newspaper news agency

I woke up in the morning, got out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, and went downstairs to eat breakfast. I saw Mr. Tula preparing the morning meal. When he saw me, he greeted me.

"Good morning, Sir Atee. Did you sleep well last night?"

I lied to him with a dry tone because I had some kind of strange dream that made me sweat profusely. If I told him about it, it would only give me a massive headache, and I thought it might have adverse effects in the future.

"I slept well," I said.

I sat down to eat, but I noticed that Mr. Prayoon was not there. Puzzled, I asked Mr. Tula, "Mr. Tula, where is Mr. Prayoon?"

"Oh, Mr. Prayoon hasn't returned yet, but this is normal. He usually comes back around noon."

"I see."

Mr. Tula and I ate breakfast together while I thought about what I would do that morning. After a while, Mr. Tula started a conversation.

"Sir Atee, may I ask what you plan to do this morning?"

When Mr. Tula asked me that, I smiled suggestively.

"Today, I want you to take me to a certain place."

"Where is that?"

"A newspaper office."

Mr. Tula was puzzled by my answer about going to a newspaper office. After we finished breakfast, we prepared to go out, getting into my car. Before driving off, Mr. Tula asked me, "What are you going to do at the newspaper office?"

"It's better if you see the results rather than me telling you."

We then drove to a newspaper office, with Mr. Tula guiding me.

Eventually, we arrived at a newspaper office. Before going inside, I took some documents from the trunk of my car—university research papers that I had forgotten there. Mr. Tula saw me take out some documents and asked curiously, "What are those?"

"The first step of starting the plan," I replied.

The documents were research papers on the Great Depression in Thailand in 1929, serving as a guide on how to properly address the economic downturn that Siam faced in 1929. I planned to use excerpts from these papers to publish in newspapers across the country, especially for the royal court and high-ranking nobles to read. I would propose some ideas vaguely while keeping the details to myself. My hope was that this would allow me to break into the political sphere.

I closed the trunk, locked the car, and walked into the newspaper office with Mr. Tula. Upon entering, we found ourselves in a bustling environment filled with the sounds of typewriters and a newsroom abuzz with the frenzy of reporters and editors working under tight deadlines.

The office was dimly lit, with light coming in through large windows and from neon lights outside. The smell of ink and paper was strong, as most newspapers were still printed using traditional methods at that time. Desks were cluttered with papers, note pads, and empty coffee cups, with reporters and editors typing feverishly on manual typewriters and talking on telephones.

The reporters and editors were dressed in suits and ties, with some wearing fedoras, reflecting the fashion of the era. The overall impression was one of a high-pressure, fast-paced environment where everyone was focused on delivering news quickly and accurately.

Moreover, during a major economic depression, the atmosphere in a newspaper office would be heavily influenced by the economic and political situation. There was a sense of urgency to report on the latest developments of the depression and its impacts on the country and its people. Reporters and editors worked to inform and educate the public about the challenges and hardships the nation was facing.

I took a deep breath to gather my confidence and approached the counter, where a woman was working. When she saw us, she asked, "Can I help you?"

"Um, yes, we'd like to see the editor, please."

"Do you have an appointment?"

Okay, it seemed like I was facing the first obstacle—the formalities. I thought these were just wasting our time since we didn't have much of it.

"No, but I want to have something I brought published in the newspaper. Can I please see the editor?"

The woman at the counter showed a sympathetic expression before responding, "I'm sorry, but the editor is extremely busy right now and can't meet with anyone without an appointment."

I sighed and thought about what to do next to meet the editor or find another way. I decided to retreat for now.

"Could you leave my name, contact information, and this document I'm holding for him to look at? I'll come back tomorrow."

"Sure, I'll make a note of it and let him know."

"Thank you."

"Could you give me your name and address so the editor can know?"

I gave her my name, and Mr. Tula provided the address of Mr. Prayoon's house, where I was staying. After taking care of that, Mr. Tula and I returned to the car. As usual, there were people gathering around my car again, but this time, there were some foreigners, seemingly Europeans, looking at my car as well.

*Beep beep!*

When I unlocked the car, everyone seemed startled by the sudden sound and flashing lights from the vehicle. We got into the car, ignoring the people around us, but then one of the foreign men tapped on the back window to get my attention.

"Sir?"

"Yes?"

The well-dressed European man with a long mustache approached me and asked, "I don't know where you bought a car like this from?"

"I can't tell you," I replied.

"So can I buy this car?" he asked.

"Sorry, I can't sell it."

"£5,000?"

"Sorry, this car is not for sale."

I started the car and drove away to return to Mr. Prayoon's house. Before leaving, that foreign man stared intently at my car. Seeing that, I muttered to myself, 'What are you staring at, old man?' Then I asked Mr. Tula about other newspaper offices.

"Mr. Tula, do you know of any other newspaper offices?"

"Yes, I know some, but not all of them."

"Could you guide me to them, please?"

We then visited other newspaper offices. At some, we didn't get to meet the editors, while at others, the editors seemed reluctant to publish my work, as they didn't want to involve themselves in political matters or risk offending anyone. Publishing on such topics usually required approval from high-ranking nobles. It was proving quite difficult.

Eventually, Mr. Tula and I returned to the car after visiting all the places. Mr. Tula, who had not asked me anything all day, finally spoke up, "Sir Atee, what did you want the newspapers to publish?"

Hearing that, I wasn't too keen on answering, but I supposed I had to get his help.

"I want to address the economic depression that Thailand—or should I say Siam, at this time—is facing."

Mr. Tula pondered for a moment before asking another question, "And how does publishing in the newspapers relate to that?"

"To be able to address the economic depression, the government must take action, which would be easier to do..."

I then explained my initial plan to Mr. Tula.

"That's why I didn't tell you from the start."

"I see. So why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"It was difficult to explain, but I chose not to. Now, I need to find a way for me to get into the government so that I can help you all in the great cause."

Hearing that, Mr. Tula showed a delighted expression. Of course, I would join them, but not through the People's Party's methods. It would be a temporary collaboration. Mr. Tula then asked me, "So you're saying you'll join us too, right?"

"Well, I'm sure about that. But could you help me find a way to contact the nobles at the Ministry of Finance? I think I need to reach them to have a chance at getting a position in the government."

"Certainly, I'll let Mr. Prayoon and the others know that there's a way for you to get what you want."

"Thank you very much."

"You're welcome. We're in this together now."

We then returned to Mr. Prayoon's house and informed him of this matter. Surely, he would try to find a way for me to meet the Minister of Finance, despite any obstacles. However, the events of this day that I encountered unexpectedly would cause me problems.

At one of the newspaper offices that Atee and I visited earlier that night...

A man was reading Atee's documents on his desk in the editor's office—the same documents Atee wanted the editor to briefly review for potential publication.

"Hmm, his ideas are quite interesting and progressive," the man said. "The foreign financial advisors certainly wouldn't like ideas like these."

The man spoke to the same young woman Atee had met earlier, who was standing in front of his desk.

"Sir, do you think he might be one of us?" she asked.

"One of us, you say? How did you perceive him to be?"

"Like us, but different, sir."

"Is that so? We should keep an eye on him then, to be certain if he truly is like us."

"Yes! And what about his request, sir? Will you grant it?"

"I'll have to think about it."

"Understood," she said with a bow before leaving.

The man then picked up his coffee mug and took a sip, revealing his blue-green scaled hand resembling fish scales. He looked out the window at the moonlight shining on him, hoping the events of the day would not impact his plans. But he was mistaken about that.