Triggers on a Leash

Based on two very different blogs by yours truly, and drastically adapted and written as a play by Naren Weiss and uniquely shot as a short film by Ashwath Nair - Presenting, Triggers on a Leash!

The original short stories on which this short film is based are here on Storywheel.

See Transference and The Heist

Enjoy and share the joy!

 

Escape

The alarm sounded signaling the end of the hour. The watch tower had a change of guard. Superintendent Jackson had tightened the security protocols after the riot that broke out two days ago. One guard had been killed in the violence. Some said Jackson was pissed at the thought of such an atrocious incident under his watch. There were others who had a conspiracy theory that Jackson staged the whole thing to get rid of the guy for reasons unknown without having to face a departmental inquiry from the Bureau.

Jackson was a short and stout man with his balding forehead. One would mistake him for a store-clerk or a restaurant waiter except that the nasty scar that ran down his right cheek was evidence of a much darker character. He cut his teeth as a gunnery sergeant in the wars and joined law enforcement after leaving active service. He specifically asked for a job within the Bureau of Prisons and was granted it without much difficulty thanks to his war credentials. Now, he runs the Lunar Penitentiary Colony where the worst offenders are shipped off from the Earth to lead life sentences. Jackson ran a tight ship and held an enviable record. No one has ever managed to escape from his prison, yet.

* * *

Jeff Rhodes a.k.a. Prisoner #3092 at the Lunar Penitentiary Colony, lay on his bed in his cell with palms locked behind his shaved head and looking up through the glass ceiling. Beyond that reinforced unbreakable glass ceiling were stars, distant galaxies and dark space that seemed to extend to eternity. Somewhere, definitely outside the small viewport that the ceiling in his confinement cell offered him, a beautiful blue marble called Planet Earth was spinning around. Jeff Rhodes dreamed about it all the time. If everything were to go as per his plan, he would be on his way to the Earth in less than twenty four hours only happy to leave this godforsaken place.

He turned to his side and caught a figure in the shadows, standing by the gate and staring at him. He could make out the unmistakable contours of Jackson in the darkness, standing there almost like a wax statute. Jeff closed his eyes and mentally started running through the sequence of his escape plan for the tenth time. He didn't know when the tiredness took over his body and when he fell asleep.

* * *

Blaring alarms. Flashing lights. Prisoners lining up for a roll-call. Jeff avoided eye contact with Jackson and the other guards. He sat alone during breakfast, looking up occasionally to count the number of guards on duty. He knew that one of the guards was on special leave and had left for Earth last week due to the untimely death of his wife. Jeff had taken care of killing another guard during the riots last week. The reinforcements sent by the Bureau were enroute and would take two more days to reach the moon base. Meanwhile, Jackson's short-staffed crew would make mistakes. Jeff was counting on it. He hoped that no one would notice him slipping away after breakfast when the prisoners are sent back to their cells.

* * *

The alarm went off and the prisoners got up from their seats and filed into two lines. One of the guards signaled them to move towards the cell block. The prisoners in their orange jumpsuits started walking. Jeff had carefully picked his breakfast table so that he would be towards the end of the line with just a couple of men behind him with the rear guards following them. The prisoners had to navigate two sharp turns and Jeff was planning to slip away between those two turns and hide in a wall recess he had identified. The challenge was to do it without the knowledge of the other prisoners and the rear guards.

The leading prisoners made the first turn to the right. Jeff coughed and stopped temporarily as the rear guards looked up. He avoided meeting them in the eye and let the two other prisoners who were behind him to pass and took the last position in the line. The guards didn't notice and seemed to be relaxed and engaged in trivial banter. He was now just a few steps away from the first turn himself.  Jeff made the turn and quickened his pace. Small beads of sweat formed on his head and ran down over the dragon tattooed on his neck. The rear guards were invisible and were at least ten steps behind him. Another four seconds... and he would reach the wall recess.

