CHAPTER 80: A HELP FROM GOD

Alaric was still sitting on the rickety bench beneath the mango tree. Both his elbows rested on his knees, his fingers tightly clutching the crumpled piece of paper with the address on it. He exhaled deeply, as if trying to let go of all the weariness weighing on him. Nearly defeated, he began to wonder if this search, too, would end in vain.

His eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, watching shadows drift between the houses. From time to time, he heard the sound of a passing motorbike or the lively shouts of children playing nearby. But it all felt distant, as if it didn’t belong in his world. There was only one thought running through his mind: "Is that old man still living around here?"

Then, in the quiet of his thoughts, he heard something. A soft sound, the scrape of wheels against asphalt. It creaked and stuttered, as if it was being pushed with great difficulty. Alaric turned his head instinctively. From the far end of a narrow, twisting alley, an old man began to emerge.

He was struggling to push his own wheelchair. His body was slightly overweight, and his hands trembled as he tried to move the wheels, causing the chair to jerk forward in fits and starts. His legs hung limp, offering no support.

In that moment, Alaric’s eyes widened. His heart pounded in his chest like he had just discovered an oasis after a long journey through the desert. "That’s him..." The words rose silently in his chest.

The same old man he had once helped at the steps of Westminster University was now right in front of him. He looked exactly the same. Still in that wheelchair, still wearing that kind face etched with exhaustion.

Without a second thought, Alaric jumped to his feet. He broke into a quick run, determined to reach the man before he disappeared again... swallowed up by the winding road.

"Sir!" he called out.

The old man lifted his head. At first, he didn’t recognize the young man standing before him. But as Alaric drew closer and stood right in front of him, his expression changed. A flicker of memory passed through his eyes, followed by a faint, knowing smile.

"Ah..." the old man said in a raspy but warm voice. "Son... you’re the one who helped me that time, aren’t you?"

Alaric crouched slightly to match the height of the man in the wheelchair. "Yes, Sir. I’m Alaric. How have you been? It’s been a long time."

The old man smiled, beads of sweat trailing down his face from the effort of pushing himself down the street. "I’ve been good, son. Still holding on. Thank you for asking. But... how did you end up here? Last time we met was at the university, wasn’t it?"

"Yes, Sir. I remember you said you lived near Jalan Melati, Block C-12. I tried looking around earlier... almost gave up. But I guess... God wanted us to meet again here."

The old man chuckled softly. "So that’s it, huh... I don’t go out much these days, son. And when I do, well, this is what it looks like. Struggling on my own."

Alaric’s chest warmed with both joy and sorrow. Seeing the old man laboring to move himself in that wheelchair brought back the very idea that had once sparked the creation of his caregiving robot.

"Sir... I’m really glad I found you again. That day... seeing you struggle like this was what inspired me. I wanted to create something that could help people like you."

The old man’s eyes widened slightly, then softened with a mix of surprise and pride. He let out a long breath before saying, "So... you didn’t just remember me, son. You actually used that moment as your reason to create something? I feel deeply honored."

The old man seemed genuinely pleased, though he didn’t ask further about what Alaric had built. Alaric smiled, his eyes slightly glassy. He reached for the handles of the wheelchair and offered, "Let me push you, Sir. Please, take a break. Think of it as a debt I never got to repay."

The old man nodded, his face glowing with a thankful smile, the same one Alaric had remembered. And so, Alaric pushed the wheelchair gently, letting the wheels creak softly across the asphalt.

"There... over there, son," the old man said, lifting his hand to point at a house at the end of the road with a still-modern design.

Alaric followed the direction of his finger. Though modest, the house’s structure still hinted at a futuristic touch. The door was equipped with a simple sensor, the large windows slightly frosted. And the small yard was lined with plants that were cared for just enough to survive. It was the kind of house that once looked luxurious but now retained only a faded sense of elegance.

"Alright, Sir. Let me take you there," Alaric said gently, carefully guiding the wheelchair forward.

The wheels rolled over uneven paving stones. Along the way, a few children turned their heads curiously, some even whispering to each other as they watched the well-dressed young man pushing an old man in a wheelchair. Alaric simply bowed his head politely, staying focused on navigating the chair toward the house.

Once they reached the front door, the old man gestured. "Go ahead and open it, son. The sensor still works just fine."

Alaric placed his palm on the small panel beside the door. A light blinked, and then—click, the door opened. Together, they stepped inside.

The interior of the house was neat. There weren’t many luxurious furnishings, but everything was arranged with a clear modern touch: a minimalist gray sofa, a digital bookshelf in the corner, and a simple glass table. Yet, there was an undeniable sense of emptiness lingering in the space, as if the house was too large for just one person.

"I’m sorry, son..." the old man said quietly, almost embarrassed. "I don’t really have anything to offer a guest. If you’d like something to drink... you can help yourself in the kitchen. There’s still water in the dispenser."

Alaric smiled and shook his head. "No need, Sir. Really. If anything, I’m the one who should feel sorry, coming here and troubling you. Please, just rest. Let me take care of things."

The old man chuckled faintly, his laughter carrying a tired note. "You’re... not like most young people these days. Usually, once they’ve made it, they don’t bother visiting old folks like me."

That sentence hit Alaric with a quiet weight. He responded only with a polite smile, then discreetly reached for his phone. Quickly, he typed a short command into the Brightmind Robotics dispatch system:

"Send one caregiver robot unit to Jalan Melati, Block C-12. Urgent."

Message sent. Alaric looked over at the old man, then slipped the phone back into his pocket. A sense of relief washed over him at the thought that help was now on the way.

Meanwhile, the old man began to speak again. He seemed to be holding onto thoughts he had wanted to release for a long time.

"Sometimes... I find myself thinking, son," he said softly, his gaze drifting toward the window. "This house used to be filled with laughter. My children would run through the hallways, fighting over toys, making a mess that drove me crazy. But now..." he took a long breath.

"My children..." he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "they’re all busy with their own lives now. Ever since the accident that put me in this wheelchair... none of them come around anymore. I’ve given away most of what I had to them. But after that, they barely visit."

There was a long pause. The old man seemed to be trying to hide his sadness, but Alaric could see right through it.

"It’s funny, isn’t it? I used to think... that if I gave them everything I had, they’d love me more. But in the end, all that’s left is this wheelchair and a house that’s far too big for one old man."

Alaric stayed quiet, head bowed slightly as the man spoke.

"Sir... you’re not alone. Maybe your kids are busy... or maybe they’re just choosing not to see. But someone like you doesn’t deserve to live without help."

The old man turned to him, his eyes glistening with tears. "Alaric... you’re too kind. I still remember that day, back at the campus stairs... you were the only one who stopped to help me. Everyone else just passed by. And now, here you are again, right in my home. Maybe God still has love left for an old man like me."

The old man seemed moved, deeply grateful to God. Even though he was alone and in such a fragile and frail condition, there were still kind people like this young man who helped him. In fact, his own child doesn’t even care about him.

"Yes sir, it is my duty to help you. Even anyone if they need help."

Then Alaric checked his cellphone again, checking how far the robot package he had ordered to be delivered to the house on Jalan Melati had gotten.