{"id":22519,"date":"2025-06-07T10:23:08","date_gmt":"2025-06-07T14:23:08","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/?p=22519"},"modified":"2025-06-07T10:23:11","modified_gmt":"2025-06-07T14:23:11","slug":"ray-bradbury-night-meeting","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/short-stories\/ray-bradbury-night-meeting\/22519\/","title":{"rendered":"Ray Bradbury: Night Meeting"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Synopsis:<\/strong> \u201cNight Meeting<\/em>\u201d is a short story by Ray Bradbury, published in 1950 in The Martian Chronicles<\/em>. Set on Mars, colonized by humans, the story follows Tom\u00e1s G\u00f3mez, an Earth colonist traveling along an old Martian road on his way to a party. On his way, he stops to contemplate the beauty and tranquility of the night landscape. However, his journey takes an unusual turn when he encounters an enigmatic Martian. Although they try to greet each other cordially and communicate, they soon discover that something insurmountable separates them.<\/p>\n\n\n

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\"Ray<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Night Meeting<\/h2>\n\n\n\n

By Ray Bradbury
(Full story)<\/p>\n\n\n\n


AUGUST 2002<\/p>\n\n\n\n


Before going on up into the blue hills, Tom\u00e1s Gomez stopped for gasoline at the lonely station.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Kind of alone out here, aren\u2019t you, Pop?\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The old man wiped off the windshield of the small truck. \u2018Not bad.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018How do you like Mars, Pop?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Fine. Always something new. I made up my mind when I came here last year I wouldn\u2019t expect nothing, nor ask nothing, nor be surprised at nothing. We\u2019ve got to forget Earth and how things were. We\u2019ve got to look at what we\u2019re in here, and how different<\/em> it is. I get a hell of a lot of fun out of just the weather here. It\u2019s Martian<\/em> weather. Hot as hell daytime, cold as hell nights. I get a big kick out of the different flowers and different rain. I came to Mars to retire, and I wanted to retire in a place where everything is different. An old man needs to have things different. Young people don\u2019t want to talk to him, other old people bore hell out of him. So I thought the best thing for me is a place so different that all you got to do is open your eyes and you\u2019re entertained. I got this gas-station. If business picks up too much, I\u2019ll move on back to some other old highway that\u2019s not so busy, where I can earn just enough to live on and still have time to feel the different<\/em> things here.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You got the right idea, Pop,\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s, his brown hands idly on the wheel. He was feeling good. He had been working in one of the new colonies for ten days straight, and now he had two days off and was on his way to a party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019m not surprised at anything any more,\u2019 said the old man. \u2018I\u2019m just looking. I\u2019m just experiencing. If you can\u2019t take Mars for what she is, you might as well go back to Earth. Everything\u2019s crazy up here, the soil, the air, the canals, the natives (I never saw any yet, but I can hear they\u2019re around), the clocks. Even my clock acts funny. Even time<\/em> is crazy up here. Sometimes I feel I\u2019m here all by myself, no one else on the whole damn planet. I\u2019d take bets on it. Sometimes I feel about eight years old, my body squeezed up and everything else tall. Jesus, it\u2019s just the place for an old man. Keeps me alert and keeps me happy. You know what Mars is? It\u2019s like a thing I got for Christmas seventy years ago \u2013 don\u2019t know if you ever had one \u2013 they called them kaleidoscopes: bits of crystal and cloth and bead and pretty junk. You held it up to the sunlight and looked in through at it, and it took your breath away. All the patterns! Well, that\u2019s Mars. Enjoy it. Don\u2019t ask it to be nothing else but what it is. Jesus, you know the highway right there, built by the Martians, is over sixteen centuries old and still in good condition? That\u2019s one dollar and fifty cents, thanks and good night.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s drove off down the ancient highway, laughing quietly.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a long road going into darkness and hills, and he held to the wheel, now and again reaching into his lunch-bucket and taking out a piece of candy. He had been driving steadily for an hour, with no other car on the road, no light, just the road going under, the hum, the roar, and Mars out there, so quiet. Mars was always quiet, but quieter tonight than any other. The deserts and empty seas swung by him, and the mountains against the stars.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There was a smell of Time in the air tonight. He smiled and turned the fancy in his mind. There was a thought. What did Time smell like? Like dust and clocks and people. And if you wondered what Time sounded like it sounded like water running in a dark cave and voices crying and dirt dropping down upon hollow box-lids, and rain. And, going farther, what did Time look<\/em> like? Time looked like snow dropping silently into a black room or it looked like a silent film in an ancient theatre, one hundred billion faces falling like those New Year balloons, down and down into nothing. That was how Time smelled and looked and sounded. And tonight \u2013 Tom\u00e1s shoved a hand into the wind outside the truck \u2013 tonight you could almost touch<\/em> Time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He drove the truck between the hills of Time. His neck prickled and he sat up, watching ahead.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He pulled into a little dead Martian town, stopped the engine, and let the silence come in around him. He sat, not breathing, looking out at the white buildings in the moonlight. Uninhabited for centuries. Perfect, faultless, in ruins, yes, but perfect, nevertheless.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He started the engine and drove on another mile or more before stopping again, climbing out, carrying his lunch bucket, and walking to a little promontory where he could look back at that dusty city. He opened his thermos and poured himself a cup of coffee. A night bird flew by. He felt very good, very much at peace.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Perhaps five minutes later there was a sound. Off in the hills, where the ancient highway curved, there was a motion, a dim light, and then a murmur.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s turned slowly with the coffee-cup in his hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And out of the hills came a strange thing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was a machine like a jade-green insect, a praying mantis, delicately rushing through the cold air, indistinct, countless green diamonds winking over its body, and red jewels that glittered with multifaceted eyes. Its six legs fell upon the ancient highway with the sounds of a sparse rain which dwindled away, and from the back of the machine a Martian with melted gold for eyes looked down at Tom\u00e1s as if he were looking into a well.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s raised his hand and thought Hello! automatically, but did not move his lips, for this was<\/em> a Martian. But Tom\u00e1s had swum in blue rivers on Earth, with strangers passing on the road, and eaten in strange houses with strange people, and his weapon had always been his smile. He did not carry a gun. And he did not feel the need of one now, even with the little fear that gathered about his heart at this moment.