No. 112

EUROCON 2010 2 EDITORIAL

Dear reader,

"Parsek" is the oldest Croatian fanzine, first published in 1977 and still running. It is also the bulletin of Science Table of content:

Fiction Club SFera from Zagreb. Today, Aleksandar Žiljak SFera consists of some two hundred Sex and Deep-Sea Anglerfish 3 members and is a literary society, as well as Milena Benini a fan club. The annual SFeraKon A Child is Born 9 convention, organized by SFera, attracts Zoran Vlahović nearly a thousand fans each year, and the Tax Case 14

SFERA Award (I know, the spelling bothers Ivana Delač Horvatinčić me, too) is awarded in several categories. Post Mortem 23

Now, let me introduce you to the Croatian Irena Rašeta SF, with the little help of SFera's cute (oh, Let It Be Green 25 well) official mascot, Bemmet. SFeraKon GoHs They Said on Croatia 29

Enjoy! Aleksandar Žiljak UBIQ - The New Croatian Boris Švel Science Fiction Magazine 32

Dalibor Perković and Boris Švel In Zagreb, 10th August 2010 SF Conventions in Croatia 38

"Parsek" on net: NOTE: all materials are translated by the authors http://parsek.sfera.hr/ themselves, unless stated otherwise. and:

http://parsek.blog.hr/

PARSEK is bulletin of SFera, Društvo za znanstvenu fantastiku, IV. Podbrežje 5, 10000 Zagreb, Croatia. Editor

and designer: Boris Švel. Proof-reader: Aleksandar Žiljak. Cover: SFERA award (“The Ashtray”) on its pedestal.

All rights reserved. 3 One of the foremost Croatian SF authors, Aleksandar Žiljak was born in 1963 and resides in Zagreb. He won SFERA Award six times, equally excelling in illustration and prose, as well as the editorial work, being the co-editor of the new Croatian SF literary magazine UBIQ.

Aleksandar Žiljak SEX AND DEEP-SEA ANGLERFISH

"What was I thinking, marrying a tense anticipation, stopping dead in the dark biomecha designer?" surrounding them. "And what was I thinking, marrying "You feel it?", Peter asks in low an ichthyologist?" voice. "May I remind you", Yagoda replies "Shut up!", Yagoda snaps at him. in her sweetest voice, "that without this Unnecessarily: no-one can hear them, all ichthyologist here, you would be dead now." their arguments and discussions and quarrels "And may I remind you, my dear", are strictly between them, thought but never Peter answers, irritated, "that without this voiced. And then, the pressure of the water biomecha designer here, you would be dead, hits them, sending unmistakable stream of too." alarms tuning all Yagoda’s nerves to the Arguments exhausted, Yagoda and maximum, ready for that one critical fin Peter sink back into silence. Recently, this is stroke that means difference between life becoming a frequent end of their quarrels: a and death. stalemate with both of them being right. Is Something big passes them. Close, there some hidden message here, Yagoda too close for comfort. Huge: five, maybe six wonders as she works her tail fin vigorously, meters long. Probably a local equivalent of pushing them through the completely black some deep-sea shark, Yagoda decides, water. Time to look for some chow, she although she cannot see it. Swift, deliberate, decides after ten minutes of stubborn searching, ready to pounce, ready to snap its silence, it’s been two days since she last ate. jaws at the slightest hint of something They’ll both be in a better mood with her edible. But, this time something big swims stomach full ... Suddenly, Yagoda freezes in away into the darkness, missing them. 4 "Maybe we’re too small", Peter blood, in an ambulance wailing all the way whispers as if anybody can hear him. to hospital. "Just you hope", Yagoda knows Peter was a biomechanoid designer. better. No meal is too small this deep. They And a biomecha designer can either work in were lucky, that’s all, the only explanation. industry, or set off on his own, freelancing "What was that, anyway?", Peter across the Galaxy, from job to job, fulfilling whispers. commissions and designing biomechanoids "I don’t want to know." to suit whatever task somebody requires on some distant planet. Usually small series, * * * but there’s an occasional major job, quantities running into thousands or tens of People say the seventh year is the thousands. It pays well if you’re good and if most critical one. Their marriage was falling you’re lucky. Peter was somewhere in the apart at the tender age of three. middle: not good enough to be on top, not Why? Even now, when it became having luck that bad to go bankrupt. completely pointless, Yagoda still tries to Yagoda was an ichthyologist, fresh find an answer. If Yagoda didn’t get after graduation and apprenticeship. The pregnant, would Peter really marry her? On best she could hope for was to land a routine recollection, their relationship didn’t look job at some mariculture station or like something permanent. A good-time oceanographic institute. There were offers, summer, hot bodies in hot sheets in steamy some quite good. But, after the loss of their nights. But then September came and child, Peter didn’t want to stay in one place. September menstruation didn’t. When she And he didn’t really care if Yagoda would confronted him with a positive test, Peter come with him or not. He never said that, felt obliged. Some old chivalrous impulse, never blamed her or anything, but a woman quite rare today, that surprised even Yagoda. can feel it and Yagoda felt it. At that time, Now, surrounded by darkness, she thinks Yagoda cared if Peter didn’t. So she came she finally understands. Peter is quite older along. than she is: perhaps a child was a reason for And while Hans Rudi was not a small him to settle down at last, one final and crowded ship, you cannot exactly slam opportunity to start a family. And as her the doors behind you and vent your pregnancy went on, he really begun looking frustrations in a pub across the street. So, the forward to that boy. frustrations piled one atop another. Words, And then Yagoda miscarriaged, spoken and otherwise. Fights. About small spontaneously. Their joy was flowing out in things, discarded socks or empty sweetener 5 container or toothpaste left opened. And They jumped out into normal space, bigger things. Costs of running the ship. Hans Rudi spinning wildly, totally out of Bills for purchasing DNAs. A cancelled job control. Without force compensators to that almost ruined them. Frustrations maintain the internal up and down, Yagoda growing into resentment, resentment and Peter would have been turned into growing into anger, anger into hatred. bloody blotches long before reaching the And then, in the course of one of their cockpit and strapping themselves into seats. shouting matches in the ship’s kitchenette, The ship slowed down to subrelativistics, when Yagoda found herself holding a frying still spinning, speeding towards a star pan to throw it at Peter, she realized it was system. Typically, Peter wanted to find out time to sit down and talk. Peter agreed, where the hell they were. Also typically, finding himself holding a plate to throw it at Yagoda was more concerned about the Yagoda. So they sat down and talked. And fusion reactor cooling system being way talked. And talked some more, saying things verloaded. neither really wanted to say. They were deep That would have turned into another in the Mlokosziewicz space, running along shouting match, but the quarrel was made one of the probability trajectories to academic by the main power section being Wistary, when they decided divorce was the automatically jettisoned, only to vanish in best way out of the mess they were in. the blaze of thermonuclear explosion several Exactly three minutes and thirty-six second later. What remained of Hans Rudi seconds later, for reasons unknown, their was switching to auxiliary power, speeding, Mlokosziewicz drive croaked. still hopelessly out of control, past the outer planets and towards a tiny blue dot. * * * Tiny blue dot turned out to be a planet, eighty percent of its surface covered Was there some hidden message by ocean. Truth is, Yagoda and Peter had there, too, Yagoda asks herself as she eighty percent probability of hitting the dangles her luminescent lure above her wide water. But, there was still that twenty agape mouth, filled with needle-like teeth, percent probability of hitting the hard rock. ready to snatch anything foolish enough to That was the first time their luck held. come close to investigate the attractive The splash was big. The hull got breached glow. on several places, water rushing in. They started to sink, fast and deep. Yagoda and * * * Peter barely reached the design lab and sealed its doors behind them. Scratch that 6 one about luck: they were imprisoned in the Black outside meant only one thing: they lab, in the sinking ship, with lights showing were too deep for sunlight to reach them. intent to go out at the slightest provocation, "We’re not going to make it, you and computer screens alternating between know", Peter said resignedly. "It’ll take snow and unreadable streams of data, none them at least a week to figure we missed our of them good news. ETA. Even then, where can they start The ship shuddered as it hit the looking? And everything is screwed up, we bottom, the already overstrained structure cannot ..." screeching and moaning like a banshee, the "Shut up!" Lately, Peter was prone to hull settling down with a loud thump. resignation, and that usually infuriated Yagoda and Peter knew options were very Yagoda. "I’m thinking!" few. Mostly on how to die. * * * * * * "Well honey, you’re not going to win They did die. In a usual sense of the any beauty prize!" The thing in the word, at least. pressurized container resembled a Light in the lab held. So did the rest of grotesquely inflated bag, 70 centimetres the environment, at least for the time being. long, with big tailfin and luminescent lure But there was no food and tap water tasted above big mouth filled with sharp teeth. too much like sea. And system failures were "You’re not looking any better, dear", inevitable, they both knew that. Peter re- Yagoda replied, wiping sweat from her booted the computers, lab’s LAN was up forehead. The environment was failing, little and running, but outside connections were by little. But it gave them precious two days gone. to finish two biomechanoids. The ugly big "Can we open the view hatch?", black fish was hers. Peter’s was mere twelve Yagoda asked, already running all the centimetres long, pale and twisted-looking, possibilities through her head. Peter attached to the big black fish’s belly, their punched few keys on his console and the tissues and blood systems already fused. outer shutters slid open. Pitch black greeted "But they’ll do just fine." Yagoda through the thick glass, as black as "I don’t like it, you know. Connected the Mlokosziewicz space itself. like this. Maybe I should have ..." Yagoda Yagoda cursed through her teeth. drew him a specification modelled after They hit the daylight half of the planet. Ceratias holboeli, a deep-sea anglerfish they had among their DNAs. Every biomecha 7 design starts with some existing species, and the little one. And there were two more perhaps it was Yagoda’s ichthyology things Peter added at her request: internal background that made them buy so many communication system and their DNAs fish samples. And deep-sea fishes are handy stored. Just in case somebody does look for when it comes to designing biomecha deep- them and does find the wreck. sea probes. Bioluminescent lure should be enough to "I’m telling you, that’s how these fish signal some Morse codes. couple! Once male meets female, or vice "They’re done", Peter answered. versa, he attaches to her permanently. "OK. Then there’s only one more Sometimes even several boys on a single thing to do ..." Yagoda took a deep breath girl. And they stay that way for life, male or and hit the button. The lab doors opened. males completely fusioning with female, fed Chilling water burst in, flooding the lab through her blood system. From that point quickly, rising to their chests, turning them on, the males are just sperm sacs." painfully numb. On one thing Yagoda and "Well, thanks a lot!" Peter agreed: it’s best to do it fast. Once the "Look, if we ever get separated out water filled the lab, the biomecha container there, there’s no way we gonna find each was to open automatically, releasing them other again, get that? Why do you think the into the black. male attaches in the first place? Because it’s Last thing Yagoda saw before lights probably the only time in his life he’s going went out and she and Peter sank into to come across a female. Are implantations darkness was herself, her ugly fish self, done?" gazing back at them with cold, indifferent Programming semi-consciousness and eyes as they gasped for their last breaths, implanting it into a biomecha is a standard frantically reaching for something, anything, procedure, necessary for making a basically before finally finding each other’s hands and wild creature actually do some useful job. squeezing tight, finding some comfort in But the standard equipment they had in the each other. lab was sufficient to scan and transfer the entire brainwave pattern of a person, too. * * * That was something everybody knew was possible, but seldom anybody did. Peter "Two days ago, we were talking mentioned only one or two cases he ever divorce", Peter muttered as the container heard of. Well, Yagoda mused, time to join opened. that exclusive club, her brain pattern "Two days ago we weren’t thousand recorded into the big fish and Peter’s into meters deep", Yagoda replied, lighting her 8 lure and swimming below two floating Luck is again with Yagoda and Peter: bodies holding hands. She tried not to look something big decides to quit the chase. at them as she swam through the doors and Every predator knows instinctively when it’s into the corridor, looking for the nearest hull over, when the food obtained will not cover breach. the energy wasted. Yagoda slows down and "Well, now we’re together till death waits, ready to start again. Several minutes does us part." pass in tense silence. But, something big swam away, looking for meal somewhere * * * else. "This was close", Peter sighs with Something big passes them. Yagoda relief as Yagoda calms down. and Peter float speechlessly, tied forever, "Sshhh", Yagoda says, becoming still, fused into one, waiting for something big to very still. swim away. And then something big turns "What now?" and Yagoda knows it’s after them this time. "Shut up!" Yagoda feels some small No time to think how and why, she darts ripples close before her and decides to take a aside and huge jaws miss them by a fraction chance. The chase was costly and she needs of an inch. But, something big is hungry and food. They both do. So she lights the lure attacks once again. and starts waving it. Blue light floods into Yagoda tries out-swimming it, she blackness. A small crustacean-like critter should be more manoeuvrable, but swims to it, attracted, multitude of hairy legs something big is fast, very fast, and Yagoda working in unison, long antennae flicking feels the big mouth opening behind her, around, hoping for some tasty plankton sharp teeth ready to cut her in two. She does snack and not noticing the big mouth a sudden left turn and something big misses waiting. And then, in an eye-blink, it’s over. again, jaws snapping into empty. Yagoda Jaws open and shut, and crustacean is no keeps swimming, something big does take more. Hungry, Yagoda swallows it with more time to turn and if she could put some relish. distance between them, maybe she’ll reach If you don’t eat, you’re eaten. If the safety of the wreck. They kept close to you’re not eaten, you eat. An incessant cycle the wreck all this time. On purpose, staying of the sea. And Yagoda and Peter surviving close to the wreck is SOP in case of crashes. in it, by wits and luck - with more luck than And the wreck provides shelter, if only she wits - but surviving, together, tied into one. could reach it. "Mmmm, crunchy!", they both agree. 9 Well established author and editor, Milena Benini is also a renown translator. Being a SFERA Award winner, she never hesitates to lend help to the younger colleagues. Milena lives and works in Zagreb. Her stories are usually irresistibly charming, and we hope you will enjoy this one.

