Luminous Gems

Chapter 3

The lab was alive with energy, yet Mandisa felt like a ghost. The sharp whirring of machinery, the rhythmic clatter of keyboards, the soft murmur of colleagues lost in their work—it all seemed so distant as she focused on her screen. At her station, she was recalibrating the latest prototype, a design she had perfected over the past several months. Each calculation, every adjustment had been made with meticulous care. This was her baby.

She could hear the hushed voices of her colleagues as they discussed projects in the far corner of the room. The murmurs would have been comforting if they weren’t so familiar. The buzz of activity always felt the same. Mandisa had learned long ago to take a step back, to quietly observe and wait for the moment when her work would speak for itself. But the moment never came.

That morning’s team briefing had delivered another blow. Mandisa had presented her breakthrough on the energy distribution grid—a solution that could enhance the prototype’s power efficiency by 30%. The response was polite but detached, as though her innovation was a routine update rather than a game-changer. Her manager, Jason, who usually condensed her intricate explanations into superficial buzzwords for his own gain, didn’t even bother this time. There was no patronizing, half-hearted acknowledgment like, “We’re fortunate to have such a sharp mind like Mandisa on this project.” Instead, her design, her calculations, and countless late nights were quietly absorbed into someone else’s report—a mere footnote to the meeting, her brilliance overlooked.

“Mandisa,” a voice called out, dragging her back to the present. Her colleague, Tumelo, a junior engineer, waved her over. “Got a minute? We’re stuck on the energy distribution grid.”

Mandisa stood, silently seething, but she masked it with a calm smile. She had done this so many times before—dropped everything to help with problems that were beneath her expertise. But it didn’t matter. Her skill was never the issue. It was her recognition that always got lost in the shuffle.

As she walked over to Tumelo’s station, her eyes met the corner of the room where Emma, the lead engineer, was reviewing the latest report. Mandisa had once thought Emma would be her ally. They were both women in a male-dominated field, both striving for respect. Emma, with her fair skin and soft blonde curls, was a stark contrast to Mandisa, but Mandisa had always believed that a shared struggle for visibility could unite them.

They’d exchanged a few words over lunch when Mandisa first joined the team. Emma had seemed friendly, offering a welcoming smile when she first heard Mandisa’s ideas. They both had ambitious minds, and Mandisa had thought, perhaps naively, that Emma would be someone who would notice her contributions and champion her work. Emma was more experienced, higher up on the corporate ladder, a rare woman in the role she occupied, and Mandisa had hoped to learn from her, to collaborate and rise together.

But that hope had been dashed. Mandisa’s gaze lingered on Emma, who was too focused on the report to notice. The truth was, Mandisa had learned the hard way that Emma was no different from the others. She had watched the same pattern play out—Emma would praise Mandisa’s ideas in private, only to let them fade into the background during team meetings. It was always Jason who took the lead, always Jason who got the credit, even when Mandisa’s designs were the ones driving their progress.

Tumelo’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Mandisa, can you take a look?”

She shook her head to refocus, walking over to Tumelo’s station. The problem was simple—a glitch in the energy output parameters. It took her only a few moments to correct the code, and with a few clicks, the numbers settled into place. The system hummed in acknowledgment of her work, but the sense of accomplishment was fleeting. She didn’t need the praise, not really, but she couldn’t ignore the gnawing frustration.

“Thanks, Mandisa,” Tumelo said, smiling. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

Mandisa smiled back, but it felt hollow. Tumelo was kind, but he was a junior. It was never Tumelo who decided where the recognition went. Mandisa’s contributions were being overlooked once again, and as much as she tried to bury the resentment, it was impossible to ignore.

As she returned to her station, she could feel Emma’s presence behind her. The sound of footsteps grew louder, and Emma appeared in her peripheral vision, standing a few feet away, watching her with an unreadable expression.

“Sometimes, you’ve got to let them struggle a little,” Emma said coolly, her tone carrying the clipped professionalism that always put Mandisa on edge. “You can’t spoon-feed them forever. But still, nice work. You’re quick on the troubleshooting.”

Mandisa forced a nod, the faint praise sitting uneasily with her. There was an undertone to Emma’s words that felt more like a veiled critique than a compliment. “Thanks. It wasn’t a big deal,” she replied, though her jaw tightened.

Emma stepped closer, her heels clicking against the tiled floor, her sharp eyes scanning Mandisa’s workstation. “It’s good to solve these issues fast,” she added, her gaze lingering on Mandisa’s monitor. “But remember, the bigger picture is in scalability. Fixing things on the spot is fine, but we need to ensure long-term development can support this.”

Her voice dripped with condescension, as if Mandisa hadn’t already considered scalability in her solution. Mandisa knew her work wasn’t just about quick fixes; it was about precision and foresight. But with Emma, the acknowledgment always felt conditional—an obligatory nod before moving the goalposts.

“Of course,” Mandisa replied evenly, suppressing the urge to point out that her prototype already accounted for scalability. She had spent nights refining it, ensuring every parameter fit seamlessly into future projects.

Emma straightened and offered a tight smile. “Good. Let’s make sure to align everything with the broader objectives. I’ll be reviewing everyone’s contributions later this week.”

As she walked away, the faint scent of her expensive perfume lingered, along with the sting of her words.

She clenched her fists, taking a deep breath. “Align with the broader objectives,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. It was just another way of saying, Don’t expect credit where it’s due.

Mandisa’s heart sank. The dismissal was subtle, but it stung. Emma was playing her part in the same game Mandisa had seen all too often. She wasn't someone to back her up, and she realized that that's the uncomfortable truth—Emma wasn’t her ally. She wasn’t going to be the one to lift Mandisa up when the system kept pressing her down. Emma was just another cog in the machine, another face in the office that pretended to care but would always prioritize herself and her standing.

Mandisa’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, her mind racing. It wasn’t enough to simply be the best; she had to be seen. Every idea she had, every late night she spent fixing the flaws in prototypes, never seemed to make it past the invisible glass ceiling. She knew she wasn’t the only one in the office battling this, but the weight of it felt heavier every day.

Mandisa was used to keeping her frustrations bottled up, but today, she couldn’t ignore the gnawing sense of being invisible, overlooked, and tired.

Her phone buzzed again, a reminder of the evening ahead—an impromptu meeting with Jason to discuss “next steps.” The so-called “next steps” always followed the same pattern: Mandisa doing the heavy lifting, her brilliance quietly packaged into someone else’s triumph.

She looked at the unfinished schematic of the energy distribution grid. It was perfect—and yet, she knew it would never be enough.