Zlaw’s Echo

A man is sitting on a bench, in front of a fountain in the middle of a square surrounded by a couple of houses. He is facing away from one of them, from which a woman happens to be throwing clothes out of the highest window. Trousers, shirts, shoes, nothing appears to be spared. Many items are already scattered on the lawn, and more keep coming. “I never like zat jacket anyway!” she yells in a heavy French accent as she gets rid of said piece of clothing. The man does not seem disturbed by what is happening. He does not react every time he hears fabric landing on the grass. Every now and then, he does take out a coin out of his pocket, and lazily throws it into the fountain, but more to pass the time than anything else. “Hello, neighbour! You all right?” a gentleman, about 10 years his senior, suddenly asks while walking towards him. “Splendid! Care to join?” he answers, tapping the empty seat beside him. The older man chuckles. He nods in agreement, before taking place next to h...

One wrong step. That’s all it would take for him to go tumbling down to his death at the bottom of this crevice. That’s probably all it had taken for the person he was coming to get to find themselves there. The fact that they had even survived such a fall was nothing short of miraculous, but that was not a mystery for him to solve. No, his job was to get down there and bring them back up, not to ask questions. In fact, his least favourite part of his job was seeing the family and friends of the people he brought back hound them about what had happened, asking them whether they hadn’t been careful enough, or whose fault it was that they had found themselves in their predicament despite taking all the necessary precautions. He was aware that this was just a very human way of dealing with overwhelming relief at the safe return of a loved one, but it still annoyed him. His descent was slow but it could not be helped. This deep fault had opened up overnight, so he knew the terrain even ...

“I have to admit, your facilites are impressive.” The school principal smiled humbly at the mother she had just been giving a tour to. “Thank you. We do hope they live up to expectations for students and parents alike.” “To be perfectly honest with you, I do have concerns about my son possibly facing… discrimination, if he were to be enrolled here.” “Has bullying been a problem for him in the past?” inquired the principal, a worried crease appearing on her forehead. “No, but… well… he is a human being, like me. A regular human being, without any particular gift or appendage like most of your students seem to have.” The mother gestured at a group of young children running around the playground a few meters away: some of them had horns, others wings, some had both. Most of them jumped higher and ran faster than you would expect any human child their age to be able too, exhibiting superior physical strength. “I understand your concern, but I assure you, our activities are tailored...

Assis sur un banc, à l’abri de la petite pluie automnale qui s’abat actuellement sur la ville, Mae et Nelson discutent. Ellen est occupée avec le journal du lycée, et le garçon en a profité pour enfin révéler à sa plus vieille amie ce qu’il a appris sur la plus récente, il y a maintenant une dizaine de jours. Il a toute confiance en la marginale, mais il ne voulait pas mettre de l’eau au moulin de ses tendances protectrices envers le groupe ces derniers temps. Il sait aussi par expérience que la blondinette a un seuil de tolérance à la criminalité élevé, comme en atteste la chance qu’elle lui a donnée lorsqu’il se sont rencontrés. Et la hauteur de ce seuil est encore plus évidente aujourd’hui, avec la magnanimité avec laquelle elle arrive à parler d’un tueur en série, ou encore de celui qui lui a donné ses symptômes. Contrairement à ce qu’il a annoncé à Sam, Nelson n’a pas encore parlé à Soledad des questions qui lui ont été posées à son sujet. Il n’a pas osé. Et c’est aussi la premiè...

Rain was pouring down on the keep, but even with the sound of millions of droplets of water slamming onto the ground from high up in the skies, big booms other than thunder could still be heard every now and then, almost at regular intervals. The guards stationed near the gates started every time that happened, glancing warily at the giant solid oak panels and the very large pine beams upheld against them, but otherwise kept their nerve. “Do you think they’ll get through those doors?” asked a cadet up high on the wall, looking down onto the attacking army crammed against it. From this distance, especially through the downpour and in the low light of the evening, they looked like ants, but he knew them to be fearsome enemies. “Well, yes. It’s only a question of when.” The young soldier looked at the his senior with such an appalled expression that the old timer could not help but laugh. “What? Were you expecting a comforting lie?” “More like for the truth to be reassuring, I gues...

“Oh. My. God. This is never going to come out, is it?” The male voice had come from behind the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed, right outside, she rolled her eyes. “Yes, it is. It’s biodegradable,” she assured him calmly. “Ha! Nice try! I’m already having a hard time believing this actually came from an animal and not some sort of nuclear plant. Seriously, why is it so sticky? Is the smell not enough of a deterrent!?” She pinched her lips to refrain from laughing. Evidently, their hike had not gone as planned. She knew he wasn’t very outdoorsy; he had never made a secret of it. But he had also never seemed to mind the fact that she could be from time to time, so when the opportunity for an easy stroll in the woods had come up, she had thought it would be fun. Unfortunately, a skunk had had other ideas… “It’s fine, babe, I swear,” she said, still attempting to soothe him. “We’re out of shampoo,” he announced, a mix of disappointment and embarrassment in his voice. She snorted ...

A few people are sitting around a table in a meeting room. A man is standing near a screen mounted to the wall, providing a commentary on various charts, with the help of a laser pointer. Without the subject matter of his presentation seeming particularly riveting, all members of the audience appear attentive, with some even taking notes. At some point, one of the women in attendance starts fanning herself with her notepad. Only the intern, the youngest person in presence, takes notice, until she says something: “Is anybody else hot, right now? Or is it just me?” she gasps, evidently feeling very warm. “You, intern. Crack open a window, will you?” the presenter asks immediately. The young man jumps from his seat to obey. Fresh air gushes through the room once he has succeeded in his task, but unfortunately, the woman’s discomfort only appears to grow. She is now breathing very heavily, and grabbing at her chest. “Should we call for help?” the intern asks, worried. “No… Thanks… I...

Cette ferme est immense. Le domaine, un peu éloigné des abords de Chicago, était déjà vaste avant la Grande Pandémie et la complète restructuration sociétale et territoriale qu’elle a engendrée. Si les terres ont dû demander plus qu’un peu d’huile de coude afin d’être débroussaillées ces dernières semaines, les quelques bâtisses sont dans un étonnamment bon état de conservation malgré leur abandon. Des rénovations ont déjà été entamées et vont encore être nécessaires, mais tout ça devrait se fondre dans les améliorations envisagées. La structure initiale est cependant saine, et c’est ce qui compte. Le bâtiment principal, le plus imposant, est relié à son dauphin dans cette catégorie par un long couloir d’extérieur, façon cloître. L’ensemble forme un trapèze ouvert de bonnes dimensions, qui encadre une zone probablement un jour potagère. Avec un peu de courage et d’imagination, lui faire regagner sa gloire d’antan ne semble pas insurmontable. Les arches métalliques de quelques longues ...

As far back as he could remember, Herbert had never been like any other boy his age. It had all started when his teeth had first come out. They had not been quite right then, and remained so to this day, even though he had long since shed his baby ones for the adult version. Dentists never really could pinpoint what was precisely wrong with them, but they weren’t right all the same. It’s not that they were significantly sharper, or longer, or bigger than usual – doctors had taken measurements to be sure, and been unable to reach a definite conclusion –, it was just that they had always given anyone he smiled wide to an overall feeling of unease that they could never really explain nor suppress. Over time, Herbert had therefore taken to refraining from doing so, and simply came to be reserved in his expressions. He had also always had a ravenous appetite. At first, it had been excused by the fact that he was a growing boy, especially since he was growing so much faster and so much st...

A big group of teenagers is gathered around two of their peers, standing in the middle, facing off like two big cats introduced in the same cage. On one side of the circle, a boy with blond curls, pale blue eyes, and feathered wings behind his back. He is dressed all in white with touches of gold, modern but still quite preppy. On the other side, a boy with little horns pointing out of his auburn hair, ruby red eyes, and a forked tail whipping the air behind him. His clothes are mostly black, with streaks of red here and there, in a much grungier style. The crowd cheers them on as they insult each other: “I will pluck all of your feathers one by one, you freak!” spits the demon boy. “I’d like to see you try! You’d have to catch me first, you wingless bastard!” replies his opponent, raising an eyebrow in disdain. “Oh, it can’t be that hard. From what I hear, you’re not exactly the fastest chicken in the coop. Bawk bawk!” The horned teen starts flapping his elbows, mimicking poultry...

I wish I were a cactus. Not having to worry about the elements, because you happen to be able to withstand extreme heat and drought. Being ridiculously low maintenance, even when it’s not strictly necessary, preserving resources like it’s no big deal, with little to no concern for scarcity. All of that sounds nice. Being able to thrive in almost complete isolation also sounds pretty neat. Taking root in the middle of a vast desert, or among basically impracticable rock formations, seems like a good way to avoid unwanted visitors, and that’s an option you have. And if by chance anyone does reach you, you’re equipped with a built-in armour that leaves anyone who happens to touch you with such an annoying wound that it effectively dissuades them from ever trying again. Not that anyone should even want to test their flesh against your spines in the first place, right? You naturally look so uninviting that going out of one’s way to walk around you seems to be a matter of self-preservatio...

“Watcha doin’?” she asked playfully as she entered the room. Coming up behind him, she wrapped her arms around his chest and kissed the side of his neck. He laughed softly, and gently grabbed one of her wrists to keep her against him a little while longer before answering, enjoying the embrace. “I’m making a model for the presentation to the new partners next week. They were so impressed by our installations when they visited that they asked us whether we would be open to designing a compound for them. And of course, we were…” “A lab? Again?” she guessed. “Yes. Ours is first and foremost a science-based endeavour, after all. Besides, I had rather we build laboratories than barracks.” “Anything fancy on the docket?” Letting go of him, she walked around the table he was sitting at and working on, and considered what he had already constructed. His models were usually pretty advanced, and this one was no exception. Bits and pieces of paper, plastic, metal, cardboard, and plywood, ...

Randers revient à sa place sans faire attention à qui il croise sur son chemin, ses pas guidés par sa mémoire musculaire de ce trajet routinier. Il prend place à son bureau sans tiquer à la présence de quelqu’un en face de lui. Puis, comme si l’information captée par sa vision périphérique avait mis son temps à se frayer un chemin jusqu’à la partie consciente de son esprit, il relève lentement les yeux vers la personne qui est penchée sur la surface en vis-à-vis de la sienne. Puisque la dévisager ne suffit pas à la tirer de sa concentration, il l’interpelle : — Fred. Qu’est-ce que tu fous là ?! il interroge sa partenaire d’un ton sévère. La jeune femme lève la tête vers lui et lui accorde un sourire innocent. Qu’elle lui sourie tout court est malheureusement pour elle suffisamment inhabituel en soi pour qu’il ne se laisse pas avoir. Il continue à la fixer d’un air qui correspond au ton qu’il a employé, attendant une réponse de pied ferme. — Rien. Est-ce que c’est un suçon...

“We should get rid of them. They’re only slowing us down, at this point.” The young man had spoken in a low voice to the few people near him around the campfire, around his age or younger. A few followed his darting gaze to the older couple sitting a few meters away, leaning against a tree and looking at the stars while they quietly conversed. A deep blue silk cape was wrapped around the man’s shoulders, while the woman wore a shawl made of animal furs. They seemed cosy, blissfully unaware of the nefarious suggestion that had just been made about them. “Not that they’ve been much help so far…” mumbled another young man. “Don’t you think you’re being a bit harsh? If not even disrespectful?” asked a third member of the group. “This is our time. Theirs has passed,” insisted the instigator of the conversation. Suddenly, with a poof, the man previously gazing at the night sky appeared among them, sitting on an empty spot on one of the logs arranged around as makeshift benches. Everyon...