Milena Benini A CHILD IS BORN

This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity with actual persons is purely coincidental. Mythical persons, however, are fair game. You have been warned. The time is the present. The place is... well, it's all relative, anyway.

The lights turned green, but the cars The girl in the back seat puffed and didn't move. Mary slammed the horn once, huffed and the labour cramp blew away. twice, three times in sheer frustration, then "I didn't mean it like that, Mama turned to the back seat. Mary," she muttered tiredly. "Just about any "How are you doing, Maggie, dear?" god would do right now." Maggie dear muttered a curse through Her next scream was heard several cars clenched teeth. Her black hair was sweat- away, despite the horns and the curses that are stuck to her forehead, and she was clutching the inevitable Greek choir to any traffic jam. her large, nine-months-and-two-days pregnant belly. She was half-sitting, half-lying, and * * * half-doubling over in pain (okay, so how well would you do in maths in such a situation?). In one of those cars, Ariadne lifted her "I'm fff...ohmygoooood!" she head from her knitting. She was knitting a answered. green kid's sock. Mary shook her head. "Don't waste "What was that?" your breath, Maggie, dear. He for one sure Her husband was head-banging to the won't help us. You're an... embarrassment to beat, probably the only smiling face in the him, sweetheart, don't you see?" whole traffic jam. "One by Metallica," he said over the wailing guitar. 10 "Not that. The scream." "Go see what that screaming's about," "That's what I mean, too." she said instead. "There," said Ariadne. "There it is again." She put down her knitting and turned * * * down the CD sound. "Oh, gooooooood!" The knocking on the car window came "You hear?" just between two of Maggie's screams. Mary Her husband shrugged. "So? She could turned the window down an inch or two or mean anyone." three, and saw a mass of blonde curls, "Of course she could, but you should somehow wild despite the drizzle around go look, dear." them, hiding a smiling face. "Why?" He was casting longing "Yes?" she said suspiciously. glances at the volume button of the CD. "Good evening, ma'am. I couldn't help Ariadne's knitting needles started overhearing..." The man's voice was as sweet clicking again. "Because that's what we do, as Macedonian wine (T'ga za jug). It only baby. We answer calls." made Mary more suspicious. "Do we have to?" He pushed a needle "Who are you?" she interrupted. He aside with his hand. "You'll poke my eye out cleared his throat. one of these days with these things," he said. "Lo!" he said. "I am come to this land, "And I didn't even get to do mum beforehand. Dionysus of name, the son of a certain You really should give it up. Knitting all the gentleman whose name I really shouldn't time, it's not healthy. And it's not as if it's any mention, of whom on a day Semele, the use..." daughter of Cadmus, was delivered by a flash Ariadne looked at him with her eyes of lightning." slitted. "It is of use." Mary raised her eyebrows. "Yeah, "Only because you give those baby whatever." things away." Ariadne's husband huffed and puffed, "Only because I have no baby of my but blew nothing away. "Ma'am, you really own." shouldn't treat me that way. I've been known Her husband sighed deeply. "Ari. to take offence." We've been through this so many times. I'm "It's not that I have nothing better to do just not cut out to be a parent. And, besides, than sit around and listen to your genealogy, you really don't want another child at your you know," said Mary. "My daughter in law's hands." His smile really was winning, but about to give birth - and in the middle of a Ariadne pretended not to notice. traffic jam, too!" "Nevertheless, a little..." 11 "Baby!" Ariadne's voice wound its way to excuse him, ma'am. He means well, but through the labyrinth of horns and curses. sometimes he just doesn't get things right." "Remember what your therapist said about Her look clearly said: so like a man. rage control?" Mary shook her head. "I know how it Her husband took a deep breath. And is. Look at the men in my family: they all just another. And a third. "Fine," he said. "I'll let it wham, bam, and then disappear without so go for now." He chanted quietly: "I know I much as a thank you, ma'am. One justifies can, I know I can, I know I can..." himself with having a whole universe to run - "And can you do something about us, he can run the universe all right, but changing too, or were you just curious?" asked Mary. the boy's diapers, oh, no, that was too much On the back seat, Maggie was clawing at the for him, he never was one for hands-on upholstery and cursing her hippie boyfriend management." She looked at Maggie, huffing under her breath. and puffing at the back seat. "And what does "Well, what can I do?" asked Dionysus. his son do? For 33 years he lives off my back, "I mean, what would you want me to do?" and when he finally finds himself a nice girl, Mary shook her head as if she were he has to go and get himself crucified because dealing with a moron. "Well, it would be nice 'daddy told him so'!" if you could get rid of all these cars blocking Dionysus patted her shoulder. "I know us," she said. "We really need to get to the how you feel, ma'am. I come from a broken hospital quickly. Poor Maggie's due the day family, myself." before yesterday, and I for one am not having His wife snorted. "Don't forget to my grandchild born just anywhere. I settled mention that you did a fair amount of that for a sty, and look where it got me!" breaking yourself, baby." Dionysus shrugged. "Well, I can do Maggie started screaming again. that," he said, and reached for his cell phone. Dionysus scratched his curls. It was a sleek, silvery model with a lightning "I suppose turning into a lion is also out over the flap. of the question?" he muttered. "No!" Ariadne leaned from the car Ariadne shook her head. window. "Don't call your dad, baby. I'm sure "Well," said Dionysus, "in that case, I the lady didn't mean you to blast the whole lot don't see... I do see!" his face lit up, like a to smithereens." child that saw Spot run. "I could infest all the "But, a surgical strike..." drivers with my madness." "Your dad's idea of a surgical strike is Ariadne sighed. "And that would be taking a whole city out with one lightning bolt good because...?" and you know it, baby. Not a good idea, "Well, don't you see?" A horn seemed believe me." She looked at Mary. "You have to serve as underscoring for his 12 pronouncement. "I could then lead them "Aaaaargh!" away, over sidewalks and tram tracks, and so "Push! Breathe! Push!" clear the way." Maggie got her breath back Mary squinted around with suspicion. momentarily. "Do you know what you're "Is there enough room?" She exchanged looks doing?" with Ariadne. "What do you think?" Dionysus was rummaging under her Ariadne was opening the car door to skirt, tearing cloth. "No idea," he said. "That's get out and take a better look, but her husband what they shout in the movies. But I'm didn't wait for their verdict. He went to the figuring, you or the baby or both will have a, back door of Mary's car and opened it. watchamacall it, instinct or something, right?" "Good news, miss," he said leaning in, Instead of answering, Maggie said... then stopped. "Um", he said. And then: "Um." you know. And: "Um." "There," said Dionysus. "I've made Maggie grabbed his hand and room for the little one. All I have to do now is squeezed, hard. make sure it doesn't hit its head on the "Ari?" Dionysus' voice was very small and sidewalk when it gets out, right?" confused. "There's all this water here." He Ariadne was on the phone, calling 911. was trying to get away, but Maggie's clutch Mary was clucking worriedly and rummaging was too strong. "I do have an uncle who's an in the car booth, getting the baby things out. expert on water, so to speak..." Even the rain stopped, and the traffic jam "Aaaaaargh!" said Maggie, logically. cleared. In a moment of silence, the newborn's "You're a goddamn god!" she shouted. "You cry was heard with strange clarity. better help me - NOOOOOW!" "There we are," said Dionysus. He Mary and Ariadne were both outside turned to Mary. "And here's your the car, trying to see what was going on granddaughter." inside. For a moment, Dionysus seemed The little girl was, of course, gorgeous petrified with indecision - so much so that as all newborns are, purple and wrinkly and even his curls were getting wet and losing loud like a cirrhosis-infected liver with an their all-weather Taft shape. attitude problem. Maggie again said what she was mostly Maggie was panting in the car, no saying all this time. longer in pain, and the wail of a siren was "Stand back!" shouted Dionysus to the heard. 