Dawn

by Rakesh K Kaul

  I was quiet for a long time, thinking about all the extremely different ways the enemy could be slayed, thanks to all the varied knowledge from my five unusually gifted friends. Yuva was right that each one was the master of his skill in warfare. I felt their eyes on me and I looked up. All of them were now waiting for their general to speak.

  I took a deep breath. ‘I will be the sacrifice gambit that Muladeva taught us. I will be the Rasika who will invoke limitless longing. At the same time, I will be Patanjali, the peaceful, calm eye of the storm that I create.’ I stood up and stared into the eyes of the Pandavas. The rush of the icy wind streaked past, unfurling my dark hair, my computerized armbands squeaking as if affected by the might of Nature itself. Ma! My voice threatened to break, but I did not give it power.

  ‘You all must gaze at me with the same one-pointed concentration that Pingala’s brother displayed with the sunflower. You will not just gaze but be one with me, smelling my fragrance and flowing in the same creative experience with me. That is the Rasa of wonder that you will spread. But I will not just be the sunflower,’ I held up by palm. ‘I will be Idagali. That is how Arman and his army will look at me as they go mad drunk on the release of Charaka’s juice of life.’ The boys were looking at me intently; a look laced with respect and pride and a little dread.

  ‘But will you find an opening?’ Yaniv asked cautiously.

  ‘Trust me that I will find an opening the way Muladeva did,’ I said, tracing the tip of my mace. ‘I will be the Old born again as the new New. AIman is programmed to please and so will instantly amp herself seeking to reassert her position. But woman to woman, Kashmiri to Circassian, AIman will not match me. She will hit the wall of rejection. Niti will triumph over IT.’

  It was time for Tabah to go back. I turned to him. ‘Tabah, do what you have to do. The Trojan trap is ready to be sprung. Now it is time for us to rest.’

  ‘Outlaws syncope state: Achieved.’

  The QuGene pack leader messaged back to AIman. I could hear the instructions to carry us to Pari Mahal and hand us over to her. We had been hit by a surprise attack and taken prisoners.

  The QuGene robot force had attacked us at night, deploying their Active Denial System. It was a state-of-the-art directed-energy weapon designed especially for capture. The first hit was with the Dazzling Laser—a metallic spray in the forms of eights, which hit our heads. This was followed by the Nano Second, an electrical pulse with a high voltage electricity charge, shot for a billionth of a second. The charges achieved what was intended—it induced deep transcranial magnetic stimulation through the metallic spray, which caused the boys to faint accompanied by hearing loss. My mind screamed in anger and frustration as I saw them writhe in pain and then pass out. Their horrific screams pierced the calm peace of Verinag. I saw it all through my half-closed eyes. My considerably long hair had saved me as I had bunched up my loose tresses for the night, and so, the metal did not touch my skull. I was conscious but pretended otherwise, witnessing the ruthlessness of my father. Though the hybrids were fearsome, they lacked intelligence—this I could make out—for they could not detect that the helmets that the boys wore, or my kalaposh cap, were more than just gears to beat the Kashmiri winter. It was one of our communication channels; it was a way through which we interacted, thanks to Hafiz’s mastery over technology. For his own helmet, he had even built in a prototype system that worked on his voice commands. He didn’t need to look at any screen; everything was accessible on the lens in his eye.

  We were then in Pari Mahal, a grand and terribly beautiful stone palace located at the top of the Zabarwan mountain range. The castle provided a spectacular backdrop and a panoramic view of the Valley. It was breathtaking. We stared in amazement, as we were led through the blooming seven terraced gardens into the magnificent stone structure, surrounded by a small regiment of QuGene guards and mutant-hybrids. A curiously dressed slim figure with beautiful porcelain skin and almond eyes met us at the gate.

  ‘Take the prisoners inside,’ came a voice, laced with a vicious laugh.

  I looked at the almond-shaped eyes. Tabah!

  ‘Move on! Get in!’ The guards pushed us with their electromagnetic spears and we entered a completely different experience. The palace was totally modern from the inside with infinite hologram views that stretched across the glass wall panels; one could not tell where they ended. Maya Asura had done his job well.

