Earlier, I posted Chapter 1 of my new series of blogs, which will collectively form an online book. You can find Chapter 1 by clicking here.
Now, I’m excited to share Chapter 2.

Chapter 2. Revealing the root cause.

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

After drinking some tea together, Elara leaned back. Elara’s name meant shining light; she was born into a family of academics. Elara had been weaned on discussions of great political movements and social revolutions from her early days, which frequently took place around the dining table of her childhood home. It was a place where, night after night, her parents and their colleagues would dissect the events of the day with the precision of surgeons. Amid the clutter of coffee cups and piled-up periodicals, her love for the complexities of human society had taken root — a flame that now flickered in the depths of her inquisitive eyes as she regarded me, her gaze sharpening with the gravity of the question she was about to pose.

“Are you sure you’re ready to share your story with the world?” she asked, her voice steady yet imbued with an undercurrent of concern. “Aren’t you afraid people will laugh at what you’re saying? And what catalyst stimulated this monumental shift in your lifestyle and mindset that you stand here today, ready to converse, to illuminate, to engage?”

I could see my own nervousness reflected in her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of how vulnerable it feels to open up to the public.

“What caused such a significant change that you are now willing to talk, whereas years ago when I approached you, you mentioned you couldn’t talk about the things you were doing?” she continued, her voice a gentle prod to the memories we both shared. “I remember back in 2019, before the Corona pandemic that closed the doors worldwide, when we talked at the café, you said you couldn’t talk about the issues and that the world might not be ready to understand the knowledge.”

“And one more thing,” Elara followed. “Before we begin, I’m very glad that you finally agreed to meet with me so we can talk about the experiences you’ve been through. As we agreed over the telephone a week ago, I want to write a book about the things you discovered and read about. For the readers who will eventually read this new book, it’s important to understand your opinion and the reasons behind your decisions and why you changed your opinion about everything. Also, it will be helpful if you make it easy to understand the stuff, since I know the nerdy type as you can speak on a tone that many can’t follow so easy,” she smiled.

Elara, with her pen ready, knew that it was crucial for readers to understand how my thoughts had changed over time and why. She had planned to write a book, including a biography about my ideas and knowledge, and that’s why she was visiting me. As the shadows grew longer and our teapot got colder, I felt it was the right time to share my journey with Elara and the world. The room, filled with intellectual things, set the stage for our deep conversation. With determination, I started talking, ready to reveal the details of my experiences and transformations.

The air in our room was thick with the aroma of coffee that had been brewed earlier in the day. An old clock ticked away the seconds, its rhythmic beat a reminder of the fleeting nature of time. It was the kind of place that invited confessions.

“No thanks are needed, Elara,” I began, my voice steady despite the tumultuous thoughts raging within. “I appreciate that you came as well. First of all, I am now older and have much more courage than back in 2019. I feel it’s also my duty to share what I know and what I’ve done in the past years. If not now, when? I’m afraid my knowledge will be lost if I don’t speak up. Tomorrow, I could be dead—what then? It feels like all my hard work over the past years and studies would have been for nothing.”

Elara listened intently, her eyes unwavering, as I poured out my concerns. I spoke of the haunting fear that seemed to permeate my thoughts—the relentless worry that my accumulated knowledge would gradually erode into oblivion, like footprints in the shifting sands of time, should I choose to withhold my voice.

“Haven’t history’s pages been written by those who dared to deliver their knowledge, despite the formidable obstacles sprouting before them?” I mused aloud, the weight of my own words pressing down upon me like a leaden shroud. My burden of regret would lie heavy should I choose silence over imparting what I’ve learned. The revolutionaries, the mavericks—the ‘crazy ones’—did they not rewrite the narrative of our world?” I continued, my hands gesturing with a fervor born of conviction as I leaned forward. Outside, I could hear the sounds of traffic coming in through the open window. It was like a city melody playing along with my thoughts.

I paused, collecting my thoughts like a gambler gathers his cards, each one a piece of the story I was about to unfold. “Isn’t it the very essence of our shared knowledge that drives us forward as a society? And are we not, each in our own ways, the ‘crazy ones’ capable of changing the world? I know myself in every way, and I am aware that my biggest regret will be not sharing the things I have read and researched.”

Elara nodded, her understanding a silent balm to my restlessness. I confessed my fear that I would be gone, and all my knowledge with me, lost like tears in rain. I spoke of the people before me who did their best to convey what I researched, experienced, and saw, but who couldn’t express it right away due to their reasons.

“So yes, my biggest regret would be not sharing these things,” I admitted, a hint of vulnerability creeping into my voice. “And you know the old saying, once said by Mark Twain: ‘Twenty years from now, you will be more disappointed by the things that you didn’t do than by the ones you did.’ You know me by now; I hate to have regrets.”

The air between us grew heavy with the weight of unspoken truths as I delved into the consequences of my revelations.

‘’Even though I know speaking up might make me lose many clients and damage my reputation, I’m determined to share the important truths,” I followed. The challenging aspect is that none of our colleagues are aware of the origins of our success—they don’t know where it all began. Behind the impressive achievements lies some concealed truth. When it comes out, it could attract a lot of negative attention and make clients doubt us. It might not just affect me; the impending revelation has the potential to not only reshape our image but also cast doubt on the very foundation of our company. I’m, of course, stuck deciding if I should keep things as they are or reveal the truth. I’m fully aware that unveiling the reality might spark significant issues, potentially causing the company to face difficulties. This could set off a chain reaction, impacting not only our organization but also other companies sharing a similar foundation for success. The entire sector may face negativity as a result. The weight of my decision extends beyond our immediate company, resonating as I said across the industry. But my commitment to transparency and the greater good is significant. I believe in honesty and doing what’s right, even if it means facing tough consequences. It’s going to be a bumpy road, but maybe, in the end, we all might come together stronger and more honest. In the end, I believe that love and honesty are the true winners, always, in any occasion”.

