Poor guy. Never had a chance to say what he wants. I guess I'm pretty lucky that I could still have my say in my matters. Father and mother respected my views and decisions like declining all of the offers made. Well only grandfather opposed. He said I'm wasting my precious talents in high school. Can't blame him at that but was it wrong for me to choose a normal life. Maybe I was being selfish as he said I was.
I turned to love reading this journal. It was as if I was reading another me but entirely at different era. I found no use of reading it further as I saw that it contained normal adolescents' entries on their journal. But... As I said, I turn to love reading it. Maybe I do need a break.
Father sent me up north, in provinces not yet governs by the Moslem's. He let me in the care of his friend, Sir Ferguson. Watching the people here from the castle tower, I must conclude that these people are still barbaric. Their feudalism is corrupted. Their ways of living are still uncivilized. This is exactly the opposite of life in the Moslem's' govern. If Moslems are in the golden era. Here is like living in the dark ages.
I could not help but to smile thinking how the opposite the reality we are living in now. Sadly all those fame were just history now. Moslems now are the uncivilized, always pointing fingers towards one another and using violence to solve their problems. Are we in the dark ages now?
"Ariff, Fatima! Come down here! Your grandfather is visiting."
Crap, how could I forget. He did mention to come one of these days. In a blink of an eye, I was in the living room. Fatima , my little sister tailed me. We approached him cautiously. Not because he has a contagious disease but more because we never see each other eye to eye. We greet him, shaking his cracked hands. But as I was shaking his hands, suddenly he grabbed me and hugged me tightly. Man, that was weird.
"I knew one of these days, people will acknowledge your talents and put them in good use."
Where were my manners? My grandfather's name was Max Taylor. Yes, he is a European and a Christian. He was my mother’s father. He was kind but still as a retired navy general he tended to get a tad bit of strict. Especially with me. You see, he was kind of expecting some greatness within me with all my so called talents but I just want to be me. That day, when he hugged me, somehow I knew my mother blurted out about the visit.
“It’s nothing special grandfather. They just want me to translate an old journal. Nothing much.”
“But a journal that holds the fate’s of our Nation. Son, you’re destined to be a great man. A man who will make history.”
“I rather be history.” I didn’t know how I could said that. Sure enough, he got mad.
“That attitude of yours that keep you down! Always saying to be a normal kid. You’re born special. Get that fact into your head. Life is not with reasons. If your prophet choose to be normal and neglect his duties and gifts, where do you think you’ll be now?” he sneered into my face.
Argh! Why am I bestowed with such a look? It’s a pain strolling in the forest with girls stalking your every move from afar. No, I must be grateful. This face of mine was my mother’s. She did came from this land. How she met my father, I had no idea… I miss them both. Oh, that’s right! I found an amazing, what should I call it, invention? Whatever. Anyway I found a formula that could lead men to produce energy for all kind of power without wasting any. I must try it tonight.
Was he talking about cold fusion? I thought that was just a scientific myth. Well, if he does then, that’ll be cool but why there are no talks on this finding? That was the last entry on the journal. The next pages seem to be torn off from the book. Looking closely, I thought of an idea. Mysteriously, there seem to be a trace of what last written. A few minutes later, the letters resurfaced.
It was a mistake. I shouldn’t finish the work here. I forgot my father advice on these people. They were still ignorant of science. I’m in hiding now. These may be the last entry. I must burn the formula. I don’t think how it can reach the Moslems’ hand. Letters from father convince my deduction that the Moslem’s empire will perish in about fifty years or so. They are now power stricken and love luxuries. This formula better be destroyed than having it in the wrong hands. They are coming…
I was silent after reading the last entry. What happened to him then? What a waste that the formula was destroyed. If not, we might not be having wars to gain more energy resources now. I brought my thought with me when I sleep that night and it changed everything…
