Shadows at Noon
Perspective: Ram
Ram stood in the underground war room beneath the Garuda Complex—his central command hidden inside a Himalayan glacier. Walls of shimmering quantum displays glowed with satellite feeds, AI-predictive models, and real-time data from every corner of India.
In his hands was a report.
"Leak Detected: Potential Exposure Risk Level – 7.8"
Someone, somewhere, had gotten too close.
He tapped the surface of the table and the projection shifted, revealing a secure communication feed from Anjali.
"Anjali," he said calmly, "has someone spoken out?"
She looked pale.
"It's not just that," she said. "One of the Minions went off-path during the medicine delivery in Pune. A journalist followed it. They're asking questions… and they're asking the right ones."
Ram closed his eyes.
It had begun.
Perspective: Rajdeep Mehra – Journalist, The Indian Chronicle
He wasn't known for breaking international conspiracies. Mostly, Rajdeep wrote about agriculture and education. But lately, he had noticed a pattern. Villages transformed overnight. Kids with no formal schooling building biotech startups. An AI learning center inside a bamboo hut in Jharkhand. And none of them seemed to know where the funding came from.
And then there was the robot.
It was humanoid. Not like Boston Dynamics—this thing blinked, spoke Hindi fluently, and diagnosed diseases better than any rural doctor he'd met. But before he could photograph it, the thing vanished.
Just disappeared into thin air.
He smelled a story.
And this time, it wouldn't just be headlines. This could make history.
Perspective: Ram
"We activate Protocol Kalki," Ram said into the central console. "No harm. But full redirection. Misinformation campaign begins."
An army of AI-generated chatterbots flooded media networks. Fake leads, false sightings, decoy websites—an entire smokescreen emerged within hours.
Meanwhile, the original Minion was recalled to base and rebuilt from scratch. Facial model changed. Memory wiped. Deployment reassigned to a different region.
The journalist would chase ghosts.
But something else worried Ram more than exposure.
The pace of change.
India was growing faster than the system could handle. Corrupt gatekeepers were losing their grip. Old political dynasties, threatened by this sudden rise in grassroots brilliance, began planting obstacles.
Bureaucratic slowdowns. Sudden taxation laws. Trade restrictions. They couldn't target him—but they were hurting the movement.
Perspective: Raghav Saxena – Global Weapons Trader, Shadow Financier
"He's becoming too powerful," Raghav said during a call with unknown international operatives. "He has no face, no company, no digital footprint—and yet, he moves like a god."
"We need boots on the ground."
"You'll never find him. Not directly."
"Then break the system he's building. Starve his revolution."
Perspective: Ram
"You know what they'll do now?" Ram told his grandmother that night, as they sat under the stars.
"They'll try to stop you?"
"They'll try to poison the roots—cut off materials, block AI imports, ban critical resources."
"Then what will you do?"
Ram turned, a soft smile playing on his lips.
"I'll build everything myself."
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Two Months Later
While the rest of the world bickered over AI ethics, Ram quietly developed PrithviCore—India's first fully indigenous AI chip built from locally sourced rare earth materials. It was smaller, faster, and used quantum threading unlike anything the west had seen.
When the government denied fiber optics in key tribal zones, he deployed AakashNet—a solar-powered aerial network of drone satellites mimicking 5G coverage with zero infrastructure.
Every challenge became an opportunity. Every blockade made him stronger.
But with each success, the risk grew louder.
Perspective: Rajdeep
His article was ready.
"India's Invisible Billionaire: Who Is Saving the Nation from the Shadows?"
He didn't have Ram's name.
But he had the pieces.
And soon, the world would start asking the same question.
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