Holidays? I don't think so ... (Kristina Sturm)

House on a hill (Insa Keimer)

Departures (Sandra Henrich)

Future Thoughts (Charlotte Fricke)

Heat.
Almost unbearable heat.
No clouds in sight - immaculate, brain-piercing blue above.

Thirst.
A kingdom for a bottle (even a tiny one would do right now) of cold, clear, delicious water. I try to imagine the refreshing liquid on my lips, in my mouth, touching my teeth, my tongue, before running down my drained throat, wanting more - but there is no water, and there will be none for hours, as far as I can see.

I throw a glance at the merciless glowing, burning ball of light that seems eager to melt my entire body, like a lump of wax helplessly exposed to the flame.

But I will resist, I will not give up, never ever will I give up. I wanted to come here, o. k., so now I have to face the consequences and be strong, hold on (what rubbish - that sounds like one of these innumerable, unbearably schmaltzy love songs!) Now I realise - I must be going insane, of course! My brain's half dead because of the dry heat and I am no longer able to think straight. How great - insanity befalls me right in the middle of nowhere...

By the way, where am I actually? Due to the immense heat, this must be hell or some close outskirt of it - hey demons, where are you? Good gracious, am I really going mad?

I take a longer look round. Although the dry heat lets everything flicker around me, I try to make out where I am right now. As soon as I reduce the speed of my steps, my pulse calms down, my heartbeat reaches almost normal frequency. Take a deep breath - and exhale carefully - take another deep breath - good girl. I have to keep my tortured body under control, I mustn't give in to the all-powerful force that is about to make my feet stumble, to throw me to the ground. The longer I stand still, unmoving, only breathing slowly and looking around, the more am I able to control my limbs. With an automatic movement, the sweat is wiped off my forehead and face. My nostrils are open wide, soaking in the air that makes my lungs shake and twist. It is as dry as a dusty, ragged carpet that hasn't been hoovered since the Queen was crowned.

I don't want to breathe, I really don't want to, but who cares? So I pump my lungs full with dry air, with dust and heat and thirst, sunshine, thirst, sweat, exhaustion and thirst again.

How I long to feel the first, icy drops of a shower on my burning skin! I would jump head over heels under the relieving gush, rinsing my pains away. And I'd drink, hastily, greedily, and I'd be a human sponge, filling up with water until I nearly burst. Oh, I can even hear the powerful jet, it roars in my ears, no - in the whole of my head. Water!!!

In fact, it's not water, it's a carousel - it spins me round and round. Faster and faster it goes, it nearly lifts me off my feet. Stop! That was close, I must sit down. Don't close your eyes, even if you feel a mighty urge to do so. They have to be open, blink.

Again, my exhausted lungs deeply fill with oxygen. I lean back and my hands touch a rough, stony surface. The tiny pieces of rock pierce my palms. This is obviously no hospitable spot and anyhow, the short rest has refreshed me a bit.

In a second, I'm up on my feet again. I don't feel the blisters on my soles and I successfully suppress the thought of drinking. The way towards my goal is no longer too long and strenuous, that's child's play! Wandering on, I try to imagine what it will be like to throw a first glance at the reason for this trip. Will it be worth it? Of course it will!

There'll be coolness, shadows that invite me to repose and relax, birds twittering charmingly, refreshments...! I hurry on, it's not far, only a few moments. But I have to pay tribute to the brutal heat, my energetic advancement was too arrogant and badly calculated.

Things are slowly but surely getting desperate. I have no idea for how long I am supposed to continue this - every piece of my body, muscles, bones, sinews (I even don't know their correct terms), seems to hurt, above all my feet, and my back is almost breaking. Slowly, I put one foot in front of the other, and without looking ahead, I start to climb the steepest slope so far. Have I ever been that ambitious before in my whole life?

The path is narrow, I have to squeeze past enormous boulders from time to time. My heavy boots tear at my anklebones. Left, right, inhale, left, right, exhale. A snail would beat me now... Come on, breathe, wipe your face and - don't look up. Myriads of stones pass under my view, brown, grey, white, different sizes and shapes.

Suddenly a strange sound makes me stop abruptly. I listen hard. Silence. There it is again - but where does it come from? No matter how intensely I screen my rocky environment, I detect nothing unusual or strange. A dark stripe hushes over my body, quickly but not unseen, although my eyes start getting tired. Nervously, I start. Who or what is that? The sound shoots in my ears, unpleasant, penetrating, alarming: no human being can ever utter such vicious noise.