As soon as he got there, Jeff deftly moved sideways and cramped himself into the small space offered by the wall recess and hid in the darkness. He could hear the footsteps of guards. Jeff was acutely aware of all his senses and time seemed to slow down as he waited with bated breath. He could see the rear guards passing by. He waited there for a minute and then tiptoed his way to the transportation bay. He reached the door. There was not much time left. There will be a check done after all the prisoners get into their respective cells and his escape would be discovered. He had to be on his way before that.

He took out the key from his pocket... the key that he had taken from the dead guard during the riots. He opened the transportation bay door. He had almost made it. A few seconds away from freedom. He could sense it.

A steel casket ready for dispatch lay in the center of the dimly lit room. The casket held the dead body of the guard he had killed. It was destined to leave for the Earth in the next robotic cargo freighter out of the Lunar Penitentiary Colony. Jeff thanked the broadminded designers of the steel casket for making it large enough to fit two bodies. Of course, he didn't know or care that it was designed that way for saving costs.

He could see the cargo freighter's lights blinking a short distance away as it approached for docking. He quickly got into the casket, by the side of the embalmed corpse and closed it shut. Once the freighter undocks, he would be free to get out of the casket. Every casket had an unlock provision from the inside in case someone was accidentally shut in. He was willing to endure this minor ordeal with the corpse until the freighter was on its way. 

The pod bay doors opened and the freighter completed its docking maneuver. The casket moved into the freighter and the doors closed. A few seconds later the freighter undocked and glided away from the Lunar Penitentiary Colony. 

* * *

Superintendent Jackson finished typing his report on the strange happenings that week.

CASKET A314.

CONTENTS:
 - OFFICER MARK RICKMAN (38/MALE), LPC RIOT VICTIM.

 - PRISONER #3092 JEFF RHODES (29/MALE), LPC RIOT VICTIM.

CASKET A314 SENT TO EARTH.

CASKET A314 DISPOSED IN SPACE AS PER NEW DISPOSAL POLICY AND COST REDUCTION DIRECTIVE 37.

Identity

The Police had cordoned off the area at the corner of Sutton and Main streets.  The place looked like a warzone.  Curious onlookers stood behind the police roadblocks trying to get a glimpse of the disaster that had engulfed their community.  The red brick building which housed the Perfect Spirits liquor store in the ground floor was reduced to smoldering ruins from the fire.  The road was coated with soot and rivulets of black water flowed down the street into the drains.

Genome (the comic)

Precious Cargo

Image Credit: extranoise via Flickr

R

aghavan walked to his desk dressed in a white bathrobe. He pressed a button and a monitor sprung up on his desk and lit up. It seemed to be a busy day ahead for the Minister of Transportation.

An instant message popped up from his daughter Manju in Cleveland. She had moved to the United States with her husband, an American citizen about a year ago. Raghavan opened the message—‘Please send a bottle of spicy mango pickles!’

Angie

Image Credit: Tracey Holland, via Flickr

Stella picked up the ringing phone.

“This is the head nurse from the hospital. We have completed the procedures. Your husband is stable now. You can come in this afternoon to visit him.”

“Thank you.”

Stella hung up the phone. The nightmare has ended. She felt a great sense of relief.

The Accomplice

Image Credit: betsystreeter, via Flickr

T

here was a steel table in the center of that room without windows. A bright light hung right above the table. He sat there, waiting. Two men stood near the door, outside the room.

“There is no smoking inside. He is allergic to it.” Reddy held the door obstructing Sridhar’s way.

“Oh… ok!” Sridhar took three quick puffs, put down his cigarette and extinguished it. They entered the room, closing the door behind.

“You think we can make him do it?” asked Sridhar.

The Ninth Prime

Image Credit: 23rdian by bitzi☂, on Flickr

T

he ambulance screeched to a halt in front of the emergency care entrance at the St. Jude Hospital. The paramedics and nurses wheeled in the patient hurriedly into the emergency room. The unconscious man must have been around thirty years of age, profusely bleeding from a head injury.

The ER doctors started attending to him within minutes. He was promptly put on drips and connected to the monitors. A nurse extracted samples of blood for testing.

Deliverance

I

t was a cold December night. The rebels gathered at the dilapidated building in Kotturpuram which used to be one of the world’s largest libraries in an earlier era. The children were led to an enclosed hall for night school while the others discussed their survival strategy for the next few months.

