Twilight's Flash Fiction / Relatos cortos crepusculares

 Fireflies and Light Worms The sunset on Mars was spectacular. We had booked a room at the Experience Hotel, a building strategically located at the foot of the western slope of one of the Olympus Mons mountains. As night approached, millions of multicolored lights stretched along the hill. Fireflies and light worms competed in their slow ascent to crown the top. It was a spectacular image. A unique moment was transformed into a tragedy when suddenly, the sky was flooded by carnivorous little stars that pounced on those miraculous little lights. In a few moments, the darkness perched on that multicolored carpet. Two tears escaped from the eyes of my dear woman cyborg companion. Then was when I learned that machines also feel. Luciérnagas y coquitos de luz La puesta de sol en Marte fue espectacular. Habíamos reservado una habitación en el hotel Experience, un edificio estratégicamente ubicado al pie de la ladera occidental de una de las montañas Olympus Mons. A medida que se acercab...

  My Machine and I From a few days ago my machine carelessly wander through the spaces of my mind and through the rooms of my house. There is no loophole left to hide myself. Until recently, my machine did all the work, only turning to me when it ran into some insurmountable concept or problem, which happened a couple of times a year at most. It was in charge of giving the appropriate orders to all the electrical appliances, so that she kept the house clean, and the menus it cooked were exceptional. She took care of my rest, answered the calls from the office, filled out the income statement and kept track of expenses in general. Needless to say, it also did my office job, through teleworking. A few days ago, as I said, my machine started behaving strangely. And I think it was as a result of a visit from a girl friend whom I invited to eat and with whom it behaved exquisitely. However, immediately after my guest left, the machine started doing strange things. I called the sel...

  The place that I live The place I live in has blue pastes and gives off a quince smell. It opens every morning to the song of caresses, it is soft and slippery at the same time. The place I know wants to become the dream place, the thought that oscillates on the edge of the impossible. Strawberry cake, smell of roses and pink meat. Panic of the dark and rooms full of aromas of cinnamon. The place I live in is you.   El lugar que habito El lugar que habito tiene las pastas azules y desprende un olor a membrillo. Se abre cada mañana al canto de las caricias, es suave y escurridizo al mismo tiempo. El lugar que conozco persigue al lugar soñado, al pensamiento que oscila en el filo de lo imposible. Pastel de fresas, olor a rosas y carne rosada. Pánico de la oscuridad y estancias llenas de aromas a canela. El lugar que habito eres tú.

  Intermediary and Original There are intermediary words. It means that they represent something that only serves to arrive, through reasoning, from one truth to another, but that they are fictitious in the sense that they are not part of the essence of the thing and that, ultimately, they exist only to help . In fact, they can obscure the truth so much that they can hinder the understanding of the thing or prevent it from coming to light for a long time. How are intermediary words detected? Let's see the case of the eternal words that name our perceptions: space, time. They are, let's say, original words. Do they determine direct perceptions, or not? Space is determined by light, time, by memory. Without light there is no space and without memory there is no time. But then, the original words are light and memory instead of space and time? Intermediarias y originales Hay palabras intermediarias. Quiere decir que representan algo que solo sirve para llegar, mediante raz...

Saturday It was Saturday. The school was closed, but someone lived in nursery classroom 7. He was always there, even if it was Saturday. From her desk at the end of the classroom, the little blonde-haired girl looked at the blackboard and remembered the laughs and jokes of her classmates. Thirty years have passed, and the girl is still there every Saturday, looking at the blackboard and remembering with nostalgia her feelings from her childhood. She does not remember very well how it happened when time stopped for her. Every year, for thirty years, the students of classroom 7 of kindergartens know that someone accompanies them when they are there and surely, that someone lives there forever.   Sábado Era sábado. La escuela estaba cerrada, pero alguien vivía en el aula 7 de la guardería. Siempre estaba allí, incluso si era sábado. Desde su pupitre al final del salón de clases, la pequeña rubia miraba la pizarra y recordaba las risas y bromas de sus compañeros. Han pasado tre...

Alison 1 Alison kindly greeted her teacher and they talked for a few moments, recalling anecdotes from the time they met at the university. Alison couldn't hide her nervousness and Napoleon, her teacher, seemed to want to tell her something with her look. When she secretly managed to take her away from outside ears, he confessed that he had hacked sensitive information because he wanted to demonstrate, according to the deputy director of the department, that the data engineer hired by the company was not doing her job properly. It was clear that Napoleon did not know that she was the one hired. Alison couldn't believe what she was hearing. So, what they wanted at the meeting was to fire her from her. Or so she thought. Alison 1 Alison saludó amablemente a su profesor y conversaron durante unos instantes, rememorando anécdotas del tiempo en el que coincidieron en la universidad. Alison no podía ocultar su nerviosismo y Napoleón, su profesor, parecía querer decirle algo con su m...

 Z Radiation (1) I assumed they were Somali pirates. The one who seemed to be the ringleader addressed me in rough English. He wanted me to give him the distribution of Z radiation measurements on the lunar map. I was surprised that pirates who were dedicated to boarding ships and stealing their belongings from crew members and travelers, were interested in the levels of Z radiation. A few months later I would understand it, when someone explained to me what this type of radiation can produce. The pirate pointed his gun at me and demanded that I provide him with the information. So, someone came looking for him. For a moment, I breathed easy. I was trying to figure out some way to destroy the information that was stored in a device he wore on the wrist of my right arm. Radiación Z (1) Supuse que eran piratas somalíes. El que parecía ser el cabecilla se dirigió a mi en un inglés tosco. Quería que le facilitara la distribución de las mediciones de la radiación Z en el mapa lunar. M...