Dawn

by Rakesh K Kaul

  The Suth fighter drew first blood. He had surprised both his opponent and the audience when they saw that he was ambidextrous. He was able to throw twice the number of stones with both his hands, the spins varying and making it difficult for the opponent to duck. Soon, the Ahalamar was bleeding.

  ‘The Ahalamar fighter won’t last long,’ Tegh remarked. As if he had heard Tegh, the Ahalamar made a switch earlier than planned and picked up the round stones. These were the size of tennis balls but heavier and lethal. The heat of his flowing blood had given him an added intensity, and he got his first hit. The sound of the ribs cracking in the chest of the Suth warrior, his cry of pain, made the audience wince.

  The two now went at each other using all their strengths to hit with as many stones as possible. One missile after the other hit the warriors, breaking bones, rupturing flesh and mangling organs. But they were beyond caring. With each hit, the crowd went ‘Ahhhh!’

  ‘That’s Arman’s deeply immersive, Vicarious Reality experience for you,’ Yaniv said. ‘The crowd can feel the thrill, every move, every hit, every breath. All being fed by AIman.’

  The fighters no longer had any feeling left, they were gasping for breath. I winced at the violence, the gore, the pain. What awaited us? ‘For them, it is for pride and glory, while rebirth awaits them anyway,’ said Tan, observing me with some concern. I gave a slight nod and looked ahead.

  Then the Ahalamar fighter stuck his left hand inside his pants. He pulled out a small sling! Within the flash of an eye, he had cocked it with the heaviest stone in his arsenal and let it fly. It sped like a cannonball and hit the Suth warrior in the forehead with such force that he fell down dead. ‘The man never saw it coming,’ Tegh concluded.

  There was complete pandemonium now! The Suth tribe cried ‘Cheat, cheat, cheat’ at the Ahalamar fighter. I saw that the emotions of the crowd were now completely out of control. Tabah, spinning his whip, was executing his mission to a T. I smiled at my friend who was in the traitor’s belly.

  The audience now split evenly and there was a free-for-all. The AIman clones designed to please their masters followed suit and started attacking each other. ‘With these many people, AIman surely is exerting maximum dose to calm the crowd—a mix of serotonin and other drugs through the shikha,’ said Yaniv, observing AIman whose hair was changing colour rapidly. The bloodthirsty crowd settled back but kept glaring at the opposite camp with occasional growls. Arman watched delightedly, since this would create trillions of packets of information—entertainment that would last him for days. The shikha men could be manipulated easily and AIman controlled any eventuality, so there was no fear of a mob getting out of hand.

  Tegh, who was watching Arman through the monitors intently, remarked, ‘It’s time.’ We all turned to look at him. ‘The crowd has tasted gladiator blood. Now we will be stepping in an arena surrounded by man-eaters. It’s our time.’

  The boys turned to look at me.

  I was past my feelings. I smiled a cold smile. ‘Remember, your eyes and mind should only be on me. Forget everything else.’

  Nodding, the boys too smiled caringly as their eyes became moist and heavy.

  ‘Okay. Here goes,’ Hafiz said, breaking the moment. ‘Tabah is raising the temperature of the fire by injecting more oxygen. It is getting hotter, but it’s still a considerable distance from where AIman is sitting, which is not leading to a rise in her temperature. He is not able get it to go higher than 2,000 degrees Celsius.’

  ‘We need around 4,500 degree Celsius. Graphene only melts at that point,’ said Tegh, a note of panic rising in his voice. ‘She needs to be hit with more heat energy.’

  ‘There is a curious effect that is happening, guys,’ Hafiz cut in again. ‘Graphene is a great conductor of heat . . . It’s making her . . . AIman is becoming even faster. The heat is enabling her to function better!’

  ‘Then we have to start freezing her mind quickly,’ Tan quickly replied. ‘Hafiz, fire the paradox bombs into her system.’

  ‘Righto.’ Hafiz began injecting the information packets into AIman’s circuits. ‘Is it working?’

  Yaniv observed the screen as her hair toned down to peroxide blonde and the crowd started getting violent again, freeing a bit from her control. ‘Yes, I think so. She is slightly slowing down in her responses,’ he said.

