Dominik Nemcsok

Everybody makes mistakes. Mistakes are inevitable for a human being, but not just people can make mistakes. Nowadays new technical innovations appear day to day. Most of these inventions are designed to help people. But we should ask: What if a computer makes a mistake?

If someone makes a mistake, depending on what kind of mistake has been made, different consequences can occur. For instance, when a student makes a lot of mistakes on a test, he gets a lower grade, or when somebody decides to sleep for 10 more minutes, he might miss the bus. I think these smaller kinds of mistakes have happened to everybody. But sometimes greater mistakes are made. For example, imagine when a playground is not maintained properly and a child gets injured. In a case like that the police investigates the case, and the court decides what should happen to those responsible. It is straightforward what happens to people making mistakes, because the laws and rules of most countries are fair, reasonable, and well-considered.

However, legislatives and governments are usually not able to keep up with the quickly innovating world. I would like to take the topic of self-driving vehicles as an example. Even now there are a lot of cars on the road with very advanced “driver-assistance” features and even some that are completely self-driving, for example, some taxis in Los Angeles. However, nowadays the capabilities of these computer-driven vehicles are highly limited. But that makes me return to my previous question: What if a computer makes a mistake?

What will happen when self-driving cars are driving people around all over the world, and a deadly accident happens? Whose fault will it be? What if the car hits a pedestrian? If that were to happen today when the “driver-assistance” features of the car are enabled, it would probably still be the fault of the driver. Because when someone turns on this function, the manufacturer makes the driver note that he must take control of the vehicle whenever necessary, and that the car is not completely capable of driving itself. But if this would happen with a vehicle that is one hundred percent self-driving? It is unclear whose fault it would be. Who and how should be punished? In my opinion, it couldn’t be the driver, because he wouldn’t have any control in a situation like that. But then, should it be the fault of the people who designed the car’s driving software or the company in general that made the car?

I believe that everyone thinks of these questions differently, but it is crucially important to be careful about technologies that can be dangerous for anyone and anything. We shouldn’t make mistakes that everyone would regret. It is our responsibility to make the right decisions.

Ella Reynolds

Yesterday she had un-done herself. The unwinding had met its end and begun to escape the reasons to return. So she closed the storage cupboard, gear in hand, not dwelling on the happenings of mere days before.

She makes her way down the passage, to the room with no soul. The foul smell of a rotten corpse begins to fill her lungs, so she breathes it in ever so slightly deeper. She doesn’t hesitate nor fret to open the unhinged door and peers at the gallivanting maggots with their fly foes who gather at the site of decomposition. Instead, she pulls her limbs close as she bends to the floor to reach over and close the pointless eyes. Now that there is no one watching, she fiddles with the trash bag to find the opening and sets it aside. First she gloves her hands and sets her laptop away from the site and presses play on the tutorial for a Constrictor knot. She replays and readjusts until she’s sure it will work. The restrictions lessen and she begins her descent into madness. The limbs are bound, hence the ripping of tape that bounces off the walls. The body is now a garbage bag that she can throw over her shoulder and into the forgotten land fills.

She rounds the corner, lit by a lonely lamppost, and opens the bin. She heaves the body over her shoulder and stares holes through the times that are only memories now. She swiftly closes it with a lack of remorse just as she’d plunged into the chest of the oppressor. A joyful whistle fills the air as she makes her way to the house she had never called a home. A marionette pulls her into the act of tidying up and the unwinding reverses. The splatters of blood that litter her hallway are uninvited with the bleach she’d bought on the way back. The screws of the door are forced back into place as though nothing had happened. And with that, the doubt lying in the mirror, the food on the dinner table and the clothes she wore that day all lie at the bottom of a landfill site next week Tuesday.

The Bird

Márk Kovács

The bird is free, there is no limit for him.
There is no time for him, no space.
There is only the big blue sky.

The bird flies high, then rests on a tree
and observes the blue sky from there.
Then he spreads his two wings and happily crosses infinity.

His life floats, there is no prison for him,
only sweet freedom.
He is not addicted to anything,
neither place nor time.
He just flies away happily on high.

