Maya sat in the classroom, her sketchpad open, as Handoko began explaining the intricacies of facial micro-expressions. He introduced her to the work of Paul Ekman, one of the world's foremost experts on human expression. She listened intently, feeling her heart race with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. This wasn't her usual kind of art; this was a window into human nature, into secrets hidden in fleeting expressions.
"Micro-expressions are universal, Maya," Handoko explained. "Every human, regardless of culture, shows the same facial cues for emotions like anger, fear, sadness, happiness, and disgust. These cues happen in fractions of a second, which makes them so difficult to detect. But with practice, you can learn to spot them."
He showed her images on the projector, each displaying one of Ekman's core emotions. First, the expression of fear. A man's eyes were wide, his brows raised and drawn together, mouth slightly open. Maya studied every detail.
"This is fear," Handoko said. "Fear makes us vulnerable, and people hide it. But for a fraction of a second, it's visible to those who know how to look."
Then, he clicked to the next image, showing anger. The woman's brow was tightly knitted, her lips pressed together in a hard line, nostrils flaring. Maya shivered; it was almost like she could feel the anger herself. Handoko guided her through each emotion—sadness with drooping eyelids and a downturned mouth, happiness with crow's feet by the eyes, disgust with a wrinkled nose and raised upper lip, contempt with a slight sneer on one side of the mouth, and surprise with wide-open eyes and a dropped jaw.
"Art helps you see details, but this skill goes beyond that, Maya. You have to recognize these expressions in real-time," Handoko said, watching her closely.
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After days of classroom sessions,
Handoko took Maya out into the field for practical training.
First, it was a bus terminal on a weekday morning, bustling with travelers and workers rushing to get to their destinations. At first, the volume of people overwhelmed her. There were too many faces, too many expressions all happening at once. She felt her mind struggle to catch up with the rapid transitions between micro-expressions as people interacted. Standing at the edge of the crowd, Maya squinted, trying to focus on one person at a time, but expressions flashed by like frames in a high-speed film reel. She saw moments of impatience, glimpses of joy, and hints of sadness. Every emotion that Handoko had shown her was present, but it was all a blur. Her fingers itched to draw, but this exercise was different; it was about mental capture rather than physical recreation.
At an airport arrival gate, she took her seat on a bench and steadied herself. Her eyes darted from person to person, watching families embrace, couples reunite, strangers exchange awkward nods. Each interaction had layers—excitement mixed with nerves, happiness laced with anxiety. She felt her own pulse quicken; her excitement heightened by the challenge.
In her final field exercise, a Sunday afternoon in a public park, the sheer volume of expressions overwhelmed her once more, and she felt her confidence waver. Yet, despite her panic, Maya focused on isolating each expression one by one. Over time, the emotional maze became navigable. She was beginning to sense how immense this skill could be how much responsibility it demanded. Each face told a story, and now she was learning to read them all.
Maya's newfound knowledge of micro-expressions transformed her art. She began to capture not only the likeness but the inner emotion of each person she drew. In the crowded park, she focused on a young couple seated on a nearby bench. The woman's expression was one of tentative hope, her eyes slightly widened, her lips just beginning to smile. The man held her hand but looked down, his brows faintly knitted—a subtle mix of anxiety and affection.
When Handoko asked her what she saw, Maya responded with a quick, expressive flourish of her hands in sign language, then paused to scribble a few words in her notebook to clarify. "She's hopeful but unsure," she wrote, "and he's scared of letting her down." The precision of her observations stunned Handoko. Her drawings now revealed emotions invisible to most people, each stroke capturing the complexity of human connection.
Handoko gave her a proud nod, signaling their work was paying off. Just then, he glanced at his watch. "Time to see how Joko's doing," he said, motioning for Maya to follow, as they left her drawings fluttering on the park bench in the gentle breeze.
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Meanwhile,
Joko sat hunched over his desk, papers and flashcards scattered all around. He was muttering codes to himself, trying to commit them to memory as he scratched his head in frustration. Lia, his friend and study partner, peeked over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.
