Omer opened his laptop and began turning his verbal idea into something concrete.
He soon realized where the real difficulty lay.
His proposal had sounded simple enough in the meeting. Now he had to figure out how to make simplicity look powerful.
I may have just volunteered myself for a three-day nightmare.
And perhaps more than that.
He leaned back for a moment, his expression growing thoughtful.
I still don't understand why Mr. Haider agreed so quickly.
He returned to the screen and began going through Haideron Tech's existing media archives and corporate material.
If I just understand what the company has shown the public over the years—and, more importantly, what it has never shown...
Omer scrolled through the archives, reading without blinking.
The campaigns of the previous three years had all been led by the same two PR consultants: Agatha Carlton and Maximilian Zavian.
I see...
He rubbed his chin.
Omer opened one campaign after another.
The format was almost identical.
Shocking visuals. Razor-sharp video work. Larger-than-life campaign models. Elaborate effects.
More cinema than technology.
More spectacle than substance.
He frowned.
How very loud and showy!
Omer knew the HT Corridor alone was visually spectacular enough. The scale of its infrastructure, the technology, the simulations, and the people working there could provide something far more impressive than the flashy VFX and bizarre colour schemes Mac had been proposing.
Out of curiosity, Omer decided to see what Haideron Tech's promotional campaigns had looked like back in the 1980s and 1990s.
He opened the older media archives and began scrolling through the digitized material.
The campaigns were obviously different from what the company produced today.
Mostly newspaper advertisements, science-magazine pamphlets, and the occasional cover photograph.
And back then, Mr. Haider himself had often been the lead face.
Omer paused over one photograph.
It appeared to be a billboard advertisement.
Mr. Haider stood confidently before a turquoise-blue Haideron Tech backdrop, looking directly into the camera.
Impressive!
His charisma and presence must have been unmatchable.
The man certainly had personality back then. And he still does.
Omer moved through several more images.
Decades later, Mr. Haider had once again chosen someone who wasn't a professional model—but someone from within the company—to serve as a campaign face.
Just as Mr. Haider himself had never been a professional model.
The difference was that Mr. Haider had always seemed comfortable in front of cameras, whether he was being photographed or recorded while speaking about his achievements.
Omer, on the other hand, was merely an employee of the firm.
Neither its owner nor its founder.
Strange.
I still don't understand why he chose me.
Another distinction caught Omer's attention.
Mr. Haider standing before something he had created himself was one thing.
Putting someone else in front of his creation was entirely different.
Omer studied the old material for a while, occasionally opening another brochure or archived advertisement.
Different times.
Different technology.
Different standards.
Yet there was something appealing about the old campaigns.
Their simplicity.
Their restraint.
Their elegance.
An era before everything had to be polished, filtered, enhanced, and digitally manufactured.
Perhaps that is what Mr. Haider recognized in my proposal.
Or perhaps there is something else.
Omer's curiosity shifted.
If Haideron Tech's public image has changed so dramatically over the decades, perhaps I should look a little more closely at the man behind it.
He opened another tab and searched for Mr. Raza Haider.
The Wikipedia page appeared among the first results.
He opened it casually.
Founder. Chairman. CEO... Haideron Tech Enterprises.
Southern Republic's first computer scientist.
Tech tycoon. Businessman. Corporate personality.
His eyes moved down the page.
Early Life.
Education.
Career.
He slowed down.
Son of a DSP.
One sibling.
Farooq Haider.
Deceased.
The personal-life section was brief.
Mr. Haider had kept that aspect of his life away from tabloids and the media. He had never married and had no publicly known romantic relationships.
Omer moved on to the education section.
School.
College.
Impressive... the best the port city could boast of.
Then university.
NED University of Science and Technology.
His eyes moved to the qualification beneath it.
B.E. Civil Engineering—with distinction.
Omer's eyes widened.
So... his primary engineering degree is civil engineering.
He stared at the screen.
