The Return of Vaman - A Scientific Novel (7 page)

March 2

Dear Lalitha,

My first letter since the wedding! I realized with a shock that more than a year has passed. You may be wondering if your school friend has forgotten you. Well, I must confess ‘guilty’. Although ours was an arranged marriage, Laxman and I have been very happy—happy enough to forget all others!

Remember how you and all our group of friends teased Laxman on the wedding day? Perhaps his shyness on that occasion misled you (and me, too!) into thinking that I was spliced to the prototype absent-minded scientist. No way!

For all his international reputation as a scientist, Laxman is a down-to-earth man who cares about others. He likes to enjoy life—work permitting of course. Others had warned me that he would ignore me because of his work. Until recently I could confidently assert that they were wrong.

But recently, Lalitha, things have changed. You will notice that my letter is not from Hyderabad. We are at Gauribidnur—a small, quiet place to the east of Bangalore. I know your geography was weak in school (remember how our Tope Miss made you locate places on the map?) but try and find out where Gauribidnur is!

Laxman is deeply engrossed in the contents of that wretched container found here. You must have read about it a few weeks ago—how it was found accidentally. Apparently, the contents are fantastic—not just for archaeologists whose minds are in the past, but also for my dear husband who is always thinking of the future.

That’s the trouble. Laxman is so engrossed in making sense out of it all that he has forgotten me. He goes out early in the morning, returns late at night, sometimes not at all. He won’t disclose a word of what it is all about. It is supposed to be highly classified.

Classified! Secret! Security! These are the operative words where we live, fortified by barbed wire, high walls and armed guards. Major Samant, who supervises all the security arrangements, is a real tyrant. Of course, he is polite and all that—but hard as a nail. Even this letter must go through censorship. But let him read what I frankly think of him. No doubt he will smile and let it through.

We are not let out of this compound except on rare occasions. Laxman has promised to take me one evening to Bangalore. He has a special pass. But at present that is like a politician’s promise before elections.

Meanwhile, I must continue in these barracks, the life of a neglected wife, like my namesake in the Ramayana. I am the only housewife around. The other scientists have not brought their families because they have school-going children. There are a few other women here, secretaries, lab assistants and computer programmers. We meet on occasions to gossip …

Laxman has provided me with my veena so that I may continue to practice. But there is no fun playing music if you have nobody to play to. And, of course, I have books to read.

Do write. About yourself and the free outside world you live in. Your letters (if they get through our Major’s inspection!) will be great morale-boosters.

My regards to Dr Jayaraman.

Yours, as ever,

Urmila

‘Umi, how about going to Bangalore for dinner tonight?’ Urmila could not believe her ears. True, Laxman looked very pleased with himself and had even admired her idlis. But this invitation seemed unbelievable in present circumstances.

‘Could you repeat what you said? I am sure I did not hear you correctly.’

Laxman’s face wore an embarrassed smile. ‘I think you heard correctly! This evening, the first stage of my work here will be over and I am already in a mood to celebrate … with you as my honoured guest. For, with thou beside me in this wilderness …’

‘You need not wax poetic, Laxman. You know I have done nothing to help you in your work.’

‘On the contrary, Umi—it is because of your self-effacement that I have been able to put in so much work. Don’t think for a moment that I have not noticed your loneliness here. But I am helpless, for I cannot rest until I get to the bottom of this strange business.’

Urmila gently pulled the unruly locks on Laxman’s head—locks to which she had become attached right from their first day together.

‘Laxman, one year’s training is enough even for a muddle-headed one like me to discover what it is like being married to a scientist … As for tonight, it’s a date! And I won’t allow you to back out, come what may.’

So they arranged their programme. Laxman would be free by five in the afternoon, when they would get a car to go to Bangalore. He had already arranged with Major Samant for a staff car to be at their disposal. He left Urmila in a state of sweet anticipation as he walked over to his office.

