Earlier, I posted Chapter 1-17 of my new series of blogs, which will collectively form an online book. Below, I have attached Chapter 18.

Chapter 18: The transformative nine months

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

[…]  “It’s truly a delightful story about the bird,” said Elara, “and you have a unique narrative to share, especially for those who need to realize that there’s always a way forward as long as someone is willing to take action.”

“Indeed,” I said, nodding in agreement.

The soft glow of the café lights cast long shadows on the floor as I turned to Elara. “It’s time,” I said, with a slight smile curling the edge of my lips. “Time to go home.” I glanced around at the sleek, silent machines that had been tending to us all evening. “In about twenty minutes, I have a feeling we’ll be politely but firmly escorted out by these ever-diligent robots.” I chuckled, feeling the weight of the late hour.

Elara threw her head back and laughed, her laughter ringing out in the empty café. “Yes, we’ve stayed far too long,” she said, her eyes twinkling, “and we’re the last souls lingering in this place.” Her gaze followed mine, taking in the quiet machines, the polished surfaces, and the soft hum of automation around us, as if the café itself were waiting, patient but expectant, for us to leave.

She leaned forward slightly, her voice now more thoughtful. “Let’s continue this in two days at your office,” she suggested, a spark of excitement in her tone. I could see that the conversation had stirred something in her, some thread of possibility waiting to be pulled.

“That sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling the same energy rise within me. The idea of reconvening, diving deeper into our ideas, felt like a promise, something new taking shape between us.

We stood, the chairs scraping softly against the floor, and leaned in to exchange the customary kisses on the cheek, the warmth of friendship and shared ideas hanging between us. “See you in two days,” I said, my voice soft now, as though speaking any louder might break the delicate moment. We waved our goodbyes as Elara disappeared into the night, her figure slipping into the shadows of the street outside.

I made my way back to the garage, where my autonomous car was waiting, sleek and silent under the soft neon lights. It opened its door with a gentle hiss, welcoming me in as if it knew exactly how tired I was. Once inside, I let the car do the work, feeling the gentle hum of its engine as it glided effortlessly through the quiet city streets. The world outside was a blur of muted lights and shadows, as if the city itself was slowing down, settling into the night.

When I arrived home, it was as still as the car ride—eerily silent, almost. The kind of silence that wraps around you and makes you think. The conversation with Elara, the story of the bird and action, still played on my mind as I entered the dark, quiet rooms of my house.

I could feel the weight of the night settling in, thick and heavy, but beneath it, there was also a sense of anticipation. It lingered like a whisper on the edge of my thoughts, a quiet reminder of all the things I still needed to do, the words left unspoken, and the truths I had yet to reveal for the world around me. There were stories waiting to be told, ideas that felt urgent, pressing against the stillness of the night, waiting for their moment to break free.

Before I knew it, I fell asleep quickly. I had to make sure I rested well because the days ahead were packed with tasks and meetings that demanded my attention. There was a lot of work to be done. I had to visit the office, check on the rounds, and attend numerous meetings to ensure everything was running smoothly across the projects.

Two days flew by in the blink of an eye, almost as if they had passed in just two hours. Time had that strange way of slipping through my fingers when I was immersed in work. It felt like a moment ago that I was saying goodbye to Elara. But at around 7 o’clock PM, we found ourselves together again, this time in the office café on the 32nd floor, with the city sprawling beneath us.

We sat down at our usual spot, the warm glow of the setting sun casting soft shadows across the room. Elara ordered her favorite tea, and I did the same. The familiar clink of the cups as they were set down on the table brought a sense of comfort, grounding us in the moment. As we sipped our tea, we shared a moment of silent agreement to pick up where we left off. The conversation resumed as effortlessly as before, as if no time had passed at all. Then Elara pulled her laptop from her bag and looked at me with a spark of curiosity in her eyes.

“Tell me more about what happened next with that special opportunity you mentioned—the one that allowed you to transition into higher education with that unique program,” she said.

