Two years after signing the marriage contract, like the law says on MP2LS, ZiZi and LeMe locked themselves in the bedroom to conceive a child. Their families were gathered in the living room. Two cops were guarding the bedroom door, which stayed locked for three days. It was just them, making their decision, and doing their duty do the planet. Once the time was up, they returned the child parts catalogues to the cops with their selections made clear, then they kissed and pushed each other's 8-hour-sleep buttons.
Nicole Brunel
You will conceive, said the palm reader steadily. It will be a long, complicated and traumatic process. Seven years and seven IVFs. And will I succeed after? She whispered with a throb in her ovaries. Yes, you'll bring life to this world. She hugged her in delight, left her all the money she had, and floating on a cloud, she went to live out her seven apocalyptic years. Bullshit. She didn't see any palm reader. Nobody could tell her who would win the fight. She shattered into pieces, and yes, she put herself back together every time. Because she had no other choice.
Mihaela Palaloga
It was a night like any other down at the Happy Diacritic, the bar frequented by letters from the official alphabet and - keep this between us - sometimes the unofficial one. Debates on literary subjects, gossip, notes on the new words in DOOM. A hushed ellipsis fell over the room when X turned up with O on his arm. He had promised E that he would settle down and wait for her for as long as she needs. What followed? È put on a grave accent, ran out, and left the letters hanging. Everybody knew she couldn't conceive.
(Translated by Bianca Ioana Prisecaru / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.