For instance, once he read that the first standing army in history was created by Sargon I.
He didn’t stop at the article.
He traced the claim to museums in Iraq, searching for the source.
Where had this “fact” even come from? The inscriptions from that era were fragmentary at best—
And it wasn’t as if Sargon had carved somewhere: “I was the first.”
Tonight, the café-library was steeped in the rich aroma of bitter, steaming coffee.
Behind the bar stood Diyor, as always—headphones in, nodding to soft background music as he prepared a fresh pour-over.
And Shamsiddin, nestled in his usual corner beneath the grammar shelf, was once again chasing down another incomplete fact.
But this time, his gaze drifted a little farther—
To where the barista in a slightly crooked black beanie was busy behind the counter.
Shamsiddin slowly approached.
“Diyor,” he said, “you know, on some of those ancient stones, there are inscriptions that can only be seen at sunrise.
That’s why they read them in museums only at dawn.”
(Of course, it was a joke.)
Diyor looked at him with a curious grin.
His smile was kind—untainted by sarcasm.
“Really? So now we’re supposed to believe everything we see at sunrise, huh, Shamsiddin-aka?”
“No,” Shamsiddin replied, “to disbelieve, you must read.
And reread.
The same line.
The same word.”
Diyor fell quiet for a moment, thinking.
Then he slid a glass across the counter.
“Here. Double espresso.
Careful not to fall asleep.
Next time, I’ll prove to you that I know how to analyze which words are used in which kinds of articles.”
Shamsiddin raised an eyebrow, amused.
“What articles?”
Diyor reached under the counter and pulled out two thick academic journals.
“Archaeology. And Historical Source Criticism.
Some are translated into other languages.
I’ve read them already… back when I had the time.”
For the first time, Shamsiddin looked at him differently.
Now, he no longer saw just a barista.
He saw someone with that same inner flame—
A hunger for knowledge.
“You’re a strange one, Diyor,” Shamsiddin said, squinting slightly. “You know, maybe one day we should debate.”
“About what?” Diyor asked.
“About facts.
Real ones.
About the difference between stone… and story.”