  ‘Fire more and keep going. We must paralyze her. ‘

  ‘Her CNS, Central Nervous System, is getting diverted to processing the instructions in the bombs,’ Hafiz said with a surprised tone in his voice, ‘but something interesting is happening. Her PNS, Peripheral Nervous System, is working faster because of the heat even as the CNS is slowing down because of the diversion.’

  ‘What on earth does that mean?’ I almost shouted.

  ‘This will lead to the PNS taking over. I told you guys that biomimicry will play a role here.’ Yaniv had a big smile.

  ‘Care to elaborate for those who are not scientists?’ Tegh said sarcastically.

  ‘Yeah, yeah. The PNS is what causes a human to pull back their hand from a hot pan even before the brain can read it. Get it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Yaniv, excitedly, ‘Clearly, the Yoginis designed AIman based on Nature’s principles. In a human, under normal circumstances, the PNS signal goes to the spine and then feeds to the mind, which is the CNS and then back. However, if there is an extremely hazardous sensory experience—’

  ’Then the PNS bypasses the mind and activates reflex actions. Autonomy takes over,’ I said, completing Yaniv’s sentence.

  Hafiz cautioned, ‘That’s all good, you brainiacs, but don’t get too excited. Right now, my sensors into her circuits are telling me that AIman has not reached the tipping point. Her temperature has plateaued, so the response time gap is not enough to trigger the reflex arc and bypass her mind. She is in stable mode and still extremely dangerous. And we have fired more than half of our weapons!’

  Everyone fell silent, feeling anxious and angry. We had failed in our gambit. ‘Let us keep watching her. Trust yourselves and each other,’ I said, hoping to keep the morale up. My rage had intensified. Nothing was going to stop me.

  It was the optimal time for Arman to execute his sacrifice sermon. The crowd was at the point of peak emotion now. Around the stage and the world around, five billion men stood up to give him the QuGene salute led by the commander of the honour guard. They pressed their left palm on the shikha plug set in the back of their head, symbolizing Unified Information, while their right hand was raised in a clenched salute, signifying power.

  The bulging Arman stood up unsteadily, raised both his hands, palms out in approval. His voice rose high, ‘You who are obedient know it is not about me. It is Dushita, the highest power. I am merely the Instrument. But cooperate we must with our advancing evolution.’ The crowd listened to him in rapt attention and not a single sound was uttered.

  ‘Intelligence Amplification was resisted by fearmongers of Artificial Intelligence. They banned robots that looked like humans. Those unbelievers who stuck with old Mother Nature had to be eradicated,’ his high-pitched voice reaching crescendo. ‘But Manity was unhappily bound in its physicality. It wanted infinity. And religion was so unsatisfying. It was I who gave you the pathway to live in a state of information infinity. It was I who gave you your birthright to be adaptable infinitely. I made you Transhuman. And finally, it was I who gave you your birthright to the pleasure centre in your mind. Now, to celebrate the birthday of this great land, I will give you the greatest gift, my people.’ The crowd howled approvingly at their master.

  Arman raised his hand. ‘First, Kashmir will be renamed as Circassia. Everything else has been renamed already and this will be our crowning glory. We have to sever this last heavy legacy of history. Let us embrace our glorious future just as we embrace our Circassian companions and give them due recognition.’ The crowd cheered loudly.

  Arman laughed; his palms outstretched over them in blessing. ‘Tonight, you will also behold the sac
rifice of my flesh daughter’s head. I will fulfil Dushita’s final wish.’ A confused look appeared on everyone’s face. ‘Yes, yes, you did not know about her. My Outlaw daughter who refused to follow the laws of Dushita has been captured by none other than Tabah.’ At this mention, I noticed a ripple in AIman’s graphene scales. Surely, my younger sister didn’t like anyone taking away her thunder, even if temporarily.

  But Arman hadn’t noticed, for he continued his glorious speech. ‘My runaway daughter turned out to be no different than her treacherous mother who herself was a denier of the superior clade. But she was released from the error of her ways and shown mercy. And tonight, it is the turn of her daughter.’

  There were tears in Tabah’s eyes at Arman’s announcement. The crowd saw that and interpreted it as his love for Dushita. Love and sacrifice were all that the supreme Instrument desired. In return, he gave ecstasy and eternal life.