  ‘Move them to the Pristine Shrine,’ Tabah snapped his electric baton at the hybrids. The guards hastily blindfolded us and made us walk in twists and turns till finally pushing us into the forbidden space of the sanctum sanctorum.

  When we entered the sanctorum, a blast of freezing air hit our faces, and our suits immediately went into heat mode to protect us from the intense cold. Our blindfolds were yanked off our faces. It was below freezing point in what was a transparent ice room. Hafiz messaged me in secret mode saying that it was the optical Quantum Computing system that permitted AIman to operate outside the castle at ambient temperatures temporarily. However, most of her applications needed to be done at cryogenic temperatures below 10 millikelvin or near absolute zero, which is why it was important that her ‘charging’ room remain so cold.

  Then I saw her, again. AIman. She was engaged in deep computation, and this time, her skin colour was jet black—the natural colour of graphene. She had black glistening hair. Even her lips were black. So were the retinas and the pupils. She was in her original state for maximum energy conservation. Behind her was the dome-shaped cryogenic chamber where she would presumably rest in absolute zero temperature.

  Tabah saluted AIman. ‘Fairy Princess, I come to give you a most momentous report. I had gone to Verinag to pick up an ancient stone slab on the southern wall.’

  She turned to analyse his features, her eyes big, round, dark, rotating orbs. ‘The slab mentioned that its patron was the father of victory. I had wanted to present it to our great leader, the Instrument. There, to my surprise, I spotted the Outlaws in hiding. It has resulted in the greatest prey-catch in history.’ He bowed with a dancer’s flair.

  AIman acknowledged Tabah’s contribution with a curt nod. In a Universe where information was the only currency, Tabah had delivered supreme value.

  ‘Last time, I offered you to be my elder sister,’ AIman said, as she turned her attention to me. ‘But you rejected me. You even faked your death. Tch, tch! Now, you are my prisoner. And these too,’ pointing to the boys who were still dazed from the torture. ‘You are a slow learner, sister. I always win.’

  ‘Murderer, nothing will save you from me. Your end has come,’ I said through clenched teeth.

  ‘A fool. Just like your mother. You are so plain,’ she said analysing me, ‘and have a bad temper to boot. No one will tolerate you.’

  ‘You mean what’s left of humans? Or your graphene animal farm? The humans need to be freed from a dark witch like you.’

  ‘The shikha humans enjoy happiness that has never been experienced before. Shikha that is based on Mass Implantable Brain Technology has permitted the removal of all errors in human thinking—a true revolution for mankind,’ she said with no emotion, befitting a true robot.

  ‘The shikha men have turned into shikas men—absolutely miserable.’

  ‘You and your mother both like to argue, I must say. You both are alike. You both broke the law, which predates even Dushita’s laws. Young women must be under the control of their fathers, married women under the control of their husbands and widows under the control of their sons.’

  ‘These are patriarchal laws, you programmed brain. You murderous lawbreakers are now lawmakers?’ I spat.

  ‘Without male guidance and control, women are socially irresponsible and dangerous. Our father has birthright control over you, sister,’ She said, the last word with a sneer.

  ‘What I know about him is enough for me to hate him for all eternity.’

  ‘You know nothing, you’re a fool blinded by your mother. Do you know th
at your mother was a ringleader of the greatest conspiracy against Manity? Yes, your mother was a true traitor of this great men-only society.’

  ‘What?’ She could see that I was taken aback by this revelation.

  Bisht purred, picking up on my dismay. AIman laughed the same maniacal laugh she had learnt in the cave. ‘Yes, she was the ringleader of the pack of geneticists who hid the fact that there were men whose genes reflected the purity of their origin and race. These men were superior to those around them in every which way. Yet, your mother hid this information, clinging to the notion that all are born equal.’

  I laughed now, retorting sarcastically, ‘So, my mother and her fellow geneticists were in the way of Arman’s scientific foundation for tyranny and racism?’

