Chosen Spirits

by Samit Basu

  'I used to dream of places like this, as a kid,' Tara says. 'Our local coffee shop was mainly a place for us to go change clothes in before going to clubs. Then, of course, there was a scandal, there were cameras in the bathrooms.'

  Rudra stares at his matcha cheesecake a good while before speaking. 'There are probably cams here as well.'

  'It's different now,' Tara says. 'Now we know.'

  An early batch of ad-drones buzzes outside, promising Ladies Nights and Lao Xiang tribe-finding socials, anti-pollution drones spraying the neighbourhood from far above: sometimes the sounds this market makes remind Rudra of his old neighbourhood, though they look nothing alike. Quite apart from the obvious upscaling of the buildings, he hasn't seen any African immigrants in the last week. The only thing in common is the kids in masks lurking in groups, phones out in every direction, recording everything.

  The expats at the tables nearest them are posh-Asian, and Rudra's only helpful contribution to Tara's life so far has been helping her distinguish them by probable nationality. They've both already messed up with Jin-Young: in a rare burst of social initiative, Rudra had asked him where in Korea he was from, only to be told in Hindi that he was from Lajpat Nagar.

  Jin-Young had told them how a very wasted Indi had met him in India-China Brotherhood Market quite close to their current office, and had hired him on the spot based on Jin-Young's (actually non-existent) resemblance to Comet5's lead singer. Why Indi had thought a billionaire global teen icon would be loitering in Delhi waiting to be hired by a rising local Flower, Jin-Young didn't know. But Rudra knows that's just how Delhi works: at his father's funeral he'd skimmed past several stories about yet another generation of white immigrants who just came to India to do drugs but ended up with top jobs, genius wives and prime land. But these stories were just gateways to the ones they were really worried about: the ones about Chinese businessmen marrying Indians as well, now, no doubt, inspired only by true love and not because it was easier to buy land in their spouse's names. Rudra cannot imagine what the Culture Colony Uncles would have made of Jin-Young's parents' North-South love story: his mother, a North Korean sociology student and drum-group performer at Delhi University, met his father, a Hyundai engineer from central Seoul on a five-year punishment posting, at a Dorama club festival in Chennai, the heart of the Korean-Indian community. The Culture Colony kids would all have loved Jin-Young, though: nearly all of them are K-drama addicts.

  'It's things like that AR history course you showed me that really make me feel my school life was wasted. I don't know if I'll be here long enough to finish it,' says Tara, drawing him back to earth: it's possible he's missed a lot of her thoughts.

  'You can access it from anywhere now that you have an account. I don't think the company will even notice,' he says. 'Just be careful with what you read, because even on the premium net there are always people watching.'

  'I'm not a child.'

  'I'm sorry. Of course you know all this.'

  But he's not sure she knows all this: how dangerous it is to open maps made in other countries, how news from India is completely different depending on where you see it. Does she know who actually runs the East? He doesn't. Some people in his gaming streams say it's China, some say it's Delhi, or a reunited Bengal corporate cartel funded by gods know who. All of these could be true: all these governments could be in operation at the same time. She hasn't grown up hearing about parallel economies, then parallel countries, then parallel internets, all stacked on top of one another like photo filters. He has. Though he can't claim he understood most of it.

  'I know I can trust you to tell me the things I really need to know,' Tara says. 'Can I trust you? To tell me if I'm in any danger, even if it's a secret?'

  He nods and smiles, but it's mostly because he's finally come to a decision. He's going to tell Jin-Young about the video.

  'Then here's my secret. I'm not leaving any time soon,' she says, sipping her tea. 'I'll finish the course.'

  That afternoon, while Indi and Tara flirt for the cameras, Rudra draws Jin-Young aside and tells him what he saw. He's never seen Jin-Young flustered thus far, and is disappointed that he doesn't seem even mildly surprised to hear that someone, possibly Indi himself, is running a sex-tape operation out of Indi's bedroom.

  'I'm glad you came to me,' Jin-Young says. 'We should take this to the funders at once, and ask them what should be done.'

