The Journey - a short story

In the bustling city of Eldridge, where skyscrapers pierced the clouds like arrogant fingers pointing to false heavens, lived a man named Elias. He was thirty-five, a mid-level analyst at a tech firm, drowning in the digital deluge of information that flooded his screens daily. Elias had always been a seeker, hungry for answers to life's nagging questions: Why was he unhappy despite his promotions? Why did the world feel so chaotic, yet everyone claimed to have the fix?

From a young age, Elias turned to the experts. He devoured self-help books by charismatic gurus who promised enlightenment through seven-step programs, subscribed to podcasts where economists in tailored suits explained global markets as if they were divine oracles, and followed news anchors who dissected politics with the precision of surgeons—always, it seemed, cutting in favor of one side or another. "Trust the science," they'd say. "Follow the leaders." "Buy this course, and transform your life." And Elias did. He invested in crypto on the advice of a viral influencer, only to watch his savings evaporate in a market crash. He voted for politicians who swore to fight corruption, only to see scandals unfold like clockwork. He even joined a wellness retreat led by a famous yogi, shelling out thousands for "inner peace," but left feeling emptier, bombarded by upsells for exclusive memberships.

It started small, the cracks in his facade of faith. One evening, scrolling through his feed, Elias stumbled upon a heated debate about a new health mandate. The experts on one side—doctors sponsored by pharmaceutical giants—insisted it was essential for safety. On the other, whistleblowers risked their careers to expose data manipulations driven by profit margins. "Agendas," Elias muttered to himself, but dismissed it as paranoia. Yet, the seed was planted.

The turning point came during a corporate seminar. The keynote speaker, a renowned business guru with a bestselling book and a TED Talk under his belt, preached about "disruptive innovation" while subtly plugging his consulting firm. Elias, seated in the audience, felt a familiar pull—until he overheard the speaker backstage, laughing with executives about how "fear sells better than facts." That night, alone in his apartment, Elias stared at his bookshelf lined with glossy covers. Were they all like this? Peddling illusions for influence and income?

Driven by unease, Elias began to question everything. He quit his subscriptions, deleted apps that fed him curated "truths," and ventured into the unknown—his own mind. He started with simple experiments: walking in the park without headphones, observing people not through the lens of social media trends but through his own eyes. He noticed how strangers smiled genuinely when unprompted, how nature's rhythms—birds migrating, leaves falling—followed no expert's timetable.

But the journey inward was no easy stroll. Doubts assailed him like storms. Friends called him cynical when he skipped the latest fad diet pushed by a celebrity nutritionist. His boss ridiculed him for rejecting a "team-building" app that tracked every move for "productivity." Society, it seemed, thrived on control: algorithms dictating desires, authorities shaping narratives to keep the masses compliant and consuming. Elias uncovered patterns—how wars were justified by think tanks funded by arms dealers, how environmental crusades masked corporate greenwashing, how spiritual leaders built empires on followers' vulnerabilities. Money and power, intertwined like vines choking a tree.

One crisp autumn morning, Elias sat by a quiet lake, journal in hand. No gurus, no screens—just him and the water's gentle lap. He reflected on a recent loss: his grandmother's passing, which no expert could explain away. In her final days, she'd whispered, "Listen to your heart, child. It's the only voice that doesn't lie." Elias closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting memories flood in unfiltered. He judged his past not by others' metrics—success as wealth, happiness as likes—but by his experiences: the joy of a heartfelt conversation, the pain of betrayal that taught resilience, the quiet triumph of forgiving himself.

In that moment, clarity dawned. The true path wasn't in echoing others' words but in forging his own. Experts might offer maps, but they were drawn with biased ink, leading to destinations that served their masters. Control was their game; freedom was in reclaiming one's inner compass. Elias rose, lighter, resolved to live by his understanding: questioning boldly, experiencing fully, and trusting the wisdom born from within.

From then on, Elias shared his story sparingly, not as a guru but as a fellow traveler. He found peace not in following, but in leading himself—one inward step at a time. And in the vastness of his solitude, he discovered he was never truly alone.

Where are you on your path?