"Okay, Joko," Lia said, chuckling as she watched him squint at a stack of TransJakarta route maps. "You look like you're cramming for the National Exam!"
Joko laughed nervously, trying to play it cool. "Nah, it's just a… a... b-b-breeze. Easy s-s-s-stuff!" he stammered, but his expression showed otherwise.
"Oh really? Alright then, Mr. Memory Master. How do I get from… Bintaro Sektor 1 to, say, Lotte Mall?" Lia challenged, folding her arms with a smirk.
Joko blinked, momentarily thrown off, but his competitive spirit kicked in. "S-s-simple! Just t-t-take TransJakarta's C-Corridor 8A to reach Kebayoran Lama. T-t-t-then transfer to Corridor 1… I mean, no, no… Corridor 6A!" He scrunched his face, pausing to think. "Yeah, 6A. T-t-that'll get you there. Boom!"
Lia raised an eyebrow, genuinely impressed. "Alright, not bad. You've actually got some of this down!"
Joko puffed up his chest with pride, but just then, his eyes drifted to the stacks of even more books on his desk—maps, transportation codes, and route directories—awaiting his attention.
She noticed him staring at the pile. "Come on, you're halfway there," she teased. "Let's move on to… license plates?"
Joko groaned. "You t-t-torture me, Lia. Fine! L-listen, I know that 'B' means J-j-jakarta, 'A' means Serang B-B-Banten, and… um, 'D' is for Bandung!" He gave her a wide grin, hoping he'd aced it.
"You sure? What about all the other cities?" she prompted, winking.
"Eh…." He waved his hand dismissively. "That's f-f-for future Joko to figure out," he laughed, though he quickly started flipping through his notes to double-check.
As he scanned his notes, he muttered the codes under his breath. "M-maybe I should just memorize the ones that c-c-count… y'know? Keep it simple." But his train of thought was interrupted when Lia leaned in with yet another stack of papers, this time covered in transportation classifications.
Lia's face lit up mischievously. "Guess what? Time for some KBLI codes! Let's say… a bus. Do you know the classification for an intercity, interprovincial bus?"
Joko rolled his eyes, groaning. "49211. Intercity, interprovincial. B-b-big deal!" He threw his hands up dramatically. "Lia, I know all these c-c-codes like I know my mom's birthday."
Lia laughed. "Oh, really? All of them?"
"W-well," he admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. "M-maybe not all. B-but the important ones! Like… like this: 49431! T-t-trucks. Goods! Not p-p-people!"
"Oh wow," Lia mocked, clapping slowly. "Such a scholar! And you even got the goods part right." She chuckled as Joko tried to keep a straight face, the corner of his mouth betraying a small smile.
Just as they were catching their breath from laughing, a voice interrupted: "Joko!" It was their supervisor, coming over to test his newfound knowledge. "Quick question for you: Muara Karang, North Jakarta. What are its surroundings? Key features?"
Joko went silent for a second, his fingers tapping on the table nervously. He took a deep breath and answered, "Uh… l-lots of w-warehouses, y'know? Seafood markets. And… it's, um, by the, uh, coast?" He looked at Lia, who nodded, encouraging him.
"Good, good," the supervisor nodded, impressed. "Looks like you're getting the hang of it. Keep it up, and next time, I'll expect a rundown on all the security features of the Presidential Palace." He winked and walked off, leaving Joko feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet.
"Phew," he whispered to Lia, who gave him a thumbs-up.
With renewed energy, Joko continued on, his study session turning into a series of half-laughs and stumbles as he tried to memorize every last detail. Each code, each number seemed to blend together at times, and yet he pushed on, determined to prove himself. The training was hard, sure—but with Lia's teasing and support, he was managing to make it through, one stuttering fact at a time.
With their study session picking up steam, Joko was now neck-deep in Jakarta's train carriage codes, flipping through yet another stack of notes. Lia leaned over, pointing to the carriage classification section with a gleam in her eye.
"Oh, look! Now we're into train carriages. You're gonna love this one," she teased.
