Chosen Spirits

by Samit Basu

  The maid's face, first when Joey intervened, and then when she looked at the time and ran, stayed with her all through the quick drive to ICB Market. That, and for some reason, the girl who'd left the audition after Uma, whose name Joey’s already forgotten, if she ever knew it.

  'You're all monsters,' she'd said.

  It's just her and Indi in the meeting today, and they're sprawled on beanbags in the penthouse living room, helmets on heads, haptic gloves covering most of their arms. She'd taken a certain pleasure in leaving Jin-Young out. She's chosen to believe he was trying to protect her from Indi's home-porn venture, not using it to upstage her. But she's learnt very quickly to send clear signals to her teams when they've overstepped, which they do quite often. Another thing Jin-Young doesn't know — and they'll all get fired if the funders find out — is that Rudra's added Cyber Bazaar pirate plugins to their Mixed Reality sets, so they can record their meeting, and even share it live.

  Rudra's hooked into the meeting as well, from his edit suite. He'd pulled the extremely illegal pirate-tech out of a decaying rucksack quite casually, and told her he used it to share streamed shows and games with his always-broke neighbours, mainly so they would get off his sofa and go back home. Joey had hesitated a long while before asking him to participate, but she needs him for a very specific reason. The Flowco's mysterious new investor is leading today's meeting, and she needs Rudra to see if he's an access-Brahmin friend of his family.

  When their Narads are done setting up and testing everyone's connections, Joey and Indi warp in, to discover their virtual selves sitting on mats on a tropical beach. Before the others arrive, Joey does the customary once-over of her sim's yoga-influencer body, and resists the urge to jump up and launch into lewd dance routines.

  The sea is calm, and there's a perfect digital sunset behind them. There are dolphins in the distance, taking turns leaping out of the water, squeaking in identical audio-loops each time. Joey's never seen a single meeting environment without at least one overdone element. The others appear one by one: Funder Radha, Founder Karan, and three strangers. Joey and Indi are evidently the least rich people in the conversation: they're using scenario-determined avatar bodies (beachwear-clad, in this instance) with their faces awkwardly pasted on the heads, but all the others have hologram avatars of their real-world suit-clad bodies. A tragic waste of Indi's many abs, really. The funders introduce them to three representatives of their new investors: Li Yun, a celebrity-incubator mentor from Hong Kong; Stephen, an election consultant from London; and their leader, Nikhil Nick To Friends, from a private jet but originally from Delhi. They all look as if they're in their early 30s. Joey's seen far worse. She's impressed by the extensive work Nick To Friends has had done on personalised rotoscoping, so his avatar always seems slightly better defined than the others, his features just that little bit more chiselled. He must be very important.

  -- They put us on mats and got stools for themselves, Indi growls on private chat.

  -- Just let it go, Joey messages.

  -- Our backs are to the sunset. Petty shit. Always petty shit.

  -- It doesn't matter.

  She knows it's pointless trying to hold Indi back when he feels like he's not being treated well: he's told her several times she doesn't understand this aspect of the business, and should just leave the primate-dominance manoeuvring to him. They've argued about this before, it's always ended with her ragequitting after Indi's use of the word 'nuance.' He tells the funders he doesn't like this beach, and asks for a more interesting background. Joey's glad Li Yun's present as well: once, before face-ID in meetings, Indi's location-shift demands had led to a producer switching on a strip club backdrop because he hadn't realised Joey was a woman.

  -- I don't know any of these people, Rudra messages on super-private chat. Can I go?

  -- No. Be useful. Stalk them online, give me background.

  The funders change the setting: it's now some sort of Greek ruin, surrounded by hills, and they're all seated on pillar stumps. High-res birds fly in perfect circles around purple clouds above them. She and Indi are now in toga-clad avatars, faces now starkly brown over white bodies, their hosts in somewhat more ornate togas draped over their holo-suits. Fortunately Indi doesn't notice, and now the actual work can begin.