Oh, man.
Ali and I had been so foolishly under the impression that he might have studied some other branch of engineering. We had been making all sorts of assumptions while he had been displaying his command of construction and architecture right in front of us.
But his local and international fame came because of computers.
Didn't it?
Omer frowned.
So perhaps it isn't just the two of us. Most people probably wouldn't believe that he was actually a civil engineer before becoming a computer prodigy.
He leaned back.
But is it really that easy to shift your interests—and your instincts—to such a completely different field?
Civil engineering lies on one end of the spectrum and computer engineering on the other.
Omer cut short the internal debate and scrolled further.
Then he stopped.
He read the information again.
Three advanced certifications in computer science from three different European universities.
All within less than twelve months!
Omer raised his eyebrows.
Three?
He checked the dates.
Then checked them again.
Remarkable!
He leaned back slightly.
So that was the story behind the reputation.
A computer prodigy.
Someone who had apparently moved through advanced computer-science programs at a pace that would have been difficult even for an exceptional student.
Omer stared at the screen for another moment.
Is he Einstein or something?
A faint smile crossed his face.
Perhaps that explains why the industry still speaks about Mr. Haider as though his reputation had been established long before Haideron Tech became the empire it is today.
He closed the tab.
Geniuses like this man aren't born every day, I guess.
For the moment, there was nothing more to investigate.
He had a campaign to build.
Later, during the evening tea break, Omer was briefing Ali about the meeting in the executive suite.
“You won't believe this. Mr. Haider approved my proposal for the campaign.”
Ali lowered his mug.
“What campaign?”
Omer smiled.
“Promotional campaign.”
Ali stared at him for a moment, genuinely surprised.
“I thought you'd be posing and modelling only. But now you're handling the entire campaign?”
Omer nodded and took a sip of his coffee.
“That's hard to believe. Have you been nurturing some hidden talent for PR all these years?”
Ali sounded suspicious.
“And what if Mr. Haider is the only one who knew how to bring it out?”
Omer raised an eyebrow.
“Understandable. Someone's getting jealous.”
“Instead of congratulating his friend, he's resorting to dry wit again.”
Ali smiled, his dimple showing.
“So... the meeting went so well that you've already been promoted to your next designation? Head of PR, perhaps?”
“Nothing like that,” Omer replied, smiling. “Not Head of PR.”
He straightened his collar slightly, adopting a mock air of dignity.
“But one thing became pretty obvious.”
He leaned back, giving himself the exaggerated air of a monarch.
“Mr. Omer Kiyani will apparently not only be the face of Haideron Tech. His opinions will matter too—provided they align with Mr. Haider's vision.”
Ali's smile deepened.
“And we were assuming the worst. Maybe a memo or something.”
Omer shook his head and dropped the act.
“Yes. You could say Mr. Haider has once again decided to do the exact opposite of what we expected.”
“I see.”
“But you should have been there,” Omer continued. “Agatha and Mac Zavian's egos practically deflated the moment Mr. Haider approved my proposal.”
He paused.
“The problem is, now I have to turn that verbal proposal into something concrete.”
Ali took another sip of his coffee.
“So you're already into your new assignment.”
Omer shrugged.
“I don't exactly have a choice. We never do. You know that better than anyone.”
Ali studied him for a moment.
“So... at peace with yourself now?”
Omer nodded slowly.
“Hmm. You could say that.”
He took another sip.
“After all the importance Mr. Haider was giving me, apparently... I felt valued.”
He paused, then suddenly remembered something.
“But, man...”
Ali looked up.
“Was it easier back then for someone to earn three advanced computer-science certifications from three different European universities in less than a year?”
Ali lowered his mug.
His eyebrows knitted.
“Back then?”
Omer nodded.
“It's not even possible now,” Ali said. “Who would know better than you? You completed your early education in France. You know how their educational system works.”
Omer nodded and placed his mug down.