Yes, today he would put finishing touches to his highly classified report on the container. Although Arul and Navin had helped him, the lion’s share of the work so far had been his, and, of course, that of his assistant, the VAX computer at the Science Centre. Nobody knew what his report contained; he had typed it himself on the word processor. It would take him one hour to go over those hundred pages yet once more, before releasing it for discussion with Arul and Navin. And then it would go to their high level committee in Delhi.

‘Beep … Be…ee…ep…’, his intercom was calling.

‘Laxman here’, he responded laconically.

‘This is Major Samant’, the Major’s crisp voice crackled over the intercom. ‘Can you come to the coconut grove within ten minutes please? And not a word to anyone that you are meeting me there.’

Laxman was puzzled and vaguely uneasy. He disliked intrigues—in fact, he disliked any interference with this chalked out programme. Why was Samant so mysterious?

The coconut grove was a pleasant spot in the grounds, usually patronized by the staff when they relaxed after lunch. As Laxman made his way there he wondered if Samant had chosen it because it was out of sight of someone working in the main building. Samant was waiting for him and within a minute they were joined by Arul. Presumably Navin would also come, thought Laxman. But the Major began to speak rapidly and in a low voice.

‘I have called this meeting to discuss a delicate matter.’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for Navin?’ Arul asked.

The Major looked disturbed at this question. He coughed as if to buy time before speaking. Finally, he blurted, ‘The matter concerns him … he must not know of this meeting.’

As Arul and Laxman waited, he continued, ‘You know, I am from the Intelligence Bureau. At the I.B. we have files on all three of you.’

‘Big Brother is watching you!’ mused Laxman to himself. Arul, however, burst out in anger, ‘Are we in a police state?’

‘No, Dr Arul.’ The Major had recovered his poise. ‘We have to do these things for national security. These files remain inactive until we feel that something in a particular file is a potential threat to the nation. I may assure you—although strictly speaking I shouldn’t—that the files on both of you are clear and hence inactive.’

He would have said the same even if the situation were otherwise, thought Laxman. However, what the major did not say was more significant. Arul came to the point.

‘What about Navin?’ he asked. Major Samant shook his head.

‘I am afraid Dr. Navin does not fall in that class. Well known as he is amongst the international community of archaeologists, he has also been subject to … ah … illegal pressures to which he has succumbed. He has misused his position and knowledge … we know that he has been responsible for the unauthorized shipping of some valuable pieces out of this country.’

‘You mean he is a smuggler’. Arul liked to call a spade a spade.

‘And if so, how have you let him be at large?’ This was Laxman’s question, to which the Major next replied.

‘Because of Dr Navin’s expertise, we need him here. But more importantly, we are after bigger fish. Interpol is in touch with us and we have decided to wait for a while. We will act in good time … Have you seen this man, by the way?’

The Major suddenly took out a photograph. He was watching the reactions on their faces as they both studied it. Evidently the face was new to them.

‘Who is he?’ Arul asked.

‘A man of many names!’ The Major elucidated: ‘He has been responsible for many acts of smuggling important documents, archaeological remains, valuable gems. Several countries want him, not just for smuggling, but also for kidnapping and murder … Well, gentlemen, this man has recently been seen in Bangalore. As Karl Shulz, he is staying at the Royal Manor. If he is around it means that things are getting hot.’

‘But what makes you link his presence with our project here?’ Arul asked. Major Samant pulled out a photograph with another face, which again was unfamiliar to them both.

‘This man is Pyarelal. Runs a business in Delhi and has been connected with Dr Navin in some of his shady deals … Well, Pyarelal has been seen with Shulz in one of the Bangalore restaurants. And, as you know, Dr Navin has also been visiting Bangalore.’

‘Well, if visiting Bangalore is a crime, then I am about to commit one today.’ Laxman smiled in spite of the gravity of the matter under discussion.

The Major also smiled, but added, ‘No sir! But Dr Navin was seen with Pyarelal at a Bangalore cabaret last week.’