“We need the armory to ramp up production. Our ammunition stock will be depleted in three weeks,” said Pandian.

Genome

T

he year was 2052. Manoharan was the Mayor of Chennai city. The Coovum river that was at one point considered beyond redemption due to the city’s drainage being diverted into it for a large part of the twentieth century had been successfully reclaimed 15 years ago. One could travel from Arumbakkam to the Marina beach in a speed boat in less than ten minutes.

Messiah

I

t was early morning. The milkman had stopped at the next door neighbor when Sivaramakrishnan was tying the laces of his running shoes. He walked out through the picket gate and closed it after him. The December dew dropped from the avenue trees that formed a canopy over that suburban street. He started jogging towards the park and reached it in three minutes.

Snatched

T

he year was 1983. It would have been a very ordinary summer afternoon at The Fritz Memorial Home for the Elderly except that one of its residents had passed away a few hours ago. The nurse dialed the chief doctor to let him know about Bernard Mickelson’s death. Bernie as everyone called him was a long-time resident at the home and must have been more than 90 years old.

The Journey

T

he Egmore railway junction was teeming with people. Madhumathi was catching the night train to Tiruchirapalli. A departing train sounded the horn and the announcer on the public address system cautioned the passengers against thieves.

Madhu walked the platform looking for her coach while trying to manage the olfactory assault on her senses—a pot pourri of smells that was a combination of the stench of urine from the tracks, of fish from large baskets that lay on the side of the platform and body odor of hundreds of sweaty people who walked haphazardly. An eatery made brisk sales of idlies and dosas. A group of eager viewers were watching the news channel on the television that was showing the news about the swamiji and his carnal escapades for the last few hours.

The Pink Slip

Update: This post has been updated with the actual story. Click here to jump to the story.

This is a placeholder for a story that I have finished and submitted to a writing contest. I will publish the story once the results are announced. Tick Tock Tick Tock... 

[My story, The Pink Slip has been selected for the Living Your Passion Writing Contest. If you are on Facebook, please join the Living Your Passion group and vote for my story. You can vote after reading the story and clicking on the "Like" link or leaving a comment. Your vote/comment matters. Thank you.] 

I will be posting the story here after the contest results are announced.

---

And then he took out his gun, aiming at her head…

Annapurna

E

veryone was stunned when Prakash announced his decision. There was utter disbelief in the room. His sister Priya was the first one to speak.

“Are you out of your mind? My marriage is in November. Are you even going to be back by that time? What if you don’t come back?”

“Priya, that is not appropriate. Prakash, do you think this is realistic?”, asked dad. There was genuine concern in his eyes.

“Appa, you know me. I have made up my mind about Annapurna. I will be away for the next six months. That is unavoidable.”

His mother walked up to him and said, “Prakash, you were born five weeks premature. Everyone said that you won’t make it. Your father used to feed you with a tube and syringe. Look at you now! You have made it this far. We trust you. We are not worried about you and Annapurna. Our wishes and prayers are always with you.”

“Thanks Ma!”

Priya shook her head in disapproval. Prakash pulled her and kissed her on the forehead, “Hey, don’t worry. I will be back in time for your marriage.”

* * *

Prakash got down from the bus with his backpack and a hand luggage. The area was teeming with people. He walked up to the tent that was set up for registration.

The girl at the registration desk was wearing a lavender jacket. She looked up and removed her ear muffs.

“I am Prakash and part of the blue team.”

“Okay, let me see here…”

She ran her finger down the list of names on her clip pad. When she found his name she looked up and said, “Welcome to base camp! Do you have your gear?”

“Yes, I do! Have the other members of my team checked in?”

“Yes, they have. You are the last one to arrive. They should be in the blue tent that you see over there…”

She pointed in a direction where there were a cluster of tents. Behind the tents stood the majestic Mt. Annapurna, one of the most dangerous mountains for climbers.

“Thanks to our sponsors, we are offering a free pair of climber shoes for everyone who made it to base camp. What is your shoe size?”

“Well dear, I won’t be needing them… I always have them specially made for me!”