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian\u2019s hands were empty too. For a moment they looked across the cool air at each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It was Tom\u00e1s who moved first.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Hello!\u2019 he called.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Hello!\u2019 called the Martian in his own language.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They did not understand each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Did you say hello?\u2019 they both asked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What did you say?\u2019 they said, each in a different tongue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They scowled.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Who are you?\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s in English.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What are you doing here?\u2019 In Martian; the stranger\u2019s lips moved.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Where are you going?\u2019 they said, and looked bewildered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019m Tom\u00e1s Gomez.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019m Muhe Ca.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Neither understood, but they tapped their chests with the words, and then it became clear.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then the Martian laughed. \u2018Wait!\u2019 Tom\u00e1s felt his head touched, but no hand had touched him. \u2018There!\u2019 said the Martian in English. \u2018That is better!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You learned my language, so quick!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Nothing at all!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They looked, embarrassed with a new silence, at the steaming coffee he had in one hand.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Something different?\u2019 said the Martian, eyeing him and the coffee, referring to them both, perhaps.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018May I offer you a drink?\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Please.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian slid down from his machine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A second cup was produced and filled, steaming. Tom\u00e1s held it out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their hands met and \u2013 like mist \u2013 fell through each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Jesus Christ!\u2019 cried Tom\u00e1s, and dropped the cup.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Name of the Gods!\u2019 said the Martian in his own tongue.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Did you see what happened?\u2019 they both whispered.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They were very cold and terrified.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian bent to touch the cup, but could not touch it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Jesus!\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Indeed.\u2019 The Martian tried again and again to get hold of the cup, but could not. He stood up and thought for moment, then took a knife from his belt.\u2019 \u2018Hey!\u2019 cried Tom\u00e1s. \u2018You misunderstand, catch!\u2019 said the Martian, and tossed it. Tom\u00e1s cupped his hands. The knife fell through his flesh. It hit the ground. Tom\u00e1s bent to pick it up, but could not touch it, and he recoiled, shivering.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now he looked at the Martian against the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The stars!\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The stars!\u2019 said the Martian, looking, in turn, at Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The stars were white and sharp beyond the flesh of the Martian, and they were sewn into his flesh like scintillas swallowed into the thin, phosphorous membrane of a gelatinous sea-fish. You could see stars flickering like violet eyes in the Martian\u2019s stomach and chest, and through his wrists, like jewellery.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I can see through you!\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And I through you!\u2019 said the Martian, stepping back.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s felt his own body and, feeling the warmth, was reassured. I<\/em> am real, he thought.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian touched his own nose and lips. \u2018I<\/em> have flesh,\u2019 he said, half aloud. \u2018I<\/em> am alive.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s stared at the stranger. \u2018And if I<\/em> am real, then you<\/em> must be dead.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No, you!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018A ghost\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018A phantom!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They pointed at each other, with starlight burning in their limbs like daggers and icicles and fireflies, and then fell to judging their limbs again, each finding himself intact, hot, excited, stunned, awed, and the other, ah yes, that other over there, unreal, a ghostly prism flashing the accumulated light of distant worlds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019m drunk, thought Tom\u00e1s. I won\u2019t tell anyone of this tomorrow, no, no.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They stood there on the ancient highway, neither of them moving.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Where are you from?\u2019 asked the Martian at last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Earth.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What is that?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There.\u2019 Tom\u00e1s nodded to the sky.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018When?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018We landed over a year ago, remember?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And all of you were dead, all but a few. You\u2019re rare, don\u2019t you know<\/em> that?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018That\u2019s not true.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes, dead. I saw the bodies. Black, in the rooms, in the houses, dead. Thousands of them.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018That\u2019s ridiculous. We\u2019re alive<\/em>!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Mister, you\u2019re invaded, only you don\u2019t know it. You must have escaped.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I haven\u2019t escaped; there was nothing to escape. What do you mean? I\u2019m on my way to a festival now at the canal, near the Eniall Mountains. I was there last night. Don\u2019t you see the city there?\u2019 The Martian pointed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s looked and saw the ruins. \u2018Why, that city\u2019s been dead thousands of years.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian laughed. \u2018Dead. I slept there yesterday!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And I was in it a week ago and the week before that, and I just drove through it now, and it\u2019s a heap. See the broken pillars?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Broken? Why, I see them perfectly. The moonlight helps. And the pillars are upright.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There\u2019s dust in the streets,\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The streets are clean!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The canals are empty right there.