Earlier, I posted Chapter 1-14 of my new series of blogs, which will collectively form an online book. Below, I have attached Chapter 15.

Chapter 15: Reminiscence at Lubcov Café

Disclaimer: Since this is primarily a fictional story, please do not take everything I write too seriously

[…] As the glass doors of the sleek, modern building slid silently closed behind me, I stepped into the cool evening air, my heels clicking crisply against the concrete. I walked toward the garage, my mind still buzzing from the day’s work and all the memories that had surfaced from my recent talks with Elara. The conversations had stirred up a flood of nostalgia, bringing my mind back to all the years and experiences I had been through.

The garage, a cathedral of steel and shadow, opened automatically once it recognized me, fully integrated with smart technology. I paused, my gaze sweeping over the space. It was almost magical how the chaos of the city seemed to dissolve here, replaced by the serene ballet of automated systems. As I approached my designated parking slot, a sensor flickered to life, scanning my retinas. Recognition was instant, and the door rolled open with a quiet hiss, welcoming me like an old friend.

There, bathed in the soft glow of the overhead lights, sat my Audi. The color of deep cellar wine, the car gleamed under the fluorescents, its sleek lines speaking of speed and precision. It was more than just a car; it was the realization of years of dreams and aspirations. Fully automated and autonomous, the vehicle was a pinnacle of modern engineering—a far cry from the days of my humble beginnings.

With a soft click, the car door opened as it sensed my approach. I paused, my hand resting on the cool metal of the door frame, allowing myself a moment to drink in the sight of the luxurious interior.  The interior in the car was a blend of modern engineering and serene efficiency, with automated systems performing their tasks in a graceful, synchronized dance.  I slid into the driver’s seat, the leather cool against my skin, and settled back as the car greeted me in a calm, clear voice, “Welcome back Marya. Where would you like to go?”

I replied, “Home,” my voice steady but my heart swelling with a mix of emotions. As the car smoothly glided out of the garage, the city lights blurred past, and my thoughts drifted back to the journey that had brought me here.

I remembered the days when life was a relentless struggle, when I was a woman in my thirties, feeling broken and lost. Those days of dreaming big with empty pockets, my body rebelling against me, refusing to cooperate. I had felt so alone, my voice echoing unheard in a void of misunderstanding and frustration.

But those days were behind me now. The car’s smooth motion brought me back to the present as I traveled through the city, each street corner a reminder of how far I had come. The journey from despair to success had been tough, filled with trials not just for me but for everyone who had faced the challenges of the past years.

The car’s voice pulled me from my reverie as it announced, “Your destination has arrived. Have a good evening.” The vehicle came to a stop in front of a large house, its architecture elegant and imposing. This was my home now, the home I had envisioned in those dark days of my past, a symbol of my achievements.

I stepped out of the car and walked towards my front door, feeling grateful as I gazed at my house. Each window reminded me of my journey, and I realized how my dreams from long ago had come true in the beautiful surroundings. This house, this modern and expensive lifestyle, was a testament to my resilience, a physical manifestation of my once distant dreams. Now, they were my reality.

It was completely dark outside, with the sounds of cars dwindling. It was also cold, typical of a December night. Inside their warm homes, families gathered around glowing TVs, wrapped in blankets, escaping into the stories onscreen. Laughter and soft voices filled the rooms, creating a cozy contrast to the deserted streets outside.

As I approached the sleek, modern facade of my apartment building, the door engaged its biometric scanner, flashing a brief beam of light across my eyes before swinging open with a silent, obedient swish.

Stepping inside, the familiar emptiness of the space greeted me; my family had chosen to escape the winter’s grip by flying to Dubai. It’s a destination we often choose together to relax and clear our minds.

The house felt unusually quiet without their presence. I glanced towards the cage where my parrots, no longer the chirping chicks I had once brought home, were nestled together in sleep’s gentle embrace, their feathers a soft, hushed contrast to the darkened room.

Just as I was about to retreat into the solitude of the evening, the shrill ring of the telephone pierced the silence. I reached for it, and my father’s voice, warm yet tinged with concern, flowed through the line. “Hey, Marya, are you not coming to at least eat with us? We don’t like it that you are alone there,” he probed gently.

“No thanks, Dad, not tonight,” I replied, the fatigue of the day heavy in my voice. “I’m very tired, so I will go to sleep since I need to work tomorrow, but you all have fun there.” A wave of gratitude swept over me again, knowing that my parents were nearby, healthy, and well—a comforting realization.

Yearning for rest, I changed into my nightclothes and plunged into the welcoming softness of my bed. “Hey, TV, play some Zen music and bring me some coffee,” I murmured into the quiet room. The command activated the seamless network of smart home technology that connected my living space. Soft, soothing tones of Zen music began to fill the room, crafting an aura of tranquility.

Moments later, Rix, one of the two advanced robots in my home, glided silently into the room. With mechanical precision, it carried a tray with a cup of coffee — milk, with a little bit of sugar, just the way I liked it — and a small plate of cookies. It was a small comfort, but in the quiet of my high-tech yet empty home, Rix was a cherished companion.