911 was about to appear and work its two women behind his back. "Make room!" magic. He dove back into the car. "Don't you worry," Ariadne reached into their car and took he said. "We'll get this baby out fine. Just out her knitting. "A good thing I just finished push! Now!" 13 these," she said, proffering a pair of tiny green "What?" he said. "You're not knitting?" socks to Mary. "They should come in handy." Ariadne swallowed a sigh. "I'm giving Mary looked at them. They had two it up. It's no use. You've said so yourself." large toes, as if they were knitted for They drove a little while in silence. something... with hoofs. "Dear?" said Dionysus in a small voice "Such things always come in handy," at the next red light. she said. Ariadne was staring through the Dionysus was panting too. His hands window, chin on her fist. She didn't turn were bloody; he wiped them on his Nirvana around. "Mhm?" T-shirt before shaking hands with Mary. "You know," he said. "I've been "Thank you," she said. thinking..." "Don't thank me," he said. "I didn't do "You have?" anything anyone else wouldn't do. Or even "Well, now that I've given birth... you couldn't do." know... metaphorically speaking, I was She smiled. "I know. But sometimes thinking..." doing just that is the truly god-like thing to This time, she did turn around. "Yes?" do. Believe me, I know a few things about The light turned green, and the cars gods." She frowned. "From personal started moving, but theirs didn't. Ignoring the experience." angry horns and the curses that are the She got into her car. "Well," she said to inevitable Greek choir to any traffic jam, Maggie. "We'll have to think of a name, won't Dionysus turned to the back sat and took we? It'd be silly to have a third Mary in the Ariadne's knitting needles, then pushed them family." awkwardly into his wife's lap. Mary Magdalene nodded, but didn't "It is, too," he said, and started the car. respond. Her daughter was smiling at her. His favourite song started on the CD: Jeannie's got a gun by Aerosmith. * * * He turned it up.

Dionysus got back into the car and started it. Ariadne got in next to him and put her knitting gear to the back seat. 14

Being a trained engineer, Zoran Vlahović excels when it comes to the good old-fashioned hard science fiction. As one of more prolific Croatian authors and a SFERA Award winner, he lives and works in Zagreb.

Zoran Vlahović TAX CASE

The attorney stood up with faked self- businesses in the fields that used to be their assured smile. He felt much less calm than monopolistic domain. If the SFL goes down he showed... This was a much more the drain, the government will take its assets important case than simple lawsuit. over, for a fraction of the cost. If this cause is lost, the SFL - in Trying not to seem nervous, he turned which he held quite a stake himself, being with a nod, first towards the tribunal, and one of the founders and members of the then to the prosecutor. The attorney inner circle - shall foreclose forever. addressed the little gray man from the Tax The future of the firm was at stake. Authorities: "Could you, please, explain the Even worse, the very breakthrough into the legal basis of your claim for the payment space could come into question, therefore of... as you formulated yourself, of the the survival of the mankind, speaking in the accrued profit tax?" He tried not to sound long run. But he could not say so, without too impertinent or cynical, for he could be showing to be a naïve idealistic fool or a found in contempt of court, but making clear sorry crackpot. what he really thinks of the matter. Some profit would remain, and a hefty The faceless civil servant, whose all sum would come through the sale of shuttles bearing read "assessor" or "desk flier", and docking facilities in the elliptic orbits... seemed honestly perplexed by the question: And that was almost for sure someone's "But you make profit on your product!" (probably government's) interest behind this There you are, the attorney thought. "anti-trust" lawsuit. The governments never Never say OUR product. We never said so. rejoiced at the development of private He countermanded: "The product we sell, if 15 you please. As we have not invested a single Because the flights had to become cent in its development or production, there cheaper, and even cheaper. For the simplest is no basis for us to claim it as our product... thinkable reason: people had to cast off of or for anyone else, for that matter. The this clump, if they wish to survive... As long product was there for millennia and we can as all people inhabit the one planet, just one freely say that it can be found in unlimited big rock incoming, or a madman with a quantity." bomb large enough, is all that takes to make Quiet titter could be heard from the us all goners. audience, the things so far went well. The But the budgets were shrinking, and a attorney continued: "By our exploitation we couple of not that important, but spectacular harm no-one". He noted several jury disasters like Discovery's, forced members covertly smiling and suppressed governments - if they invested any money at his own grin: "Not to mention that the SFL all into the space exploration - to reduce the is not incorporated as manufacturing, but launches to programs like Traveller probes. transport company and is not registered to The probes that slowly circled the Solar produce anything. Furthermore, as the all of System, gathering data, every few decades as-you-say profit from return payload or re-entering orbit of Earth for refit... The 'profitable cargo' is deducted from the costs automatic, robotic probes, the probes that of the ascending orbital cargoes, the said left people down, in "safety". 'profit' is a mere legal fiction." So the "inner circle" of dreamers "What's more, the term 'product' could founded the SFL. For the cause, as well as perhaps apply to the containers in which the for the self interest. They didn't want the so-called product is delivered, but they perfect pictures of Saturn rings, or virtual constitute the registered parts of our vessels, drive by the telefractor on the wastelands of subject to charter that merely covers the Pluto or Mercury. They wanted to get there, prime cost of the new ones in case of loss. regardless of dangers and insecurities! To The SFL makes no revenue on the return touch the stones and rocks untouched by any cargo, so - automatically! - there is no man before, to see the sunset on Titan, to profit!" watch Charon ascending, or conjunction of That was not the real truth, or at least Jupiter's moons... They considered not the complete one. The profit made on themselves (perhaps incorrectly) as the last the product was piped into the research of dreamers. additional reduction of costs of ascending And they were willing to fight for and out-of-atmosphere flights. their dream. 16 They found the legal loophole that vessel, with unreliable life support system. enabled them to channel the money and He was wondering, somewhere deep inside make profit to turn the flywheel of progress where he could not lie to himself, will others fast enough so they could make their dream share such opinion, or some of his visionary come true during their lifetime. friends will prize their dream more valuable Of course, he could not say that than life in safety? And should they be either. pitied or envied? All this train of thoughts was running The 3D-journalists waited almost as for just a glimpse of an eye since the impatiently as the attorney. One of the attorney finished his last sentence. He sent a judges unwound the old fashioned paper charming smile towards the jury, then to with jury's verdict. As the presiding judge three judges: "I hold our case clear. The conferred sotto voce with the other judges, statement of claim for tax on non-existent the attorney almost collapsed. He gritted his profit can be judged in one way only." teeth instead, smiling coolly. He pulled the He believed in the case, as well as in collar of his trendy sporty-conservative the SFL, and speaking objectively, the tax leather jacket (the leather was ecologically prosecutor's final pleading was long, tiring acceptable again), standing up to listen the and incoherent, with reference to hazy judgement with self-assurance he didn't precedents relating to the evasion of service really feel. and information taxes, realistically having The presiding judge read the recitals, no connection with this case. To put it the names of the judges and the jury, the straight, he was boring. But, still... name and title of the prosecutor, the name If the state really decided to take over and title of the defendant, the names of the the SFL, and if the judges hold their dearer attorneys and their powers... Finally he got than the ethical substance of the justice... to the verdict. Then all bets are off and rules went down "According to the judgement of this the drain. Too soon, almost two years too Court, the SFL is in no violation of any law, early. Icarus, lying in an inconspicuous tax or anti-trust or other, so it can supply its high-orbit docking hangar, was not yet ready customers with the cheapest vacuum on for flight... Most components were still in market." the factories, waiting for free space amongst paid ascending cargoes. (Translated by Boris Švel) If they loose, they can only... No, there was no point in following the dream into death, in an uncompleted 17

