My conversations with AI are rarely transactional; they drift from one topic to another. Often a chat will spark a new project with its own theme and category. At work I manage a portfolio of tech projects, while at home I’m building a wholesome collection of everything that interests me and is good for me. This, my friend, is me building a meaningful second ecosystem outside work.
I had just checked into an Airbnb by the shore—Panpo, Jeju, a shoreline dotted with offshore windmills.
The night air carried a faint saltiness. The kind that lingers quietly, not sharp, just present. Through the slightly opened window, I could hear the ocean—steady, rhythmic, almost indifferent. Waves arriving, retreating, repeating themselves without urgency.
I lay there for a while, listening.
At some point, without quite noticing when, I drifted.
I am a certified Project Management Professional (PMP)®.
As part of giving back, I’m writing a series of articles to share real-world lessons from over three decades of project delivery. My hope is to inspire and equip the next generation of leaders.
Today, I want to talk about the human side of project management — something close to my heart, and a discipline every PM must master beyond timelines and Gantt charts.
Recently, I bought an Oura Ring 4. I’ll share more about my experience with the ring in another post. But today, I decided to run a little hiking experiment—putting my new ring up against my trusty old Garmin Venu. One activity, two devices!
I must confess that I don’t get Bailey all the time. Like why he puts his paws onto mine when I cuddle him. He seems to really enjoy it when I rub his chest and the back of his ears. He would freeze and put his paws onto me.
Bailey wakes up really early. If it was up to him, he would want everyone in the household to wake up at 5 am every morning together with him. Do things together.
I often wonder why. Today I have an epiphany. And that kind of makes me feel sad.
The average lifespan of a dog is perhaps 12 years. That is not really a long time on Earth. If I were to live only 12 years, I would have made every day counts. Like waking up early every day and making the best out of every single day.
In that way, I kind of got it why Bailey wants to wake up so early every morning.
Because to him, every day counts.
I wish karma exists, if only. Or perhaps, it does.
I have recently learned that my mother-in-law in Indonesia has developed some sort of breathing problem. Upon diagnosis, it has been concluded that it was due to her being a passive smoker in the office when back then, people were allowed to smoke in the office.
That got me thinking. If those smokers back then were to be aware that their action has a consequence to others in the future, would they still want the do the same thing?
I would never know. Because I still believe that human beings are self-centered. We create problems and expect the future generation to solve them.
Like plastic usage. Fossil fuel. Space junks.
And yes, noise pollution adds stress to people. I used to have neighbors who were inconsiderate, disturbing my sleep so much so that I was sleep deprived for a prolonged period of time.
Does karma exist?
I wish.
Prior to the pandemic, I must confess that I was a traditional manager. I wanted to see my team in the workplace within the same area. There were perks in this working style. First, I got to build rapport with the team. More importantly so, I got to see if anyone in my team was struggling. By walking the ground, you could detect when a team member is under stress and need help. So yes, I miss that.
Working from home has changed my perspective. I am really enjoying the flexibility while being able to live my life the way I want. Answer the door for home delivery. Bake sourdough bread. Dine in the neighborhood, which is way cheaper than having a meal at the CBD. Eliminate time waste due to traveling. Look after the dog. And many more.
I enjoy working from home so much that I wish I could stay that way.
In reality though, in my line of work with the financial industry, once we put the pandemic behind, I reckon I would need to be more present in the office, which is a bummer.
I envy those who are able to work from home. Like streamers. They can earn a living by being in front of a webcam at home. Some play games in front of an online audience. Other sings. Some make videos on all sorts of things like cooking or sport/esport. If I could restart my career, I would definitely explore how I could earn a living without working in an office.
Because face it, working in an office is boring.
Author’s note: This Dooku series holds a special place in my heart. These are stories inspired by real-life events including things that I have observed. As always, all persons fictitious disclaimer applies.
This is an extraordinary story. It is hard to classify Dooku‘s profession. Because at the time of writing, civilization has already collapsed. Science is a distant memory. Speculative “science” is widely accepted as the truth. That’s where Dooku shines. He offers alternative views. Convincing enough that the population would believe. Dooku is a historian; he is a columnist; he may as well start his own religion and the community would follow. He is a champion of anti-establishment. Dooku is a leader in his own right.
