Chosen Spirits

by Samit Basu

  Rudra and Tara ride off with Jin-Young in a decoy SUV. Joey scans her driver thoroughly before entering another SUV with Indi, and is relieved to find he's not a possible spy, he's one of Laxmi's boys. They take the secret VIP exit, huddled together in the back seat, smearing paint all over the new seats. On Indi's other side is his stylist, Neha, extracting one product after another from her capacious tote bag and breaking new ground in chemistry in her efforts to get the paint off his face. Nothing works.

  Joey can feel the bubblegum-pink layer drying on her own skin: she’s sure, for a moment, that it’s a balloon that she’s trapped in, the bubble that she’d heard so many people tell her she lived in, shrinking and tightening, wrapping her in like cellophane, tighter and tighter, choking her. She can feel her smartatt warm and confused on her wrist, feel her clothes stiffening as well, flakes forming when she moves, like a monster in a wall, but she knows it'll be a while before anyone can tend to her. There are many things she wants to say, but she can't get them to line up in order, even though that's her job, she has to remind herself, the timeline is her operating theatre, she's a fucking producer. The driver turns up the radio, some triumphant nationalist being far too enthusiastic about food riots in China. She switches it off with a gesture.

  Indi seems shell-shocked as well: she's seen him at a loss for words before, but never like this. Since their hasty exit from the supermarket he's just been staring into space. His phone is still off, and occasionally his eyes dart towards its blank screen, but he doesn't switch it on, or say anything. Perhaps it's for the best: there'd been no time to bug-sweep the car, and they can't stop anywhere either: there's probably a bounty on pics of a paint-shamed Indi anywhere in the city right now. She'll have to have the car cams wiped as well. She lets her parents and friends know in emoji that she's fine and has no time to talk. She's going to have to conserve words. She’s distracted by a series of heart-emojis from an unknown number that have somehow made it past her filters. There’s also a message.

  -- Don’t let the bastards get you down. And don’t call this number. U.

  U? For some reason the first name that pops into Joey’s head is Uma, but that makes no sense: Desibryde has been in her thoughts a fair bit, but there’s absolutely no reason she’d message Joey. But there isn’t time to dwell on this, because a priority message comes in, and Joey’s heart leaps as she sees it’s from Toons, Toons was watching over her all along, Toons would make it all better.

  -- Saw the news. Very disappointed in you.

  Toons follows this up with links to a documentary about harassment in India. Joey's already seen it.

  -- You need to do better.

  Joey deletes the message.

  Narad's attempts at instant therapy aren't of any discernible use, but Joey appreciates the effort. Narad's abilities as a work assistant are invaluable, though: she's shut off all non-essential messages for the moment, and her if-you-messaged-X-consider-messaging-Y suggestions are all on point. They achieve smooth, balletic, silent communion, her fingers flowing across the screen, putting out fires, aligning schedules, deflecting curiosity, coordinating traffic routes with the rest of the crew.

  Neha's the only person present with the wherewithal to open Sharmila's Flow on her phone. She hands it, and a bunch of paper napkins, to Indi, and they watch it together.

  There's a video of Indi playing on loop, Indi on a bed with a girl who looks familiar. Joey's forgotten her name, but it doesn't matter because it's right there on the screen: Simran. Another stylist. Neha's team. They're in Indi's bedroom, at night, lit up by Indi's amber mood-lamp.

  It's been a long time since she last saw Indi naked, and she finds herself watching him from a great distance, like he's just another college friend who's resurfaced with a Flow. He used to be so skinny, back then. He looks better now, less awkward. And then it hits her that he's right there, right next to her, they're in a car covered in shame-paint watching a video where he's supposed to be raping someone, and it's so deeply strange that it's gone full circle into normal, like a nature documentary, as if this is just a new segment pitch and they're sitting with the rushes. Except that her heart is thumping so hard it feels as if it's only the paint that's keeping it in place. The girl, Simran, is on her elbows and knees on the bed, back arched, ass up high, Indi behind her thrusting violently, eyes shut, grimacing. Joey's seen that face. There's no audio, but Simran looks like she's screaming. Indi smacks her, grabs her hair, yanks her head back, speeds up. She looks like she's sobbing.