  'Everything in this conversation's covered by blanket non-disclosure, standard procedure, the forms should be arriving on your screen now. Sign them,' says Nikhil. After they've wiggled their fingers dutifully, Nikhil waves imperially, and a slideshow starts playing between two massive Corinthian pillars behind him as Nick To Friends explains who he is.

  If he's to be believed, Nikhil's the man behind most of the innovations that have kept mainstream Bollywood theatres alive over the last few years. He claims he's responsible for the segregation of screenings into 'Proud Patriotic' and 'Luxury International', forcing every filmmaker to shoot at least two versions of their stories. Joey's less convinced by his claim to have invented the new half-hour Emotion Moments screenings, that just show fights, songs and assorted Loving Family, Comedy, Sad, Inspiring Lessons and Indian Feelings Moments. And she's absolutely sure he's lying when he says he's behind India's first AR-integrated film franchise, a small-town remake of a noughties religious children's animation show. She knows the two women who actually made that.

  'Here's something no one knows about me,' Nikhil says with the air of a man who's told this story in a thousand meetings, 'I was also the lead investor in the Pure India open-world game. My partners thought I was crazy — do you know why?'

  'Yes,' Joey says.

  'Nick, no matter how much money you make, don't do it, they said. Like, we all want to run around shooting commies, illegals, tribals and backwards, sure, but a game where you do it and post your videos? The woke elites will fuck you up, they said. I told them they'd just do our marketing for free. They came on board then, because they know me. I bought a mansion in Berlin when I sold my stake.'

  'Was this before or after people started the actual killing videos with the game's music?' Indi asks.

  'Well before, man. Listen, the game had nothing to do with that, people have been posting kill-vids for like ten-fifteen years in India. Point is: I change the playing field, whatever the game is, and if you stick with me, your life changes. You're not an Icon yet, Indi Mathew. Why is that?'

  Joey can't remember when she's immediately hated anyone more. Rudra returns with information: there isn't any data available on Nikhil, or Li Yun, or Stephen: nothing on the web except corporate press release jargon-pits. All personal socials locked, no Flows, no pictures — though Li Yun face-matches closely with one of the Chinese pop singers who went missing recently after a social ratings fraud scandal. They're a corporate assassin squad, they leave no traces. She asks Rudra to tell his AI to look harder, and is surprised to find he doesn't use an AI assistant, so this is all he can get her. So either they're access-Brahmins with the ability to control their public data trail, or they're just made-up avatars, shell people, and anyone could be behind them. Neither of these are good options.

  -- Can I go now, Rudra texts.

  -- No.

  'I've been watching your Flow, man, from the very beginning. I'm a massive Indi stan, but I'm going to put those feelings in a box, I have to talk straight, man to man. We've got to change a few things up in your game.'

  Joey can almost hear a pre-recorded beat in the background as Nikhil takes them through a quick presentation about Indi's career so far. She has to admit, reluctantly, that she agrees with most of his insights. It's only about ten minutes in that she realises why. They're not his insights, they're hers, repackaged from her reports and proposals to the funders. A lot of the slides are direct swipes. They haven't bothered to change the text, but they have changed the animations, and the colours on the graphs. The funders are lapping it up, and Indi seems enthralled as well. They're probably seeing them for the first time.

  -- This is all stuff I've told you, she messages. />
  -- Relax, I know, he texts. Put your hand gestures on Auto. You're looking hostile.

  Thanks to his excellent advice, no one can see Joey giving them all the finger in the real world a second later. She can't see her hands, but she can feel them sweating.

  Unmoved by her withering gaze, Nikhil delivers his essential pitch, a standard new-boss move: that Indi has everything it takes to be a global Flow Icon, and the only thing holding him back is his present strategy team. Joey would have panicked if she were less used to this. It's quite evident Nikhil is far too big a deal to really care about who manages Indi. All of this is just a stone tossed in the waters.

  'If you were a western Flowstar, your game would be right up there,' Nikhil says. 'But let's stop pretending that we live in Hollywood. They brainwashed us, man. Made us believe they were better, so even when they showed us they weren't we didn't believe them. We're still copying their methods, even though it always fails.'

