Sans consequances

Je suis dans le laboratoire. Du sang dans une boîte, des virus dans le congélateur, l'ordinateur qui traite les données. Les dernières minutes avant le coucher du soleil. Il est temps de rentrer à la maison. Je jette un dernier coup d'oeil à l'écran et, à ma grande surprise, les graphiques sont prêts. Je m'assois encore une fois. Ça a marché ? Le taux de détection est de 95%, l'écart type de 5%. Aussi bon que possible. Mon équipe va finir le reste. Je m'en vais.

Plus de raison de rentrer "chez moi", cet endroit que j'appelais chez moi n'est qu'une minute dans le continuum espace-temps de ma vie. Je quitte le bâtiment de la biotechnologie. Où est-ce que je veux aller ? Les possibilités sont illimitées, mais je continue à marcher devant. Il commence à pleuvoir. Je sens la pluie sur mes joues. Ou est-ce des larmes ? J'ai fait tout ce que je voulais dans cette vie, j'ai créé de la vie, des machines, des idées... et j'ai laissé le mérite aux autres. La pluie laissera le sol nourri, quelque part dans les éléments qui atteignent le sol seront mes larmes. Ma vie est...ma vie n'était que des larmes dans la pluie...

Chapitre 2. Tout a commencé un beau jour

...à suivre

La vie en roses..;)

Parfois, la chose qui nous donne l'espoir n'est qu'une rose, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry avait raison, comme toujours:

Je dors sur des roses
Qui signent ma croix
La douleur s'impose
mais je n'ose pas
Effleurer les choses
Écloses sans toi
Oh! ma rose
Ne fane pas
je manque de toi
Dans mes nuits
Dans la pluie
Dans les rires
Dans le pire
De ma vie

(par quelqu'un autre)

It's Good to be Mad

[2016-04-27] Let's be honest, I wrote this more than 4 years ago and now I don't remember why and in what context. But evidence shows that over the past 4 years, I've done everything I could to eliminate any hint of normality in my life. Now, I'm fully ready to meet Zaphod Beeblebrox (or an alternative, I'm as un-picky as Trillian) and leave the boundaries of the solar system...

Athens and Dissertations

[2016-08-14] I am in Athens. I am writing my thesis. How awesome is this?
It is so ironic that I am sitting here thinking about values and virtues, 600m away from the prison of Socrates.
Eventually, I went to this prison and found a dead Socrates right there. Well, most probably just sleeping drunkard, not sure if his name was Socrates. But it's fairly close: someone drank some poison and passed out by Socrates' tomb.
It is so fantastic here, I just can't describe: the warmth of the sea, the feel of the sea salt on my skin, the wind, the white stones of buildings. How can one explain? It's happiness imprinted on Earth.

Literary Inheritance

[2016-11-04] I am living at the time when my favourite authors are dying: Gabriel Garica Marquez, Ray Bradbury, Arthur C. Clarke, Douglas Adams, to name a few (shown by Google search on the first page). I wonder if it is time to take up their craft? Isn't it how inheritance works? Current authors are writing inspired by previous generations of writers; every generation builds on some time interval that inspired them.
On the other hand, I had almost 40 years, in which my life overlapped with some of my favourite writers. It is interesting to think of it now. I remember those days in my childhood when I approached a bookshelf to pick up some "very old" book by some "ancient" author who was probably older than my parents...
My perception of time changed over this last year. I remember I was very motivated to get to some position in life urgently. The urgency came with the feeling that nothing else can be considered, every hindrance was to be fought off. Until I suddenly realised that I have arrived. Time to "settle" and look around...

Paris and Dissertations

[2016-sometime in November] Sitting in Paris. It's quite fun to work here. Actually, it is quite fun to be editing and summarizing.
Paris is miserably cold. I don't know how people wear summer sandals and tourists are in t-shirts. I am freezing in my winter jacket. Now, sitting in Paris, I think that I am not that much of a city girl - much to the contrast of my thinking back at Wits.
Let's just be honest: I'm comfortably uncomfortable in any situation...

Explosions

I am a captain in the hi-tech terrestrial transport unit at the Army. Today, I am taking my first leave as a fully qualified professional. Mike is going with me. He is the technical specialist. My feeling is he's planning to stay at that rank for the rest of his life due to the complete lack of the initiative.

I'm going to visit my dad, my only surviving family. He's looking after a small hangar for private aviation.

Mike and I are driving an old truck through dusty roads. We stop at the garage to get gas. Suddenly, something unexpected happens. The end of the road disappearing at the horizons suddenly shows a cloud of dust, which grows bigger moving in our direction. No more hangars, no more road, in a moment the landscape is transformed into a marsian desert where no sign of life is possible. But we are alive. It was planned...

We Need New Stories

Based on Habermas's observation that our individual human histories do not fit any more with the traditional expectations, we need new ideals disassociated with ethnic heritage and national identity. That is if we want life stories to fit in with the ideals of a good and meaningful life. I think most people still want traditional utopia as it relieves the pain of multiple options in life decisions.
I wanted to put forward an example of family structure but that is already boring. Let's consider work. When I was growing up, work was considered honorable. Those who worked were respected, those who did not want to work - were looked down upon. But do we still need so many people going to work every day? It creates a structure that supports state and social organization. But this organization is far from ideal (consider environmental degradation, wars, governmental corruption scandals as a hint to what I mean). Do we still want to be hard-working and rational?
I suggest to focus on robots :)