One of the younger Croatian authors, Ivana D. Horvatinčić quickly established herself, writing both fantasy and horror stories. She lives and works in Zagreb, and is a SFERA Award winner. Actually, the Award was given for the very story below.

Ivana D. Horvatinčić POST MORTEM

So, finally I died. For me, death brought a victorious Not that I ever wished for it or, God sense of being right - every doctor who had forbid, tried to do something that would ever tried to convince me that chest pain I hasten my own judgment day. Ever since I had been regularly experiencing did not could remember, I have been afraid of death have an organic basis, that the attacks of and nothing could ever scare me more than intolerable fear and choking sensations the thought of this frightening shadow could be attributed to a thing called panic constantly looming over my head. disorder, that my body was all right... Every There had been days when I simply doctor who had told me such things had couldn’t pull the chains of my morbid been wrong. thoughts off, even though I’d harness all the I was merely twenty-five, and I died strength I could find in me and employ all the same, leaving behind... hm... every force I could think of. None of the Well, to be honest, I didn’t` leave forces had ever answered my pleas nor my much behind. Few years of law school, a humble, shameful fear. None of them had roommate who was high all the time and deigned to help me - so eventually I just probably didn’t even notice I hadn’t come stopped asking. back to our apartment, parents who didn’t In some weird way, death was a particularly care about me, a girl whom I relief. I wouldn’t say it brought me the so was seeing with no real commitment... As frequently celebrated "peace of mind", I far as I knew, I hadn’t even knocked up discovered no "meaning of life" nor any anyone. other rubbish people tend to believe in. No, wait a minute... I left behind my huge collection of movies and computer 18 games, the kind any decent Playstation and By my left side, a luminescent light DVD Player addict would envy me on. was glowing. Its rays were incredibly bright Having remembered that, I almost and clear, almost as if they were drawn. wished to return back into the world of the Here it is, it’s starting, I thought with thrill, living. Almost, I said, because now, when I thinking about all those "near-death finally crossed that fine line between life experience" stories I had read. I couldn’t and death, the realization that I won’t have wait to go through the light and walk (or to be afraid any more was just dawning on should I say float?) into the beautiful world me - and it was too alluring. Still, the of the afterlife. thought of my roommate misappropriating Naturally, I lost any interest in my my DVDs and games bothered me a bit. I dead body which was being covered with a would have sighed if I weren’t so damn white sheet beneath me. transcendent. I moved towards the light, staring into It wasn’t bad. I was floating little it with curiosity, not at all surprised by being below the ceiling of the OR and watching able to do it without blinking and eye pain. the guys in green robes trying to push life After all, what else could have surprised back into me with their rubber gloves and me? I was dead! Someone appeared in the miraculous syringes and electroshocks and center of the light, someone looking human, stuff like that - just like in the most cliché and then left the bright luminescence. When "near-death experience". I was wondering - he came closer to me, I noticed it was a was all that real or was it just an illusion, a young man dressed in a long white gown. reflection of all books I read and movies I He was overwhelmingly beautiful and had I watched, left behind in my little grey cells. ever had any homosexual preferences, I Well, whatever it was, I decided not would have immediately started developing to return into my motionless body, even if a crush. But I didn’t like guys in that way, that meant losing the illusion and drowning so I could just observe he was beautiful in the nothingness. Life wasn’t worth all the like... like... like some piece of artwork, I’d pain and fear I knew about. Besides, I liked say - but then again, I hadn’t seen much flowing around and being ethereal, having a artwork during my life (and those I had seen body - one completely intangible and were too unintelligible and uninteresting), transcendent. so... Down below, something began to "Are you an angel?", I asked when he squeak monotonously. I frowned, and then approached me. He sighed and rolled his something else drew my attention away eyes. from the irritating squeaking. 19 "Do you see any wings?", he pointed but those buildings and streets and the at his back. gruesomely grey sky. "Okay, no wings, but everything else In short, as if I’ve left the movie that is here. The light, the white gown, the fact was in color and entered a weird, artistic that I am dead..." black-and-white one. "Typical", he sighed again, in a rather I couldn’t see any indication of frustrated tone of voice. "Well, at least you population. A dead silence ruled the place realize you are dead." and even the air was somehow heavy, "Is that weird?" almost as if it was grey too. Although I "You’d be surprised. Come on, follow didn’t have the need to breathe it, it seemed me." to be sticking in me, making me grey from He led me into the light and my heart inside too. would have been pounding wildly with I was disappointed when I realized I anticipation had I still been alive. was not blissfully transcendent any more - I The light did blind me a bit, so I was in average human form again. Nothing closed my eyes tightly and didn’t open them was hurting, I had no need to breathe nor did until I heard my guide who seemed bored. my heart beat, but the body was here, "You can open your eyes now." exactly the same as it was when I left it in And I did. the OR. I even wore the same clothes as in The sight before me left me the moment of my death. Furthermore, my overwhelmed - or should I say shocked. It skin was a somewhat unhealthy grey. Either was not even close to what I had expected. that color was common for dead people or I This enormous, grey city was all had started melting in with the world around around me. The network of long two-storey me. buildings seemed to be infinite as it reached I glanced at my guide, whose gown as far as my eyes could see, blending afar also became grey. Oddly, his hands and face with the grey sky which wasn’t cloudy, but were still white and beautiful, completely simply grey as ashes, with no sun, no moon, out of sync with the surroundings. no stars. All the buildings were exactly the "I must have sinned a lot, for you to same, dirty shade of grey, with windows have brought me here", I murmured, still hidden by grey curtains and doors made of recovering from the shocking revelation. He grey steel. The streets were grey too and I seemed confused for a moment, but the couldn’t see a single tree or piece of paper bored expression soon found its way back tossed away - there was absolutely nothing on his face. 20 "What you did during your life has you have no human needs, you don’t even nothing to do with this", he replied. "There need to sleep... But, everyone has their own is no final judgment. You all come here." room because the human need for privacy is "Oh", my beliefs, nourished for the the only need left intact after death." most of my life, suddenly collapsed. I mean, "And what’s in the room?" it’s not that I was ever a devout altar-boy "Nothing. What should be there?", he who spent his Sundays in church, but I still looked at me as if I were crazy. I sighed, kind of believed I was good enough to having remembered my collection of movies deserve some nice kind of afterlife. My life and games again. was difficult and painful, so death simply "Well, I don’t know, something for had to be better than that, right? fun..." Well, apparently not. "Fun? Well, if you want, you can "Okay, so now what?", I asked, not watch other mortals, but believe me, it is without ill temper. Beauty next to me usually very boring", my cheerful face, lit frowned with some disgust. up by the thought of all women I’ll be able "Your unrealistic expectations about to watch while they shower, made him roll afterlife are not my fault", he said, his voice his eyes. "Yes, the human need for inane, as if he had to say it for millions of voyeurism remains intact after death... times. "The sooner you accept the situation, You’ll get bored soon." the easier it will be for you to spend the Doubt it, I answered mentally, happy eternity here." because I found at least one good thing in I shuddered. Spending the eternity in the midst of all the grey. such a grey repulsive world didn’t sound We were walking through a long, encouraging at all. straight street which seemed to have no end, "Perhaps, if you could tell me more it was so monotonous that it made me feel about this... this place...", I suggested hypnotized by our rhythmical steps and meekly. I didn’t want to piss him off even extreme invariablity of the surroundings. All more - after all, he was the only thing I the windows were hidden behind curtains, could grab onto. all the doors closed. And I still haven’t seen "Okay", he nodded. "I did intend to anyone but the two of us. tell you about it anyway while I’m taking "Why does this city seem so you to your room." abandoned?", I asked. "There is not a single "My room?" trace of life." "Yes, these buildings are here for a "Maybe because this is the City of the reason. You do not require food or drink, Dead?", he shot me an almost deadly glance. 