Writer Updated

This short story is a part of a Google-translated fiction project (GT fiction). This translation, in comparison to 1GT and 3GT,  was made from Polish by Anna Etmańska.

Wishes Shovel Best

On Christmas Eve Sławek Przekośniak received an SMS with these wishes: Wishing yo good ping super new”. He didn’t know who sent him that surprisingly enigmatic message. And he doesn’t know to this day. A pity, because thanks to that person he reached his current status and number 67 on the list of the wealthiest Poles.

Back then, during that beautiful, rusty white Christmas Eve night, Przekośniak, who was rudely kicked out from a social network for utopian fanatics of extreme phobias (www.ilovefobia.pl) just a few days earlier, got an idea.

It was a quite good idea too, and the next SMS (“All at cart by unintentionally only honest lamb”) convinced him it was the best idea of his life. Continue reading “Wishes Shovel Best [Human-translated]”

The world is changing so fast. Every morning we wake up it’s not the same any more. Not mentioning a slightly longer sleep…

Coma longer than expected

It was on a Wednesday evening, during the seventh episode of “The Murderers from a Residential Cell”, when a handsome man from the early-reanimation unit fell into a coma, that is, he couldn’t be woken up after the surgery using the usual methods, and a couple of unusual ones, as well. Nurse Janina wanted to call his family but a cell phone in the patient’s locker was turned off and nobody knew the code. The patient slept sweetly, and no one could have suspected that it wasn’t a normal sleep full of wet dreams, but a dangerous coma, which would last longer than expected.

“The patient surely maybe will wake up…” Dr Kaliszewski began to say during the morning rounds three days later, “…in about three days to three years.”
Everyone sighed emphatically sharing the pain.
The head of the ward looked at a young doctor and told him sternly:
“Watch him, so he won’t go into shock when he wakes up.” Continue reading “Coma Longer Than Expected [Short Story]”

This story shows where I like to be. In situations which are a clear result of human civilisation advances coming right to your door. Very often with a result like that shown below.

Soup a Priori

A certain unemployed mathematician from Afroasia worked out the Ligadul’s Law, based on which, and after considering a maximum number of variation, one could calculate the so-called near future (counted in days, or at the very most in weeks, from the date of calculation).
A certain unemployed inventor from Ośmiogród created the Futurobot – a device, which applied the Ligadul’s Law to the person in its closest vicinity.

“Listen! It worked!” Martyna chirped into the phone. Continue reading “Soup a Priori (short story)”

Here is an English version of YouTube film promoting my books. This is the best illustration of my writing idea: to be extremely fast and short in storytelling – in order to challenge the perception of an Internet-era book reader.

http://pl.youtube.com/watch?v=pQ1cexbQX9U

This story is about a career made in a flash. Not like mine. In most cases you just need to have a patented idea of how to do it. Mr Copypaste does.

Mr Copypaste

Roman Fretard, known to himself as Gonzo, and to others as Tard wanted to make a career for himself quickly, nimbly and with all the effort comparable to a yawn.
He thought about ways to achieve this life goal for a long time, which means until he learned the basics of text editing, which happened at his first job at a firm trading in plastic bags landfill disposal permits.

One thing Gonzo would definitely disagree with was that Roman Fretard was a bit of a retard when it came to computers. His first official letter (a two sentence payment due notice) he had been writing with the help of a spontaneously gathered by him “Special Team” consisting of Łucja and Maurycy for a whole week and a half. On the last day of this intellectual team effort, which was a Friday, twelve seconds after Łucja copied the content of the notice from a letter she had written herself earlier, a simple message crept into Gonzo’s. A message, which could be deciphered by a forward (yes, forward, not backward) zero-one code: copy-paste. Continue reading “Mr Copypaste (short story)”