Destiny

Do you believe in destiny?

Dear Leo,

Do you believe in destiny?

Fate, what is written in your future, that sort of thing? I mean, we used to talk about stuff like this, right? To be fair, we used to talk about our futures, what we would do. You in your fancy job, making bank outside the country; me trying to make ends meet, slogging away at the dispatches. We weren’t so wrong about any of that, were we?

It’s just, maybe we should have thought about the fates of those around us too. We are all destiny’s children, the children of midnight. 

While we played at guesswork, the world changed around us. 

I know, I know, I’ve gotten maudlin again. Old habit. I don’t write that much these days. The on-the-job training keeps me very busy. So pretty much the only writing I get done is writing you. You will excuse me if it is ...a little more involved than you expect. I don’t just want to tell you the things that happened. If you ever read these, I want you to feel like you understood how I felt about what's happening to me, to us. 

Yesterday, I woke up early enough, but Betaal didn’t appear. I figured it was going to be an off day, so I tried to read. That did not work. My mind was still occupied both by the conversation Betaal had last had with me, and the call I had received the night before. You remember I wrote to you about that, right?

I needed to know more about Betaal, I needed to know more about the other Vikrams. But Betaal had explicitly warned me against trying to search for them on a Devi. The news was unreliable, even if I could somehow find archives from far back enough. So the only thing left to me was to ask him questions when he arrived next. If he did. 

There was also the small matter of the unidentified voice that had asked me to meet them at Swatantrata. I had no idea who they were. But if they were right, maybe they had answers to my questions? I had so many of them, and I paced on them for hours, I can’t even tell. At some point, Mom came into my room.

“I’m going out”, she said.

I made noises of acknowledgement. 

Mom looked at me, that usual piercing stare. “Will you take care of Dad?”

“I...sure.” I replied. Then I saw the clock. 

“I need to be out later tonight though.” 

“How late?” An edge had entered into Mom’s voice. 

“Not very. Ten o’clock max.” I already knew what was coming.

“Why do you want to roam around like this after curfew? Is it difficult to come home by evening?” Her voice was calm, but you know how that’s completely a bad sign, right?

“It’s just this once, Mom, I have not been out in forever. I just need to be out for an hour, tops” I replied, just as calm. 

We will never stop being kids to her, ever.

“Fine”, she relented eventually, “But make sure you set dinner for Dad before you go.” She was silent for a while, before asking, “Where are you going?”

I was unsure of what to say, obviously I couldn’t tell her I was going to meet a stranger to figure out why my life was in danger.

“I’m just meeting a friend, Mom. They work late too, so we don’t really get to meet anymore.” 

She was definitely regretting her decision to say okay, (I’m pretty sure by now she’s wised up to my trick of using “they” when I don’t want to let on the gender of the person I’m meeting) but she wasn’t about to back out of it.

“Why do you only have friends like this, child? All midnight’s children only.”

What beautiful music we make, Mom, you would never know.

I obviously didn’t say anything else, so she had to push again.

“Say one extra rosary for Beena Aunty. You didn’t ask where I am going so I am telling you. Beena Aunty’s son’s results are due today. I’m going with her to the Smriti Institute. So just pray for her and her son.”

“Okay, Mom, I will.” Fat lot of good that would do, I said to myself but not out loud. Anything to get her to leave. 

She huffed slightly and walked away. 

Once she was gone, I tried a few light exercises. The leg was still a bit sore from the earlier injury. But it was definitely healing faster, so I could manage much more than I expected. I set the horn out in the balcony, where it could catch some of the sunlight, and let it charge. I didn’t always get that opportunity, so I didn’t want to waste it. Then I went back to trying to search the Ogee networks for any mention of sea creatures or Outsiders, avoiding the words “Matsya” or “Vikram”. Occasional references to the Vanga Navy aside, there was almost nothing in the news I could find that fit the bill.   

By evening, the sunlight had gone from the balcony, so I packed the horn away. Mom wasn’t back yet. So I went about getting dinner ready. Once it was all prepared, I took a plate in for Dad. With an eye on the clock, I woke him up to eat. 