Motionless with fear, I dare to deliberately raise my eyes. The white-hot sun hits me directly in the face, but not unprepared. I twinkle and shadow my brow with a flat hand. The only thing I can discern in the infinite blue is the silhouette of a gigantic bird. A terrible thought flashes through my brain: a vulture! Only waiting for the moment when I helplessly trip and don't stand up again... O fate, spare me this tragic end!

Now, it slowly descends and threateningly approaches me. I take up all my courage and watch it come closer. The more the distance is reduced, the clearer can I see the deadly beast. From close up, however, it doesn't look that malicious at all, but rather cautious, even fearful. I only once saw a life-size vulture before, but I am immediately sure: this being doesn't bear the slightest resemblance to it. Relieved, I deeply exhale and then I finally realise:

I made it!

This is the place I've wanted to reach for years, I am there!

Glorious feeling of triumph, the expedition has landed, the conquest is done - where are the pagans awaiting me with primitive gifts? All right, just kidding...

After a few moments of overwhelming joy, reality grabs me on the neck and throws me down to earth. Instantaneously, I am sober - disappointment is the only term that describes my feelings best. This ridiculous spot was the motivation for all my pains and fears? I don't believe it. For years, I have dreamed of seeing these few square metres, have seen me standing on this very point... A loud cry, similar to that of the wild bird, strangles my throat and reverberates from the rocks.

It's only an ordinary, simple, normal, damn rock! No fountain to cool my blessings, no birds to lull me to sleep - just a small tree a few steps next to it that doesn't even throw a narrow shadow or something similar on the hot ground. I shouldn't have expected clouds either - there are NONE!

Torn by frustration, tired, sad, furious and dead thirsty, I only manage to sink down, like in a haze, and utter the last words before finally going home the next day:

"Next year, I'll spend my holidays in good old England!"

It was a dark night when a car with three young people crashed against the tree. There was no help for two of them; only one girl was rescued- barely half alive, but brought back to life. It took a while for her to forget at least a part of the accident and find her way back to a normal life. One day, a year after the accident, she went to the place where her friends died to bring them some flowers. It was a nice day, the sun shining, birds singing- nothing that reminded her of that dreadful night. On a hill beside the street was a huge house, very dark even in the sunny afternoon. It made her shiver. For a moment she thought she had seen a man in the door but she could not be sure afterwards. Something was going on there...

He had seen her again. He knew it was the girl who survived the accident one year ago. She would come back, he felt it and he knew that she had seen him as well. She would not be able to resist him, the house,… why should she, nobody could. She would return.

She slept badly at night. Bad dreams haunted her sleep and she feared going to bed. It was always the same dream- the accident, the blood and suddenly the man in front of the dark house at the top of the hill smiling at her as if he knew something. What was happening to her? Why did this man follow and frighten her so much? She had no idea, but it had to stop and it was her task to do so immediately. She sensed that he wanted her to come to him as soon as possible. She would take the initiative! Only a week after her first visit, she went to the hill again and stood in front of the door of that house. Before she could knock, it opened and led her into a great hall where a tall man stood waiting for her. She was surprised to see that he was exactly like in her dreams - good-looking with dark hair and deep blue eyes. He said nothing and motioned with his hand, directing her to the terrace where they sat down in the sun.

"I knew you would come", he said with a deep charming voice. "My name is Daniel Ryan and you are…?" "Carol, Carol Hunter." She could not say more, she was fascinated and embarrassed to see nothing of the darkness around him she had seen in her dreams. He was a nearly ordinary man, only that there seemed to be an unbearable secret around him, haunting him all the time. They sat there, saying nothing, just staring at the person opposite. But that was alright, there was no need to talk at all. Just feeling like friends, as if they knew each other already.

She did not know when she went home, but it was already dark then and the stars were shining bright in the sky. Somehow she felt happy. She decided to go to the beach- just wondering around a little, thinking about this strange day. Everything was peaceful, only small waves came to the beach, touching it carefully. So natural to see Daniel in front of her. He seemed somehow relaxed but he wanted something. "I need your help!" he said and stretched out his hands. She took a step towards him...

