The catastrophic power cut changed our lives. One by one, the devices begged to be charged. Without ventilation, we sat with the doors and windows open. The robberies increased. The police was patrolling on bicycles. Nobody was going to work; the last messages urged calm and advised us to stay indoors. The city was quiet as a grave and started to smell. The refrigerators were dead. The city stank. Then, I heard the voice. Books, take books. The old woman's tricycle towed a cart with a sign that read, Read and pass it on.
Arthur Ianoși
A thousand books, arranged on the four walls, sturdy shelves from top to bottom, a lamp, a mattress, a pipe serving as a urinal that ran through the wall from the east, a nearly dead phone, and an iron door with a peephole through which they slipped him food. It was the cell from which they had promised to release him after he finished reading everything. Call us when you're ready. The book with the thick covers must be read last, they had told him. Nine hundred twenty days. Great Expectations. The last book. The last page. No charger.
Nicolae Popescu
Let's talk a bit, Stelică. Look, I wash, I iron, I make cabbage rolls and meat balls whenever you want, I clean the house and the yard. Lately, though, I see that you also have this expectation about sex. It seems too much to me. I can't anymore, I don't have the energy for that too. Plus, you're asking me for things that aren't on my schedule; they're listed under perversions, from what I've researched. What am I, a robot? That's exactly what you are, says Stelică. He unplugs her, presses the Autocancel button, and quickly orders a new version that has the Full Set option.
(Translated by Miruna Baicu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.