  'Stop the car,' says Neha.

  'No we can't- '

  'Stop the car!' Neha yells, and the driver swerves towards a service lane. Neha opens her door before the car comes to a halt, and as the smart alarm starts yowling Joey reaches across to grab her wrist.

  'Let's just go back, calm down, and figure out what to do next,' she says. The car's already full of smog, they're all coughing. Joey shuts her eyes, refusing to cry.

  'Don't get your shit on me,' Neha says. She grabs her phone from Indi and jumps out. The tar on the street is melting, and she's wearing heels, but they don't get to see what happens next, because she slams the door shut and bangs on the side of the car until the driver starts it up again.

  Joey considers leaping out of the car as well, and just running after her, a bright pink blob slowly sinking into the tar, melting into candy swirls.

  'I didn't do it, you know,' Indi says, and she flinches. 'I didn't rape her, Joey. She was - she wanted it. Consensual, all of it.'

  'Think before each word, please.' Joey feels sane enough to turn off Narad's safety protocols: within seconds her phone is blowing up with notifications and messages. She can't access Sharmila's Flow, and her hands are shaking. Narad is all over her screen, making emergency suggestions, all useless.

  The driver switches on the seat smartscreens. She finds Sharmila's Flow. Simran is speaking to the camera now, with the sex video playing in a corner. Simran's pretty matter-of-fact about it: Indi promised her a Flowstar career, gaslit and manipulated and exploited her in every possible way. Worst among these: he raped her repeatedly, and she'd kept quiet about it for a long time but couldn't stay quiet any more, couldn't stand him being all over Tavata's advertising, the dream mate, the face of true love, the perfect Indian partner. She has more videos.

  'She's lying. Totally trapped me. Everyone's watching anyway, I assume,' Indi says.

  Everyone is. Sharmila's Flow is trending all over India, and is one of the top ten personal Flows worldwide.

  'Always had consent. That's why there's no bloody audio - she's saying yes in this clip. Right there,' he says again. 'Joey. Joey, you have to believe me. I didn't.'

  'Don't tell me this. Legal is coming to the office. So is your lawyer. And your business people. Tell them.'

  'No, I mean, she was Raj's friend. Raj set up the spyware. They set me up. My own cousin, and that sly little... they were blackmailing me with these videos.'

  'Just give me some time, okay?'

  'That's why I sacked them. I wanted to tell you, but-'

  'Indi. Shut the fuck up.'

  'Joey, you believe me, right? I don't care about what anyone else thinks. I need to know you believe me.'

  Joey stares out of the window, through the haze, at dust and dead trees and more cars and flyovers, always more flyovers.

  'How do I make you believe me? They can make up any evidence. Everyone's already used every possible response. Everyone's already made up their minds. What is the point of all this tech if it can't tell us what's true?'

  He grabs his phone, as if to throw it out of the window. But he doesn't.

  She reaches inside herself, to pull words of comfort out for him, but they don't come. She pulls at them, and they hurt, like the paint stuck in her hair. But she has nothing for him, and nothing for herself.

  -- Don't come to ICB Market. Drones and media everywhere, says Rudra.

  It's the first sensible idea she's seen in a while: she's even had a text fr
om an unknown number offering to release a herd of cows into traffic to help them escape, for a really ambitious sum of money. Everyone except Joey decides the place to meet is Joey's house, and so the convoy reunites at her ICF Place flat. Everyone remarks how clean and well-maintained her home is, so much nicer than theirs.

  When Joey emerges from her bathroom, there's still traces of pink in her hair but she's managed to rub her skin clean, thanks to a stockpile of Flowco gift baskets. Indi's in her bedroom with a phalanx of lawyers and publicists and stylists, and Rudra and Tara whisper in a corner on her carefully handpicked but never used mood-curve smartchairs. Most of Indi's crew have been sent to the office to keep attention focussed there, though some bodyguards have been despatched to create diversions and rumours of Indi's presence all around the city. The celeb-locator apps are running wild.