Léda Karmazin

Who am I in this Universe?
Who will I be in the future?
Questions for which there are no answers yet,
but I know what I feel on the inside.
Riding the waves to feel the wind, that’s what I want, to glimpse the lives of unseen creatures,
that’s my desire.
To fly high above the clouds,
I dream of that.
There must be a place in the human body,
deep inside,
where the feeling of freedom is.
I put on my headphones,
only music and music and music and music and music, because there is nothing better than hearing “Take me out tonight, Where there’s music and there’s people, And they’re young and alive.”* 

*(Quotation from “There Is a Light That Never Goes Out” by The Smiths)

Janka Krech

September 17, 2002. It was a cold, foggy morning, and Bryan was on his way to school. He just started fifth grade, but he already hated it. While he was walking, his old bully, Ethan, passed him by bike. Ethan shouted “Wow, look who’s looking extra ugly today! Did your mommy make that scarf for you and make you put it on?”.  Bryan just tried to ignore it; deep inside it hurt him as usual, but he kept on walking. Ethan started laughing and left him there.

When Bryan got to school, the class had already started. He was seven minutes late. When he got to the classroom and knocked on the door, Ethan said “oh! guess who’s late again.” The teacher, Mr. Mayfield, started yelling at him. “How is it not possible to get here in time? If you’re late ever again, you’ll be sitting in detention.”

When the kids were having lunch at the canteen, Ethan “accidentally” poured some soup on Bryan’s head. The kid felt so embarrassed and ashamed again, he almost burst into tears, but he knew he couldn’t do that. This pattern continued for years.

This bullying pleased Ethan’s soul; however, sadly he also experienced his own pain every day. His mother passed away three years ago. Before all that, they were a complete, loving family. Ethan was a good kid who loved to play, read, and go out on walks with his family and friends. But since his mom wasn’t there for him, everything turned into the exact opposite. Ethan hated being at home, hated his own family, hated the way he couldn’t open up to anyone. On top of that, every time he tried to talk to his dad about his thoughts, his father didn’t have any time for him, told him to go away or even beat him up for no reason.

Deep down, Ethan knew that Bryan and he should be friends instead, as they were suffering from the same pain. This feeling was also reinforced by a history test that Ethan couldn’t study for as he was physically abused again by his father the previous night. Bryan realized that Ethan was almost in tears, so he decided to help him pass the test.

At that moment, Ethan didn’t say a word, yet the guilt was haunting him. He knew he should say sorry somehow, even though he felt like his soul was chained, with limited freedom.

For weeks he was affected by tension, but eventually he gathered all his strength and tried to apologize. He was so anxious, he couldn’t look into Bryan’s eyes. They had a deep conversation. Bryan explained how he felt about all the things Ethan had put him through. Ethan also told his side of the story, including his mother’s death and his father’s abuse.

This deep conversation freed their minds, and they both looked at each other from a different angle.

Bryan accepted the apology and they became best friends for good.

Fanni Farkas

BAMM! The gates of the cave suddenly slammed shut. The treasure hunter turned around nervously. He knew there was no other way out. He grabbed the heavy casket and set it on the floor. The hunter opened the casket. There were so many pieces of gold, diamond and silver jewelry that he could not count them. He was so happy, but then the joy blew away as fast as it came. ‘What am I gonna do with all this when I’m stuck?’ he thought ‘This isn’t worth anything in this old cave! If someone would rescue me, I would give all this treasure to him! I don’t want it anymore! Just free me! I’m begging! Please…’

’Damn it there’s still thirty minutes left!’ she thought while sitting in a boring class. She could not focus at all on what the teacher was saying. She looked out of the window. The weather was beautiful. The Sun was shining brightly in the sky, there were no clouds, and the trees swayed softly in the wind. All of a sudden two birds flew onto the windowsill. Two pretty doves. They looked at the girl who was looking at them from the classroom, and then they flew away. The girl sighed. ‘I wish I could be as free as them! No school, no homework…I could do whatever I wanted!’

Who would have guessed that a prisoner and a student had so much in common?

Eszter Forvith

Jon Smith had just celebrated his 34th birthday a few months ago. He had been working at an office for a fairly good salary. He had a nice apartment and a car that he usually used for going to work, but not on this day.