  'Maybe your generation,' Indi says, and Joey fist-pumps next to him like a child, 'But we grew up seeing bad news out of the West. Corruption, racism, inequality, Nazis, all the stuff we have here. They've been letting the world know who they are since I was in my teens. Old people didn't know, but we never thought America was better than us. I'm a minority here as well, but I never tried to move.'

  This is news to Joey, because Indi had most definitely tried to move, and she had done all the paperwork, but she sees how bringing that up might not be a great idea.

  'Nice try, bro, but I see right through it,' Nikhil says. 'You're a Flowstar: you bought into everything they sold us. They turned you all into little heroes, you thought were chosen, special.'

  'America didn't invent the human ego, Nick.'

  'No, but they led the world into the Great Regression. Now we have to fight back.'

  'How?'

  'Know where you are, see where you're from. Read your own programming, then hack it. Once you get where you belong in the real India, you can rule it.'

  'I've lost count of the number of times people told me I didn't understand the real India,' Indi says.

  -- Not this again, texts Joey.

  About India debates can go on for days once Indi gets into them.

  'Well, tell me then. What is India about?' Nikhil asks.

  'I feel like you're going to tell me.'

  'India is about staying the same but acting like you're going to change soon. That's all it is. You're an insider, Indi. Minority, English-type, whatever. You stay in, because you follow the rules. You see what you need to be in line with, and when the rules change, you change faster. You serve the king until you're king one day, and you make the rules. And that's the core of what you do, every single day.'

  -- How much will you pay me if he brings up the Ramayan within five minutes? Joey asks.

  -- Two minutes. I'll get lunch.

  'Look at the biggest stars, all the Icons in any field, all through our history,' says Nikhil. 'They can come from anywhere, but in the end, for them to rise to the throne, the people must see them as Ram.'

  -- Should I order? Joey hasn’t smiled this much at a meeting in years.

  -- Shut up.

  -- What do you feel like?

  'Sushi,' says Indi, and realises too late he's said it out loud. Nikhil stops his presentation: his digital face looks irritated.

  'This is like sushi,' Indi improvises. 'It's neatly packaged, solid ingredients, but frankly we've seen this before — Joey's presented these theories to us every time we have strategy meetings. A few screens of obey the rules, and then a few screens of be a disruptor, be both, be everything. I can’t. There’s nothing I can do to belong as much as some super-Hindu good-boy. And I’m not going to turn into a monster for shock numbers. There are people in UP Flowing lynchings and mob attacks — they have amazing stats. And I’m not going do one of those Mix Two Popular Things and Make a New Thing flows, like those Hard-Akhada wrestle-rappers. I don't want those eyeballs. So I don't do those things.'

  Joey can never hear Indi talking about his dignified restraint without images from his live-streaming stunt-reality-show life flashing before her eyes. The sight of Nikhil unconsciously mirroring a statue in the distance is actually relaxing.

  'I get it. But you've maxed your current character’s stats, bro. Who do you want to be next?' Nikhil asks.

  Joey watches the funders and Nikhil's team as Indi launches into his standard spiel about slowly expanding into a global sensation in a dynamic and diversifying culturespace. They haven't moved in a while. She's never done meetings in hologram form, but she's convinced there must be a setting where they can set their avatars to an auto mode, where they just sit and nod while Radha and Karan wander off, perhaps play golf. Li Yun and Whatshisface Britman are probably off buying more companies. She's done it herself a few times, on days when Indi's feeling expansive, wander around the penthouse with the meeting on her earphones, get a snack, any other mundane household activity rendered thrilling because it's forbidden. She doubts the funders ever watch cam footage of the house: if they do, they've never said anything. There have been several meetings where Indi's faded from boredom or sheer exhaustion and turned on his phone, the one taboo act in these meetings: you never know who else is listening. Her helmet always feels crushingly heavy at these times: the urge to fling it away and run around the house, shrieking and throwing her clothes off, becomes overwhelming.

