Date: June 24, 2012
Location: Salt Lake, Kolkata / New Delhi / Mumbai / Washington D.C. / Chennai / Bangalore
Salt Lake City never slept.
At least, not the Salt Lake of Kolkata—the tech sector turned cerebral capital of the new India. Sector V was its nervous system, blinking with fiber-optic cables and spines of graphene-lined supertowers. The largest of them all—Nova Tower—loomed over the others not with arrogance, but inevitability. It didn't announce itself. It didn't market. It simply existed. The people working inside had no business cards. The glass elevator knew your name. The lobby changed music depending on the air pressure outside.
And it was here, inside the 45th-floor Executive Ops Room, that something strange had just appeared on Nova's internal network.
An alert.
It didn't blink. It pulsed.
Three nodes flagged.
Parliamentary Motion – Urgent.
Undisclosed Media Asset Movement – Tier 2.
Unusual Traffic: Department of Communications & Home Affairs.
In less than ninety seconds, a cluster of neural-AI agents triggered pattern-checks. One of them, internally nicknamed Barghest, began drawing connections between three legislative queries raised in the Lok Sabha, a new editorial draft from The Morning Herald, and four field-level enforcement signals buried inside NITI Aayog's regional docket.
It all pointed to one phrase:
"Structural Transparency Petition."
New Delhi – Parliament House – Lok Sabha Chamber – 11:58 AM
The debate had started with agriculture, as they often did. MSPs, drought relief funds, fertilizer subsidy reforms—half the room dozing behind steel-rimmed glasses.
And then the moment happened.
A backbench MP from Uttar Pradesh, belonging to a party barely registering in national graphs, stood up with a visible eagerness. He asked for a procedural deviation. A special clause allowing a short, citizen-focused petition to be read before session closed.
Normally, it would've been ignored.
But someone gave a nod. That someone sat three rows back, in the Treasury benches.
The Speaker allowed it.
And the MP began reading.
"I rise today not for a constituency, but for a country. Not for a budget demand, but for a question: Do we, as elected representatives, know who governs our digital highways? Who profits from our data? Who decides how a billion people receive signals in their homes?"
Some MPs began glancing at one another.
"In Salt Lake, a tower stands taller than the State Secretariat itself. Its company, NovaTech, builds faster than we can clear tenders. Operates fuel stations, power grids, satellite networks, and yes—even education programs—across ten states. But, Honourable Members, can anyone in this House name a single member of their executive board?"
Murmurs. Some chuckled. Others looked around warily.
He held up a thick, printed PDF dossier. It had no government seal. Just a title in bold:
"Obfuscation by Design: NovaTech's Undeclared Structure."
"I propose a non-binding resolution—this House requests the full public disclosure of NovaTech's ownership structure, shareholding breakdown, offshore account details, and internal chain-of-command documentation, within 90 days."
The motion, framed as a democratic necessity, was passed by show of hands.
There were no BVM MPs present to oppose it.
And that was the first real headline.
Salt Lake – Nova HQ, 45th Floor – 1:10 PM
In the sleek, sun-drenched boardroom overlooking a humming Kolkata, Rajat Kapoor re-read the briefing twice.
"We've been… subpoenaed by symbolism," he muttered.
The Director of Legal Strategy, Ishita Sharma, tapped her finger against the wooden table. "Non-binding, but dangerous. If they amplify it, we'll face disclosure petitions, income tax notices, backdoor freezes—"
"Whispers turned weapons," Rajat finished. "Classic statecraft."
A third figure entered the room, silent as shadow.
Taller. Older. Not listed in public directories.
He placed a report on the table. Its front page bore just three words:
"Phase One Confirmed."
Rajat scanned it. 72 flagged articles queued for release in next 14 days. 5 PILs filed. 11 regulatory queries launched under ambiguous clauses. The attack was beginning—not by hacking Nova's systems, but by eroding its image one headline at a time.
"We respond?" Ishita asked.
"Not yet," the third man said. "They expect pushback. We give them distance. While we document everything."
Mumbai – Journalist POV: Reva Sen
Reva had covered Nova's launch from the first hydrogen test track in 2011. She remembered the way the air shimmered when the H1 moved without a sound.
But now, her editorial desk was… different.
Three of her colleagues had received assignments subtly worded but clearly aimed.
"Investigate Nova's use of imported AI components."
"Explore anonymous reports of biased data routing."
"Profile disgruntled former employees."
Except—there were none. And Nova didn't import AI. It built it.
"Why now?" she asked her editor.
"Because Delhi doesn't like gods it didn't crown," the man muttered, then looked away.
Chennai – Opposition Operative HQ
Inside a beachside bungalow long known to be a political retreat, two senior members of the main opposition sat with their laptops open and smiles broadening.
"They bit," said the older one. "The motion passed. The media's on cue. The bureaucracy will stall them now."
The younger one hesitated.
"And if it doesn't work?"
The elder leaned back. "Then we just keep asking louder: what are they hiding?"
Bangalore – Nova Nucleus Security Core – 3:25 PM
In a cold subterranean vault lit by wall-to-wall displays, Aashna Bhatt stared at a blooming visualization on the screen—red threads connecting media keywords, parliamentary signals, legal filings, and bureaucratic delays. Her AI cluster had formed a word-cloud from every piece of media referencing Nova over the last 72 hours. The top terms weren't threats—they were questions.
"Who owns Nova?"
"Is Salt Lake the new Delhi?"
"Why is Nova silent?"
She leaned back, sighing.
"They're not attacking facts. They're attacking ambiguity."
Her supervisor, a gray-haired man who rarely left this basement, entered quietly.
"Upload to Black Tier Archives," he said. "Activate passive surveillance. But don't trigger response yet. Not until Mr. Naskar authorizes."
"Should we brief the regional nodes?"
"Just the Bengal one. Let them prepare optics."
He paused at the door.
"And Aashna?"
"Yes?"
"Mark every journalist who doesn't flinch. They'll be useful later."
Washington D.C. – Confidential Briefing – 10:30 AM EST
Inside a secure meeting room of the U.S. Department of Energy, charts lit up with numbers. NovaTech's hydrogen fleet had expanded to fifteen more countries. Fuel stations had crossed 3,800 globally. Telecom subscribers under NovaSat touched 140 million.
And yet…
"No ownership filings. No board structure. Not even a PR spokesperson," a military intelligence officer said. "It's a ghost corporation with the world's infrastructure in its hands."
"What about India's response?" a Senator asked.
"Encouraging. Parliament just requested public transparency. Their own agencies are now hesitant."
"And if Nova retaliates?"
The room was quiet.
"Then we tighten," came the answer.
Salt Lake – Nova HQ, Internal Node Report – 8:00 PM IST
A final encrypted memo was drafted and delivered directly to a black-sealed server node.
Subject: "Hydra Protocol – Tier 1 Engagement Anticipated"
Recommendation: No press. No rebuttals. Let the wind roar. We wait.
Signature: [REDACTED]
Status: Awaiting Central Intelligence Node Override
Outside, the tower lights of Salt Lake danced like constellations trapped in glass. Beneath their glow, the first real war for Nova's sovereignty had begun.
But Nova had seen storms before.
This time, it would simply not blink.