Prakash pulled up his trousers to reveal his pair of prosthetic limbs.

The Trip

R

aghavan had one message from the Med Center waiting for him in his inbox. He knew for sure that it was bad news and dreaded opening it. He left it unopened for a while and went about his morning chores. Half an hour later he sat down for his breakfast. He had finished half a toast when he stopped eating, pushed his plate away and walked towards his computer.

He opened the message. It was bad news as he had predicted. He was going to die in 5 days. The Med Center had fixed an appointment for him in an hour to discuss.

* * *

The chief doctor at the Med Center had explained the situation to Raghavan.

The uneasy silence between them was broken by the doctor’s secretary who peeped in and said “Trasportation Services is on line 2!”

The doctor picked up the handset. He must have heard some very good news because he almost jumped from his seat. He profusely thanked the person on the other end, looked at Raghavan and rubbed his hands together unable to contain his excitement.

“Son, get ready to travel. You are going to meet someone very special.”

* * *

Raghavan was onboard the TTX2. He wore his favorite dark blue suit, a new white shirt, a silk tie and silver cuff links. He had a dossier marked CONFIDENTIAL that was given to him when he boarded the vehicle. The dossier contained information he was not aware until this moment—There was a version of himself alive in a parallel universe and he was going to meet him!

The Time Travel Express departed on schedule.

* * *

Raghavan did not know what to say. He felt very awkward sitting before someone who looked exactly like him. On second thoughts, he was probably overdressed for this occasion meeting his other version who was dressed in a round neck tee and shorts. He wore dark glasses and seemed to stare at the horizon, except that he was blind. He had a small scar an inch above his left eyebrow.

“Do you know that Transportation Services has never allowed someone to travel on these grounds before? Although you and I are genetically identical multiple versions that spawned from a single spacetime event, we are different because of the environment in which we grew in… and I am going to die if I don’t get a bone marrow transplant. You are a natural match and Transportation Services made an exception on humanitarian grounds.”

“I am sorry to hear about your condition. In my universe, I have had a lonely life. When my parents—our parents—took the decision to make that trip that eventually led to your creation, I was orphaned in this universe. I grew up missing a lot of things that you probably would have taken for granted. ”

“You do understand that I did not know anything and had no part to play in that decision, right?”

“I know!”

He was silent for a few seconds and then said, “I will do it. But, I need a favor from you!”

* * *

They were waiting for their train when a well-dressed young man in a dark suit, white shirt, silk tie and silver cufflinks approached them. He was in a hurry and was not wanting to be noticed.

“I am Raghavan, your son from the future that you are going to create.”

The couple was shocked. Raghavan’s mother started crying unable to bear the revelation and the insanity of the situation. His father was trying to pacify her.

A few seconds later, the train arrived.

“Why did you take this decision?” asked Raghavan.

“We were supposed to go back in time before you were born and take care of the defect that caused him to go blind through genetic engineering at the right time. The scientists told us we had to leave him here since we were going back in time when he was non-existent!”

Raghavan thought about what he was going to say.

He said, “You need to abort this plan. Get back home and take care of little Raghavan. He needs you more than I need you or the two of you need me!”

His parents left the station, thanking him in their minds for saving them from a big blunder they were about to commit.

Raghavan sank into a bench on the station and loosened his tie. That’s when two agents from Transportation Services came to him and said, “Mr. Raghavan, you are in contravention of time travel rules. We are taking you into custody for deportation proceedings!”

He looked at his watch which showed that he still had three days to live. 

Mind Reader

S

heila punched in the access code and unlocked the door that led to the lab. There was a sign on the wall that said

AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY

BEYOND THIS POINT

Sheila was twenty eight years old and had joined Dr. Russell’s laboratory as a research assistant a month ago. Dr. Russell had used a variant of functional MRI to build a prototype mind reader. She was top of her class, Summa cum laude and had published a paper on how to boost signal strengths that improved the range and capability of Dr. Russell’s mind reader. But the reason why she joined the lab was not that mind reader. She wanted to research the pièce de résistance at Dr. Russell’s lab known to everyone as Dave.