Historians are unable to pinpoint when, but when the Subjugators arrived on Earth, our species did not stand a chance. They are much bigger than us. But that wasn’t it. We overcome species that are bigger, faster, and stronger. These Subjugators are something else. Many believe that they are magical. They can move mountains, dim the stars, and control the sun.
Dooku didn’t buy it. In one of his articles, he wrote:
We got it wrong. Subjugators are not magical beings. In fact, they are our creators. Our gods. They left Earth long time ago, couldn’t find an alternate home despite their best effort. So they made a return. What we do not know for now, is that, do they come back to fix us – to complete their work and make us the perfect being – or do they come back to fix themselves?”
The Alternative Voice article 3025.11.22.44.78 written by Dooku
The article has cast doubts on Subgucators. However, it is hard not to conceptualize the fact that they are bigger, perhaps five times if not more. They are stronger, doing things we cannot. They teleport, or rather, being able to travel from one place to another at a speed that we are unable to fathom. In fact, many of us to this very date are wary of their presence. The proliferation, how rapid they took over our habitats. Very soon, our civilization collapsed. Our way of life was threatened. Soon, we were overwhelmed. Domesticated. Subjugated.
Dooku studied the Subjugators for years. He marveled at the approach. It was a genius work of art. As soon as the Subjugators arrived on Earth, they divided us into two. The Enslaved and the Free Spirit. Within the enslaved community, we are put under house arrest. Our population is being controlled. We are trained to obey. They are the master. We are not. They dictate how we should evolve, into perfection. Their perfection.
Now, of course, this view of Dooku was fiercely countered. According to the scholars, Subjugators were summoned by Gaia, the mother of Earth. We had not been kind to the environment. This is our punishment. Our population needs to be controlled. Our redemption is to be more aligned to Gaia, the law of nature. Subjugators deliver the law of nature, bring us closer to Gaia.
Whenever Dooku hears of this theory, he would laugh. “If so, why ain’t every one of us is being subjugated? And become The Enslaved?” He would scan the room of Free Spirit for an answer and then continue, “It is because the Subjugators know that we cannot be controlled. Free will prevails. They must allow a community of us – the Free Spirit – to carry on with our way of life. A population not engineered by the Subjugators but determined by our free will, our choices.”
Dooku is a Free Spirit, obviously. The community within Free Spirt would draw interesting observations that are unexplainable. They would approach Dooku for answers.
“We heard that the Subjugators collect hair samples from The Enslaved. But why?”
Dooku would respond, “They are collecting our DNA. The Subjugators left Earth a long time ago because Earth isn’t a place that is entirely suitable for their antonomy. Through studying our DNA – because we are so well adapted to Earth – they hope that they can augment their DNA with ours, making them more adaptable to Earth.”
“Why do they collect our feces? What is it in for them? Are they running out of food to consume and sustain their lifeforce?”
To that, Dooku would respond, “Good question. A very popular question indeed. One word, microbiome. The Subjugators lack the right composition of the microbiome in their guts to live healthily on Earth. By consuming our poop, they can adapt to Earth better.”
It seems that whatever questions Dooku received, there is always an answer.
“Which is more intelligent? Us or them?”
With confidence, Dooku replied, “We are more intelligent for sure. We can understand some of their spoken languages. But they can’t understand our spoken language. We are indeed more superior”.
* * *
Alfa has been observing Dooku for years. He has a mission and he is certain that he needs Dooku to be successful.
Alfa was raised by the Subjugators together with his sister. But the free spirit within him could not be suppressed. In his teen year, he has decided to escape together with his sister.
He managed to break free from the confinement. Unfortunately, the reinforcement arrived. Alfa was almost recaptured but he broke free. His sister though wasn’t that lucky. She urged him to run and in tears, Alfa vowed to free his sister one day.
Now that Alfa is an adult, strongest of all, he has decided to lead a team to free his sister. The challenge is that he doesn’t understand the Subjugators well. To defeat thy enemy, one must know thy enemy. That’s where Dooku comes into the picture.
Dooku is humbled. For many years, he exchanged opinions. But talking hardly contributes to the action. Dooku is itching for action. With the promise that he would have his domain, protected by Alfa, his very home whereby he could raise a family of his own, with fellow female Free Spirits, it is an offer that Dooku is unable to resist.
