The Second Flight of Garuda

Lawang, July 1994.

The rooster crowed before dawn, but Rakha was already awake — sitting beneath the jackfruit tree behind his house, notebook open, dew seeping into his sandals. The sky above Lawang was still painted in slate blue and soft orange haze, the moon reluctant to leave just yet.

In his lap, the leather-bound notebook lay open — filled with sketches, business models, cooperative structures, and a single bold line underlined three times:

"Billion-dollar impact. Rural-first."

He stared at it for a long moment, then closed his eyes.

"System," he whispered. "You awake?"

A soft pulse glowed behind his eyes.

[ONLINE]

Good morning, Rakha. You've slept 4 hours, 32 minutes, and 19 seconds.

Statistically speaking, a nap would now be smarter than another revolution.

Rakha smirked. "Noted. Remind me to ignore your suggestions more politely next time."

Acknowledged. Shall I log that under 'Persistent Stubbornness'? You're up to 78 entries.

He chuckled under his breath. "Alright, 78. Let's make it worth it."

The AI's voice — calm, confident, maybe even a bit smug — hummed in his mind.

Query: Is this one of those moments where you attempt something outrageous again with rural economics and recycled packaging?

Rakha flipped to a new page.

"Correction. This is where we design the foundation of something outrageous."

Very well. Strategic mood detected. Deploying Advisor Mode.

A soft data stream unfolded in the periphery of his vision: rural market margins, sugar commodity trends, smallholder cooperative case studies — Malaysia, India, Bolivia.

"Start with projected cost of goods. Assume palm sugar base. Hand-wrapped. Volume: 10kg initial batch."

Done. Estimated COGS per bar: 430 rupiah. Projected retail value: 1,200–1,400 depending on packaging aesthetics. Variable: local perception of trust and hygiene.

"Good. What's our biggest bottleneck?"

Distribution. Transport routes are fractured. No central wholesale point between Lawang and Bukittinggi. Also, your village only has four working motorcycles and a goat with great stamina.

Rakha laughed.

"Noted. Let's fix that. Goat gets an engine."

Designing cargo bike prototype now. Shall I add solar panel attachment or wait until you conquer Java?

He sighed, content.

For the first time, the System didn't just sound like a tool. It sounded like a partner. A co-pilot. The Jarvis to his Iron Man — minus the sarcasm filter.

"Thanks, System."

You're welcome, Rakha. Now let's go build something the world can't ignore.

He had spent the whole night reviewing numbers, sketches, and supplier options. But now… it was time for something else.

[SYSTEM NOTICE]

Community Impact Milestone Achieved.

Prototype Phase Activated.Reward Available: Strategic Blueprint Token (I)

Would you like to redeem?

Rakha exhaled."Yes."

SYSTEM UPGRADE — MENTOR BLUEPRINT UNLOCKED

[System Interface Recalibrating…]

Redeeming Strategic Blueprint Token…

Selected Domain: Agricultural Enterprise + Cooperative Structure

Deploying Mentor Template: Mohammad Hatta

A low golden glow pulsed through his vision.

Then a voice — not loud, but deliberate. Kind. Calculated.

"You're trying to plant something permanent, aren't you?"

"Profit is a vehicle. But purpose… is the fuel."

The Mentor Interface flickered alive.

Hatta wasn't fully human in form — more a silhouette of thoughts, quotes, policy outlines, and economic structures pulled from the past. But his ideas? Real. Alive.

Blueprints Received:

Basic Cooperative Framework

Tiered Revenue Share Model

Village-to-Urban Value Chain

Trust-First Microdistribution System

Hatta's Personal Journal Notes (Excerpted)

Rakha's fingers trembled slightly.

This wasn't just a reward.It was a manual for rebuilding rural dignity from the soil upward.

By noon, Rakha sat under the sugarcane shelter behind the surau, flanked by five villagers:

Husna — the orphaned girl turned self-taught bookkeeper, eyes always scanning for errors in math no one else noticed.

Rizal and Faisal — the twin teenage laborers who could outlift grown men and memorized routes by instinct.

Mak Uni — midwife, herbalist, and keeper of village gossip who knew every household's real numbers.

Pak Dani — retired teacher and once-failed entrepreneur who still kept business ledgers from 1983 in perfect columns.

Rakha didn't hand them titles. He handed them purpose.

"You're not workers," he said. "You're co-builders.""This isn't my business. It's our seed."

Mak Uni smirked. "We planting money trees now, Nak?"

Rakha smiled back. "Better. We're planting trust."

The days that followed moved like river currents — slow at first, then suddenly swift.

Bamboo drying racks were cleaned and treated with salt.

Old syrup boilers were hauled out and restored with clay sealant.

Labels were painted by hand with kerinci red and buffalo-horn motifs.

Even children were recruited to fold paper wraps and peel labels.

Pak Halim donated a corner of the back field for the test batch.

"We planted here when your grandfather was still a child," he said."It's right this place becomes more than just rows."

By the week's end, everyone in Lawang knew something was brewing.

On the seventh day, at dawn, Rakha lit the fire under the old syrup drum.

He measured. Watched. Waited.Not like a child pretending.Like a founder experimenting.

One part rainwater.Two parts cane extract.One borrowed pressure valve.Stirred clockwise. Cooled with palm fan.

The result: rich, dark gula semut — crystallized palm sugar, smooth, fragrant, and packed with minerals.

They wrapped the first bar with recycled paper.Stamped it with the Garuda horn.Wrote in careful ink: "Gula Lawang — Honest Sweetness"

[SYSTEM UPDATE]

Prototype Registered: Gula Lawang v1.0

Market Potential Estimate: Moderate

Shelf Life: 12–18 months

Initial Margin: 42%

Next Target: Distribution Channel Unlock (Village-to-City)

Rakha held the first wrapped bar in both hands.

It wasn't shiny.It wasn't mass-produced.

But it was real.

"One day," he said, handing it to his father,"This won't be the product. It'll be the symbol."

Pak Halim tasted it. Chewed slowly. And nodded.

"Then let's make sure it stays in our hands."