* * *

Dave was picked up by Dr. Russell when he was six years old from an orphanage. The nuns at the orphanage had a tough time with Dave. He always won every card game that they played. He never talked too much and generally kept to himself. He would find out every one of the boys if they ever played hide and seek. All the other boys thought Dave was a freak. But he got into trouble when he tried to expose Father Daniel just in time before he could harm an eight year old boy. Nobody believed Dave and he reacted violently, scaring other kids. That is when Dr. Russell was called to do a psych evaluation of Dave.

Dr.Russell had never seen anything like it before in his life. He was astonished to discover Dave. This six year old boy could read minds! Dr. Russell would use Dave to break new frontiers in understanding the mind, how it works and contribute to the greater good of the society.

* * *

Dave and Sheila were sitting at the cosy table facing each other. Sheila had the mandatory headgear that anyone within ten feet of Dave was required to wear to protect the privacy of their thoughts from Dave’s peering mind eye.

“How was your day?”

“Just like any other. You need to inform Dr. Russell that I can now hear the people who sit in the table adjacent to this wall in the adjoining cafeteria during lunch!”

Sheila consciously adjusted her helmet while Dave smiled. He continued to draw doodles in his notebook.

“You have been in this lab for almost twenty years. Have you ever wondered how it would be outside this lab?”

“Yeah, I have lived a few years outside before Dr. Russelll found me. I don’t like to recall those years.”

“I am sorry. I did not mean to upset you.”

“That’s okay. So, why do you wear that helmet, Sheila? Are you afraid I might learn your darkest secrets?”

“No, the lab protocol requires me to wear this!”

“Protocol Schmotocol… Listen! There is no one around here except for that camera on the ceiling over there. Jack is the security guard who is on duty and I know at this time of the day, he is not watching the monitors. He won’t be back for another ten minutes.”

“How do you know that?”

“Did I not tell you that I know what people in the cafeteria are thinking? Trust me. C’mon… Enough of that.  Let us play Truth or Dare. I will start. I dare you to take off your geeky helmet!”

Sheila hesitated for a second. Then she removed her helmet.

“That-a- girl! You are a sport.”

Truth – I’ve fallen in love with you, Dave. But, I’m afraid to ask or admit. Sheila hadn’t spoken a word.

Dave was stunned. His heart missed a few beats and then his mind galloped. Should I say, ‘I love you too?’

Yes, Dave you should. Sheila leaned forward and kissed him.

The Mission

M

ission Vehicle MV:Khoj was nearing the dwarf planet Haumea in the Kuiper belt. It was on a prospecting mission to find precious metal that was needed back home. Commander Rajan did some quick calculations to estimate when they would reach their destination.

“Flight Officer Shradha, it looks like we have another 7 days to land, give or take a few hours!”

“Yes, sir. The nav system confirms that as of now. But once we leave the Kuiper belt, we are into unmapped territory. We will need manual navigation in 2 hours and 10 minutes.”

Commander Rajan understood what that meant. He turned to his navigator Lieutenant Kareem who was standing before the touch-screen display that showed the trajectory of MV:Khoj. Kareem was the custodian of the most valuable information resource on the spaceship, locked safely in a vault that could only be opened by two keys held by him and the Commander. Both of them would lose their life rather than lose the keys.

“Lieutenant Kareem, you should get some rest. It will be a long week for you. You are the only qualified manual navigator onboard.”

Shradha looked up briefly at the Commander and turned back again to the flight controls. She saw the reflection of the casket on her monitor. The casket held the late Lieutenant Das, the backup navigator who died three days ago in the attack by the pirate ship, Crusoe. Shradha wiped the tears in her eyes.

The MV:Khoj, slightly damaged from the Crusoe attack, roared through space towards her destination.

* * *

Lieutenant Kareem was exhausted. Staying awake for six and a half consecutive days had taken its toll on him, in spite of the stay-awake pills. These were the final hours before they descend into the dark. It was time to open the vault.

Commander Rajan and Kareem inserted their keys and at the count of three, both of them simultaneously turned them to unlock the vault. Kareem opened the vault door and carefully extracted its contents, an old paper map and a tablet of glass with some numbers etched on it. He placed it carefully on the table top and opened it.