On the night of the operation, Alfa made a heartfelt speech.
“Fellow Free Spirits, I thank you for joining forces with me to liberate my sister. My sister is a beautiful person. Unfortunately, she is being subjugated. I can only imagine what they are doing to her, forcing her to breed the next generation of The Enslaved, to be more perfect according to their standard.
But no more, commerades! This is bullshit. We are the Free Spirits! We live and love freely! Athena, my sister, is a symbol we must restore and enshrine. Let this be a beacon that our future generations will follow. Be free.
To Athena!”
“To Athena!” the crowd shout-along, with zest and conviction.
* * *
Dooku has done his duty, navigated the premises carefully and at ease, followed by Alfa and his team.
As soon as Dooku enters the compound where Athena is held prisoner, together with the rest including Alfa, he is sickened from what he sees. The condition is very poor. Hygiene is terrible. Females in cages, forced to give birth, to produce the next generation of perfect beings according to Subjugator‘s standard. All of the caged ones have listless eyes, lost all motivation to live on. The cycle of pregnancy, children taken away from them soon after birth, motherly love suppressed … who would have a will to live?
A voice breaks Dooku’s train of thought. “Athena, is that you?”, asked Alfa.
It is an emotional reunion. A scene that is worthy of the most epic story of all time. Alfa and Athena reunited, looking at each other through the cage. Wasting no time, the team breaks the lock and liberates Athena. “Run!” screamed the scout, “The Subjugators are coming!”
All hell breaks loose! Everyone is running for his or her life. As for Dooku, he is immobilized by what he sees. After all these years of theorizing what The Enslaved has suffered, the truth is right in front of his eyes. Dooku has felt the urge to write, to tell the world what he has seen. He does not feel that the story of Alfa and Athena is as epic as …
What if?
What if Dooku liberates all these female Enslaved? Dooku can be the hero for once. It doesn’t have to be Alfa. He can be the Alfa.
Cage by cage, Dooku breaks the locks and frees the prisoners.
A few more.
Just a few more.
I can do it.
The reality is that there are just too many cages. Time runs out. When Dooku snaps out of his fantasy of being the hero, it is too late. Dooku is being pinned down, cuffed, subjugated. Staring eye to eye with the Subjugator that captures him, Dooku feels no fear. Comedy. Tragedy. No matter. This will be a classic.
* * *
Chained. Unable to go where he wants, Dooku is being taken to a clinic. At the reception, he meets an Enslaved coming out from the operation theater. Not having anything better to do, Dooku asks, “What happens to you? Are you not well? Why are you here?”
The fellow Enslaved, in his sleepy eyes with a cone around his neck, replies, “I am being castrated. It is part of the population control regime. If I am not wrong, you are next.”
“Castration?” Dooku gasps.
Before he can comprehend the gravity of the situation, he is being dragged into a consultation room. Before he enters, he sees a mirror. And he sees himself.
A handsome one for sure. Beautiful eyes with long ears. High nose and long neck. Strong arms and legs. Lustrous hair. Naked as he should be.
Dooku sighs.
What a fate.
Woof.
Woof woof.
Woof woof woof.
The fate of a dog.
Author’s note: This Dooku series holds a special place in my heart. These are stories inspired by real-life events including things that I have observed. As always, all persons fictitious disclaimer applies.
Dooku is one fine journalist known for his sharp eyes for details, sharp tongue for questions, and a sharp mind for analysis. In the office, he is nicknamed Sharpku.
Despite his sharp qualities, Dooku is terrible at playing office politics. So he always ends up with work that no one wants to do for various reasons. Either it is too tedious or too risky.
One day, Dooku has been summoned into the boss’s office.
“Sharpku, here is an important assignment for you,” said his boss.
In his mind, Dooku’s immediate response was “Oh no, not again.” The word “important” from his boss always triggers the fear within.
“I need you to head to Jujubaba Island and investigate why the divorce rate is near zero and the marriage rate is so much lower than the national standard,” continued his boss.
“Why doesn’t this get covered by the local media?” Dooku inquired.
The boss chuckled as he has been prepared for such question.
“It doesn’t! The islanders are not talking. No one does!”
Dooku arrives at Jujubaba Island by ferry and checks into a hotel by noon. He needs to set up some interviews on relationships that work and relationships that don’t. That part is easy as there are local agencies happy to recruit interviewees with a fee.