As I sipped the warm coffee and let the music fill the room, the night seemed less cold, reminding me of the comforts of modern life.

In the soft glow of my reading lamp, I found myself reaching for a relic of the past: a book about the year 2050, its cover worn from use. Despite the high-tech devices that filled my home, automating every aspect of my life effortlessly, there was a unique charm in the tactile sensation of turning real paper pages. I still enjoyed reading traditional books, feeling the cover and paper, rather than relying solely on digital or automated formats. These books also reminded me of my youth spent among the towering shelves of libraries, where I had devoted countless hours to the pursuit of knowledge and adventure through literature.

Exhaustion from the day’s endeavors soon overtook me, and I surrendered to sleep, the book resting beside me.

A few hours later, which felt like minutes, my fully automated home assistant woke me up with a ring. After rising, I followed my morning routine of self-care before heading to the kitchen. There, Rix, my robotic companion, had breakfast ready. We had fully automated him so that each morning, we could enjoy different meals based on our healthy lifestyle and preferences.

After finishing my breakfast, Rix started cleaning up the kitchen and loading the dishes into the washing machine, handling all the household chores that a human would have done ten years ago.

I drove back to my office and noticed it was sparsely populated, reflecting the shift towards remote work and flexible schedules. Not many employees were present; most were either working remotely or coming in only when necessary. Despite this quiet atmosphere, I had several meetings scheduled for the day and successfully finalized agreements with several companies.

Before I knew it, the workday was over. At 5 p.m., I wrapped up my tasks, quickly grabbed something to eat in our kitchen, and then headed to my car. I instructed it to take me to the Lubcov café near the central station. The car located the nearest parking spot and began driving there automatically.

Upon arriving at the parking spot, I stepped out of the car. It closed its doors behind me and powered down. I walked towards the Lubcov café. As I arrived, memories from eight years ago flooded back, as vivid as if no time had passed at all. As I crossed the threshold of the café, a wave of familiarity washed also over me, tinged with a hint of anxiety.

The soft murmur of patrons and the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans greeted me. It wasn’t yet 6 p.m., so Elara hadn’t arrived, leaving me a moment to take in the surroundings. The décor remained unchanged, with its vintage posters and mismatched modern chairs—a reassuring presence in a world increasingly dominated by automation.

I glanced at the bustling scene around me, where patrons chatted with each other and with the automated baristas behind the counter. This café, like the rest of the globe, had embraced a new era where robots assumed roles once held by humans, reducing the human workweek to a mere 20 hours. Yet, amidst the whirring of machines, the familiar wooden tables and the soft hum of conversation reminded me of simpler times.

My gaze settled on the table before me, its deep mahogany color triggering memories of my visit seven years ago. I have to admit I was afraid to come to this café, haunted by the hard truths and whispered confessions that had shaken my world last time. The weight of those conversations still lingered, etched into the very grain of this table. I vividly remembered a conversation with a prominent figure, sitting across from me in this café. His words echoed a sentiment often shared by those in positions of power: the wisdom of silence.

“If you want to keep your clients and the people around you happy and comfortable, and avoid getting into trouble, my advice is to keep your knowledge and experiences to yourself. Not everybody needs to know everything, whether it’s good or not. Besides, understand that very few will grasp these complex and daunting matters, which can leave you mentally drained and potentially lead to losing everything you have,” he had said. His advice, though well-intentioned, had stifled my aspirations and silenced my voice.

I vividly recall how desperate I felt when I heard those words again from someone I admired. It was like confronting a harsh truth all over again. Because of this advice, I found myself discouraged from pursuing my dreams to help stave off the looming crises around me. After some small talk and a farewell handshake at the Lubcov café, I left, smiling but saying nothing, only to find a secluded corner on the street where I could cry unseen. In that moment, I knew deep down in my heart and mind that he was speaking the truth. Despite all the evidence and experiences I had gathered, it felt inadequate, as many seemed to prefer a comforting lie over a harsh reality, even if it ultimately harmed them.

These memories were abruptly interrupted by Elara’s arrival. Her presence, marked by elegance in a long black leather coat and a contrasting white dress, dispelled the shadows of the past. Her warm and familiar greeting brought a smile to my face.

“So, how are you doing here? Did you start to miss me?” she inquired, her smile infectious.

“Always,” I replied with a smile, the weight of my earlier contemplations momentarily lifted.

After greeting each other with kisses on the cheeks, Elara sat down at the table.

Together, we navigated through the automated ordering system, selecting cappuccinos and cake—a nod to tradition in an otherwise futuristic setting. A few minutes later, a robot arrived with our order, delivering our cappuccinos and pieces of cake.

As we exchanged updates on family and life, the relaxed nature of our conversation encouraged deeper exploration. Elara, always curious, redirected the focus to the experiences I had tentatively started sharing the day before.

She took her laptop out of her bag and continued, “Enough small talk. Let’s pick up where we left off yesterday. What happened after you sent that envelope to school?” She pressed, her interest genuine and unwavering.

In that moment, the café, blending the familiar with the modern, provided the perfect setting for exploring further into my story.

Click here for Chapter 16