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018The canals are full of lavender wine!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It\u2019s dead.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It\u2019s alive!\u2019 protested the Martian, laughing more now. \u2018Oh, you\u2019re quite wrong. See all the carnival lights? There are beautiful boats as slim as women, beautiful women as slim as boats, women the colour of sand, women with fire-flowers in their hands. I can see them, small, running in the streets there. That\u2019s where I\u2019m going now, to the festival; we\u2019ll float on the waters all night long; we\u2019ll sing, we\u2019ll drink, we\u2019ll make love. Can\u2019t you see it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Mister, that city is dead as a dried lizard. As any of our party. Me, I\u2019m on my way to Green City tonight; that\u2019s the new colony we just raised over near Illinois Highway. You\u2019re mixed up. We brought in a million board feet of Oregon lumber and a couple dozen tons of good steel nails and hammered together two of the nicest little villages you ever saw. Tonight we\u2019re warming one of them. A couple rockets are coming in from Earth, bringing our wives and girl friends. There\u2019ll be barn dances and whisky\u2014\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian was now disquieted. \u2018You say it is over that<\/em> way?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018There are the rockets.\u2019 Tom\u00e1s walked him to the edge of the hill and pointed down. \u2018See?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Damn it, there they are<\/em>! Those long silver things.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Now Tom\u00e1s laughed. \u2018You\u2019re blind!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I see very well. You are the one who does not see.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But you see the new town<\/em>, don\u2019t you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I see nothing but an ocean, and water at low tide.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Mister, that water\u2019s been evaporated for forty centuries.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Ah, now, now, that is<\/em> enough.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It\u2019s true, I tell you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian grew very serious. \u2018Tell me again. You do not see the city the way I describe it? The pillars very white, the boats very slender, the festival lights \u2013 oh, I see them clearly<\/em>! And listen! I can hear them singing. It\u2019s no space away at all.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s listened and shook his head. \u2018No.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And I, on the other hand,\u2019 said the Martian, \u2018cannot see what you describe. Well.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Again they were cold. An ice was in their flesh.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Can it be \u2026?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You say \u201cfrom the sky\u201d?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Earth.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Earth, a name, nothing,\u2019 said the Martian. \u2018But<\/em> \u2026 as I came up the pass an hour ago \u2026\u2019 He touched the back of his neck. \u2018I felt<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Cold?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And now?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Cold again. Oddly. There was a thing in the light, to the hills, the road,\u2019 said the Martian. \u2018I felt the strangeness, the road, the light, and for a moment I felt as if I were the last man alive on this world \u2026\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018So did I!\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s, and it was like talking to an old and dear friend, confiding, growing warm with the topic.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian closed his eyes and opened them again. \u2018This can only mean one thing. It has to do with Time. Yes. You are a figment of the Past!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018No, you are from the Past,\u2019 said the Earth Man, having had time to think of it now.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018You are so certain<\/em>. How can you prove who is from the Past, who from the Future? What year is it?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Two thousand and two!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018What does that mean to me<\/em>?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s considered and shrugged. \u2018Nothing.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018It is as if I told you that it is the year 4462853 S.E.c. It is nothing and more than nothing! Where is the clock to show us how the stars stand?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018But the ruins prove it! They prove that I<\/em> am the Future, I<\/em> am alive, you<\/em> are dead!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Everything in me denies this. My heart beats, my stomach hungers, my mouth thirsts. No, no, not dead, not alive, either of us. More alive than anything else. Caught between is more like it. Two strangers passing in the night, that is it. Two strangers passing. Ruins, you say!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Yes. You\u2019re afraid!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Who wants to see the Future, who ever does? A man can face the Past, but think \u2013 the pillars crumbled<\/em>, you say? And the sea empty, and the canals dry, and the maidens dead, and the flowers withered?\u2019 The Martian was silent, but then he looked on ahead. \u2018But there they are. I see them. Isn\u2019t that enough for me? They wait for me now, no matter what<\/em> you say.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And for Tom\u00e1s the rockets, far away, waiting for him<\/em>, and the town and the women from Earth. \u2018We can never agree,\u2019 he said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Let us agree to disagree,\u2019 said the Martian. \u2018What does it matter who is Past or Future, if we are both alive, for what follows will follow, tomorrow or in ten thousand years. How do you know that those temples are not the temples of your own civilization one hundred centuries from now, tumbled and broken? You do not know. Then don\u2019t ask. But the night is very short. There go the festival fires in the sky, and the birds.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Tom\u00e1s put out his hand. The Martian did likewise in imitation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Their hands did not touch; they melted through each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Will we meet again?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Who knows? Perhaps some other night.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018I\u2019d like to go with you to that festival.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018And I wish I might come to your new town, to see this ship you speak of, to see these men, to hear all that has happened.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Good-bye,\u2019 said Tom\u00e1s.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Good-night.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The Martian rode his green-metal vehicle quietly away into the hills. The Earth Man turned his truck and drove it silently in the opposite direction.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Good Lord! what a dream that was,\u2019 sighed Tom\u00e1s, his hands on the wheel, thinking of the rockets, the women, the raw whisky, the Virginia reels, the party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