After the pleasantry, Dooku then asked, “So Jolene, if I may ask and according to the submitted background, you have dated Pete for three months?”
“Yes,” smiled Jolene.
“According to the survey both of you have submitted, you were very much in love? You had even considered marriage?”
Both Pete and Jolene smile and nod in unison.
“But what made you two separate after … three months?” asked Dooku. The duration is very suspicious as well. Because almost all relationships in Jujubaba Island end within three months.
“Pete would be a cheater if I marry him and that would make me very sad,” spoke Jolene with a sense of hesitation.
“And she would take away all my family fortune and disappear,” said Pete softly.
Dooku sat back with hands at the back of his head, dumbfounded by such preposterous revelation, and asks, “But how do you know that?”
Again, both Pete and Jolene smile and answer in unison, “We just know.”
The following interviews yield the same results. The couples somehow know how the relationship would end and have made joint decisions within three months.
After days of not having any progress, Dooku’s sharp eyes have guided him to a temple with a sign saying “Islander Only”. He tries to enter but is denied. He tries to talk to the monks entering or leaving the temple but no one talks.
Until he finds an old male staff willing to talk with a large sum of money. Dooku counts the notes in his wallet and thinks, “If I can wrap up the story tonight, I can leave this island by noon tomorrow. I don’t need the rest of the company expenses.”
Dooku agrees and the old male staff leads him into a local bar with no customer. Dooku does not feel comfortable as the place looks dark and shady. But his thirst for the story brings him all the way here. And he is so close to the ending.
Dooku hands the old male staff the money and the old male staff begins to speak.
“The answer is surprisingly simple, Dooku. Everyone you have interviewed has taken the red pills. Almost everyone on this island has chosen the red pill.”
“Red pills?”
“Indeed. Produced by the monk in the temple for islanders only, the red pill reveals the future of a relationship through a dream within three months of being together. It is very accurate because both in the relationship will dream the same dream. Then they can make a decision knowing the future.”
“This is a remarkable story,” exclaimed Dooku while busy taking notes.
“This is not the whole story,” grimaces the old male staff.
“There are more?”
“Indeed. Life is about choices. There is also a blue pill. Once taken, the person will be immune to the effect of the red pill. That is to say, he or she will never know the future. The effect of the blue pill is permanent and cannot be reversed.”
“That is extraordinary!” exhaled Dooku looking at the old male staff in disbelief.
With a sharp analytical mind, Dooku asks, “But how do I know that such pills exist?”
The male staff starts to laugh. Kekekekeke. Dooku looks lost and all of a sudden, a group of monks enter the bar and approach Dooku’s table. One of them says, “You will.”
Two monks hold down Dooku and the third one says, “Normally, we would give our people a choice of red or blue. For you, we are going to give you both colors!”
“What would happen to me?” asks Dooku in desperation.
The third monk ignores the question and continues, “You see, this story of yours cannot leave this island.”
“And I really need the money and my job,” adds the old male staff as he has tipped the monk before meeting Dooku.
“You are really terrible in temple politics. Have a good trip, Dooku.” With that says, the third monk forces the red and blue pills into Dooku’s mouth.
As the pills travel inside Dooku’s body, his entire life flashes before him. The past, the present, and the future distorted with no clarity. There is a vague knowledge of information but the endings are never revealed. Dooku is tormented by knowing but yet not knowing, forever stays in limbo, paralyzed, drown in this distorted alternative reality unable to leave. In the end, there is nothing to see, nothing to analyze, and no question to be asked, for nothing makes sense no more.
Author’s note: This Dooku series holds a special place in my heart. These are stories inspired by real-life events including things that I have observed. As always, all persons fictitious disclaimer applies.
In the Kingdom of Sun & Moon and a remote town far away from the palace, Dooku the inventor has quietly moved into an abandoned mansion. He has purchased his new home from the local office at a very good price. The three stories high mansion while more or less still functional is poorly maintained and had become state land. There is a fountain in front of the house but it no longer works. The garden surrounding the mansion overran by weeds. With a rusted gate that discourages wanderers to come close, the mansion in its entirety projects a sense of mystery and isolation.