"Carol, Carol! Everything okay with you?" - a hand touched her, shaking her wildly. She woke. "What?" "We nearly hit a tree, there was a deer, I think, that leaped out on the street. Are you alright? Really?" "Yes, I was just sleeping!" Only a dream? She looked out of the window into the darkness. It was not that dark, really, the moon was shining and she was not surprised to see a dark house on a hill with a man in the door. She lifted her hand as if to wave and she saw him waving back. "Yes, I`ll help you", she thought. "Tomorrow I`ll be back." She smiled a little, still not feeling awake, though she was. "We`ll see what your secret is, man from the hill!" And she suddenly had the idea of a voice whispering "Thank you!"- but it was only the wind, or wasn`t it?!

Afterwards he couldn't really tell how long he had been standing there. It could have been ten minutes or three quarters of an hour. That incident had taken him, the 34-year-old broker Tom Freeman, back to a state he thought he had got past seven or eight weeks ago.

When Linda's picture dropped out of his pocketbook just as he wanted to get out his passport to show it to the ever so sweetly smiling blonde at the Pan Am check-in desk, this was too much for him. The sight of Linda's face triggered more emotions in him than he had ever imagined himself capable of. Not that he was a cold-hearted person, no, what really struck him was the range feelings he experienced. First there was this total happiness, this gut reaction of rediscovering the familiar features of her face. To him it seemed as if his eyes followed the traces his fingers had left in uncounted strolls through this Eden of skin. On the verge of being lost in this vortex of seductive memories it was his better self, the sober one, that dragged him back into the harsh present. Here he was, at La Guardia airport, trying to leave everything behind: the nasty fights he had had with Linda, her accusatory sermons every weekend, their former home, and his old life.

So why did he still have her photograph with him? Some shrink would surely tell him all about the need to let a person go - after all Linda had been the one who had finally moved out after the complete failure of their last - stillborn - holiday. But his was not a case of pain of parting. On the contrary he had come to like his newly gained freedom. Now it was completely up to himself to organize his evenings and weekends, now he could just relax at home with a good movie or a book. What good could it be anyway to turn the night into day? Didn't decent people spend the nights in their cozy beds? Or why should he show up at a neighborhood social when everybody he met there were just fools trying to impress each other with their ridiculous habits? Fleshy ladies with pink-ribboned Yorkshire terriers and their mighty important and successful husbands wearing golden bracelets, the size of which being inversely proportional to their brains, weren't quite his taste. Although Linda used to insist on the importance of being on good neighborly terms with everybody, he had never understood what she was trying to achieve as they didn't have good neighbors to begin with. He was definitely better off now.

Meanwhile Tom had received his flight ticket and decided to have a cup of coffee. He got hold of a free table at the nearby cafeteria and after the first sip of the promisingly steaming but awful tasting coffee he found himself thinking about Linda again. Of course it had hurt in the beginning. The first week after she had deserted him he had really gone through hell. After the five and a half years of their liaison it was only logical that she had left a void behind her, but a few weary days and sleepless nights later he had been able to get a grip on the situation and make some decisions regarding his future.

First of all he finalized the plans for the vacation he had been looking forward to for so long, but which he obviously couldn't spend together with Linda. They had been saving money for it for almost a full year, unfortunately without having discussed either destination or kind of the trip beforehand. Never had he anticipated that Linda might have such strange ideas about a holiday. Until that night when she came home a little later than usual, but glowing with that inner enthusiasm he then adored so much. As soon as she had closed the front door behind her and kicked off her shoes she came running towards him like a little girl who has just heard the most wonderful news of her life. Words came gushing out of her mouth, explaining to him all the gorgeous possibilities and adventures a trip to Brazil might mean to them. What kind of adventures?, he inquired, not without a funny feeling. And he was right: On her way home she had hit upon this newly opened travel agency and realized that their special introductory offer was a package tour to Brazil. It was just what they could afford now and what she had been dreaming of for so long. These dreams were completely new to him and anyway he didn't share them. He had rather thought of a stay at a nice little hotel with full service, perhaps somewhere near a lake, where they could have a good rest. From time to time they could go for a walk or hire bikes while most of the time they would just enjoy their togetherness. In any case he was not willing to waste either time or money on hiking through a hot and damp country full of mosquitoes and God knows what kinds of dangerous animals. That was, roughly, what he had answered her and it turned out to be almost the last thing he ever said to her.