21 "Yeah, but... Why does everyone stay Pantheon that owned the entire Slavic in their rooms?" territory, and you know how large that was." "Most of them have no need to leave Of course, I had no idea, but I sad their rooms." nothing. "Nonsense!", I frowned, displeased. "We were quite a team - Perun, "No wonder this place is so bleak and boring Bojana, Gerovit, Lada, me... Always causing when everyone is so... dull." fracas against the Greek gods who believed "Everyone said that when they were they were better than us. You know, I was brought here, you know." different then. I lived with the others in I shook my head. Svitogor, the House of Gods, at the top of "Okay, so what about you? You bring the World Tree, and I was a Sun God, the dead people’s souls here, right? You said most powerful warrior, flying with a flame you’re not an angel, although your job sword and a horn filled with wine and mead, description matches those of an angel. What on Krilas, my white clairvoyant horse..." are you then?" A weird sparkle appeared in Svantevid was now completely lost in his eyes and for the first time he seemed his nostalgia. I was begining to feel sorry for interested in the discussion. him. "Have you ever heard about "I even wore four heads on my Svantevid?", he asked. I shrugged. shoulders to see on all four sides of the "The name sounds familiar, but only world... Some tribes even thought of me as a vaguely", I said honestly. He sighed with supreme god... And in Svitogor, Perun and I discontent. stood by the side of Svarog`s throne as his "Typical", he murmured. "Well. I am, most celebrated adjutants... Your people had you should know, Svantevid. One of ancient special reverence for me, you know", he Slavic deities." glanced at me. "You Croats called "A god?!", I was stupefied. So I was yourselves the Sun People, my people." dead and I did say nothing could surprise me I didn’t know what to say, so I just anymore, but the horrific grey city certainly nodded, encouraging him to continue. surprised me, and so did the fact I was "Many Greek legends were changed walking next to a real god! to weaken our fame in favor of Greek gods. "Used to be", he sighed with well Even the contest between Apollo and me in calculated melancholia. It seemed a bit the glow of sunrays was turned into the theatrical, as if he practiced the telling of the beauty contest between Athena, Hera and story many times. "I was one of the Aphrodite. It doesn’t matter. Those were powerful Slavic gods, a full member of the altogether magnificent times. Maybe I 22 should tell you some anecdotes to illustrate, finally defeated Črt in a duel, at the end of so you get the proper idea." the long war between the light and the I wasn’t really interested, but I didn’t darkness. want to offend him, so I said nothing. In short, he was telling me all those Svantevid had been totally transformed into fairy tales, and I had died as an adult, not as an energetic, passionate story-teller and it a child. was the only beautiful thing I have seen in His stories began to tire me and I was the City of Dead so far. And having a friend wondering how far is my room - we’ve been who is coincidentally a god in such a place walking for a very long time, and I still couldn’t hurt. couldn’t see the end of the street. "Telling some anecdotes to illustrate" "So how did this happen?", I turned into a long monologue by Svantevid interrupted. "You taking dead people here, I which gave me all information I ever mean." wanted, as well as some I did not, about his He sighed deeply, agony on his face. brothers Perun, the God of Thunder and "It is the worst part", he said. "Being Storm, Tatomir, the clever Moon God and here, having this stupid job, while I can still Stribor, the God of Winds. There was also a remember my former shiny, divine life... story about a huge war between gods and Don’t you get it? All of us, gods of the giants in which Svantevid, Tatomir and Slavs, gods of Greeks, Egyptians, Celts, Gerovit, God of War, lead an army of Gods Nordic gods and all the other gods... We all which won in the end, after Tatomir coexisted in peace or sometimes in war, we persuaded the giants to fight in the sea had our people whom we protected and who which somehow made it harder for giants. revered and praised us... And then, As far as I understood, the Kornati islands in somehow, people forgot us and stopped Adriatic sea were made from defeated army believing in us. With that, we lost our of giants and named after the giants’ fallen meaning. And we weren’t needed anymore." leader but Svantevid was talking like a "Okay, but what about all the people freaking poet so I couldn’t be sure. who died while you guys were in charge? And when he started to talk about his Someone had to bring them here." rivalry with evil god Črt, he didn’t stop for "Use logic, human", he sighed. "They hours, it seemed. I could summarize the haven’t been brought here. As far as I know, entire story in this: Črt stole Svantevid`s this place didn’t even exist then." girlfriend, Dawn, and took her to his dark "Where did the dead go then?", I was kingdom. Svantevid managed to get her honestly confused. back after long and exhausting battle, and he 23 "Charon was taking dead Greeks some of them even do the same things they across the river Styx to Hades, except those did back then. The Muses still have the job lucky ones who spent enough time during of inspiring people. Ares still manages wars. their life flattering gods to earn themselves Zeus still plays with his lightings. And I am the eternity in Elysian Fields. Dead Celts stuck in this stupid City of the Dead", he went to Avalon, dead Nordic warriors to was muttering again, lowering his voice as Valhalla, and our Slavs to Nav. When we quickly as he had raised it. "And all that became unnecessary to humans, things because people turned them into a tourist suddenly changed, a lot. All the dead were attraction and a product to be exported." transferred here and all those places that "Fine, but who is above all this? Who used to host afterlife ceased to exist." brought such decisions, created this place? "Why?" Is there a real...", I almost whispered, "... "Your questions are really stupid", he God?" frowned. "How should I know? I only do "You’re asking someone who has what I must. I am not a god anymore, nothing to do with the mentioned one remember?" because he is on the very bottom of the "Well, what are you then?", I was chain of command", he was cynical. "Yes, starting to feel impatient. I still didn’t there is the supreme Power which is above understand some of the things he told me all of us, but I don’t want to talk about it - about and as soon as he stopped talking abut and I mustn’t, for that matter. Anyway, his famous past, Svantevid returned to his we’ve reached your room." usual frustrated self. We stopped and he showed me the "I am still a deity, but I am not a god." first door on my right. "What is the difference?" "First floor, first door on the right side "It is too abstract to explain. Among of the stairway", he said and then just other things, I can’t make any important disappeared. Struck by such a sudden end of decisions. If I could...", he muttered with the conversation and the lack of instructions displeasure, "I most certainly wouldn’t about what was I supposed to do for choose a job like this one." eternity, it took me a few moments to get it "Let me guess - other gods got better together. Then, I sighed and entered the jobs", I remarked sarcastically. building. "They did!", he raised his voice, Grey stairs and grey walls, of course. obviously angry now. "Especially those A grey door, a grey room with empty walls, Greeks! Ares and Apollo and Aphrodite and a grey floor and grey curtains on the Zeus... Most of them are in management, window... The thought of having to spend 24 eternity in that room made me want to weed. I stared at the wall, grateful for scream. I firmly decided I would search the having something that could replace TV. entire City of the Dead until I find at least a I had stared for a while when I pebble which I could put on the floor to realized how much time had passed. The break this horrible emptiness of the room. first grey hairs showed on my ex- Also, I firmly promised myself I would roommate’s head. I could go and search for search all buildings until I find at least one another occupant of the City of the Dead, I person who doesn’t want to spend eternity thought again - but to be honest, I didn’t feel sitting in an empty, grey room. like leaving the room. It was much more I sat on the floor, thinking abut simple and interesting to stare at other everything that happened, about everything I people’s lives. learned from Svantevid. Everything still I sat and stared at the wall until I seemed unreal to me and I knew it would completely forgot about my idea to find take time for me to accept it. someone with whom I could hang around. I I thought about my movies and games forgot about Svantevid too, I forgot how I with regret again. My roommate was had died and how I had lived - because it certainly enjoying himself with my was much easier to simply follow other collection right now, I thought. At the same people’s lives with an empty head, moment, a scene appeared on the wall in unburdened with any kind of thoughts. front of me - my roommate, sitting with I sat and stared - and the eternity some of his mates, drinking and smoking lasted.

Robert Anson Heinlein

Be wary of strong drink. It can make you shoot at tax collectors... and miss...