  Joey manages, in a while, to find the right remote from her vast collection and switch her TV on, and is relieved to find that while he's all over the Flowverse and the entertainment channels, the news mainstreamers aren't talking about Indi, and it’s not just because they can’t play the video: there's been another lynching in Uttarakhand, which isn't really news, but a prominent industrialist's son was among those killed. She knows this is supposed to be horrifying, but her primary emotion is relief: her filters do their job, the burnt corpses are blurred, and Indi's not today's national crisis.

  'I need to ask you something,' Rudra says. He holds out a placatory iced tea from her kitchen. 'Tara wants to put out a statement, and I'm going to help her Flow it. We'll run it by you.'

  'No,' says Joey.

  'I won't be censored,' Tara says, failing early at pretending to not be in this conversation.

  'Your contract gives me control of your Flow for another two weeks,' Joey says. 'And your non-disclosure agreement gives the Flowco control over any reference to your time here for the rest of your life.'

  'To hell with your rules,' Tara says. 'You people all do whatever you like, and I get lists and regulations and auditions. By the way, I'm trying to help. I'm going to defend him.'

  'You're going to sit tight and wait until we all figure out what the plan is.'

  'You know, whatever your job title says, maybe you're aware you don't actually control reality? It's already far too late. I remember the first purge, I spoke up against a teacher, it's a lot harder to do in Jaipur than it is here, by the way, and he wasn’t even a powerful man, but he got away. You people will be fine. Your type always has somewhere else to go. You know whose career will end? Mine. Second purge, I stayed quiet, lost my job anyway because I didn't show loyalty. Some token heads roll, then the men strike back. I won't get shut out this time. I need to say something. I need to take charge of this.'

  'By circling the wagons and defending Indi? They'll say you're as bad as him.'

  'Who? That girl, Sharmila? She doesn't even see me. You'll all make some deal, and two weeks from now I'm finished. This was supposed to be my big break, Joey. I can't just sit here and watch it die, do you understand?'

  'Yes. But wait until we assign you a writer.'

  'Please. I don't need help, it's all very simple. If I attack Indi, my career is over. If I say nothing, I vanish. He’ll get rehabbed at worst, but I’ll get attacked by both sides. I have only one option. Are you going to help me?'

  'As soon as I'm able to,' Joey says.

  'But if I went and did something without your permission?'

  'Well, I mean, in all this chaos if I didn't see you what you were doing behind my back...'

  She watches them scurry away with mild concern.

  After Indi's entourage departs, she finds him in her bedroom, examining himself in her smudgy mirror. The stylists have done their job well, turning the clock back to his Morning Look.

  'It's all good,' he says. 'Nikhil's going to sort it out.'

  'Did you talk to the funders?'

  'No, they're not involved, Nikhil's taking care of it. Mainstreamers, Flowstars, meat-world A-listers will be speaking in support. They'll make alibi videos, showing me doing a bunch of other stuff at the times Raj claims I was doing whatever. The white dude's taken charge of my team directly, so you don't have to. I know this has been difficult for you.'

  'The whole system's worked out now, huh.'

  'Thankfully for us. Really, after all we’ve given this art form-’

  'You know, I think it's a little weird that your cousin and his friend should release this video so soon after you told Nikhil to fuck off. And that he should swoop in to save you.'

  'What, you think Nikhil's behind all this? That's really paranoid, even for you. He's saving my ass, Joey. Him, not you.'

  Joey shrugs.

  'But it turns out you're not far off the mark,' Indi says. 'So Raj had approached Karan and Radha with this garbage before, right when I sacked him, and they'd turned him away. They should have told us about it, obviously. But Raj isn't going to be a problem anymore.'

  'How so?'

  'Nikhil said he'll talk to one of his influential friends who gets things done, and he'll find Raj and this girl and make the problem go away.'

  He waits for Joey to ask him how, but she just stares at him.

  'As in, he'll get them to confess in public that they made all this shit up. And it should take a couple of days max, because even if they're hiding, they can be found. Sharmila will give them up, plus whoever else they gave the videos to.'