  Rudra often thinks of himself as a fool, but he can spot an obvious coup in progress when he sees it. And he’d thought Jin-Young was the one person in the team who’d definitely be loyal to Joey. It’s a shame: Jin-Young had seemed so nice, they'd bonded over living in South-Del immigrant neighbourhoods, about knowing what the warning signals for a police crackdown were, knowing how to get along with and occasionally shelter climate change refugees and medical immigrants from Burkina Faso, Gabon, Zimbabwe and Swaziland. Jin-Young had been very impressed with him for being able to tell people from different African countries apart.

  'I thought Indians were as racist as Koreans,' Jin-Young had said, and had then endeared himself to Rudra considerably by spending at least ten minutes trying to come up with a non-racist explanation of what he'd just said, despite Rudra assuring him repeatedly that he wasn't offended in the least. He'd thought they could become brothers in awkwardness, even if Jin-Young was light years ahead of him in terms of faking style. That they could sit together for years, watching the bar for minimum acceptable human behaviour standards slide lower and lower, and occasionally make off-colour comments about it, preferably while drinking. Even the idea of this is the best friendship Rudra has ever had.

  But there's no excuse for this nakedly Joey-undermining plan, and Rudra knows he has to go talk to Joey at once: he has committed himself to a life of endless intrigue. Perhaps Jin-Young senses him withdrawing, because he corrects himself.

  'By funders I mean Joey, of course — everything through the proper channels. I've heard of several cases where the talent has jeopardised the whole company.' Jin-Young is disappointed to hear that Rudra hasn't got any actual evidence: Rudra can see him wondering if all this is a trap, and is mildly pleased that he isn't the only completely paranoid person in this building.

  'I believe you, but no one else will, you understand? I need you to record this on your phone and stream it to me the next time it happens,' Jin-Young says. 'We certainly can't make these accusations without video proof.'

  'So I'm supposed to stay up every night with a camera pointed at my screen?'

  'Every night Indi has a guest, yes. If you like, I could move in and wait with you.'

  'No need,' Rudra says. 'I'll come to you and Joey when I have something.'

  Jin-Young nods. 'Don't discuss this with anyone else,' he says. Rudra wishes he hadn’t brought it up at all.

  Over the course of the week he's been impressed by Tara's shapeshifting abilities, something he's noticed in other people who grew up with a better sense than he had of how feudal the world actually is, and how much they'd have to do to fit in. To Joey she's a wide-eyed student, to the entourage a polite but demanding superior. With Indi she'd been playing it mildly mysterious — flirtatious, attentive. but distant enough to let him know he needed to woo her a little. Joey had stopped using their attraction stats off the smartatt extension within a couple of days: 'It's like the government's air quality index numbers, the truth is bad for morale.' They'd just been faking the whole relationship for days now, based on audience comments. If their physical readings are to be believed, Indi's attraction to Tara has fallen drastically, and Tara finds everyone in the building repulsive: the Flow's lead romantic couple isn’t compatible at all.

  But that was then. Now, it's like Tara's downloaded an update that's reprogrammed her to see Indi as an object of absolute fascination. His every utterance is hypnotic, his every movement breathtaking. Under her rapt gaze, Indi absolutely blossoms: he's revealing dreams and aspirations that have Joey shaking her head.

  'I
've always wanted to be an animated character,' he tells her as they hang out in the penthouse drawing room. 'I want my people to learn dance from me in VR worlds.'

  'You can dance too? I love dancing, I trained in-’

  'In VR, I can do anything, and so can my fans. They'll win fights playing me in wrestling games, I'll pop up on their phones when they're drunk and tell them to take a cab instead of driving.'

  Joey has to cut away to a recap after a few minutes of this, to tell Indi not to give away their entire programming schedule before the sponsors are locked. He's visibly irritated by this, but when he's live again he switches to personal stories: how he'd moved to Bombay to become an actor and moved back because all the male stars he'd hung out with kept showing him naked photos of themselves and he didn't want to become a person that self-obsessed. Tara has stories as well, about growing up in Jaipur and running away during the 2026 riots. It turns out they'd been auditioning in Bombay at around the same time, and they run various scenarios about how they might have met in audition lines. The viewers eat all of this up: already people are dream-casting recent Bollywood hits with Indi and Tara as the leads.