A rush of memories surged through my mind, vivid and nostalgic. It was as if I was revisiting those remarkable days from so many years ago. I had almost forgotten how exhilarating and carefree it felt to be young, unburdened by the weight of the complex problems and rapid developments that had unfolded over the past decade, especially on Earth and in my immediate surroundings. The chaos and changes of recent years had nearly overshadowed those simpler, more innocent times I had when I was 16.

Suddenly, I became aware of my own silence. Elara’s expectant gaze brought me back to the present. I took a deep breath, gathered my thoughts, and began to recount the story, letting the memories flow freely as I shared the details of that pivotal moment with her.

“Well, as I mentioned last time,” I began, “I was accepted into a unique one-year program. This rare opportunity allowed me to skip the usual hurdles and transfer directly into higher education, even though I wasn’t yet 21 and hadn’t obtained the required diploma here in the Netherlands.” I paused, looking into Elara’s eyes to gauge her understanding.

“But,” I continued, my tone becoming more reflective, “I have to admit it was difficult to accept that I had to borrow money from my father to cover the tuition and significant travel costs. It felt like a heavy reminder of my dependence and lack of independence.” I glanced out the window, where the twilight sky mirrored my contemplative mood.

“I was determined,” I said, with renewed conviction, “to find a well-paying job as soon as I could start school. I knew I needed to cover my travel and educational expenses at the very least.” Elara’s eyes were fixed on me, her silent nod conveying her empathy.

“The reality was stark,” I continued, recounting the details with a mix of nostalgia and pragmatism. “Traveling 150 kilometers a day, along with the costs of books and other school supplies, was expected to cost me around 800 euros a month. Back then, when a loaf of bread cost just 0.50 euros and inflation was almost imperceptible, the cost of living and labor was remarkably low. It was a time when you could stretch a euro quite far, but it still wasn’t enough to cover the significant expenses of higher education, especially since no organization was covering my costs due to my young age.”

I leaned back, allowing the weight of the past to settle. “From a young age, I knew that if I wanted to achieve my academic dreams, I would need a well-paying job to cover the high costs and repay my father for the money I had borrowed. This reality check shaped my early ambitions and fueled my determination. And of course, I knew that finding a job and securing money would have to wait, as I had to complete the program without any delay since this was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

I paused, then gathered my thoughts before continuing. “A few days later, after receiving the good news, I left to return to my internship. I shared the news with my internship supervisor and took out a bag of chocolates I had bought earlier to thank her for all her effort and the valuable advice she had given me. I also informed her that I would no longer be coming to the internship because I was leaving to pursue my new studies elsewhere full-time. Fortunately, she understood my decision and wished me success in my career. After saying goodbye, I went back to school to share the good news with my career counselor and principal lecturer there as well. I explained that this would be my last visit and that I was quitting my studies immediately.

Although I could see in my principal lecturer’s eyes that he did not fully understand my choices and that it might be overwhelming for him, he had no choice but to wish me good luck. Once home, I took some time to rest and informed my parents that I finally had time for a full summer vacation. I looked forward to relaxing and preparing both physically and emotionally for the new study program, which I anticipated would be challenging since I was younger than most of my classmates.

The summer vacation flew by, and September arrived, marking the beginning of my new life. It was the month when I would start at my new school and meet my new classmates and teachers. I remember well that the weather in the Netherlands on that first day was typically rainy. Leaves were scattered everywhere. I gathered my things and went to the counter to buy a monthly public transport subscription with the money I had received from my father.

Taking the train to my new school felt like the start of a significant new chapter. When I arrived, I was struck by the large garden where students were sitting, something I hadn’t noticed before. I met my new teacher, who was later to become my mentor. She introduced me to the class, and it immediately became clear that I was the youngest there. I had expected some older students, but I was surprised to find that there were even students in their mid-30s and 40s. At first, it felt a bit uncomfortable to be among people so much older than me. Despite this, I was determined to advance in my studies as quickly as possible and knew that this step was necessary for my academic journey.

After an introductory session, we were given a tour of the school and then allowed to form groups to support each other throughout the next nine months of the program. I vividly remember making eye contact with two women in the class who were a bit older than me but had very warm and friendly smiles. Since we were assigned to form groups, I ended up sitting next to these women, and we struck up a conversation.

