Meet Tim. He genuinely believes his snug sweater is a superhero cape with the proud slogan “Saving Traditions!”—think Superman, but with a reindeer-patterned knit instead of a fluttering cloak. While everyone else is scrolling through social feeds and liking cat videos, Tim hammers away at his code as though an Order of Programmer Nobility was promised just for him. His grand ambition is a “Lullaby Singing Machine,” an app designed to breathe life into time-honored customs and sacred rituals.
In this world of dazzling filters and endless thumbs-ups, it’s all too easy to lose sight of how vital genuine honesty can be. But how do we stay true to ourselves when the race for approval and “hearts” never slows down? My distant relative Otto’s story might just offer a clue or two.
Ever wondered how to feel “immortal” in a world where software updates arrive quicker than you can remember your newest social media password? Meet Professor Stonebody, the devoted guardian of ancient VHS tapes, who once dared to outsmart Time itself. Armed with gene-splicing experiments and rows of humming lab equipment, he was convinced he’d brewed the ultimate elixir of eternal youth. But the moment he plunged that “splendid serum” into his veins, his dream of everlasting vigor morphed into a single burning question: “What if the world around me upgrades itself more often than I change the batteries in my remote?”
If you've ever caught yourself feeling drained by endless self-improvement marathons and everyone else’s perfect "100% success" formulas, then step right into Akira’s story.
Yara stood on the rickety porch of her ancestral home, like a heroine poised to fling herself into the raging heart of a storm. The gusting wind pummeled her nerves and tousled her carefully coiffed hair, while her brand-new boots seemed an inch away from vanishing into another realm. Her cloak swirled like a grand theater curtain, and two thoughts whirled in her mind: 'Here comes freedoooom!' and 'Wait, have I gone too far?'