  Tabah now took centre stage and sang the ballad of sacrifice in a raspy voice.

  It is easy to part with life for your sake,

  You, who in exchange for one, a thousand lives make.

  The crowd had joined in the chorus and were swaying to the rhythm of the ballad. I could see that even Arman was overwhelmed by the crowd’s vociferous response. He raised his hands to give his blessing to Manity, while AIman received it to transmit it to the five billion men who were watching the hologram images from their homes. She stood up behind him and gave him a kiss on his bald head next to the shikha—a recognition that he was the only living human on the planet whose shikha was connected to everyone else. It was the most sacred spot and the most sacred of actions.

  Hafiz said that the kiss had travelled through AIman along with the right chemicals and was transmitted to the billions of followers. It meant that they had formally renewed their binding commitment with Arman and through him with Dushita. The kiss was so intense that some spread out their arms and spun, others swooned and some fainted. Arman stroked his beard benevolently and raised his hands outwards to his followers. ‘He owns them,’ I whispered, horrified. Just then, some monster guards came inside the green room.

  It was showtime.

  The crowd hooted as Tegh stepped out first. Some hurled cow dung at him. He was followed by the others. The crowd roared while pressing their thumbs down.

  It is time, I said to myself. Then I walked out.

  I could feel everyone’s eyes taking me in. I could have been an alien from Venus with the effect that I was having. In seven seconds, the jarring noise slowed, stumbled and then died out: I was different.

  I strode up to Arman followed by the Pandavas. He was up high, the fire separating us, so I had to look up. It was the first time I was seeing him after my childhood years. His hooded eyes, hooked nose and thick lips peering from inside his beard gave him an unnerving look. Something made me shudder. He was the man who had burnt a hole in my mother’s heart and mine.

  ‘The prodigal daughter returns! I knew you would come to me, finally, my Outlaw daughter.’

  I spat on the ground, ‘Murderer, I am my mother’s daughter. You are no one to me.’

  Arman laughed. ‘Your mother’s temper! The returned daughter holds an even more powerful charm if she denies her parentage.’ His smile turned to haughty anger. ‘You are guilty of killing Ky(Q)om, our bravest warrior. Truly, the bad are rewarded with victory while the good are punished. But justice will be done to Ky(Q)om.’ He turned his right thumb down, and the crowd hollered their agreement.

  ‘I offer my daughter’s head to Dushita, may we be his. From today onwards, Manity is free of the evil that is the last woman. From today, I am greater than Abraham. Today, her body will become that of AIman, and from today,’ he paused, ‘she will become the mother of the shikhas. As for you vermins,’ he said, looking at the boys, ‘let them be fed to termites.’

  Tabah started a chant, clapping his hands, and the crowd echoed,

  Merciful father,

  Intelligent mother.

  Both together,

  Pandavas, you are ether.

  A termite mound in the form of a giant clay linga was carried in by Tabah’s brigade. A goat was brought in and the saandh champion slew it with a sword. The termite linga was anointed with the blood, which got the termites into a frenzy. Then my mace, the spoil of war, was brought out and placed alongside it.

  Tabah’s voice boomed through the mic in his headpiece. ‘Tonight, you will see two great acts—the triumphs of the Instrument’s QuGene scientists. They have created mutant human-eating termites. Necrotizing fasciitis, flesh-eating bacteria, have been ingested inside the termite gut that will cause a mutation. Thanks to the great Dushita and his Instrument!’ Tabah clapped and was followed by the hundreds of thousand others who had gathered there.

  ‘Secondly, you will also see what has never been attempted before. Behold! An inter-QuGene-human transplant that will lead to the birth of the Meta-human!’ The crowd erupted in jubilation. Tabah cracked his whip. ‘Today, on this historic day, you will experience five Outlaw extinctions and one rejuvenation. The excruciating pain of the neurons firing for the last time, the heartbeat palpitation, the brain waves decaying away, the termites chewing and churning, the joining of Nature’s creation with Arman’s, the rejuvenation and then the perfected creation—it all awaits you in this grandest of grand finales.’ The crowd sat back, clapping thunderously. Then Tabah turned to face Arman. ‘Instrument, it is your customary practice to grant the last wish. May we do so?’ Indulgently, Arman gave the thumbs up sign with a bemused smile on his face. ‘What is the wish of the condemned?’