  Rudra watches Tara in wonder: she seems to have genuinely fallen in love with Indi over the course of one day. Is this Stockholm Syndrome taking effect? In the story breakdown the writer team has given them, Tara hasn't moved in as yet: her room is not a part of the floor section that's used as Indi's penthouse. But if their chemistry keeps working at this level, it's only a matter of time until Indi reaches the move-in plot point. Unless he's being cynical and Tara's just responding to Indi's charm? Rudra has felt a bit of it himself: it's not like he and Indi have actually hung out this week, but even their few minutes together have involved Indi providing useful mentorship, excellent male-bonding punchlines and occasional inspiring quote-drops. In his presence, Rudra finds himself very fond of Indi, laughing or groaning with the rest of the crew as he goes about his Flow. It's only when he's alone in his suite, watching Indi on his screens, that he wishes he could edit the Flowstar clean out of his life instead of helping to build his image, pixel by pixel, moment by strategic-charisma moment.

  'What brought me back here was not just the rejection, or the struggle,' says Indi, staring into the middle distance as the sun begins to set over the ICB market rooftops, 'It was the need to be near the people I understand and trust, my spiritual community. I'd done so much free work for people I admired, for “exposure”, before I saw those people were going to drain me of anything that might be unique about me, and I almost lost myself to them, you know? It was the emotional labour, not just the physical. I swore I'd never do that to the people in my life if I ever became someone important.’

  ‘I also believe that collaboration is the key to humanity’s future,’ Tara volunteers, but Indi’s in Flow. He raises the stakes at once, and turns to cam.

  ‘I'd find my people and stick with them, and together we'd build something new and amazing. So I know I'm not supposed to say this on my Flow, but I think my fans will understand and forgive me. You people, yes all you behind the camera, who give up so much for me and the people who see this? You're my family. I thank you. And I love you.'

  Rudra looks around the room, and everyone's staring at Indi with real love in their eyes. Jin-Young applauds silently. Joey shakes her head, hiding a reluctant smile. Tara's almost in tears.

  That night, when the video tab pops back up on Rudra's screen, of course Tara's in Indi's room, and Rudra feels no surprise.

  For a single second that lasts forever, he watches Indi pull her T-shirt over her head. Then he's up, out of his room, forgetting to breathe as he sprints across the hall. He bangs on Indi's door like the house is on fire.

  'Go away!' Indi calls.

  'I'm sorry, something's wrong. You need to stop.'

  When Indi pulls his bedroom door open a minute later, he's clearly furious. Tara's on his bed, wholly clad. She doesn't meet Rudra's eyes.

  'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' Indi's voice is ice.

  'A video popped up on my screen,' Rudra says. 'From this room.'

  Indi considers this for a second. 'Is it going live?'

  'No.'

  Indi walks over to the edit suite, Rudra a step behind. He stares at the tab, which shows Tara hugging her knees on his bed, rocking back and forth.

  'How long has this been happening?' asks Indi.

  Rudra considers his options. 'Once before,' he says. 'I didn't know what to do.'

  'When, yesterday?'

  'Yeah.'

  He watches Indi wondering whether or not to hit him: he clearly wants to hit someone.

  'Get the fuck out of my house,' Indi says finally.

  When Jin-Young finds Rudra an hour later, he's just wandering the ICB Market lanes, watching drunk people stagger out of clubs, watching tearful farewells and breakups, watching policemen and criminals wait in shadowy corners for their chosen prey, watching a pair of holo-ad dancers loop relentlessly in invitation over rolling giant dice at a casino entrance. Rudra's been mistaken for many things in this time: a drug dealer, a driver, a pimp. He stares hollowly at Jin-Young as he approaches, blue hair reflecting bright neon signs around him.

