even astonishment, at how people were able to suffer such a situation, since it is scarcely necessary any longer in our present. Continue reading “Postcards From The Future #7”
I will not bore you with a transcript of what had to be the strangest council of war in the history of the British Empire. Did Drake know that the world had turned upside down when he prepared to face the Spanish? Did Wolfe know that he had an encounter with destiny when he scaled the heights of Quebec? The great men of England were shaken by what they saw and heard. Magic, real magic…had our King made a deal with the devil, or was there godliness in their bearing?
Colonel Cavendish, the stranger from London, explained that his older brother had worked with the magicians, developing their powers. It has been his idea to use them in war, we were told; the magicians could give us an advantage that the rebels, or the damned French, would never be able to beat. He spun us a pretty picture of magicians convoying messages through the air faster than any mounted rider, or watching from afar as the rebels prepared their stand against us. I dare say that the Brothers Howe were convinced and in their conviction they dragged the rest of the council in their wake. Continue reading “Letters from America (Part 2)”