“That's why I found it remarkable.”
Ali's expression changed.
“I don't find it remarkable.”
Omer looked at him.
“I find it strange.”
“You're talking about which years?”
“The early eighties.”
Ali fell silent.
Omer watched him carefully.
“And who exactly achieved this impossible milestone?”
A faint smile appeared on Omer's face.
“The tech prodigy.”
He paused.
“Mr. Haider.”
Ali's sea-green eyes blinked several times, as though he were trying to process the thought.
Finally, he spoke.
“Why is everything about this man anything but ordinary?”
He picked up his mug again, then paused.
“By the way... is his qualification relevant to your new campaign?”
Omer raised an eyebrow.
“Of course not. What a silly question.”
He gave a faint smile.
“I just happened to come across his Wikipedia page out of sheer curiosity.”
Ali's expression hardened slightly.
“You know, man... your sheer curiosity has somehow given me a reason to look at his Wikipedia page too.”
He took another sip of coffee.
“Only this time, I'll be looking at it a little more objectively.”
Omer sighed.
“Let's see what you'll manage to extract about him this time.”
Ali shrugged slightly.
“Oh... one thing more,” Omer added.
Ali looked at him.
“You can stop wondering how Mr. Haider manages to turn into a full-fledged architect whenever he walks onto a construction site.”
Ali gave a shrug. "What do you mean?"
“I mean the way he reads blueprints, discusses structural details, and explains construction projects as though he has spent half his life designing them.”
He paused.
“We finally have an explanation for that.”
Ali's expression changed.
“What?”
“His civil-engineering degree.”
Ali stared at him.
“Civil engineering?”
“Yes.”
Omer gave a small nod.
“He is a civil engineer, Ali. A real one. With a degree.”
Ali leaned forward, his sea-green eyes widening.
“That changes something important,” Omer continued. “His command of construction isn't some unexplained ability anymore. It isn't a contradiction. He studied the damn thing.”
He let the words settle.
“So we can cross that off our list.”
Ali slowly leaned back.
“For now.”
Omer gave him a knowing look.
“For now.”
A brief silence followed.
“Because that leaves us with the other side of the equation,” Ali said.
Omer sighed.
“Computers.”
Ali nodded.
“If we set aside those occasional moments when he genuinely seems brilliant with them, there are still plenty of other times when he sounds strangely uncomfortable around the very technology he's supposed to have pioneered.”
Omer took another sip of coffee.
“One contradiction explained.”
He looked at Ali.
“Another one still standing.”
Ali's fingers tightened slightly around his mug.
“Then let's see what else we can find.”
Omer gave a faint smile.
“Let's keep our fingers crossed.”
Just then, they saw Sajjad approaching their table with his mug.
He pulled out a chair, placed his mug on the table, and sat down, clearing his throat.
“I think... I said a few things earlier that I shouldn't have.”
Omer raised an eyebrow.
Sajjad looked between them.
“I mean... yes. I regret my earlier behavior.”
Both Ali and Omer remained silent.
“It's just that...” Sajjad hesitated. “Both of you know me.”
He gave a small, uneasy smile.
“I can be too direct. I speak my mind without filtering it.”
He paused.
“And ever since I encountered that anomaly...” His expression tightened. “I've been a little paranoid, or something.”
He shook his head.
“I mean, man... incidents like that can unsettle people.”
He looked towards Ali.
“Don't they, after all?”
Omer spoke before Ali could answer.
“You're asking him as though he's an expert on the psychological after-effects of such encounters.”
He glanced at Sajjad.
“Apologies, man.”
He paused.
“I realize you don't like me speaking to you that way.”
Sajjad gave him an apologetic smile.
“Don't take my words to heart. Forget what I said.”
He wrapped both hands around his mug.
“As I told you... I probably haven't been myself these past few days.”
He gave a small, embarrassed laugh.
“Even my wife has noticed it since that October encounter.”
Ali remained silent.