‘It’s true that Navin visited the cabaret’, Arul recalled. ‘He was relating some racy stories in the canteen the next day.’

‘Then, yesterday I discovered something more serious. Come, let me show you.’ The Major took them to a tiny patch where a cactus garden was coming up. Large stones were placed besides blooming cacti. Major Samant picked one up. There was a hole underneath.

Probably a snake’s abode, thought Laxman. But the Major shoved his hand in and took out a tiny, dark object.

‘An ingenious transmitter of foreign make! With this, Dr Navin doesn’t need to go to Bangalore. He can send messages from right here … This little toy has a range of ten kilometres.’

The Major replaced the ‘toy’ in the hole and covered it as before.

‘But why don’t you confiscate this dangerous thing?’ Arul asked, shocked.

‘Dr Arul, espionage never goes along the direct routes that are so common to you scientists.’ The Major’s face was expressionless as he proceeded. ‘We have put our own little bug on that toy. So we will get to know exactly who sends out messages and what information is being leaked. So far nothing of value has leaked out … But I need hardly add, please be cautious and on guard with Dr Navin. He must not suspect.’

‘But what about my secret report?’ Laxman asked. ‘I have to show it to him.’

‘With your word processor, I suggest that you give Dr Navin a doctored version, while you and Dr Arul keep the correct one.’

‘It’s difficult’, Laxman said, worry showing on his face. He was trying to recall just how much of the report he had already discussed with Navin.

‘Difficult, but not impossible and, under the circumstances, absolutely essential.’ The Major was hardly being helpful.

‘And we will have to act as if we don’t suspect’, Arul added. ‘Well, we will do our best.’

But it was going to be very tricky, they both felt.

‘So this is the Royal Manor?’ Urmila asked.

‘She was visiting a five-star hotel for the first time and was suitably impressed by the imposing architecture. Laxman had chosen to celebrate his completion of the report in the grand manner and overruled Urmila’s suggestions of cheaper restaurants. He also felt that she deserved only the best. Before reaching the hotel, they had visited the shops on Brigade Road—for at Gauribidnur nothing at all special was available. By nine o’clock, they were seated in the restaurant and Urmila was studying the menu. From where he sat Laxman got a good view of the entrance.

‘You know, Umi, the best suite in this hotel was once called the Waterloo suite.’ Laxman loved telling a tale he had heard from a Bangalore friend.

‘Waterloo? After the famous battle?’ Urmila queried. The menu was proving incomprehensible to her, so she gave up reading it.

‘I’m glad you still remember some history. Well, this suite is reserved for VVIPs when they visit Bangalore. And guess who came to occupy it one day?’

The question evidently did not call for any answer. In any case Urmila did not have one.

‘The President of France!’ exclaimed Laxman. ‘So they had to change the name of the suite at the last moment.’

Urmila laughed, more because she was happy to see her husband relaxed than at the anecdote. The head waiter had meanwhile materialized. Laxman gave his order and left Urmila to work out with the waiter’s assistance what she wanted for herself. He was idly studying the cross section of Bangalore gentry walking through the door when, suddenly, he stiffened. A tall, well built white man had just entered and was being shown his table. There was no mistaking him. Laxman nevertheless got as close a look as possible. Yes, it was the man in the photograph he had seen that morning and whom Samant had described …

Karl Shulz.

© Springer International Publishing Switzerland 2015

 

‘Gentlemen, let us open the packet given to us. Like you I am also eager to see what is inside.’

The Minister then proceeded to tear open the manila cover marked ‘secret’. The meeting of the ‘Container Committee’ was convened in Shastri Bhavan this time. Great care had been taken to ensure the utmost secrecy.

‘Before the members start reading this report, I would like to make a submission, with the permission of the chair’, Laxman spoke up.

‘Of course, Dr Laxmanan, go ahead.’