  'Where were you?' Jin-Young shouts. 'I've been calling you for ages.'

  'I don't know,' Rudra says. 'Just... I didn't have anywhere to go.'

  'Well, stop doing drama and come back to the house,' Jin-Young says. 'Everyone has questions.'

  The meeting is in Indi's bedroom. He's asked Tara to wait outside. They've found the hidden camera: it's tiny, and was embedded in the room's smart sensors, which is why the scans missed it. Joey tosses it from one hand to the other. She looks half asleep: Rudra notices her Yak-Yakshi shorts with something that will turn into amusement one day.

  'Joey says she trusts you, but I still think you fucked up,' Indi says. 'But no one else seems to have heard about this, so you're not fired.'

  'Do you know who it is?' Rudra asks.

  'I think it's my bloody cousin, but obviously he's not answering.' Indi glares around his bedroom as if to yank out more hidden surveillance equipment with the power of rage alone.

  'So here's something to ask yourself, Rudra,' Joey says. 'Do you think that friend of yours, Chopra, could be behind this? Since we met, he's been trying to invest in our company, and to hire me for some government thing. I looked him up, and he's really not someone we can fight.'

  'I don't know,' he says. 'I don't think I'm important enough.'

  'Well, our funders have been approached by a few political think-tanks. They're actually very pleased about it,' Joey says. 'Maybe we made more of an impression on him than we realised.'

  'I don't think this is about Rudra or you,' Indi says. 'Obviously one of the big companies got to my cousin.'

  'Obviously,' Joey says. 'Listen, I never asked you why you fired him, but if there's anything that puts the whole team in danger, tell us. You might as well tell us now.'

  'We had a fight about something,' says Indi. 'Actually, that's probably why he set up the camera in the first place. But I don't think we should worry about it. Look, even if he leaks some sex video of mine, it only helps our ratings. And we can always say it was faked. Right?'

  'Would you prefer talking to the guys in Legal?' Joey asks. 'I understand if you're not comfortable telling us, but I need to stay ahead of whatever story's coming up. I'll have them come in and brief you.'

  'No, absolutely not, I hate those guys. Just... forget about it, okay? We need to have better security, though. Rudra, I'm putting you in charge of that.'

  'Really,' Joey says.

  'And Joey, I don't appreciate that tone. I've had a few people over, but there's no story you need to worry about. You have no idea how much stress it is, being me.'

  Rudra looks at Joey, and winces in anticipation of whatever she's going to say: across the room, Jin-Young does the same. But Joey says nothing.

  'Don't look at me like that,' Indra snaps.

>   He rolls his eyes as she storms out.

  Later that night, Rudra sits alone at his screens, playing Blockhead with another international cabal. There's a soft tap on his shoulder. It's Tara. He pulls off his headphones.

  She puts a finger under his chin, tilts his face up, and kisses him, very quickly, very gently.

  'I'm glad you're here,' she whispers, and walks away.

  Rudra wants to run after her, but doesn't know what to do when he catches her, or what to say, and there are eyes in the walls.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  VIRTUAL REALITY MEETINGS are the kind Joey usually hates least. She loves the idea of spending more time alone in her flat, of not having to worry about body-language signals or enemy-turf micro-emotion facial scanners. She would have taken all meetings in her bedroom, dressed in carefully defiant pyjamas, naked on formal occasions. But of course Indi doesn't like to do meetings alone. He used to be mystified, in college, when she insisted they spend some time apart. The first time they'd slept together, it was only because he'd timed it perfectly right, and told her he was scared of sleeping alone, and all the traffic lines on her phone were red.

  It hasn't been a good morning. She'd run out into the lobby to find two building guards pushing a maid around. Someone had robbed the Israeli couple's flat, and they needed someone to blame, and were interrogating the maid. She'd yelled at the couple, who were standing to one side, watching, shaking their heads like they were very sad about all this, but what else could be done? She'd yelled at the guards, who'd asked her to file a complaint with the Association, and promised not to beat the maid too much.