He seemed better yesterday, by the way. He sat up straight, all by himself when I asked him to have dinner. His eyes were unfocused and he didn’t speak much. When I asked him what he had done all day, he just said, “Slept.”

When he was done, I cleared away the plates. As I was leaving, he grabbed my arm and pulled me close. He didn’t say anything, but he seemed like for a moment he was staring very intently at my ear. He must have seen the implant.

“It’s for work, Dad. I just use it to make reports easier.”

“Who...who are you?” He started to ask. He does that sometimes, very rarely though. It’s been getting worse, but, right now it’s manageable. 

I guess I had probably exhausted him. He kept staring at me in a mix of recognition and confusion. 

It only lasted a few seconds. His hand went limp, and he petered out mid-sentence. 

It’s a bit sad to see, honestly. Can you imagine that is what we have to look forward to? That’s our fate. If genetics has much to do with it.

I let Dad rest, locked up and left the house.

It takes slightly longer to walk to Swatantrata Chitragruh these days from our house, because of the cordon paths doubling back on themselves to restrict traffic. I took one of the back alleys I’ve gotten used to and made good time. 

The streetlights were only half on, and I could see a fair number of iCleaner drones doing patrol and cleanup duty. I saw maybe one or two other people, most of them milling around near Amba Hospital. From afar, the marquee was half visible. It proudly proclaimed its latest offering, Sindhu, the tenth instalment in the GovDrone universe. A large poster of a female android with glasses and an old-school khaki uniform was plastered above. I don’t know if you watched any arrie in the GovDrone series but if you did, honestly, I would be a little disappointed. 

Swatantrata had the lights on in full. Clearly they could foot the electricity bill. I think iCleaner Entertainment has actually acquired them too, because I haven’t heard of a single good arrie that got released there recently. 

The lights on the outside road though, were only half up. I could see a dull light there, glowing and dimming. A trap? Maybe. But it was someone who could afford a vapemask.

They saw me and stepped towards me, into the beam of the streetlight.

Do you remember me telling you about some SATARC agents visiting us at home? It was one of them, it was Aarti.

“You come alone?”

I nodded warily.

She slipped out a sort of square black box from a pocket, jammed a button hard and looked around, her eyes darting.

As soon as she pressed the button, a scratchy whine started up in my implant. I nearly touched it reflexively, but I managed to control the impulse. She was watching me the entire time. It had to be some kind of jamming device that would prevent Betaal from reaching me.

Aarti spoke softly and clearly and I can remember every word she said. 

“I’m only going to say this once. You are in danger. The people you work for now, they are lying to you. You mean nothing to them. We have been on their tail for years, but they are elusive. But you can help us. You can save us an incredible amount of time and effort. And you can avoid putting yourself and your family at risk. This has to end. If you commit to them, the fate they have in store for you… it will not be pretty. I will not be able to save you. Your choice. I will contact you in 24 hours. You can let me know where your loyalties lie.”

She turned and began to walk away. 

I shouted, “Wait!” 

She did not turn around at all, and as she walked into the darkness, the whine in my ears died away as well. 

When I got back home, Mom was sitting in the living room. Beena Aunty was with her, her pregnancy weight mostly gone, sobbing and shaking. Mom was holding her, consoling her. She looked daggers at me, so I went to the kitchen and got some water for Aunty.

Between her lamentations and Mom’s curt replies, I filled in the gaps. Turns out Beena Aunty’s new son’s genome patrika indicates he’s a Menial Worker with Peon rising, Class II employee at best. That kid’s fate is sealed. 

I’d like to believe that some day maybe Beena Aunty’s son will show them up, become a racecar driver or a netcon. But the Smriti Institute is rarely wrong. You know how my genome patrika clearly said Journalist/Media Personality, with Yoga trainer and School Teacher in the first and second houses. Here I am. I might be wielding an Outsider weapon for now, but I am, at my heart, a writer and always will be.

Can you fight that kind of destiny, written bone deep in your flesh, from the day you were born?

I don’t know any more.

Love

N

PS: Aarti hasn’t contacted me yet, which is probably best, because I don’t know if I have a decision. What do you think?