25 Irena is a competent writer and one of the leading personalities of Croatian fandom today. Besides writing - she published a story collection Cabrón last year, she manages the leading Croatian SF portal: www.nosf.net

Irena Rašeta LET IT BE GREEN

I knew where I’d been. Not where I particularly beautiful, but her body was was. My face was burning, eyes swollen and spectacular. She moved like a ballet dancer heavy, a well-known taste danced around and her eyes cut through as if she were Red my palate and made my tongue numb. Sonja. I gave up on comparisons and I was supposed to be at work at nine. directed my thoughts back to the slit when But on the way the tram broke down, so I suddenly she started coming back to my went out and walked into a coffee place table. right across from my red tram seat. "I forgot the water." Her voice was Everything stopped. No one was going deep and pleasant. She bit her fingernails. I anywhere until they repaired the tram, and watched a drop of sweat fall down her the Zagreb City Transport Authority was in cleavage. no hurry. I was neither. My job sucked "Thank you," I thought I was about to anyhow, and the coffee smelled too good to say, it was supposed to sound like that, but I get upset over a couple of hours of being heard "Marry me…" come out of my mouth. late. There was no disco folk blaring from The waitress looked at me askance, as the speakers-which you might expect at this if she knew what I was thinking about. Her kind of a dive-but Dire Straits. I could’ve fingers worked their magic over my coffee, sworn I knew the song. Waitress she the cup was steaming, I lit a cigarette. With watches me crossing from the Barocco a first sip, I glanced at her legs as she was Bar… walking away. She wore dense skin-colored She didn’t reply, showed no surprise, nylons and white clogs. Higher up-a tight she just put her hand in the big pocket of her slit side mini skirt and a white shirt. Greasy apron and handed me a little green piece of hair tied up in a pony. She wasn’t paper across the table… 26 desert, over the wheels, climbing on the * * * hood, penetrating into the glass, piercing into my face. I felt my glasses pressing on my nose They call it green, but as far as I’m and the sweat dripping down my forehead. concerned it could’ve been soylent of any The smell of pot was strong and it mixed color: red, yellow, even green, as long as it with the smell of beer someone had spilled brought images back into my eyes-broken, on the floor so it was sticky. I was sitting on shattered, blurry-and the taste of cinnamon a barstool, one foot on the ground, other on under my tongue. Cinnamon teasing my the foot ring, with the guitar in my arms. I nostrils… I greedily opened my mouth to was strumming a tune everybody knew. the downy touch of the paper… Our favorite band was on the repertoire once again: Excuse me for talking * * * I wanna marry you. I couldn’t tell if the audience enjoyed it or if they even cared. "Want some green?" her lips formed Voices, women laughing, glass breaking, the question. She waved at me from across everything mixed with the sweet and sour the room. It looked like she was dancing. smell twisting from under my nose. I I smiled, looking at her hanging inhaled the smoke and kept my breath. upside-down on a pole, and waved yes at Someone ripped the joint out of my mouth her with my right foot. I went down to my swearing because of the spit I passed on to knees and engulfed the pole with my sweaty him. Fuck it, I’m playing the guitar here, I breasts. The pole vibrated in the rhythm of thought. the music that must have blared from the tall We were rocking, that’s how good we speakers around the podium. I couldn’t hear were, but perhaps it was just the pot. I the music, but that wasn’t even necessary as remembered, it seemed as if the world long as I exposed my naked breasts to revolved around us all. While I was still able goggly eyes of drunks and impotent to see, it was a familiar feeling I often got. gangster wannabes. The DJ signaled that he Now, in the dark, I could only imagine the was about to play the Straits. It was our dizziness. My head was attached on a spring favorite music in those slow, sticky nights juggling on a dashboard of an SUV when the sky was filled with clouds flashing speeding through the desert… While my with lightings unable to squeeze out at least fingers picked the melodies they knew so one drop of rain. The nights full of sweaty well on their own, I felt someone else’s circles on the shirts of boring bankers and fingers on my face. We wandered across the software analysts who went bald 27 prematurely, the nights when whiskey was hanging from my face as if I were a drunk, and bills stuck to fingers, when each bulldog… I felt disgusted with myself. of these so-called macho men wanted to Fucking old age, when did it come? grab something, ram into something, but he My hands were shaking as I felt my was either too frustrated or too desperate or face. My blue eyes watched in horror an old too miserable, so he drunk himself into woman’s hair dyed too red. Skin of an old oblivion. And a gogo dancing girl, yes I saw hag overly tanned. Teeth of an old cow who her… refused not to be young anymore, teeth that Suddenly she was behind me. Her were too white and too perfect. hands moved over my body attracting all the My body was still firm, but the details eyes in the bar. Her hips set a slow rhythm revealed more than they were hiding. Who on me. We moved as if we were one body, else still wore such jeans? They’d come out we knew how to dance this dance. We of fashion a long time ago and they couldn’t kissed and the audience was delirious-I be worn even in the privacy of your own watched as they applauded. Her tongue gave home. I hesitated to take them off, but when mine a little green note… I did, with disgust I watched the balls of skin on my knees, veins crisscrossing my * * * calves. I threw the jeans somewhere behind me all the while watching myself in my I turned up the radio to the sound of a thong, which old women such as myself familiar tune, and then continued cutting the shouldn’t be wearing at all. I felt sick with carrot into thin circles. My fingernails were myself so I started screaming. I screamed nicely manicured and painted pink. But the from the top of my lungs while the smell of wrinkles were still winning over my fingers, burning food spread from the kitchen. you could tell that these were no longer Let it burn, let it all disappear… I ran hands of a young woman who swayed her searching for my purse and took a small hips and ruled the stage while Dire Straits white package from my wallet. With my blared from the speakers. I dropped the fingers-and old, oh so old!-shivering, I knife on the cutting board and wiped the opened a white cinnamon-scented fingers with my apron. For a moment I handkerchief and brought a green piece of stood there staring at the stew simmering on paper to my lips… Let it be green… the stove and waiting to be stirred. As my heart echoed in my chest, I ran to the mirror. * * * I looked for them and kept finding them… the wrinkles around my eyes, my lips, skin 28 I started when the tram started. Five minutes passed and I was already sick Everyone flew forward, and I hit my knee of reality, at least of my reality… I needed a against the seat in front of me. I almost rest, more of other people’s thoughts, more broke my teeth on the handrail, I thought, of other smells and tastes, experiences of my and swore something else instead. The tram fellow sufferers by the green, I just wanted stopped determinedly. My eyes were slowly to get far away from here. But, where can I clearing until I unconsciously felt the pocket get the green at this time of day and at this of my shirt where I placed the empty part of the town…? Where am I anyhow? wrapping of the green package. I looked outside at the street through It was a fucked up morning. I must the window and immediately on my right I have been riding the tram all night long, saw a well-known pair of feet in clogs. I completely stoned. Wild West End by the didn’t know she worked at the dive, but I Straits rang in my head, although I couldn’t knew she always carried something on her. I remember the last time I had listened to smiled at my good fortune and unglued them. I was sweaty and I stank, but there myself from the seat. Inside I ordered a cup was nothing I could do. I would have to go of coffee and a glass of water… to work like that. It wouldn’t be the first, besides my job sucked. I could do it with my eyes closed, with my left hand while I jerked off with the right and played Bach on (Translated by Tomislav Kuzmanović) a keyboard with my feet. Fucking prospects of promotion and fucked up team building that I refused to go to. So what if I got fired, let them find a better programmer. The tram stood still. "This is gonna last," the driver said from his cab, provoking a wave of protest among the passengers. They started getting out into the street where the air was even stuffier than the one that contaminated the tram, and I wished another piece of paper. 29 THEY SAID ON CROATIA…

Lois McMaster Bujold, USA only a fraction of the available work gets translated into Croatian. Croatian SF readers 2002 SFeraKon GoH are just as avid as all others I’ve met, and

would soon run out of books to read if they "(…) In Croatia, I seemed to actually didn’t sharpen their foreign language skills. be taken perfectly seriously as a writer. This In turn, the exercise improves their English, seems to be something of a national habit -- to my benefit; I felt I was able to carry on I saw more statues put up to writers than to high-level and complex conversations about generals in my ambles around the city. I can Sfnal and literary topics with little constraint only approve. practically throughout my stay. (…) Usually, a visiting writer is (…) To my surprise, we didn’t bother insulated from knocks and jars by their with translation; all the attendees were anxious hosts, but it was pretty clear to me expected to follow along in English, which, that Americans are actually welcome in judging by the questions in the Q&A part, Croatia. For anyone who’s considering a they were well able to do. I’m still deeply Mediterranean vacation, I would impressed that we could fill the room, a recommend they take a look at the Istrian hundred to a hundred and fifty people, and Dalmatian coast; the water is clear, the random fans, all speaking a second language seafood is splendid, and an astounding well enough to carry on these complex number of people speak at least some conversations. Anyway, the interview English. With some good will and an seemed to go well…" English-Croatian dictionary, I suspect one could get along rather well. And for history http://www.dendarii.com/croatia02.html buffs, well, there’s a feast of Greek, Roman, medieval, and other sites to see. (…) I was continually impressed by my Croatian hosts’ command of English. In part this comes from their interest in SF, as 30 Ken MacLeod, Scotland Michael Swanwick, USA 2005 SFeraKon GoH 2006 SFeraKon GoH