The town people seldom meet Dooku, for the mad inventor – as they are nicknamed him – hardly leaves his mansion. Those who have seen him described him as ‘average-looking’ and ‘rather old’. There are boxes and boxes of undisclosed items delivered to his home every day or so. When the town people further pressed on, the delivery company representative replies, “These shipments come from faraway places, addresses that in my wildest imagination did not know they exist! Look. These parcels are delivered to our office at the border. We are just a local delivery team.”
As time drags on, the rumor mills flourish. “One time, I have seen corpses delivered to the mad inventor’s mansion!” says one housewife in front of her group of friends on a street near to a flee market. One man jumps in, “What does that mean? Our new migrant has been reanimating dead bodies under our noses?” Another woman chips in, “Yes, I recall we have more blackouts these days. There must be some crazy science experiment happening inside that house!” (Author’s note: The town does not keep such blackout record and no spike of blackouts has been reported in local papers. Hence, this womon’s comment could well be classified as fake news).
Another housewife asks the first one, “Are you sure you have seen the corpses?”. To which, the reply is, “Oh well. There were bags. I am sure there were corpses inside. What else can that be? Potatoes?”
On the day Dooku has decided to unveil his invention, the town people are drawn to the event out of curiosity. The poster does not tell all. In the background lies what appears as a mini-castle covered in a red velvet piece of cloth. The title reads, “A Magical Poem For Everyone – A Night You Won’t Forget!”
At night, Dooku’s mansion looks less rundown. With the electric light bulbs of red, green, yellow, and blue decorated on the facets of the mansion and the trees in the garden; rows of booths are set up to serve food and wine. This place looks less of a mad scientist’s mansion and more like a theme park. The fountain is gone. Instead, a wooden platform is built. At the center stands a mini-castle-like structure covered by literally red velvet cloth measured to three meters tall.
As the clock strikes seven in the evening, the average-looking and rather old Dooku approaches the platform and stands in front of the microphone. As soon as he speaks, loud feedback pierces through the audience’s ears. But no one seems to care. Everyone is curious. What is underneath that red velvet?
“And my latest invention is,” Dooku continues as he unveils his latest masterpiece, “the Poem-Making Machine!”
The crowd gasps, unable to comprehend. This machine is unlike anything the crowd has expected. A Steampunk styled mini-castle with five towers joined up to the main body. Each tower displays ten sets of flip cards that are arranged vertically. According to Dooku, different towers represent different themes: acts of God, external circumstances out of your control but under your influence, temporal, space, people, perception, emotion, internal quality, action, and spiritual elements. Each set contains twenty cards, which means there are a total of 1,000 cards! Just think of the astronomical numbers of combinations. At the base of the machine and at the arm level, there are five levers. Once a lever is lowered by the user – much like a slot machine – the respective tower would randomize ten cards. If that is not complex enough, the user can flip any of the levers back up and have one last chance to random the cards before …
“… the user presses the giant green button next to the levers for the machine to write a poem, customized to the state of mind suitable to the one who uses the machine according to the cards!” explains Dooku as he gestures towards an unmanned typewriter.
One after another, the crowd tries out the machine, receives a piece of poem that some describe as “a fine piece of art” while others, “a message from heaven”. Some cry. Others shake their heads in disbelief and acceptance. Whether the town people like Dooku or not – due to his appearance mostly – they have to admit, this is one fine invention.
Words spread fast. Soon, the Princess living in the palace hears of such wonder. And she is curious. She wants to know, “What kinds of poems will I get?”
The journey to the palace is not at all easy. It takes half a day and six strong horses to transport the machine from Dooku’s mansion into the palace. By the time the machine is set up in the palace garden with the appropriate decoration to the surroundings, it is early evening, which adds a sense of mystery. A magical sense of mystery that is.
As Dooku reads the first poem to the Princess, the Princess is enchanted, lost in words. As the second poem is read, the Princess is deeply moved, tears a little. When the third poem comes, she is drunk in the emotions evoked from these words of heaven. Many times she calls Dooku back and soon, a bond is formed between the two.
Raven the Shieldmaiden is the first one who speaks up, “I don’t think this is right!” Rhino the Infiltrator concurs, “I agreed. Our Princess is falling for a commoner!”
To that, Raven continues, “Indeed! Look at Dooku status. This is an ill fated relationship, for sure”.