In the following apocalyptic row they hurled insults at each other, which couldn't ever be taken back, so that in the end she left the house with a noisy slamming of the door. The next week he didn't see too much of her except for the one night when she showed up with her best friend to fetch some clothes.

After that they broke up quickly as so many other couples had done before them and so many would do after them. They sold the house and divided the money they got out of it evenly, she took the car and the cat with her, which didn't bother him too much since he hadn't had any deep emotional relationship with either of the two. From then on he had lived in a hotel near the bank he worked for, but somehow he didn't like his job any more. So it didn't take him long to decide to seek employment at a bank in Atlanta.

His flight was due very soon now and so he left the cafeteria to stretch his legs a little. Aimlessly he walked around the airport until he ended up in front of the panoramic window overlooking the airfield. Outside he could see many planes being loaded and unloaded, to some the gangway was still attached. Then one of them, a smaller one, started to move and rolled off toward the runway. Once in motion it gained speed quickly until it finally rose effortlessly from the earth. El condor pasa, he murmured to himself and watched the plane as it was minimized to an almost indistinguishable dot. It vanished at last, but Tom couldn't take his eyes off the spot.

Imagine a time in the future.

I guess it will be far away. A time when genetic processes have been fully discovered. Babies are no longer conceived and born but created in huge labs. Serious illnesses no longer disturb human lives and bad human qualities such as hatred, anger, violence even jealousy don't exist anymore. The whole world is united but nothing is unique. There are no more clashes between the classes of people; as this way of categorizing people has also been done away with; we are then - as I said - united. Everyone is highly productive, of course, as everyone is highly intelligent. Computers and new technologies rule people's lives. Religion, too, has been done away with - science discovered that God does not and never did exist. And it is not progressive for intelligent human beings to stick to orally transmitted texts that are very unlikely to be true.

In that future there is a young man. If it was in our times he would love to hang out with his friends, go to parties or to the movies. But not in the future. Just hanging out is a dissatisfying and very unproductive for the highly developed human beings we will then be. You will prefer doing intellectual things or at least technical things dealing with computers. Our young man is more or less enjoying himself at a cyber-party. A huge event with dozens and dozens of people. In reality you see each of them sitting at a computer. They are wearing some kind of virtual reality glasses, headsets and cybergloves. Their whole body is somehow connected to the computer system - In virtual reality they do of course look different.

They have chosen appropriate, rather old-fashioned outfits: Doublets for the men, gowns for the ladies. They are wandering through huge halls with red carpet and wooden flooring. There are luxurious buffets and endless rows of glasses filled with finest champagne.

When some of them happen to meet in a group there is no small talk. It's too superficial for the highly intelligent, it wastes time. Here people are entertaining themselves and each other with complex questions and riddles or they are discussing international affairs like the latest scientific progress in creating adults so that kids are no longer needed - they, too, waste precious time.

Back to our young man. He is also wandering around, virtually. Gazing at different people, he is slightly bored - strange though that boredom still exists. Maybe there is a tiny piece of teenage-feelings left in him. He doesn't want to solve complex questions or discuss anything. In his virtual hands he is holding his seventh glass of champagne but there is no chance of feeling drunk or even dizzy. Being drunk is unproductive. Still gazing around, his virtual eye is caught by a girl, one of the dozens of similar looking girls. Looking at her again we see that she is an average girl, as nothing is unique, you remember? Maybe it was the colour of her dress or the slightly bored look appearing on her face for some moments somehow making her seem to be special. Whatever it may have been, it's gone.

For our young man it was enough to fall for her, though. "O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!" he thinks, and asks himself: "Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight; For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night!," then starts making his way to her. He will be telling her something about his lips being pilgrims and sooner or later they will kiss, virtually.

But we will leave this story now. By now you may have found out that he is Romeo, the girl is Juliet, of course. And I assume that you all know the thrilling story of their love and the tragedy of their deaths.

Nothing of that will take place in the future, however, for there is no tragic ending: They meet and fall in love. No sex, as babies are no longer made that way. They will be a stable couple with perfect children. There will be no fear of separation as their parents will treat each other politely, if they should ever happen to meet, no feelings of revenge or hatred. This has been done away with.

So that's the way it ends: Romeo and Juliet living happily ever after, a perfect family with perfect children in a united world - Virtually. - Welcome to the future!

Back to the Startpage