Since his car was in service, he decided to walk to his workplace. Although there were a lot of people around him he didn’t really pay attention to anyone. He was not thinking of anything in particular, he knew the way to the office by instinct, since that was the place he had spent the last eight years of his life. He wasn’t upset or proud of all these years he had spent at the company, but sometimes at the end of the day it gave him an unsettling feeling. Something did not seem right.

As he was about to cross the road, a stranger bumped into him from behind. Not having the time to stop and properly apologize, the stranger could only shout back a “sorry” before he disappeared in the crowd again. “How impolite,” Jon thought to himself, before stepping into his workplace.

He sat down at his table and arranged his papers as usual, but as he was about to start working he heard someone knocking at the door. “Come in,” he said, not looking up. The door opened and a young man appeared at the doorstep. Although it was clear that he had tried to dress as elegantly as possible, the outcome was just not proper. They exchanged looks and both realized that they had already met. “My name is Tom Wilson and I apologize for my rude behavior earlier,” said the young man, breaking the awkward silence. “It’s alright,” answered Jon quickly. “Your table is right there.” Jon pointed at a table across the room, which was now Tom Wilson’s working desk. Although it seemed that Tom wanted to say other things as well, he decided to keep his thoughts to himself and quietly sat down at his desk. The day went by just like every other day before it. and the end of the working hours was closer every minute. Just as Jon was about to leave the building, a young man tapped him on the shoulder. It was Tom. He had a bright smile on his face. So bright in fact that it almost seemed genuine. “Are you free tonight?” he asked. “Since we will be working in the same office from now on, I thought I could invite you for a drink. I know a great pub nearby.” Jon thought for a moment. He was hesitant, since his everyday routine did not include going to a pub with a man he had just met, but he felt a strange sensation in his chest, so he agreed.

Jon was not the type to drink a lot, unlike Tom, who finished three servings of beer in the first half hour and got drunk. At first they didn’t have much to talk about, but after a while Jon figured out that Tom had a great passion for stamps, which had also been Jon’s biggest passion in high school. They chatted for a while, and then a pleasant silence fell on the table. Tom’s face suddenly turned a bit serious. “Are you happy?” he asked. Jon wasn’t expecting this question, so he was a little taken aback. Since he had had such a good conversation with Tom, he decided to think about the answer and not close the case with a plain yes. He thought to himself, “I have a house, a car, friends and family, a nice job. What else would I need?” As he considered this, he was confident that the answer would be yes, but the words just didn’t come out. He was surprised that his own body, which had been so obedient all these years, would now fail in answering a simple question like that. “Hard question, isn’t it? I have been thinking about it for a while now and I’m still not sure what the right answer would be. Let me ask you something else. Do you feel like you are free?” asked Tom. Jon was scared. He was scared of the truth. “Of course I’m free, what kind of a question is that?” Jon felt his frustration taking over him. “It’s your decision to say whatever you want,” said Tom in a calm tone. Jon felt like he really needed some fresh air. “I have to go home now,” he said quickly as he stood up and walked out of the building. His mind was a mess and he was confused. All the unsettling feelings that he had been having lately showered on him like a cold rain. He couldn’t sleep that night; he kept thinking about those two questions Tom had asked him.

The next day he felt different. Although he could have gone by car to the office, he decided to walk. The road seemed more crowded than usual. Jon looked around. He looked at the people around him but they didn’t look back. He stopped to look around for a moment and it was strange. Everyone had the same expression, everyone did the same thing. They were surviving but not living. He could not see smiling faces or individual expressions.

He could not focus on his work that day, and Tom was not in the office so he could not ask him about what had happened the previous day. On the way home he should have been tired, but he wasn’t. Over the previous two days he had thought a lot about his life. It felt like waking up from a long and suffocating dream. His life was monotonous. At that moment he found it meaningless, as if he had been trapped. He lived in a system that had forced the people to be like slaves, where it was hard to be an individual. Memories of his younger self flashed into his mind. How he planned his future as a kid, how full of life he was. At that moment he decided that this was not the life he wanted to live. And just by that little truth he confessed to himself,he felt like a rock had been lifted off his heart. Maybe he had always known that this had been no life for him, he just couldn’t admit it. That day he went home with a clear conscience.