Joko groaned dramatically but couldn't help the slight smile on his face. "S-s-sure, love it. Bring on the codes," he muttered, rolling his eyes playfully.
Lia handed him a sheet that outlined the basics. "Alright, genius. Let's start with an easy one. What does 'K1' stand for?"
Joko tapped his pen on the table, thinking. "K1, K1… I know this… It means a p-p-passenger train… b-but only for executive class."
"Nice!" Lia cheered. "See, you're getting the hang of it! And K2?"
"Business class, d-d-duh," Joko replied, grinning with pride. "And K3 is… e-e-economy, yeah?"
Lia nodded. "Spot on! But wait, there's more. Look, what about the second row here?" She tapped the page, a devilish grin forming as she saw the complex explanations of the numbers that followed each code.
Joko studied the page carefully, his brow furrowing. "The second row," he murmured. "Oh, I got this! Z-zero means it's a t-t-train pulled by a locomotive. But… wait, there's also, uh… a one… which means… electric rail?"
"Bingo!" Lia confirmed, laughing at his intense concentration. "And if it's a two?"
Joko scrunched his face, pretending to think hard. "Uh… I'm guessing it means electric diesel? And… and three is for hydraulic diesel!"
"Who knew you had a brain for this stuff?" Lia laughed, giving him a light punch on the shoulder.
Joko chuckled, tapping his pen proudly. "W-w-well, don't sound so s-s-surprised!"
They shared a laugh before moving on, but the humor helped ease Joko's nerves as he struggled to retain all the technical details. He quickly grew more comfortable with the code, excited to see how much he was actually learning.
"Okay, Mr. Code Master," Lia said, leaning in. "Here's your last challenge. What's with the numbers in the third row?"
Joko glanced down, his expression thoughtful. "Y-y-year it was made, right? L-like, the last two d-d-digits show the year, so… so we know the t-t-train's age."
Lia gave him a mock standing ovation. "Bravo! And the final row?"
"The, uh… the serial number. F-f-for that particular carriage."
"You've got it!" Lia clapped, looking thoroughly impressed.
Joko threw his hands in the air in victory. "Ha! Who's the king of train codes now?"
She laughed. "You are, clearly."
Just as he was basking in his small victory, the supervisor called from across the room, "Alright, Joko, how's that memory holding up? Next week, you'll be quizzed on all Jakarta's rail, road, and bus codes, so be ready!"
Joko groaned, throwing his head back in mock despair as Lia chuckled beside him. "W-w-well, no p-p-pressure, right?"
As Joko wrapped up his study session, Handoko strode into the room, his face lighting up when he saw Joko's growing collection of notes, charts, and maps. He watched as Joko, with newfound confidence, explained bus routes and train codes to Lia, even teasing her when she got something wrong. Handoko couldn't help but chuckle at the sight.
"You've come a long way, Joko," Handoko said, stepping forward. "When I first assigned you this task, I thought it might take a while for you to get the hang of things."
Joko straightened up, looking a little embarrassed but clearly proud. "W-w-well, sir, turns out I d-d-don't mind learning," he stammered with a smile. "Especially when there's a g-g-great teacher around," he added, glancing at Lia, who grinned and rolled her eyes.
Handoko nodded approvingly. "You've memorized more than some experienced field agents can retain in months," he said. "The routes, the public transit codes, even the detailed breakdown of train carriage classifications—you've done excellent work. Your focus and memory have really made a difference, Joko. Keep this up, and you'll be a vital part of our mission."
Joko beamed, his chest puffing with pride. For the first time, he truly felt like he belonged, like he was finally making a difference. The hours of studying, the pages of notes, even the headache-inducing codes—all of it was worth it.
Joko beamed, his chest puffing with pride. For the first time, he truly felt like he belonged, like he was finally making a difference. The hours of studying, the pages of notes, even the headache-inducing codes—all of it was worth it.
With a final nod of encouragement, Handoko left the room, leaving Joko and Lia sharing a proud, contented silence. Joko had found his stride, and they both knew he was just getting started.
---------------------------------------------End of Chapter 12------------------------------------------