  'Indi, Indi, Indi, please tell me you're not an Indian who thinks the rest of the world might find you interesting,' Nikhil says when Indi's done.

  'I totally am, Nikhil.'

  'The Americans, even the ones that look like you, care about your Flows just as much as they care about people dying in this country. As much as you care about whatever insane shit people outside your bubble are facing. It’s how the world is wired. Look. If you want to be West-facing, there are specific roles you can fill. And you need to customise your content to fit those roles, and you're not doing that.'

  'Specific roles?'

  'I assume you know? You have to be a Spice Boy. You have to be the Hot Exotic, or the Mystical Guru, or the Suffering Savage, or the Culture Translator. Or Tech Support, I suppose. The slots are full. And obviously you have to move your ass across the world.’

  'There are exceptions.'

  ‘First-generation ones? Where? You could take a crack at it, maybe, but you'd start at the bottom. It's a long climb. I suppose you could get there, but the return on investment is very low. We won't take that journey with you. You think immigration categories and border controls are just for your body?'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Over here you're always making the laws. Over there you're always filling in a visa form. In India, people look at you to discover what is good, what is cool. You're a demigod. In the West, you'd be another fucking immigrant. They'll want to measure you, test you, give you cavity searches, put you in a box, send you back. Even if they let you in, they'll tolerate you at best. Just for the eyeballs you'd bring, but they don't really care. Your children might be stars. That's not what you want.'

  ‘People have done it, Nikhil.’

  'Sure. They're geniuses right out of the gate. To do well worldwide, you'll have to be a genius. You know I love you, but you're not a genius.'

  She can hear Indi growling. She wonders if he knows he does it out loud.

  -- Can we not fight with the new investor? Joey asks.

  -- Who the fuck does he think he is?

  -- Just say yes to everything, let him move on, we go back to normal.

  Nikhil is far from done. 'The fact is, bro, you don't have it made in India either. The people here who like you now, your biggest fans? They're high-end, trend-conscious, always looking for the next big thing. They need to discover someone fresh they can add to their trophy collections. But one day — and this is about three months away, for you, we see the numbers — they'll find the next trend, and they'll drop you.'

  'I guess I should check a
nd see if any other Flowco wants me,' Indi says.

  'Please, don't even go there,' Nikhil says. 'Like, just skip those moves. This Flow trend? It won't last. It'll get buried by fucking billions of three-second videos from nobodies. And then the Chinese will figure out some way to automate even that. New shit is always on the way, and the hoops you have to jump through keep getting smaller. You'll have to spend the rest of your career leaping from bubble to bubble, hoping the audience comes with you, while younger and hotter kids snap at your heels.'

  'Nice to know I'm valued.'

  'This is the best day of your career, Indi. Day Zero.'

  'Because you're here now to save me?'

  'Yeah. And we're going to absolutely crush the competition. You and me, we're the same. We're monsters, baby.’

  And Joey finds she can't breathe.

  Her smartatt goes berserk. She takes off her helmet, slowly, and the cool air-conditioned air hitting her face is the most pleasure she's felt in a long time. She places it on the floor, ashamed of her trembling hands. A few deep breaths, and she feels a little better, though the room's spinning slightly. She's sweating all over. She reaches for her phone, and another spell of dizziness hits her, this one worse: she rises, and totters towards the bathroom. Indi pulls off a glove and gestures: what? She reaches for his hand, squeezes it, and stumbles away.

  She turns on her phone in the bathroom. Narad has much to say, about panic attacks and heart attack risks: she's already sent Joey's doctor her readings. Joey swipes Narad silent, and grips the comfortingly cool washbasin, reminding herself how to breathe. Her ears are pounding and bright red.

  She calls her building, and asks the manager what happened with the maid in the morning. 'It's all right,' the manager says. 'They left their window open, and some birds flew in and made a mess, and they think we are all thieves, na madam?'

  'The guards can't push the staff around like that,' Joey says.