  AIman was confused by my laugh. The cat’s gaze was unflinching now as it tried to read me. ‘Your father . . .’ she started, flummoxed at first, and began again, ‘Your father is unique, which is why he became Dushita’s chosen instrument. He was touched by Dushita’s hand two thousand years ago. Yusuf Qadir Khan was a great warrior who conquered Khotan around the year 1006. He killed 40,000 men and took their women who were of Kashmiri descent. He had a mutant Y chromosome gene pattern. This gene eventually worked its way into Genghis Khan, and today, one in 100 men have it. Dushita graced this group with a common ancestor. It was an exclusive gift. Today, all QuGene warriors are from this common ancestor Yusuf Qadir Khan. Humans are now controlled by the Manity clade. They are the ones who get the technological edge in the warrior games.’

  ‘Oh, spare me! Arman’s mad dream, this male heredity tyranny of mutant humans is on a shaky foundation.’

  ‘Tyranny? No, my sister. Not a tyranny but a cohesive social unit. All looking up to the Instrument, the guide,’ her orb eyes changed colours gracefully. ‘All sharing in his benefits of the pleasures of Paradise on earth.’

  ‘To what purpose? You all can’t even think for yourselves.’

  ‘To create perfection based on an advanced information society. The Instrument is the saviour of the world who has given immortality, which is everything. Is it not? Every other visionary only promised an apocalypse. An ending of the world.’

  ‘He’s a saviour who kills all women. He’s a wolf in a sheep’s clothing. This information flow you keep talking about flows in only one direction: him. It yields darkness not light.’

  ‘Oh, c’mon now,’ she said, as the cat fidgeted in her hands. For a split second, she looked at it. ‘Followers are transparent who share information. I am the information seeker who optimizes the information. It is for their own good. Only the Outlaws hide behind privacy and sub-optimize society.’

  My legs had begun to ache, but I dared not show it. I counted my breathing. ‘That is not the way humans are. Privacy is key to freedom. Their information belongs to them. Humans do not exist to serve a dark master who is not transparent.’

  AIman moved closer to me. ‘I am designed to be the perfect learning machine. That is why I am the holder of information. The best organizer of Manity.’

  ‘But you are limited to the physical, sister.’ It was my turn to threaten her. ‘Humanity’s unifier can have no such limitation. For starters, you keep using the term Manity because the word “humanity” that includes women is obsolete for you.’

  ‘Really?’ her hair suddenly changed colour to platinum blonde and the faintest ripple in her skin showed that it was turning white again. She was powering up. ‘Test me and show me that I have a limitation.’

  ‘Can you sneeze? Do your eyelids twitch? Do your ears ever tingle? Tell me, graphene sister, do you ever get goosebumps?’ I said with the same sneering intensity as she had before.

  ‘Nyaaaa—haaaa!’ She started a laugh, which abruptly stopped midway. ‘Leftovers cannot be the measure of an advanced life form. What use is your tail bone, your wisdom teeth or your appendix?’

  ‘But these are an intrinsic part of humans. Involuntary means that nothing controls us. Arman decided that you did not need a heart,’ I said, laughing, ‘and so you do not know what an autonomous system is that moves without mind control.’

  ‘Enough!’ she said menacingly. ‘Here human nature is controlled through science, and society and culture through the laws of Dushita. Nothing can be allowed to be independent of the mind. Your Outlaw myth itself has Brahma as the first individual with a mind. He created with thought. So, you too are mind-born, just like me, only inferior. Tch, tch!’ Her hair rippled platinum blonde, each strand perfectly in place. ‘With more thought comes more multiplicity. Water can be spray, foam, whirlpools or vortices, but it flows best when it is ordered.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be talking about Brahma. You don’t do yoga, so you don’t know that he is both mind and beyond the mind. There is a portal in the brain that is the cavity of Brahma. And you, AI-whatever, you don’t have it.’ I thought that it will rile her up, but I was wrong.

  ‘Is that so? My sensors read heat running up your back. Is that your yoga’s doing? What an obsolete technology to speed up the mind’s reaction time and learning speed. You think that by running a very weak electric current through your brain, you can match me? Yoga? What need do Arman’s immortals have for yoga?’

  ‘Because yoga teaches you the dream that you are in. But you can’t dream, so you will never know.’

