The Steeplejack By Jij Berg He came from an era when nothing was impossible and humanity strived towards the sky. He was used to scaling great heights and looking down on sprawling cities. But now he was looking down on the train crash at the mouth of the underground station. A small group of strangers had formed a habit of looking at the spectacle every morning, gathering on the bridge crossing the tracks. They greeted each other with a “Good morning” when the weather was pleasant, a nod when it wasn’t, and sometimes just a sigh. They were all older men, except one short, grumpy looking man who was ancient. To pass the time, the others shared anecdotes from the past; he had no such memories. No recollections of family or friends. For him it was a blessing to live only in the here and now. Too many had died in his line of work; he was grateful to have forgotten their names, if only he had also forgotten their faces. They had similarities dressed in coats that had seen too many winters,...
State Secrets By Jij Berg Exchange Their feet were sore, but Jan and Erik did not notice. They were comfortably drunk and distracted by a more pressing matter. The situation was familiar to them: the walking, the urgency, a pattern that repeated itself at dawn every Saturday morning. Today they were not too drunk to ride home. They simply could not find “their” bikes. Erik had also lost his suit jacket, but the breeze was warm and he had a new number in his phone. At a familiar tree, Jan veered off the path between two bushes and stumbled, planting his face in the soft, damp grass. Swearing silently, he looked back and saw Erik doubled over, clapping his knees. “I can’t take it anymore. Can’t we just do it here?” Erik laughed. “Quiet. We need to get out of the camping area first,” Jan hissed, checking for any sign of disturbance inside the tent connected to the rope he had tripped over. The tent was silent. Only the last persistent crickets could be heard. “I told you we should have go...