"Well, Mr. What-Can-I-Resent-You-For-Now-Durman," Mr. Life says to me, in the most immodest way seen in this Galaxy since the Big Bang, playing a fanfare from his tape recorder and gumming up patches of red carpet on the soles of his shoes, "What did you write in the last few days?"

(Notice, he has obviously been reading my criticisms of his work here and is starting to take what the Americans call "An Attitude" toward me.)

"Then you have no right to criticize my work," said Mr. Life.

" I mean, you have no moral right to do it."

"OK," I said, "as you wish. It seems to satisfy you to hear the mainstream press tell you how good you are."

"Who cares about moral rights? This is about popular culture!" said Mr. Life, "Go ahead! I dare you! Tell me what is brilliant in my story about parliamentary elections in Croatia."

"Everything," I had to admit sheepishly. "But the wriggle was the best of all. After Mr. Tudjman's death, the political elite cut the tension in the campaign and left the impression that Croatia will not leave the road with Nazi traffic signs.

"Also, you injected that shining episode with the characters there, people who maybe are not fascist in their hearts, but they glorified jingoism because they were thinking that this would help them to build their careers. What can I criticize about a masterstroke like that? Nothing!"

(I did not like Mr. Life's supercilious and self-satisfied smile then, but I went on.)

"So you have made a nice display of the emotions we have now in Central Europe," I said. "Our self reproach because of riding the wrong horse. Our fear that uniting under the colors of chameleons will work again as they worked when Croatia left the former Yugoslavia.

Also, I'm sure, this story will have a great influence on some other stories, particularly those which should be told about Mr. Milosevic in Serbia..."

Mr. Life decided to show magnamity. "Well, nothing is perfect," said Mr. Life. "Maybe I could avoid Mr. Racan as the winner. You know, he is part of the ex-communist leadership..."

"Don't bother yourself with the details." I wanted to show that I could be high-minded here. "Almost every head of the state in the ex-communist countries is part of a new-and-improved ex-communist leadership; Mr. Kucan in Slovenia, Mr. Suster in Slovakia, Mr. Lukasenko in Belorus..."

"OK, let us analyze my story about Mr. Yeltzin now," said Mr. Life.

"Nice piece of work", I said. "You cared about detail. Mr. Yeltzin's daughter already lost her job in the Kremlin."

"And what have you to say about my story on the NATO Flying Circus, which could be a part of a Hague Tribunal job, if the investigation shows that some of bombardment represents war crimes?"

"It is a good story, but it also could be your entry into burlesque. I could imagine, for example, a scene in which Mr. Solana and Mr. Milosevic were discussing who exactly won last spring during their promenade in the jail yard or coroner's waiting room."

"Don't press it, Durman!"

"Sorry..."

But then Mr. Life became pensive. "I suppose," he said, "that I have to leave my story about the investigation of Mr. Kohl's involvement in his party's investment games for some future edition of my stories. Not many people were paying attention when I wrote it. Like the possible indictment of NATO, it came at a bad 'news time.' I have already heard rumors that I shoud reiterate myself, now that Y2K is not the big headline..."

"I do not think so," I said, hoping to cheer him up a bit. "I mean, the audience isn't accustomed to having stories that demolish their myths about unattainable world leaders. It is worse yet to try to make them take particular responsibility for their acts. Look at Clinton!

"Let me tell, Mr. Life, as one writer to another, if you mean to have success with this genre, it would be the big victory of civilization comparable with the discovery of fire, the Internet and the 'small step for mankind' if you could 'sell' a story like that! Writers have been trying since Heracles."

"So, let us make a conclusion," said Mr. Life. "You think that nobody made better literature than I did in these last weeks of the Millennium?"

"I didn't say so. Why must you always compete with us humans who have been writing for years, when you are just getting into this trade?"