The indigenous peoples never had, and still do not have, the

Host:
The dawn was just beginning to creep across the sky, painting the horizon in hues of soft purple and gold. The early morning air was cool, laced with the scent of wet earth and the faintest traces of rain from the night before. Jack sat in a small café by the window, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hands, his eyes fixed on the quiet, empty streets outside. Jeeny sat across from him, her hands folded neatly in her lap, her gaze distant, as if the world beyond the window was not quite real.

The café was nearly empty, save for the occasional murmur of a passerby. The only sound was the gentle hiss of the espresso machine, the occasional clink of a cup, and the soft shuffle of feet on the tiled floor. But beneath the stillness, something heavy lingered — an unspoken tension, a truth that needed to be addressed.

Jack:
He broke the silence first, his voice soft, almost reverent. "The indigenous peoples never had, and still do not have, the place that they should have occupied in the progress and benefits of science and technology, although they represented an important basis for this development." His voice dropped as he repeated the words of Rigoberta Menchú, as if trying to find the meaning behind them. "You ever think about that, Jeeny? About how we’ve ignored so many people in the name of progress?"

Jeeny:
Her eyes narrowed slightly as she listened, her fingers curling around her cup, though the warmth of it did nothing to ease the tension building inside her. She leaned forward, her voice quiet but full of conviction.
"I think about it every day. How we’ve erased entire cultures, how we’ve stolen from them — their land, their knowledge, their ways of living. And for what? For this so-called progress?" Her eyes met his, fierce and burning with something unyielding. "Do you really think science and technology have progressed in the right direction when they’ve left so many people behind?"

Jack:
He didn’t flinch, but there was a shift in his expression, a flicker of something more vulnerable beneath his usual stoicism. He placed the cup back on the table, his fingers resting on the rim as he considered her words.
"Progress is a funny thing. It’s always defined by whoever is in power. The indigenous people — they were the foundation, Jeeny. The land they inhabited, the plants they cultivated, the medicinal knowledge they preserved — it all paved the way for the world we know today. But we, the modern world, turned our back on them." He shrugged and looked out the window, his voice almost a whisper now. "We’ve built this world on the backs of the ones we’ve ignored."

Host:
Outside, the soft hum of early morning life began to pick up, but inside the café, there was only the quiet between them. The light in the room grew warmer as the sun began to climb, its rays spilling over the table, illuminating the silence that hung between them.

Jeeny:
Her eyes softened as she looked at him, her voice gentle, but still full of passion.
"But we can’t keep pretending that the way we’ve built this world is the only way. We’ve sacrificed so much for the sake of this so-called progress. We take, we exploit, and we leave nothing for the people who’ve been here long before us. The indigenous peoples, they didn’t just give us a foundation for science and technology. They gave us something much deeper — a way of understanding the world, of living in harmony with it." She paused, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her cup. "Isn’t that what we’re really missing in this so-called progress? A true connection with the earth, with the land, with each other?"

Jack:
He stared at her for a moment, his expression torn, a storm of thoughts and doubts playing behind his eyes. He exhaled, the breath heavy, like he was carrying a weight he couldn’t quite set down.
"I don’t know, Jeeny. Maybe we lost something along the way. Maybe we’re too far gone to find it again. It’s all too easy to look back and say we should’ve done things differently." He rubbed his forehead, frustration creeping into his voice. "But people didn’t just ignore them for no reason. Those people were seen as backward, unimportant. Science and technology weren’t about preserving what was old — they were about moving forward, about finding the new, the better."

Jeeny:
Her gaze softened, though the fire in her heart didn’t flicker. She reached out, her hand brushing lightly against his.
"But that’s the problem, Jack. Forward doesn’t always mean better. Sometimes we move so fast that we leave everything of value behind, and we don’t even realize it until it’s too late." Her voice tightened, her words sharp with emotion. "We’ve lost something. And it’s not just knowledge we’ve lost, but a sense of what it means to be human. The indigenous people — they understood that. They understood balance, respect. They lived with the land, not against it."

Host:
The light outside shifted, casting long shadows across the café. The rain had stopped, but the air still felt charged, as though the world had been holding its breath. Inside, the conversation deepened, the words heavy with history, with loss, with regret.

Jack:
He leaned back in his chair, the weight of her words sinking in. His eyes met hers, not with the hardness he usually wore, but with something that resembled understanding — or at least, the beginning of it.
"I get it. You’re right. We’ve built this whole world, this whole system, on the backs of people we never even bothered to understand. The world we live in is a lie, built on disrespect. And now, we’re trying to run too fast to fix it."

Jeeny:
She nodded, her voice growing more gentle.
"It’s never too late, Jack. We can’t change the past, but we can still learn from it. We can still make room for the people we’ve ignored, for the knowledge they hold. We can still start over, even if it’s small. Even if it’s just a few steps in the right direction." She paused, her eyes searching his. "Isn’t that worth trying?"

Jack:
He stared at her, the question lingering in the air between them. For a long moment, he didn’t answer, the weight of their shared reflection heavy in the stillness. But finally, he nodded slowly, his voice quieter now, but filled with something new.
"Maybe it is. Maybe it’s time we started listening, not just to the voices we know, but to the ones we’ve silenced."

Host:
The light continued to shift, growing brighter as the world outside began to stir. Jeeny sat back, her expression peaceful, though the fight in her still burned bright. Jack remained silent, but there was something different about him now, something more open, as if the walls that had always surrounded him were starting to crumble, piece by piece.

In the quiet that followed, they both knew they had taken the first step toward something bigger — toward a world where the voices of the forgotten were finally heard, and the knowledge of those long ignored was allowed to take its place in the light.