Sajjad nodded.
“She says I've been behaving differently on certain days of the month.”
He lowered his eyes briefly.
Ali regarded him a little longer.
“Certain days of the month?”
Sajjad nodded solemnly.
“Apparently.”
“She has actually started looking for some prominent faith healer.”
Ali cleared his throat before leaning forward.
“I think, Sajjad, you should be careful about letting yourself fall into the hands of these so-called faith healers.”
“But...” Sajjad interrupted. “They know how to lift away those lingering effects.”
Omer looked at him.
“Most of them are frauds.”
Ali took another sip of his coffee, then nodded towards Omer.
“They're after your money.”
Sajjad nodded thoughtfully.
“Perhaps you're right.”
“Anyway,” he said cheerfully, “I need to inform you about something, Ali.”
Ali did not interrupt.
“The executive offices need their scheduled maintenance.”
“I'll bring the file to your office for the signatures.”
Ali rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yes... January's maintenance is overdue.”
He looked at Sajjad.
“I was wondering why you hadn't scheduled it earlier.”
Sajjad scratched his head.
“I suppose better late than never.”
He gave an apologetic smile.
“But you're right. It was supposed to be done on the first of January.”
He shrugged lightly.
“Still, January isn't over yet.”
Later, in his office, Ali signed the file Sajjad had brought in—the approval for scheduled maintenance of the executive offices on the management floor.
As he signed, Ali looked through the document again.
“The conference room will need its annual maintenance as well.”
“Make sure the technicians and relevant staff take care of that too. Prepare the necessary documentation.”
Sajjad nodded.
Ali was about to return the file when he stopped.
“Wait.”
He pointed to several items listed in the document and underlined them.
“I find these fixtures unnecessary.”
Sajjad smiled.
“They aren't, Ali. They're part of the upgrade.”
He leaned slightly forward.
“All the other wings have already had similar fixtures installed in their executive offices.”
He tapped the document lightly.
“Mr. Haider specifically directs periodic upgrades every year.”
Ali glanced at the list again.
Sajjad smiled wider.
“How can we forget? This wing is the jewel in Haideron Tech's crown.”
He straightened.
“It should always look the best.”
Ali sighed.
“Still, I'd suggest checking the climate-control systems first. The ceiling lights, shelving, decorative fixtures... some of those things can stay.”
He tapped the document.
“We could save a considerable amount from the budget.”
Sajjad smiled again.
“We can't be frugal, Ali, when it comes to maintaining quality standards.”
He gestured towards the document.
“Budget-cutting on upgrades is something Mr. Haider has never been particularly fond of.”
He paused.
“Haideron Tech has always kept pace with the trends over the years.”
Ali gave him a look.
Sajjad smiled.
“Haven't you seen how generously Mr. Haider has allocated budgets for maintenance and upgrades over the years?”
Ali sighed.
“Yes.”
He leaned back.
“And I know it's no use trying to convince him to save money on this.”
“So...” Sajjad added with a smile, “let the technicians do their work.”
He gathered the file.
“Tomorrow is Saturday. I'll come in and make sure everything is completed before the work gets carried over to another day off.”
Ali sighed.
“I won't be able to make it to the firm tomorrow.”
Sajjad's smile brightened.
“You don't need to come. I'll supervise the entire maintenance myself.”
He gave a small, satisfied nod.
“After all, I always look forward to overtime.”
“In fact, it would be an absolute pleasure.”
He grinned.
“It puts a nice bit of extra weight in one's wallet.”
Ali shrugged slightly.
Sajjad smiled.
He gathered the file and stood.
As Sajjad walked out of the office, Ali watched him disappear through the doorway.
For a moment, he remained still.
Should I be concerned about him?
He frowned slightly.
Or should I be suspicious of him?
A faint sigh escaped him.
Oh, Sajjad... why do you keep giving me reasons to think like that?
91Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3ArTyOnj80
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