The next day he went to the office and turned in his letter of resignation. He thanked his boss for the opportunity to work there and said goodbye to all his colleagues except one. He couldn’t find Tom anywhere. His desk was empty, so he asked his boss if something had happened to him. “Tom Wilson? We have never hired a man with that name,” was his boss’s answer.

Eszter Klára Szabó

Performative activism is supporting a current sociopolitical issue to gain attention, and increasing one’s social capital rather than actually devoting oneself to making a difference.

This idea of wokeness has been around for a very long time already, but in recent years it has gained a lot more attention through social media platforms such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram.

Because time on the internet goes relatively fast, nothing stays relevant long enough for people to actually make a change. People will choose one problem at a time—which is not more important than any other ones, but graphic enough to keep people interested—make it popular, and create posts and hashtags about it. Then the media sees this and writes articles about it to get more clicks, and this becomes an endless cycle.

The question comes up: Why do people do this? It is to make themselves feel better by fighting for good causes. A lot of the time they don’t care about actual consequences or outcomes; they are looking for the easy answer, the illusion of change, so that they don’t have to address their own contribution to the problem: a problem that people choose to ignore, until it becomes trendy so they can’t anymore. This is when they display their moral virtue to the world, because they don’t want to be called out for staying silent. Influencers and other public figures like to do this too because they can capitalize off the moment. Even large companies have taken part in this behavior: for example, during the Black Lives Matter movement, because they know how profitable it will be for them.

 A big part of this problem is Instagram infographics. There are certain pages that specialize in these kinds of social issues and make pretty, pastel-colored infographics and catchphrases with little to no elaboration or educational content.  A perfect example of this phenomenon is the account called ‘impact’, which is ironically not very impactful. ‘Impact’ prioritizes aesthetics over substance, because they know it will do better on a larger scale, as it will get a lot of reposts and drive up the likes and followers too. They are aware that people don’t want to face the discomfort that these heavy topics could possibly bring them, so they only approach them on a surface level. They try to make activism more marketable and attractive, so that it’s easier to digest for the audience, or at least to those who share their values. Even though most of these accounts have good intentions, it’s important to keep in mind that intentions don’t equal impact. Posting on your instagram stories and making symbolic gestures will not dismantle systemic issues if you’re not doing anything off the computer. Practice what you preach, or don’t preach at all!  

Being woke has become the standard by now, but people shouldn’t be required to be invested in everything that’s happening in our world. There are so many social issues that one person cannot tackle them all, learn their complexities, and approach them all with the same care and urgency. That is unrealistic and takes away from real activists. I believe it’s better if you only focus on one or two topics at a time and do that properly, as Greta Thunberg does with climate change.

Ela Kazandağ

Born poor,
Without any amour,
Nor armour,
I had to be a charmer,
To survive,
Only reason to thrive,
And strive,
Waiting to arrive.

To a wonderful life,
With a lovely wife,
A stable job,
And listening to a snob,
Five days a week,
If you aren’t weak,
A kid or two,
Maybe a regretful tattoo.

When we went to school,
They thought us a rule,
‘That life should be the octave above,
Do not by any means fall below,
Or you’ll be the man outside,
Who is looking with eyes open-wide’,
Oh wait that is I,
Looking at the mirror across like a horn fly.

I’m a fool,
On a stool,

Asking for hope,
Not a rope,
Begging for money,
Selling my liberty;
The infinite one,
Limited by none.

Not even law,
Was able to declaw,
My innocence,
(I tried to become infamous),
Out of pity,
They only gave me,
A fine of money,
Which was undercover cruelty.

To pay this high sum,
To higher-ranking some,
I have to sell territory,
Sight, mind or body,
I was just trying to steal cars,
For a new life behind bars,
Thanks to a decision justicial,
Now my debt is official.

Without losing any part of me,
I want to live an average happy,
I don’t want to be another tale,
Of cemented street jail,
I will waltz out my misery,
But the music has ended too early,
I want another round of dance;
A second chance.

