Social Responsibility

Robin Helzer stood there, barely able to contain his excitement.

He never imagined that one day he would look at his idol like a star-struck adolescent girl—trembling, speechless, with sweaty palms. He never thought he'd follow in the footsteps of those Hollywood stars he once viewed as untouchable, as nothing more than fleeting figures in the distance. To him, they were nothing but distant, ethereal bubbles.

But today, it was all real.

In Rockefeller Plaza, during the "Today Show," Robin and Renly met for the first time. It was their first time hearing the live concert, the first time they were moved by the music, the first time they felt the power of life in such a profound way. Robin admired this figure, not just because his son was suffering from amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), and not just because the Heather-Cross Foundation had finally awakened people's attention to this disease, but because of the song "Another Light."

Out of the 6 billion people in the world, only a handful of stars shine brightly. Most others are mere flickers of light, unnoticed and untended in the vast, dark night. And eventually, they fade away in silence.

But to that one shining light, its existence is not insignificant. For it, even the smallest glimmer is everything, an irreplaceable part of the whole universe.

Renly's voice was like Robin's voice. Robin saw that light in this young man, and his own footsteps began to follow, involuntarily.

"I… I mean… sorry, uh, I mean… thank you. Really, thank you." Robin stumbled over his words, overwhelmed with emotion. He closed his eyes in frustration and gritted his teeth.

But when he opened them again, Renly's expression hadn't changed. He wasn't impatient. He simply continued to smile, holding Robin's hand, as though waiting patiently for him to gather his thoughts. That small gesture calmed Robin's excitement.

"It's a great feat, what the Heather-Cross Foundation has done. You've really made a difference in society."

"It's not my credit," Renly responded, "It's Heather Cross's, and the countless volunteers and families who have fought for this cause. I'm just standing here in the spotlight, receiving attention. Maybe that's why everyone wants to be an actor," he joked lightly.

Robin shook his head. "You're a gentleman. But that song—only someone who has truly experienced pain and struggle could create something like that. Music. Renly, you know what? That small act of yours could save thousands of families."

Hope—an ethereal word—yet powerful enough to change lives. Now, Renly had sparked that hope.

The weight of Robin's words settled on Renly's shoulders.

As public figures, they bask in the spotlight, enjoying the applause and fame. But with that, comes responsibility. Yes, Renly was a dreamer, rushing toward his own dreams. But he was also a leader, holding up the torch of hope through his own efforts and struggles.

If you only want the rewards that come with fame but refuse the pressure and responsibilities that come with it, that would be unfair, even impossible.

"This is what the Heather-Cross Foundation is all about," Renly said with a smile, still holding Robin's hand. "Thousands of families. We need more help and support to make this a reality. Let's work together to turn this dream into a reality."

Robin felt a surge of excitement and enthusiasm. Without thinking, he blurted out, "Of course, I'm very, very willing to help. In fact, I'm a fund manager, and I'd be happy to contribute to the Heather-Cross Foundation."

Realizing how it might sound, Robin quickly backtracked, "God, I'm sorry, that's not what I meant. I didn't come here for a job. I meant that I have experience managing funds and running foundations, and if you need help with that, I'm ready. But I didn't mean to imply anything about applying for a position. I… I should have prepared a resume… Wait, what should I say?"

Renly smiled, understanding Robin's urgency. "I understand," he said. "It's not just about the work. I can see the passion in you, not as someone looking for a job, but as someone who truly cares."

Robin, flustered, rubbed his neck, then added, "My son… he also has ALS. I came to Rockefeller Plaza to apply for Medicaid, but then I met you. This is the first time a foundation has really focused on ALS, and that gives us hope. I want to help in any way I can."

Renly nodded thoughtfully. "Why don't you give me your business card? It's a good place to start."

Robin snapped out of his daze. "Of course. Absolutely." He quickly retrieved his business card holder and handed it over. "Robin Helzer. Sorry, I didn't introduce myself earlier."

"Renly Hall," Renly replied with a smile, as they officially introduced themselves.

Through the exchange, Bradley watched quietly. He observed the truth and vulnerability behind the public figures' masks, the deep emotions beneath the surface. He was glad he made the right decision in choosing to interview Renly.

As Robin walked away, Bradley turned to Renly, curious. "Do you think you'll call him?"

Renly nodded. "Yes, I think I will."

"Why? Because his son is going through the same challenges?" Bradley asked, still puzzled—after all, only minutes ago, the man had been a complete stranger.

Renly chuckled but didn't answer directly. "Bradley, have you ever heard of the ACT-UP movement from the late 1980s and early 1990s?"

Bradley's eyes widened in surprise. "Of course, I've heard of it."

ACT-UP, or AIDS Coalition to Unleash Power, was founded in New York in 1987. Within a few years, it spread worldwide, leading to widespread awareness of AIDS and significantly advancing medical and social progress.

"Do you know why ACT-UP grew so quickly?" Renly continued. "Because, back then, they didn't have time."

As individuals, they were insignificant in the face of history's vast currents. But history is made by people, and society moves forward because of individuals who step up.

"The reason they fought wasn't to change society, but to stop society from changing them."

At the end of the 1980s, people with HIV/AIDS around the world faced a crisis. Scientific progress was slow, effective medicines were scarce and expensive, and even when they did exist, they couldn't be legally obtained. Most hospitals refused treatment, insurance didn't pay, and even after death, their families had difficulty securing burial rights.

In the face of such adversity, patients, their families, and friends had no choice but to take on multiple roles. They became researchers, doctors, nurses, and activists—all at once, just to survive.

They were invisible, their lives disregarded by society—until they stood up and fought.

"Dallas Buyers Club" (2013) and "120 BPM" (2017) highlighted such individuals, telling the stories of those who fought for their right to live.

Bradley, understanding Renly's point, asked hesitantly, "But ALS isn't AIDS."

Renly smiled softly. "Have you ever heard of ALS before Heather Cross?"

The simple question hung in the air. Bradley fell silent, struck by the realization. Renly's smile turned bittersweet. "I hadn't heard of it either, before Heather Cross. But I'm not the only one. Society has been indifferent—who cares when another light goes out?"

The lyrics of "Another Light" echoed in the moment, giving the words a deeper significance. Bradley fell into thoughtful silence.