I had no idea at the time that these two women would become my closest friends, with whom I would stay in constant contact for the next five years. Even today, although they are married with children and living their own lives, we still keep in touch. Our friendship has remained strong since I was 16.”

“What a funny story,” Elara told me with a smile. “It’s nice to know that we’re not the only ones who have maintained friendships for years after graduation from our Master’s program.”

“Yes, that’s true, Elara,” I admitted. “There are quite a few people with whom I’ve been friends for 20 years or more. They’ve not only emotionally and physically supported me in becoming the best version of myself but have also been there for me during tough times. I’ll share more about this in another conversation. But for now, let’s return to when I was 16. Where was I? Ah yes, let’s continue. So, once we were assigned to form groups, I started talking with these two lovely ladies, and we decided to form a group of three.

One of the ladies, I remember very well, came from Iraq. Her father was a diplomat, and due to the circumstances in Iraq, she was forced to leave her country and start a new life in the Netherlands. She often spoke proudly of her family and their many positive contributions to their country. She also expressed her frustration with the political situation in Iraq at the time, particularly the misunderstandings about nuclear weapons, which were later proven to be incorrect.

I found myself relating to her experience because, like her, I came from a prominent but divided family. We, too, were forced to leave Afghanistan due to the war and insecurity there. Historically, Iraq and Afghanistan share many similarities, and the people of both countries have had much in common, even to this day.
The other lady in our group came originally from Iran. Due to the fall of the Iranian monarchy and the rise of the Islamist government, she and her family were forced to move to the Netherlands when she was still very young.

I immediately felt a strong connection with her, even though she was a bit older than me. She felt like an older sister and a kindred spirit. You see, just like me, she was incredibly curious and had a deep interest in understanding how the world and reality were structured. She spent a lot of time in the library, reading extensively about human psychology, well-being, reality, the universe, and other complex subjects.

To keep a long story short, I immediately felt a strong bond with these two ladies, and we became inseparable. At school, we encouraged and supported each other with homework and exam preparation, coaching one another to pass our exams successfully. We had many sleepovers at each other’s houses, especially during exam weeks, to help each other study.

I must admit that we often skipped school because we found the material quite easy. Instead, we would go for walks in the garden or around the city, make jokes, and laugh a lot.”

Elara looked at me in amazement and asked, “Why was it easy for you? I thought it was a difficult and intensive program.”

“Well, Elara, you’re absolutely right,” I said. “At first, I thought it would be challenging, but to my great surprise, we only had to study seven subjects. Outside of the Netherlands, I was used to taking 28 subjects, ranging from geometry and algebra to physics, biology, and even chess. During these nine months of the program, however, we only had to focus on seven subjects, and half of them were areas that I and the two ladies I was with already knew fairly well. I have to admit that the material sometimes seemed very easy to us during the lessons. As a result, all three of us quickly became distracted and ended up skipping quite a few classes for subjects we already mastered.”

I should also mention that during that one-year program, I almost completely forgot about my old hobbies—programming, hacking, and being active in the online world. I had so much fun with these two ladies that, for the first time in my life, I felt like a young woman who could let go of the complexities of technology, hacking, and programming. These nine months not only made me feel like I could touch the world but also became the most beautiful time of my life. I had an incredible amount of fun with these two ladies, and I grew to care for them deeply. This experience also taught me that sometimes you only need to change the environment to become fully happy and developed again.”

I paused and reflected on these old memories before continuing: “The nine months flew by quickly. Before I knew it, we were taking the final exams, and we all passed with excellent grades. I vividly remember the day we received our diplomas. We were given the green light to move straight on to a bachelor’s degree. Unfortunately, this marked the end of our close-knit friendship and daily togetherness, as each of us chose a different path for our further studies.

As you know by now, Elara, I always wanted to pursue something that would contribute to human well-being and equality. So, without hesitation, I chose to study law, while my two friends took different paths. One pursued psychology at university, and the other chose economics. Although we stayed in touch, our busy lives and studies, combined with the fact that our schools were in different cities, led to a gradual decrease in our contact. We began to see each other less and less, and, of course, our lives became more complicated, especially mine.”

“How so?” Elara asked, her curiosity piqued.

Click here for chapter 19.