India

On an October evening of 2015, 70-year-old Manuel Joseph died of heart attack. In the strict sense it cannot be defined as death. Heart stopped, but brain was still functioning. There was activity in the higher centers of the brain, principally the neocortex.

Like most women, Shilpa had a weakness for sales. She loved buying things she didn’t need. And if they cost less, all the better. Why, just yesterday she had had a discount haircut. A friend’s friend was apprenticing at a swank saloon and had offered to cut her hair for half the price. Shilpa needed no second invitation. She had gone in for a complete makeover. Trading her hitherto long tresses for a chic boyish cut.

The night was cold. Sitting on a wooden chair, with his face dumped inside a “BIO-CHEMISTRY” book, The Doctor suddenly looked up at his flickering study-light. Ah, must get a new one, he realized. Eventually I will, anyway, he promptly went back to reading again.

Like most girls, Shreya was crazy about shopping. She loved clothes and didn’t mind spending all her pocket money on them. She could never resist a sale “after all, it comes only once in a year” nor could she walk out of exhibitions empty-handed, “the clothes were positively calling out to me."  Much as she loved stacking the shelves of her wardrobe with new buys, she was extremely attached to one particular T-shirt.

Some writers work the best when they are away from their world, at a holiday spot, left alone with their laptops, pecking away furiously. They come home gloriously with a finished manuscript two weeks later. Unfortunately I am not one of them, and to add to the misfortune I realized it only this week, when I was already here.

Fellow Styonkars,
 
As SigEv just transmitted to you, the experiment has failed and I have returned. Yes, three hundred and four kosos before I was due, but remaining would only waste precious time. The Planet of Colour did not meet the criteria and I was compelled to ask Dharti to carry me back. We must begin the search for another, more worthy race. I intimate you now, before the official sabha meeting due in the eighth hissa because it is best we resume the archive searches, choose from the volunteers and draw plan layouts. The time of the bequest approaches and another deserving race must be identified before the 444th Chakker of Larissa around Styon. And this time we must choose more carefully, lest our trial fails, like it did with Earthlok.

Dear friend,
 
It all began with an advertisement in the newspaper. The advertisement was like this: “New method for growing hair on bald head, Result assured”. Below the title it was written that a scientist named Dr. Derkowit had found a method for growing hair on bald head by prolonged research. The contact number of Derkowit’s office was given with the advt. below it was written that payment be made only if the hair grows abundantly on the bald.

The Infinite medical center in Yester island. The center was bustling  with activity as usual. The Chief Doctor Arundale was in his room.

For a race of intelligent beings, humanity is not all that smart. We were never too logical, nor too practical and while we were busy unraveling the world, we forgot to unravel ourselves. So when science caught up with us and then forged ahead we were caught unawares and unable to handle it. Only if we had invested even half the amount of effort on people that we had invested on creating technology, the world would still exist.