Preface

Col. Chang stared at the screen with rapt attention, his jaw as wide open as his beady eyes. A feature film, too real and too unbelieving at the same time, played on the large screen before him. Meanwhile, an automated emotionless female narrator told the story unravelling on the screen.

The voice spoke, ‘In five years Col Chang will have been jailed on charges of espionage in the arms deal. He will be released exactly eight months later, and his name cleared with the help of his contacts from the west. For his release, in turn, his friends in the west will ask him to lie low. Col Chang will be forced to retire from the army and move to Dingcun, his ancestral village and settle with his wife in his farmhouse.’

The scene on the film showed him and his wife in a dilapidated and shabby single-bedroom farmhouse in the village. The narrator continued, ‘He will shop at the More Continental supermarket that’s half an hour from his house. He will be estranged from his only daughter Mary Lin. They won’t keep in touch, as she will feel disgraced from his downfall. He will visit the cardiologist at Grand Hospital every three months for his heart condition, while his wife will go to the same hospital every month for physiotherapy for her arthritis. His wife will die first, owing to her lifestyle and liver issues, and Chang will end his life, his favoured weapon being the FN Five Seven pistol in his locker at home.’

It wasn’t a surprise why Col Chang looked agitated and disturbed. The story of his life that was yet to happen, his probable future, was playing before his eyes. And it wasn’t a pretty picture. Also nagging at the back of his mind were the facts that not many people knew about his pistol. Even fewer knew about his wife’s health. The aged avatars of his wife and him looked too real. The projector clicked shut and soft yellow light flooded the room bringing it into the present tense.

A woman who could perhaps be described as sharp, not beautiful, of Indian origin walked into the spotlight thrown by the projector. She seemed to be in her 50s, had deep brown skin, short hair and bright eyes. She stood right where the movie had played seconds ago. ‘Hello gentlemen,’ she addressed the small gathering of four with a dazzling smile, ‘My name is Tara Varghese, and I am your fortune teller.’

‘Is this some kind of sick joke?’ Col Chang snarled from the side. ‘I’m having none of this.’

‘Col Chang, please give me a minute to explain. What you have witnessed today is a tiny molecule, a very small display of the capabilities of Trushna. As you may have probably guessed, this software tells the future.’ She threw her head in Col Chang’s direction, slim stands of grey hair flicking on her forehead, her head slightly bent low. ‘My deepest apologies to you, Col Chang,’ she said, her voice lacking a hint of any apology whatsoever. She continued, ‘I took the liberty of using your example, because, that was the only way for my message to reach you loud and clear. As you gentlemen can see, Trushna is a tool, so powerful that it can predict the future to a 99.009 percent accuracy.

This AI tool, my dear friends, is the future. Perhaps not the ideal future that we dream of, but the one we can chart, change and create.’

She looked around the room. ‘Yes, you heard me right. We can change the future too,’ she said, stressing on the word change. At this point Tara turned to the darkness and nodded at her team. The gathering of four guests that included a very angry Col Chang noticed two young people seated behind large computer screens. With Tara’s nod, one of the persons, who looked like a girl with her long ponytail, started keying in something. After two minutes, a voice filled the room, ‘Generating sequence in 3-2-1.’ And the screen sprang to life. The automated voice returned, but this time the version was entirely different.

‘In five years from now Col Chang’s life will settle into a routine. Every morning he will take a walk in his 5 acre country home. He will have large apartments in Beijing and Shanghai, and will visit them once a month. He will own an entourage of luxury cars, his wife will shop designer labels and own an envious collection of diamond studded jewellery. He will lead a lavish life, enjoy his wife’s favourite tea with her in their antique crockery, and plan trips to Switzerland or Paris, his wife’s favourite holiday destinations. His daughter and grandchild will be well settled, and accompany them on their trips. Col Chang will be much respected by the army and the nation, and after his death, buildings will be named after him.’

The movie ended on a much brighter note this time as the room came to life with the lights. Col Chang looked amused, his anger slightly abated, but not yet completely gone. ‘Have you called us to watch your video game? I thought that you’d know, I’m no buyer of toys.’

Tara looked unfazed as she smiled radiantly at Col Chang. ‘And that’s why, sir, you are the first person I invited here today. As you could now see, my friend behind the computer made one tiny change in the algorithm and your future changed for the better. Artificial Intelligence, or like India says it, AI is the future. And with Trushna, its scope goes beyond generating music and stories, it can actually chart and change the future. Yes, you heard me right, we can work the world to our advantage, we can win wars, own luxury cars and we can create new leaders. We have been working on this for the past decade and today we are ready to release it into the world.’

‘And has any real time testing happened on this so far?’ asked Col Chang.

‘I knew you’d ask this, and so we came prepared.’ Tara nodded at her team once again. A film sprang to life, but there was no narration this time. A famous cricketer could be seen driving in the dead of the night in his luxurious Mercedes Benz. The next turn he took led him to a bridge, where a lorry was unexpectedly parked. The cricketer can be seen to swerve his car to avoid the lorry. However, this causes his car to jump over the narrow railing of the bridge and plunge into the river below.

‘Our software could predict the following events,’ she stated, ticking the points off on her painted fingernails. ‘One, that the cricketer’s driver would be unavailable for this trip. Two, that the cricketer would drive his car himself. Three, that he’d take this route at this particular time. And finally, four, that the lorry would break down right at that point.’

‘So, does this happen in real time?’ asked someone from the group.

Tara looked at him with a hint of amusement. ‘Gentlemen, I request you to turn on your phones and watch the news.’

A burly man in khaki uniform switched his phone on.

While their meeting was happening somewhere in the heart of Singapore, a piece of Indian news was in focus everywhere. The famous cricketer Arnab Shah was making headlines all over the net. He had died a while ago in what was described as a freak accident. He had been much loved by fans across the world.

The group looked up to Tara, their anger dissipated, and replaced by awe. What was before them was a potent killer, and Tara knew that too well.

‘Once you purchase it, our team will help you generate a sequence of your choice. Software will only be handed after the entire payment has been made,’ she said gathering her stuff and team, ready to leave.

Col Chang was now very interested. ‘We want to be the first buyers. What do you plan to charge for it?’

‘This is yours for only 50 billion dollars.’ She didn’t have to wait for their answer, for she knew for sure that her first sale had been made.