"(…) The centre of Zagreb looks very "Croatia is beautiful, small, West European: Austro Hungarian egalitarian, a great place for sidewalk cafes buildings, red tiled roofs on the houses, and and wandering about in Roman ruins and the odd sixties or seventies office block. A still-functioning Venetian cities, but few hundred metres in any direction from possessed of a complex and terrible history. the centre and it starts to look more like your And the food is terrific. Marianne and I typical commie downtown, except with stayed for several days in an small brighter neon and better stocked shops. apartment just within the Silver Gate of Many of the shops are Western chains, Diocletian’s palace in Split and while there I others date back to the Kingdom or the imagined my favorite characters, Darger and Empire, and some are survivors from the Surplus, arriving on a packet boat hauled socialist era. (…) South of the river is Novi into the harbor by plesiosaurs. We’ll see if I Zagreb, all post WW2 and mostly huge - ever get around to writing that one. I’d be and not at all identical - apartment blocks tempted to set something in the Plitvice many of which seem to have a ground floor Lakes, a long and magical valley containing of small shops and cafes. literally hundreds of waterfalls, but The general feel of the place is pretty Marianne is convinced that Terry Pratchett laid back. People dress smartly and behave beat me to it with “Thud”. politely and are friendly. You couldn't ask No toasts, but we did discover that for nicer. Croatia is both Catholic and Croatian men like to sing a capella in the nationalist, but relaxed about it, in the style bars - exquisitely melancholy old songs in of the Irish Republic today rather than in the multi-part harmony. If angels went thirties, or even modern Poland. (…)" slumming, this is what they’d sound like. (…) We left with a very warm Mostly, though, I liked the people. appreciation of Croatia, and of its fandom. Good folks, fun to hang out with, and some Croatia used to be a popular holiday of them are great storytellers." destination, and is becoming so again. We certainly intend to come back." http://kenmacleod.blogspot.com http://scififantasyfiction.suite101.com:80/arti cle.cfm/call_me_prolific 31 Richard K. Morgan, England Roman rather than Cyrillic characters, but still a million miles from a Romance tongue, 2008 SFeraKon GoH full of harsh slavic sounds and peppered

with a selection of loan words that I "(...) Zagreb in fact turns out to be this sometimes recognised from my very rusty small, mostly sunny and incredibly beautiful Turkish. It's fascinating to read (well, look little city on the slopes of green hills, littered at) and listen to, but it's not a tongue I had with gorgeous Austro-Hungarian Empire any confidence about getting easily to grips architecture, thronging with cheery blue, with. My publisher concurs - it is, clanging trams and full of laid-back, friendly apparently, incredibly grammatically people. (…) complicated (as it seems are most slavic Culturally, Croatia was for me (and languages), with endings for everything, and even more intensely for my wife Virginia, the antique declensional complexity of who is Spanish) a weird combination of very Greek or Latin. We spent the whole six days familiar and very alien. There is an attitude we were there eternally grateful for the high here to family and to food which is pure levels of English speaking competence Mediterranean. Kids are the centre of among the Croatians we met." attention everywhere, eating is an important aspect of life (rather than just the fuelling up http://www.richardkmorgan.com/news.htm it tends to be in the UK) with thriving open markets for fruit and veg, broad arrays of Walter Jon Williams, USA (genuinely - check out the eyes) fresh fish and seafood, and everywhere buyers and 2001 SFeraKon GoH sellers who want (and have the time) to talk about the produce as if it actually mattered "(…) I was guest of honor at the what you put in your stomach. To this Croatian national convention, held in extent, it all felt very much like being back Zagreb, and the object of an enormous in Spain. But at the same time there's a dash amount of warmth and hospitality, for which of something far more north European in the I remain grateful." slightly sober-looking coffee houses, the well behaved traffic, the more sedate, http://walterjonwilliams.blogspot.com quieter pace of things when compared to the frenetic speed and volume that Spain likes to operate at. And of course there's the language - Croatian, helpfully lettered in 32

UBIQ - THE NEW CROATIAN SCIENCE FICTION MAGAZINE Aleksandar Žiljak

Brief Course of History the best were those by Mladen Bjažić and Zvonimir Furinger (writing in tandem) and The history of science fiction in Angelo Rittig. Unfortunately, what looked Croatia was to a large extent defined by two as a very promising start faded into another long-running magazines. In order to hiatus lasting for a decade. understand their importance, we should first Early 1970s were a period of a summarise the development of Croatian SF. renewed interest in science fiction. By 1976, While elements of the so-called time was ripe for the first Croatian SF “proto-SF” can be traced as far back as the magazine. It was the famous Sirius, Renaissance, modern Croatian science modelled after contemporary American SF fiction began shortly after World War I, magazines, and publishing stories by when the first SF novels appeared. prominent US, European and Soviet writers. Period immediately after World War However, Sirius - edited by Borivoj II - when the war-winning Communist party Jurković and later by Hrvoje Prćić - led by Tito came to power - represented immediately opened its pages to Yugoslav somewhat of a hiatus in the development of and Croatian authors. This represented a the Croatian SF. However, by the late quantum leap, because Croatian writers of 1950s, there was a considerable rise in all ages and literary styles (and skills) translated novels published in Yugoslavia proved more than willing to participate. and Croatia. It didn’t take long for some Each issue of Sirius brought at least one Croatian authors to try their hand in science story by a Croatian author, and often more. fiction, and so we witness the first surge of Sirius also published some theory and an novels, published between 1959 and 1965: occasional writing course, as well as fandom 33 news, thus proving instrumental in finally Parsek and organizes the annual SFeraKon creating what can be called a science fiction convention held in Zagreb since early 1980s. scene in Croatia and Yugoslavia. Sirius had In early 1990s, the crisis in a circulation of some 30 000 in its heyday Yugoslavia culminated in its violent break- and was elected twice (in 1980 and 1984) up. Croatia became independent, and almost the best European SF magazine. immediately a new SF magazine was Unfortunately, the 1980s Yugoslavia introduced to the readers. It was Futura, was a country in a deep economic and whose first issue appeared on news-stands in political crisis. Sirius faced increased autumn 1992. Futura didn’t differ much difficulties and was finally folded by its from Sirius, but it was published by a small publisher in late 1989. This left a permanent publisher and faced an audience exhausted scar in Croatian SF. by all the ravages of war, at But, the thirteen years that time still going on. of Sirius resulted in Therefore, its circulation science fiction be- was much lower, and it had coming a firmly numerous problems, chan- established, although ging several editors and occasionally derided, being sold to another part of Croatian publisher at the end of popular culture. The 1990s. However, Futura so-called “Sirius had similar importance to years” saw publication Sirius, albeit at the smaller of some very im- scale: it provided place for portant novels (par- Croatian SF writers to ticularly those by publish, which they did Predrag Raos), and the with similar enthusiasm as release of the only two during the days of Sirius. Croatian SF movies: New generation of writers The Rat Saviour by Krsto Papić and Visitors made its presence known at the pages of from the Arkana Galaxy by Dušan Vukotić. Futura. Unfortunately, Futura is at present Fandom, too, became well-organised during de facto defunct. It became somewhat the “Sirius years”, the most important club irregular during late 1990s, and was reduced being SFera from Zagreb, founded in 1976 to a single annual issue for the past several and still active. It publishes the fanzine years, mostly bringing Hugo and Nebula 34 nominees and winners. Thus it lost almost Per Aspera Ad Ubiq any importance to Croatian SF. In spring 1995, Zagreb club SFera As we have seen, aside from published the first of its annual story courageous pioneers, the rapid development collections, titled Zagreb 2004, conceived of Croatian SF begun in 1976 with the and edited by Darko Macan. These annual appearance of Sirius magazine. By early collections, running to the present day, 2000s, Croatian SF had quite a few well- proved even more important to the established authors that produced development of Croatian SF than Futura, considerable amount of stories and some because they were as a rule better-edited and very good novels. opened to broader spectrum of themes and In April 2004, during the SFeraKon literary styles. Anyway, the 1990s saw the convention held in Zagreb, Tomislav Šakić new surge in Croatian SF literature, with and Aleksandar Žiljak (the author of this new writers writing better and better stories, text) came to an idea of putting together the followed by some quite good novels. anthology of the Croatian SF story.∗ The The most important lesson that can be work on this anthology began almost learned from this very brief account of the immediately. Already having a very firm history of science fiction in Croatia is the idea of the history of Croatian SF, they following one: If there is a magazine or a decided to limit themselves to the period story-collection or a fanzine being published since 1976. The anthology was scheduled regularly, there will be writers ready to write for 2006, to celebrate the 30th anniversary stories for it. Magazines, fanzines and of both Sirius and the SFera club. annual story-collections result in a large The anthology was titled Ad Astra - body of stories that eventually constitute The Anthology of the Croatian Science science fiction as a literary genre. Also, they Fiction Story 1976 - 2006. It was published serve as a binding medium that glues in April 2006 by a small Zagreb publisher together fandom and writers, thus Mentor. It is a mammoth 640-page establishing science fiction as part of hardcover volume, containing stories by the popular culture. This lesson is particularly 40 most important Croatian SF writers in the important in light of present crisis of SF past 30 years. It also contains a theoretical magazines globally. and historical introductions, as well as biographical notes for each of the featured * On a panel quite unsuccessfully moderated by Boris authors and a reasonably complete Švel, editor of this stuff. bibliography of Croatian SF story in the