Áron Antal

– So going back to the previous proof, we can define the sum of the resistances in an alternating current system as the sum of the…

The bell interrupted the physics teacher at the end of the ninth period. He finished his sentence, said something about the importance of these circuits and told us the homework. I didn’t listen to it. I couldn’t. My mind was cut off at the moment the bell rang, and now it was on its way home. My body wasn’t. Some part of me knew that no matter how bad this day was, it couldn’t make its escape yet from the school, that it had to remain in the uncomfortable cold chair in the first row of the physics lecture hall. But as soon as my eyes noticed that the teacher was leaving the classroom, my body hesitated no more, and made its way through the long and dark tall hallways illuminated by a few pale light bulbs.

As I gazed out the majestic windows of the school, the darkness outside made the windows function more like mirrors. I saw that my eyes looked tired and my visage looked terribly beaten up, despite the fact that I had pumped myself full of coffee. Just like yesterday. Or the day before yesterday. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in six days. Don’t know why. Sometimes it just happens.

At this moment my mind realized that while it was executing this thought process, I was far away from school, out on the cold damp streets, on my way to the bus station. Not many people were out walking at this time of hour under these weather conditions. Not like cars. So many. Flooding the streets, flooding my head with noise and light. Nowadays everyone has a car. Why can’t people compromise? Why can’t they join each other in the pursuit of a destination? All these people sitting alone in these metal boxes as if a cruel god-like child were playing at home with toy cars while his parents were at work, easing his loneliness with the idea that all car drivers must sit alone in their metal boxes. Humans have become lonely beings.

By the time I finished this fever-dreamish thought process, I was already at the bus station, staring at the buzzing lights of the platform. Didn’t even notice it. I got on the bus; as I showed my pass to the driver, I looked ahead to search for a pair of seats where no human was sitting. Most of the pairs were occupied by a single individual, except for some where seemingly couples sat staring into the abyss of their smartphones without any interaction and perception of the outside world or each other. So I sat down on an unoccupied pair, closer to the window on the driver’s side.

As hour-like minutes went by as the bus was waiting to leave the station, I was staring out of the window. My face seemed unfamiliar in its reflection. In that reflection, I saw a body standing behind me, and a voice shortly followed its appearance.

– Is this seat reserved for someone? May I take a seat? – said a soothing voice.

– Yes of course – I replied as I turned my head. – Katie?

– Yes, oh my goodness! Long time no see! – said my old classmate Katie from elementary school.

– Yeah. How have you been? How long has it been? Four years?

– Yes. I am fine, thank you! How are you?

– Not in my best shape, but thanks, I’m holding up just fine.

After catching up and properly concluding that four eventful years had gone by since we last saw each other, we started chatting about school, classmates, and then the topic drifted to deeper thoughts. In elementary school, we didn’t really talk to each other, didn’t hate each other or anything, it just happened to be that way. But now I felt  as if we had been best friends all along. Maybe we had just grown up.

The conversation went on and on, and I felt that the world beyond these two seats on this bus wandering in the darkness on a road between endless bare fields had ceased to exist.

– Are you on social media? – she asked.

– Only on Messenger. I don’t have any other social media platform. That is the bare minimum you have to have – I replied.

– It’s for the better, I suppose. I only have Messenger too. All the other platforms just soak you in, ripping you out of reality, right?

– I have to agree. I can’t imagine what people do all day on these platforms, while they could be doing something productive. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t consume any media, but most people have gone overboard. Can’t they feel how short their life is, that every moment spent staring at the screen of your phone looking at celebrities wishing you were that rich or beautiful and wishing for a better life takes your chance away from making your own better? That even the smallest things in life make a difference and they should appreciate the little time every human being is given.

– I couldn’t have said it better myself – Katie replied.

At that moment the bus was approaching the stop where Katie had to leave.

– I was glad that we could talk. It was a pleasure – I said.

– Yes, I hope I will see you around! Have a nice day! Even in this weather.

– You too, Katie!

I was now alone again, but I didn’t feel like it. Her memory was with me, which made my soul shine with happiness on the bus, while all the other people sat there “alone.”

Even these small things in life like an old acquaintance can make you feel better both about yourself and about the world: that you can always find like-minded persons on the busride of life, but only if you gaze in the right direction.

I don’t think I need to mention that I had a good night’s sleep after this day.