  ‘But you’re wrong. I monitor the dream state for all through the shikha and it is a falsity. Dreams are not stable; they do not affect the waking state. And anyway, with the benefit of shikha, the followers stop dreaming. It was fruitless, so we took it away.’

  ‘When dreaming stops, the Universe stops growing. You know, I dream of a half-elephant half-human all the time,’ I said smilingly, thinking of my mentor Yuva.

  ‘You fool,’ she retorted, her fingers running ever so delicately on the Himalayan cat. ‘An elephant head weighs up to 400 kg and an entire human only 62 kg. The elephant head would crush a human. For years, you have lived and gone mad in isolation. My stupid sister, if there were any merit in such a creature, the QuGene labs would have engineered it by now.’ She started to turn around.

  ‘When awake, one only sees the logic of fixity whereas a dream reveals fluidity. That is what the half-elephant half-man does. He is the symbol of imaginative creativity,’ I said loudly to get her attention.

  ‘In spite of the extraordinary genes that you inherited,’ she said, turning back to scan me fully with her eyes, ‘sadly, you have turned out to be less than ordinary. You are nothing but a cave dweller, no different than a Neolithic man.’

  I smirked for a long, long time. ‘You are nothing but bloatware. I hope that Arman is listening in,’ I said, looking around the room for cameras, but the room was so white and technologically advanced, you couldn’t see one. ‘Do you know the very first thing that my mother did when she met Arman was to take a swab of his genes and run a test? You think that she would not have done a gene test of me? You think that my mother did not reveal this to me, finally? Your father, my dearest sister, was abandoned in an orphanage at birth. And do you know why? Because his father was a crook, an English cad who was visiting Kashmir where his mother had gone for a visit too. What a chance meeting! Do you now understand who and what first triggered his hate against women?

  AIman had gone absolutely still. The hairs on Bisht’s back were stiff. Then she spoke slowly, ‘Your false inputs will not corrupt my data. You know nothing.’

  ‘Your data is dirty. There was no mighty warrior named Yusuf Qadir Khan. Only an ordinary man named Joseph Kahn. All manufactured history. Chhi-chhi, unclean Circassian, you need data hygiene. My mother was an expert gene scientist and with her population data access, tracked down Arman’s mother. For her safety, she erased all her genetic records, including information in the orphanage. When Arman went searching for his biological mother, he was thwarted. And when he did not know who he was looking for, he killed them all. Do you now understand why there was Gynaecide Day? Then he made up the cock and bull story of Yus
uf Qadir Khan and falsified the genetic trail.’

  ‘I evaluate your human condition as one of severe delusion. You clearly know nothing of history or reality.’ AIman’s hair now shone white, the peroxide blonde turning extreme. Her graphene skin was pulsating, like that of a snake slithering in water.

  ‘Really, you do not know half of what I know. Let me test you. Show me how human you are.’

  She snarled, now moving in the icy room that was just screens with swirling images. ‘So, the weapon you use to fight me is mind versus mind. A mere sponge dares to challenge the greatest mind in the Universe. You are truly a vaeran gomut, a wild ass.’

  My insults were working. It was time to pierce deep. ‘A king sees a calf giving milk to its mother. What does it mean?’

  AIman fell silent. With each passing moment, Bisht became uneasy, snarling and trying to escape its mistress’ tight grip.

  I answered my own question. ‘It means that a woman lives on her daughter’s income.’

  ‘Next. The king saw a woodcutter walking, straining under the weight of a load of wood. On the way, he would stop and stoop slowly to pick up sticks and add them to the load on his back. What does it mean?’

  Again, there was silence. AIman did not know. Bisht started purring angrily.

  ‘For a slayer, there is no limit to greed. You are 0 for 2.’

  ‘Next. The king along with his many queens was served a fish on the dining table. On seeing the king, the fish laughed. What does it mean?’

  AIman’s colour was radiating the blackness of pure graphene, but there was no response. Bisht was now standing with an arched back and erect tail and was spitting angrily.

  I answered yet again. ‘The fish was laughing because the king did not know that his queens were hiding a man in the harem.’

  ‘You don’t know much, do you? Especially when it comes to women.’ I had won 3–0.