35 aforementioned period. Ad Astra proved omnipresence - ubiquity - of science fiction quite a success, receiving very favourable in modern human society. reviews and stirring some media interest. Ubiq - Literary Science Fiction Carried by the success of Ad Astra, Magazine is a 240-page magazine, and realising the urgent need for a regular published by Mentor and edited by SF magazine, at that moment virtually non- Tomislav Šakić and Aleksandar Žiljak. existent, Šakić and Žiljak decided to start a Board of editors includes Igor Marković, new literary magazine for Croatian science Mihaela Marija Perković, Davor Šišović and fiction. Boris Švel, while the advisory board The initial idea was propositioned by consists of Dr. Tomislav Brlek, Dr. Nikica Tomislav Šakić. He suggested not a monthly Gilić, Dr. Zoran Kravar, Darko Macan, magazine such as Sirius or Futura, but a bi- Zoran Roško and Dr. Darko Suvin. Ubiq annual literary magazine contains, on average, 10 with SF/F/H stories, stories by Croatian writers theoretical texts, essays and 4 or 5 theoretical and bibliographical texts / essays / biblio- works. There are several graphic works per issue. literary magazines in the Its quite radical Croatian book-stores cover design drew today, oriented towards immediate attention (Ubiq main-stream literature, was designed and and they served as layouted by Melina patterns during defining Mikulić and Studio the concept. Žiljak, on the grafičkih ideja - SGI), other hand, had standing apart from what previously published people usually expect of a some stories in German SF magazine cover. Nova and InterNova and Issue 1 appeared in Italian Futuro Europa, and copies of these November 2007, and was introduced to the magazines, also bi-annual (at best), provided public on Interliber, the leading Croatian another model. annual book-fair, held in Zagreb. Issue 2 The title Ubiq was chosen partly to was published in April 2008 to coincide pay homage to Philip K. Dick (the original with SFeraKon 2008, and issue 3 was Ubik spelling was discarded due to published in November 2008. Issue 6 copyright reasons), and partly to signify the available since April 2009. Ubiq is a small- 36 press magazine, sold in book-shops, through Kokanović-Krušelj, Nada Mihaljević, Internet and on various SF conventions Sandra Obradović, Iva Šakić-Ristić, (Croatia currently has five conventions). Its Manuela Zlatar). Editorial work in Ubiq is current book-store price is 59 kunas (approx. quite strict. As editors, Tomislav Šakić and 8 euros). Aleksandar Žiljak demand well-written Ubiq is to a large extent state- stories with fresh ideas, and it apparently sponsored. Since 2008, it is subsidized by shows in the quality of the magazine. As it the Ministry of Culture of the Republic of turned out, mere listing of names shows the Croatia, and since this year also by the City prevalence of women writers, which is a of Zagreb. trend that can be traced (in quality if not quantity) from as long ago as Sirius. As for Ubiq So Far sub-genres, the editors do not as yet discriminate between SF, fantasy and horror, Six issues are enough to assess the but apparently SF remains dominant so far. initial impact of the project. As for theory and essays, our most The whole idea was to provide a prominent contributor is, of course, Darko magazine that would publish Croatian SF Suvin. But we also publish historical studies writers. However, it takes two to tango. (for instance, by Biljana Oklopčić, Tomislav Luckily, Ubiq succeeded completely. Once Šakić, Nikica Mihaljević, Bojan Jović and again, as was the case with Sirius, Futura Boris Švel) and various essays (such as and SFera story collections, it was clearly Milena Benini’s, comparing vampire and demonstrated that the authors will write and spy novels). We plan to publish texts on publish if they have a place to publish in. national SF scenes. So far, we had texts on Our contributors so far include veterans Slovenian (by Tanja Cvitko), Chinese SF from the “Sirius days” (Lidija Beatović, (by Lavie Tidhar), Serbian SF (by Miodrag Vesna Gorše, Biljana Mateljan, Veronika Milovanović) and Spanish SF (by Julian Santo, Branko Pihač), prominent writers Diaz) is ready for issue 4. Bibliographies from the 1990s (Milena Benini, Jasmina were also published, the most interesting Blažić, Tatjana Jambrišak, Danilo Brozović, being a bibliography of Croatian SF up to Darko Macan, Dalibor Perković, Zoran 1945, prepared by Živko Prodanović. Vlahović, Aleksandar Žiljak), members of Ubiq drew considerable attention the new generation appearing with the 21st from mainstream cultural scene. It received century (Tereza Rukober, Zoran Krušvar, very favourable reviews in several culture Kristijan Novak), as well as newcomers to magazines and some media exposure. It was the scene (such as Katarina Brbora, Gordana also well received by the SF audience, 37 particularly in the face of the fact that it is we unfortunately lack space for any non- oriented exclusively towards Croatian Croatian stories. writers. Republic of Croatia and City of We are, however, interested in non- Zagreb support testify of good reception of Croatian theory and essays. We published the magazine and give some certainty of its texts by authors from Slovenia, Serbia and continuous publication. Israel, USA and Spain so far. We’d like to As we repeated several times, Ubiq is see texts on various aspects of Science currently reserved for Croatian writers. Fiction, Fantasy, Horror, slipstream, and Inclusion of authors from speculative fiction in other countries (former general. We are also very Yugoslavia, Europe and the interested in so-called Third world are the comprehensive histories of first that come to mind) national SF scenes. The would necessitate more texts should preferably be pages, i.e. more issues per in English. We must point year. While we secretly hope out that Ubiq is currently a to became a quarterly, we non-paying magazine. must be realistic and admit Queries are welcome and that it is very unlikely under can be sent by e-mail on current circumstances of a [email protected]. major global economic You are also invited to visit crisis. The only chance for our website (in Croatian) the long-term success and on http://ubiq.nosf.net survival of Ubiq is to go step by step, as After the initial success, it is to be allowed by available funds. Bi-annual hoped that Ubiq will prove a long-running national magazine is, apparently, quite a project, stimulating high-quality writing and difficult proposition even in much richer thorough study of science fiction in Croatia. European countries than Croatia. We have Our goal is to stress the position of SF not witnessed enough ambitious projects that only as the element of popular culture, but lasted for an issue or two to be very, very also as a subject for serious academic work. careful in our plans. Since we are forced to remain bi-annual, and since our primary goal is to maintain the continuity and enhance the quality of Croatian SF writing, 38

Dalibor Perković and Boris Švel CROATIAN SF CONVENTIONS

SFERAKON renowned for its film programme, where people can see up to 20 films ranging from Where: Zagreb obscure and bizarre to the non-commercial When: last full weekend in April works of art, usually hard to reach. Organised by: SFera Typical attendance: 800+ ISTRAKON http://www.sfera.hr http://www.sferakon.hr Where: Pazin, Istria The oldest and biggest Croatian SF When: mid-March convention. The first convention called Organised by: Albus "SFeraKon" was held in 1983, but SFera Typical attendance: 400+ had been organizing similar events - http://www.istrakon.hr officially and unofficially - since it was formed in 1976. In 1986, SFera hosted If Zagreb has the strongest Eurocon with Sam Lundwall as a Guest of convention, Istrian is the most beloved one. Honour. Today, SFeraKon hosts The first Istrakon was held in 2000 as a part distinguished foreign GoHs and is more of "Jules Verne days". Today it is an self- inclined towards the "serious" type of standing convention whose popularity programme: lectures, panels, presentations among the Croatian fans is immense. and a yearly SFERA Award ceremony for Istrakon has strong Istrian flavour, but also best Croatian SF. In addition, during the last started hosting foreign GoHs. Although fourteen years SFeraKon visitors who attend there are many lectures and panels about SF full three days also get annual collection of and F, Istrakon's young team of organizers Croatian SF stories included in their also likes to keep their guests entertained by membership fee. However, there are also an abundance of games, shows and quizzes. quizzes and games for those with a more relaxed approach to SF. SFeraKon is also 39 KUTIKON RIKON Where: Kutina Where: Rijeka When: February When: early October Organised by: SFinga Organised by: 3. Zmaj Typical attendance: ? Typical attendance: 150+ http://www.3zmaj.hr Kutikon had its brightest days during the mid-90s. Today, it is mostly considered The most important autumn defunct, but there may always be some destination for Croatian fans. In the last pleasant surprises. couple of years, RiKon firmly established itself as the third most important convention in Croatia. Convention has a diverse LIBURNICON programme with a bit of everything. Where: Opatija When: late July ESSEKON Organised by: Kulturni Front Typical attendance: 100+ and growing Where: Osijek http://www.kulturnifront.hr When: early November Organised by: Gaia The youngest and reportedly very Typical attendance: 100+ enthusiastic convention started two years http://www.gaia.hr ago as "Abbacon", with just right mix of entertainment, literary events and popular Over the years Essekon (called after science. Being held at the peak of summer the old Hungarian name for Osijek - Essek) tourist season is a mixed blessing, however. is in constant danger of turning into a gaming convention, but the organiser have been resisting it so far, so there is always some literary SF programme included.

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