  'Nikhil's friend is going to send gangsters after Sharmila as well?'

  'No, he's just buying her whole Flowco. Buying? He's already bought it. She works for us now. And guess who her new Reality Controller is? Nikhil says hi, and welcome to the family.'

  ‘And have you already agreed to his plans for the rest of your career?’

  'Please, it's not like that, Joey. He didn't even bring that up.'

  'But you're going to do it, right?'

  'I think so? I'll have to figure it out. The lesson from today is that at this level, I'm not safe. I mean, this audience I have now, they were just waiting to find something wrong with me, right? I looked. There's a bunch of angry feminists who don't know anything about this world trash-talking me right now. And at this level they kind of matter — the fanFlows as well — but if I scale up they won't.'

  'Some people hating on you for a few days shouldn't be able to scare you into major career decisions.'

  'They can troll me and hate me for the rest of their lives, just like the fascists. It's not about me, it's about them and whatever brand they're trying to build. And I'm tired of having to care about their shit. I've proved I'm a feminist many times, it's never good enough. I won't change myself to please anyone.'

  She wants to tell him that he's been jumping through rings of fire to change himself to please his audience, any audience, since the day they met. She doesn't.

  'I've been a strong feminist since my fucking mid-teens,' Indi says. 'I didn't have to unlearn anything. We used to joke about old people, you know, how they were having to learn things we already knew. That's why you never had to teach me feminism, when we met. I'd be the first person to say always believe the woman, never blame the victim, fuck the patriarchy, cancel abusers. So, of course, this happens to me. Nikhil said this is a common thing now, standard blackmail package. Countries, companies, everyone's running honeytraps. Every rising star's at risk, because no one will believe them, no one will support them. I just never thought someone could get me like this.'

  ‘I never thought I’d hear all of this out of your mouth,' Joey says.

  'Look, why don't we talk about it once this is behind us?' Indi says. 'We still have to get through the day. Until Nikhil's friend wraps up Raj and Sim, and the support Flows start trending, we're still in a crisis.'

  'Did Nikhil tell you who his friend is?'

  'I think so, but I forgot. I can ask one of the guys if they recorded the meeting, but it's unlikely, you know? Some Delhi name — Khanna or Mehra.'

  Joey's smartatt buzzes. She sw
ats it into silence.

  'Chopra?' she asks.

  'Could be,' Indi says. 'I'll ask him again later, or ask him yourself? Why?'

  'Just curious.'

  Joey imagines alternate universes. One where she hadn't taken a sudden dislike to an access-Brahmin's face and stolen Rudra from him on a whim. One where Rudra had gone on to be a slave-market trader before moving on to running his family's shady clinics. One where Rudra hadn't gone to his father's funeral, where no one had wanted him in the first place. One where she'd never taken this job. In all of these universes, she can still find ways to make everything that's happened her fault, ways to forget that none of this would have happened if Indi hadn't felt compelled to sleep with every woman in the National Capital Region.

  'What happens to the girl?' she asks.

  'Which girl?'

  It's a good question. But before she can answer it, her doorbell rings, and Jin-Young's face pops up on her phone, staring into the void.

  He comes in with a woman who looks extremely familiar: Joey's seen her online, and has her filed mentally under Vaguely Important and Unfairly Beautiful. Narad flashes her data in response, and Joey almost punches herself in frustration: of course she knows who this is. Zaria Salam, global lecture-tour overachiever, gossip-group staple, intrepid journalist, troll magnet, death-threat meme-maker, upper-class rebel icon and constant presence on India's Top People Under Arbitrary Age lists. Zaria shakes Joey's hand with vigour, showing off an elaborate customised Urdu-inscription smartatt, and presents Indi a dazzling but wary smile.

  'First day at work and I meet a K-drama hero and a drone tries to fly in through a window,' she says. 'What's next?'

  'I couldn't leave her at the penthouse,' Jin-Young says. 'We were supposed to present options for her Flow launch this evening.'

  'But of course I understand if you can't, today of all days,' Zaria says. 'I have a lifelong habit of showing up in the middle of a crisis.'