How strange a vision was that, thought the Martian, rushing on, thinking of the festival, the canals, the boats, the women with golden eyes, and the songs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The night was dark. The moons had gone down. Starlight twinkled on the empty highway where now there was not a sound, no car, no person, nothing. And it remained that way all the rest of the cool, dark night.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

THE END<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

\u201cNight Meeting\u201d is a short story by Ray Bradbury, published in 1950 in The Martian Chronicles. Set on Mars, colonized by humans, the story follows Tom\u00e1s G\u00f3mez, an Earth colonist traveling along an old Martian road on his way to a party. On his way, he stops to contemplate the beauty and tranquility of the night landscape. However, his journey takes an unusual turn when he encounters an enigmatic Martian. Although they try to greet each other cordially and communicate, they soon discover that something insurmountable separates them.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":22475,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[559],"tags":[574,552,570],"class_list":["post-22519","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-stories","tag-ray-bradbury-en","tag-science-fiction","tag-united-states","generate-columns","tablet-grid-50","mobile-grid-100","grid-parent","grid-33"],"acf":[],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":559,"label":"Short stories"}],"post_tag":[{"value":574,"label":"Ray Bradbury"},{"value":552,"label":"Science fiction"},{"value":570,"label":"United States"}]},"featured_image_src_large":["https:\/\/lecturia.org\/wp-content\/uploads\/2025\/06\/Ray-Bradbury-Encuentro-nocturno.webp",1024,1024,false],"author_info":{"display_name":"Juan Pablo Guevara","author_link":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/author\/spartakku\/"},"comment_info":"","category_info":[{"term_id":559,"name":"Short stories","slug":"short-stories","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":559,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":419,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":559,"category_count":419,"category_description":"","cat_name":"Short stories","category_nicename":"short-stories","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":[{"term_id":574,"name":"Ray Bradbury","slug":"ray-bradbury-en","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":574,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":43,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":552,"name":"Science fiction","slug":"science-fiction","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":552,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":121,"filter":"raw"},{"term_id":570,"name":"United States","slug":"united-states","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":570,"taxonomy":"post_tag","description":"","parent":0,"count":294,"filter":"raw"}],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22519","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=22519"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/22519\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/22475"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=22519"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=22519"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/lecturia.org\/en\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=22519"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}