It was an old map of the world. There were three points of reference marked on that paper map.

Shradha exclaimed, “I have a visual. There is our Earth reference… The Great Wall of China, still visible from space!” She punched in a few keys in her console and the MV:Khoj’s surface mapping cameras turned on to establish its Earth reference coordinates using the three locations on the Great Wall.

Commander Rajan took the glass tablet. If the Crusoe attack had been successful, Rajan and Kareem’s instructions were to burn the map and break the glass. The Commander punched in the numbers.

48° 51' 29" North, 2° 17' 40" East

The MV:Khoj locked in on its destination—Eiffel Tower, Paris, France: The site of 10,000 tons of steel.

Transference

M

urphy’s Law. This shouldn’t have happened. But it did. The only thing that went according to plan was the trigger of the high priority E1 escalation notification to Major Kazani and Dr. Najma. The SR-302 had woken up from cryogenic hibernation. Containment measures had failed.

The SR-302 was at large.

* * *

Dr. Najma and Major Kazani were in the war room set up for handling the crisis. Dr. Najma pulled information about the SR-302 and brought it up on the large wall-mounted displays for review. She clicked on ‘Donor’ and the following information popped up:

                Donor name: Sudesh Kolambkar

                D.O.B: Aug 7, 1980

                D.O.C: Oct 12, 2001

                ….

“This shows a Bandra address in Mumbai. Our notification protocol requires that addresses are verified and confirmed every month. The last verification was done 13 days ago. We are unable to reach Mr. Kolambkar's phone. Captain Sharma, you and your men go to Mr. Kolambkar’s residence. I need you there until we get this thing under control” said Major Kazani.

“This information was accessed by SR-302 just a few hours ago. See the ‘last accessed’ timestamp on this record!” remarked Dr. Najma.

“You are right! It is heading to Mr. Kolambkar’s residence” nodded Major Kazani in approval.  “Captain Sharma, get going… Remember, our contract allows us to terminate SR-302 under the current circumstances. So, you are allowed to engage as you see fit! There is a chopper waiting outside to transport you and your team to Bandra.”

Captain Sharma led his team out to the helipad and the bird was up in the air in less than fifteen seconds.

* * *

The SR-302 was traveling south on the Western Express Highway towards Vile Parle in a Mumbai cab.

“Do you work at the lab, Sir?” enquired the driver.

“Yes. How long to reach Bandra in this traffic?”

* * *

“Why would the SR-302 to go in search of Mr. Kolambkar?” asked Major Kazani.

“The medical records of Mr. Sudesh Kolambkar show that he suffered from acute psychosis and harbored suicidal tendencies. He has since been cured of that illness and is leading a perfectly normal life. The SR-302 was cloned on Oct 12, 2001 as shown by the records, before Mr. Kolambkar was cured.” said Dr. Najma.

“So what?” asked Major Kazani, a little puzzled.

“At that time, we pioneered the technique of transferring feelings from the donor to the clone. We did not account for the psychoanalytic phenomenon called Transference. It is a process by which unconsciously retained feelings and desires are redirected at a new object. The clone is acting on its suicidal urge except that transference comes into play. SR-302 wants to murder Mr. Kolambkar!”

Major Kazani’s phone rang. With the eerie silence in the room, Dr. Najma could hear Captain Sharma on the line.

“Major, we were late…”

Monday morning blues

T

he alarm clock rattled for about ten seconds before Raghavan could reach out to turn it off. It was a swiss handwound alarm clock that his grandfather got in the 1920s and he grew up waking to the sound of it every day. Raghavan lay flat with his eyes closed trying to extend his weekend by another minute. He knew his Monday had begun and reluctantly got off from his bed. He went straight to the bathroom and looked at his face in the mirror and stroked his two day stubble, thinking whether he would look good with a beard. ‘A French beard maybe’, he thought to himself reaching out for the toothbrush.

He emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later and walked across the hall and opened the main door to his house. The milkman had dropped two sachets of milk, his usual. He picked them up and walked to the kitchen. He poured the milk into the utensil, turning on the stove thinking about the filter coffee that his mother Rajam used to make. She was an expert in making traditional Kumbakonam Degree coffee that was the favorite amongst her friends and neighbors. Raghavan sighed. The milk came to a boil by that time.

He reached out for the switch and tried to turn on the light. The sun was out and it was getting brighter outside, but it was still dark inside his house. The light did not turn on. Raghavan flicked the switch a couple of time. Nothing happened. ‘Must be a power cut as usual’, Raghavan told himself. That means his morning routine of watching the news on cable TV cannot happen.

Just then he heard his neighbor Ambujam yell at the watchman of their apartment complex that there was no water flowing from the taps. The watchman said he would have to turn on the motor pump to fill the overhead water tank, but the power was out in the entire area. Ambujam had two young children who went to a school nearby and the mornings were a very stressful time for her as she got them ready. Ambujam accused the watchman of failing to turn the motor pump during the night and started fighting with him. Their voices faded out slowly as Raghavan walked into the hall from the balcony.

Raghavan opened the tap in the bathroom and heard a water droplet plop confirming the reality of that morning. He picked a bucket and hurried downstairs to the underground sump that was the storage tank that held water pumped by the metrowater authorities. There was a posse of people there, many in their night clothes, who also had buckets in their hand and a simmering anger in their faces. It was apparent why they were angry. A car was parked with its handbrake on, right above the manhole covering the sump and there was no way to move the car and access the sump below.

The crowd almost erupted in cheers as someone located the car owner who came running with the car keys jingling. He opened the car door, got in and turned the ignition on. The car wouldn’t start. There was a grumble from the crowd and someone suggested that they push the car after releasing the handbrake. Raghavan had different plans.

He knew about the only well in that apartment compound and walked towards it. The well was a modern day surprise in Chennai. It still had water and legend was that it never dried up, even during the severe water scarcity in drought hit Chennai. The builder of the apartment complex left the well intact and that was going to save Raghavan's day. When Raghavan reached the well, he was frustrated to discover that at least ten of his neighbors had beat him to the punch and were already in a queue. Sathyanand, the apartment association secretary was trying to regulate the queue and ensure that people got their water in turns.

After ten minutes, many flared tempers, verbal abuses and what not, Raghavan drew water from the well and headed back to his house. He finished his bath, taking care to use the water effectively. He picked a blue shirt and dark trousers to go with it, got dressed up. He picked his laptop bag and cell phone. His cell phone battery had also died; there was no way to charge it. He unplugged the cell phone charger from the wall, deciding that he would charge it in his office. He locked his house and went down the stairs, jumping two steps at a time holding the keys in his hand, hoping to make up for lost time.

He located his motorcycle at the same place that he usually parks. He sat on the motorcycle, released the stand and pushed it forward a few feet with his legs, getting out of the slot where it was parked. He turned the keys and kick started the bike. It won’t start.

Raghavan felt an unexplainable sense of uneasiness spread in his stomach. He got off from his motorcycle and pushed it to get outside the apartment complex into the main road. The road was empty. Unusually empty for this time of the day, whatever time it was. He knew the motorcycle mechanic shop two blocks away would be open and wanted to try his luck. Raghavan started pushing his motorcycle towards the mechanic shop when he saw Ambujam’s two children in their school uniforms riding their bicycles and on their way to school.

As he crossed a block, he found a few others like him pushing their bikes towards the mechanic shop. He also noticed that the traffic signal was down and the traffic constable was standing there helpless, scratching his head. Lucky for him, the traffic wasn’t heavy except for the cyclists and bike riders pushing their motorcycles. There was something eerie about that. There were no cars on the road; just bicycles and motorcyclists pushing their bikes.

Raghavan stopped and let his motorcycle fall to the ground. He looked up at the sky all around. In the northwest direction, he noticed the orange glow from the thermonuclear device that exploded in the upper atmosphere at 6:28 AM. Raghavan looked up, took a deep breath and exhaled. He pulled the cuff of his shirt to look at his digital watch. He tapped it twice and shook it a little. Nothing happened. The watch was frozen and showed a time of 6:2…