My will was as steady as the old oaks that border the streets of our memories as I stared at Elara. “So yeah, despite all of this, I’m fully prepared to take on all the risks because, in my view, the truth is the most important thing,” I said to Elara, “I know that even our lives may become in danger, but I still believe we should proceed.” “I hope you’re not afraid of this…” I asked.

With a sarcastic giggle, she said, “Are you kidding? I’ve been a political journalist for many years. I believe it is my responsibility to express the truth, regardless of who may be harmed.”

With a hint of worry in the air, the conversation turned to the fear of ridicule, but I dismissed it with a wave of my hand. “The crazy ones did change the world, didn’t they? It’s our crazy ideas and theories that, for a certain time, sound very outlandish, but after a thousand years, people look back and wonder how just a person or a group could see it while others could not.”

I leaned back, the chair creaking under the shift of my weight. “I’m not claiming to be a genius, but I feel it’s my duty, as I mentioned before, to share the knowledge and research of the past ten years of my life. Also, I want to let the world know what people in the same field as me did and tried to show to the world. So I see it as my duty to bring their ideas and opinions back to life. It’s as if their voices, though drowned out by skepticism, need to be heard.”

“I know also that there are many others like me worldwide right now, who know the things I do,” I added. “However, they hesitate to speak up due to the fear of being ridiculed and labeled as crazy, given the seemingly absurd nature of it all. Despite the daunting prospect, I believe that speaking out is not just a choice but a necessity for the progress of humanity.”

I turned to Elara, “Aren’t you always emphasizing the same thing?” I asked with a playful challenge in my tone.

I could only smile, for we knew each other very well. Elara laughed, her voice a melody that danced through the air. “That’s why I became a political journalist after our master’s degree in Political Science. I decided to write things down because for some people, the opinions of others sound crazy, while for others, it’s their entire world. At its core, the stories, even if they seem crazy, can impact and even change the world.”

“Yes, indeed,” I said. I followed with, “And there is more. Just like one person in this building where you are sitting right now sparked a fire inside me a long time ago. In this way, I hope to spark other mindsets by telling my story and the things I did and do know.”

Elara looked at me with bright eyes and asked, “Tell me more about it. You mentioned this building; what is it about this building, and who was this person that sparked the fire in your life? How did you both come in contact with each other in the first place, and what exactly did he do?”

I laughed. “Those are a lot of questions at once. Let’s grab some pizza and something else if you wish first. I think our night will take a lot of hours, and we might get very hungry. So let’s order many slices so we’ll have enough energy because the things we will discuss will take a lot of hours and even days. Also, it’s very complicated material, so you need to have energy to focus, so the other readers can understand things.”

“Yeah, that’s good,” said Elara, “Good idea, let’s go to the cafeteria and eat first.”

So we decided together to go to the cafeteria, getting plenty of pizza to fuel our lengthy discussions, acknowledging the complexity that required focus.

The grand cafeteria is located in the middle of the towering building I now call my own. This cafeteria has become the heart of our corporate home, thanks to a fortunate twist of fate. The space is expansive and filled with light, where white leather chairs contrast beautifully with the rich, earthy tones of the brown tables. It’s not just a room; it’s the vibrant center of our company.

Every day, the air here is filled with the sounds of sizzling pans and the tantalizing aromas of delectable dishes and sweets. Our chefs, true artisans of flavor, skillfully blend ingredients from all corners of the globe, crafting meals that satisfy both body and soul. They are the unsung heroes, wearing flour-dusted aprons and hands seasoned with spices from countless recipes.

This cafeteria isn’t just a place for lunch; it’s where our company culture comes to life. On Fridays, as the sun sets and the workweek concludes, the cafeteria undergoes a magical transformation. It turns into a lively space of celebration, filled with music and laughter, replacing the usual sounds of keyboards and meetings.

Under the warm glow of hanging lights, we gather as a tribe – a family bound not by blood but by a shared vision. We raise toasts to our successes, analyze our failures, and through conversations, find the courage to dream bigger and aim higher. Surrounded by the faces of colleagues, I’m reminded of the essence of leadership: to inspire unity, nurture a collective drive for excellence, and utilize our combined talents for the greater good. We aim all to do one thing: have a positive impact on the world.

The building was constructed in 2003. Despite showing signs of aging, it still retains the charm that initially drew me to it. Every mark on the wooden floors has a story about the many people who walked in, seeking good food and comfort. The diverse chairs around the tables reflect the variety of lives that have gathered here, sharing both happy and sad moments. The walls, adorned with pictures that have witnessed the passage of time, silently preserve the history of this place. Visitors to the restaurant appreciate its unchanging charm, coming not only for the tasty food but also for the feeling that, in a world always moving fast, there’s a special place that values calmness and memories. Although the building is now showing its age, it still exudes the unique character that caught my eye in 2016 when I first stepped inside.

Click here for chapter 3.

Other released chapters of this story:

Click here for the complete series of chapters: www.maryayaqin.com/category/story