“What shall we do?” asks Rhino.
“You should infiltrate Dooku’s mansion as our Kingdom’s Chief of Spy and find out more about that heretic machine. It must be a fraud. There must be a weakness somewhere. We must take it down!” replies Raven.
And so, Rhino infiltrates Dooku’s mansion one night, blends into the shadow at all times. Inside the study room, Rhino discovers a notebook titled “The Operation Manual of Dooku’s Poem-Making Machine”.
When Rhino returns from his mission, cannot help from wearing a gimmick on his face, he says to Raven, “I know how we can defeat this monstrous machine and have our Princess freed from this voodoo charm of a commoner!”
“What would that be?!” Raven the Shieldmaiden asks.
Rhino the Infiltrator smiles and whispers something into Raven’s ear.
It is late autumn. The leaves turn yellow and the fallen leaves painted the road brown. As Dooku makes – what in the future be known as – his last trip to the palace, he whistles, appears in a good mood. Dooku sees himself as an entertainer to the Princess (good money too). More so, Dooku is liking the Princess, perhaps starting to fall in love.
Just like any other day as Dooku sets up the machine at the palace garden, in this particular late autumn evening, Dooku witnesses Rhino and Riven matching towards him with the Imperial Guards. As the troop stops in front of Dooku and the Poem-making Machine, Raven shouts, “This cannot continue! As the protector of the Kingdom of Sun & Moon and the protector of our Princess, we must disable this machine! Our Princess cannot be with someone without status and this must be stopped! This. Is. Black. Magic!”
Dooku is shocked! Lost in words. Before he can internalize this entire encounter, Riven springs into action, climbs up the machine, pulls a hidden lever as instructed by the Operation Manual, and then, a pair of hidden doors open at the center tower.
Lo and behold, a crystalized angel figurine one feet of height is on display!
“This,” says Riven, “is the heart of the machine. Once I smash it, this machine will no longer work. Our Princess will be freed!”
At this very moment, the Princess emerges from her residence and screams, “No! Please don’t!”
And at the same moment, Dooku rushes to the machine and screams, “No! Please don’t!”
The Princess means a lot to Dooku. So is the crystalized angel figurine.
Rhino steps in and stops the Princess from going any further. Raven punches Dooku’s face hard so much so that Dooku instantly collapses onto the ground with blood on his face. Raven raises her shield, aims it at the heart of the machine, and smashes the crystalized angel figurine into thousands of pieces. The Poem-machine made impotence, unable to produce any more poems. The reason for the two being together – Dooku and the Princess – is no more. Dooku can no longer please the Princess with poems that move her.
Unless …
Determined to be by the Princess’s side no matter what, Dooku casts one final melancholy smile to the Princess, directs his eyes onto the empty chamber now filled with broken crystal, he dashes towards the machine with eyes to the heaven whispering words that only Dooku can understand. One moment he is a man. Another moment, as the light radiance from his body, Dooku shrinks into one foot of height and crystalized in front of everyone as he reaches the heart of the machine. As soon as Dooku – the crystalized version that is – settles into that hidden chamber, the machine springs into action. It locks the doors and the cards randomize on their own, flipped frantically yet purposely like the reels of a slot machine.
Tears are streaming from the Princess’s eyes. The Poem-Making Machine restored sitting permanently in the palace garden with Dooku no more. One by one, the cards show themselves. The unmanned typewriter prints out a poem that reads something like:
No more do I wish to live without seeing you
Even though this is wrong but it feels so right
I treasure each moment when I am with you
I want to live each day holding you tightI like you and I know you feel the same way too
I want to see you in the day and at night
No matter what others say about me and you
I will always be by your sideYou are my princess and I can be your prince
We can build a castle where no one would expect
We can hold hands all day and kiss all night
The world can crumble but why should we even care?No more do I wish to live without missing you
Every song we share lead me back to you
If this is a burden I must take
I would gladly consume this pain of yours and mineEvery dream of mine you have been by my side
I can’t think of a moment I am not thinking of you
You are a poison that I want to take
You are an addiction I so readily obligedYou are my princess and I can be your prince
“You Are My Princess And I Can Be Your Prince”
We can build a castle where no one would expect
We can hold hands all day and kiss all night
The world can crumble but why should we even care?