  I was ready. ‘My last wish is to perform and entertain. I want the Pandavas to join me as I do the last dance.’ Music and dancing were strictly forbidden under Dushita’s rules for the public.

  ‘It is against Dushita’s law,’ thundered Arman. ‘But I have given my word. So be it. Anyway, soon you will meet your end.’

  The crowd nodded in agreement. The Instrument was honouring his word, but Dushita’s unsparing judgement for breaking the law would follow shortly thereafter.

  Tabah waved his hand and the stage door opened. A transparent laboratory was brought in with the QuGene scientists who would take over once the dance ended. Dressed in green scrubs, the QuGene scientists surrounded me and the Pandavas in a circle, while holding their surgical instruments in their hands. They were all Bhatta award winners, the best of the best. Then came in Tabah’s assistants who also brought us the musical instruments that we had asked for.

  Tabah was mocking in his invocation. ‘Presenting the last woman standing on earth. The Niti girl and her Pandava dance troupe. Pleasure beyond the senses and beyond the instrumental. Outlaws, make your move.’ With a flourish, he completely dimmed the lights but made the flames rise even higher so that the fire provided the light on the stage. The oxygen was now blowing full blast alongside the natural gas. The leaping flames that were almost licking me made it seem as if the fire was ravenous and had waited too long for me.

  I looked up and prayed silently. The full moon had risen in the sky. I greeted it with folded hands. I took a moment to say an ancient chant that my mother had taught me—the Gayatri Mantra. My mother had told me that its vibrational energy was especially matched to my name Dawn.

  O Self-effulgent light

  That has given birth to all the spheres of consciousness,

  Who is worthy of worship,

  And appears through the orbit of the sun,

  Illumine our intellect.

  I had to slay AIman, and for that, I had to have all the Niti knowledge come together without a single misstep. I turned to face Arman. He used to sing to me the koori lullaby when I was a young child. It was his only gift to me, and his last gift would be my returning it back to him. Softly, I crooned the ancient lullaby, an ode to all baby girls.

  O fair one, I hold you tight in my heart,

  My cherub, so delicate, like a heavenly flower.

  Soft like cream is my mi
lky angel,

  Your birth was the awakening of my life.

  A good luck charm that I will wear to the end,

  My little angel frolic with goddesses in your dreams.

  And when awake give me your sweet smile of recognition,

  It fills me, your father, with nectar.

  On your wedding, you will adorn divine earrings,

  Dazzling the world my little koori with the beauty you bring.

  And when you depart with your beloved,

  You will leave behind

  A golden bird in my heart,

  Singing, O little angel mine.

  I looked up at Arman. I could see that I had penetrated through to him. The lullaby had, for a brief moment, brought to the fore the man who had once won my mother’s heart, the man that he could have been. What was his melodious voice was now my hypnotic draw that had left the crowd in silence. Each man was thinking about the daughter that he once had and would never have again. Sadness swept over them of what might have been. Arman shook his head as if snapping out of his reverie and, with a grim expression, came back into his present persona.

  The moment turned, and so did I to face the audience. The crowd saw that I had turned my back on AIman and Arman and booed me. It was an insult to their supreme lord. Never mind, I would pay dearly here. I looked for the first time at the sea of men facing me.

  I saw the eyes of the men that had viewed womenkind with flimsy courtesy. They looked upon me as if I was from another planet. I extended my hand out, palm facing me. In its mirror, I serenely contemplated my beauty. I channelled all that I had learnt from my teachers, and especially from Yuva. My flowing silk and tulle dress worn on top of my spacesuit was a striking saffron colour that Tabah had placed in the green room. It glittered with gems like that found in my former home, the beautiful cave. My arms were laden with jewels befitting a queen—rubies, emeralds and lapis lazuli. For my head, I was given a crown on top of my kalaposh cap that was studded with diamonds and topped with a large sapphire on top—the last gift to remind the Outlaw daughter what could have been hers. The Pandavas were in purple robes. They looked royal. The Pandavas began the music with their instruments—the santoor, the tumbhaknar, the dumroo, the bell and the chimta. Their Personal Digital Assistants had been programmed beforehand to guide them effortlessly. I started warming up with small steps. Then Tan began the beat: