Archive for Mai, 2013

A Symphony of Drones

. .

by Harper Hull

There really wasn’t a word that Bastian Appenheimer could think of that depressed him as much as drone. It was a lifeless, soulless shell of a word which left slipstreams of flimsy grey choke in its wake should it ever be uttered out loud, before falling to the floor deflated and with a barely audible chink. He regarded the shiny boy standing at the gleaming steel counter, his head barely clearing it, and smiled kindly.

“The drone, you say?” repeated Bastian. Continue Reading »

The Saving Power

. .

by Luke Jackson

The aspects of things that are most important for us are hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity. (One is unable to notice something because it is always before one’s eyes.) The real foundations of his enquiry do not strike a man at all. – Wittgenstein

The ideas swarmed around his head like angry bees. His writing hand was cramped from the pages he had scrawled trying to capture them all before they dissipated. He had at last propounded a solid theoretical framework that built upon the work of Martin Heidegger, but that also revealed several flaws he had found in the great philosopher’s work. More precisely, he had rejected the mind-body duality, as Heidegger had, but had managed to avoid some of the reductionism inherent in the concept of Being-in-the-world. He had also greatly developed Heidegger’s ontology beyond the ontological-ontic distinction.

His wife Althea had left him earlier that afternoon. It was probably best this way. She hadn’t understood the importance of the work. Continue Reading »

Patriotic Crimes. A Chronicle of Lost Wars

. .

by Gerson Lodi-Ribeiro

“Brazil expects every man to do his duty.”

(Admiral Francisco Manoel Barroso da Silva

– Sept. 29, 1804 – June 6, 1865)

 

In January 1873, on a sweltering summer afternoon in Rio de Janeiro, a young dark-bearded man with hair graying at the temples squatted behind the trunk of one of the many wide-canopied trees on the ample grounds surrounding the Palácio de São Cristóvão.

He was waiting and the wait was pure torture. It reminded him of the suffering and uncertainties he had endured in the dungeons of a military prison in Asunción.

In the intense, humid heat, the linen shirt stuck to his sweaty chest. Burs clung to his trousers and pricked his calves.

A loaded Spencer weighed heavily in his lap. An additional magazine complete with seven bullets dragged down the deep pocket of his jacket. The spirit of this former officer from the once proud Brazilian Imperial Navy had been broken during the years spent as a prisoner in Paraguay. Continue Reading »