‘What you are now going to read has been checked by Dr Navin and Dr Arul. You may be tempted to think so, but let me assure you that nothing is exaggerated. It’s a factual account. Even so, I have taken the liberty of not mentioning certain portions that are at present known only to me. They are so sensational that I do not wish to disclose them to this committee without a green signal from the Honourable Minister in the chair. I will be happy to present this additional material to you, sir, after this meeting.’ He bowed to the chair and looked at Samant who winked in approval. He had already briefed the Minister about this before the meeting.

‘True! A committee with a membership of three or more can never keep a secret—so says a Sanskrit proverb.’ Probir Ganguly gave his support. One member, however, felt otherwise.

‘With all due respect to Dr Laxmanan’s point of view, sir, I wish to state my opposition’, Harisharan said. ‘If he cannot take us into confidence, we would prefer to withdraw from the committee.’

‘Harisharanji! You misunderstand what Dr Laxmanan is trying to say. As we all heard, he has left it to me to decide what can be disclosed and what cannot. And I propose to reserve my judgement until we have gone through this report … Gentlemen, I give you forty-five minutes to make a rapid reading.’ The Minister closed the discussion with a finality that only a seasoned chariman can bring to bear on a committee discussion.

There was pin drop silence for three quarters of an hour, broken only by occasional exclamations of surprise or sharp intakes of breath.

Raj Nath was the first to win the reading race. And the effect the report had on him could be judged from the fact that he forgot to smoke his pipe throughout that period. He rectified this omission by releasing his reaction through a hearty puff.

‘Yes, Dr Raj Nath!’ the chairman said some five minutes later when everybody had finished.

‘Had I been unaware of the circumstances, I would have called this report an exciting piece of science fiction.’ Sir, I am not competent to comment on all aspects of the report. I will confine myself to the field that interests me most.

‘As we are all aware, Cray is the fastest and biggest supercomputer at present.’ Its mode of operation is sequential. There are attempts to branch out into what is called parallel processing. In due course we may hope to surpass the capabilities of Cray by suitable combinations of sequential and parallel computing.

‘However, what this report contains is a blueprint for a computer that makes all our present efforts sound primitive. Instead of electronics, it uses photonics. That is, the processing of information in the computer is not done through electrons as in the computers we know today, but through particles of light, the photons. For us a photonic computer is a dream for the future. For those who left the container behind, it was a demonstrated reality. If we can reproduce that achievement, we will have jumped across several steps in computer technology.’

‘I agree that it is an important matter and we will take a decision on it today. I am sure my colleague the Minister of Science is equally excited by this possibility.’ The chairman looked at the Minister of Science sitting across the table.

‘Absolutely! We must take Dr Raj Nath’s suggestion very seriously’, the M.O.S. replied.

‘However, if I may raise a wider question, I would like to ask the experts for their overall assessment of the role of this container as an indicator of a past civilization. Dr Pande, the report does not go into the details of how you deciphered the alien language. Could you enlighten us on this issue?’ The chairman put the ball squarely in Navin’s court. Navin, of course, was well prepared.

‘Sir, first let me say something about the age of the container. Radiocarbon dating puts it at around twenty thousand years. Comparing the proportion of carbon fourteen in the container with other known archaeological remains, we can agree on this estimate’, Navin looked at Dr Gupta for support.

‘Navin is right,’ Dr Gupta spoke in his steady, sure tone. ‘Let me explain for the non-experts. Normal carbon found in nature has an atomic weight of twelve; that is, its atom is twelve times heavier than the atom of hydrogen. However, one also finds on this planet a heavier brand of carbon in small proportions. This is carbon fourteen—with an atomic weight of fourteen—which happens to be radioactive. It decays into the lighter species through radiation. We know at what rate it decays. If you take any population of carbon twelve now, half of it will decay in about 5700 years. So by measuring the abundance of this radioactive species in archaeological relics we can estimate their ages.’

‘Thanks, Dr Gupta, for explaining this to us. I have been hearing the phrase carbon dating for so many years—only today have I understood its significance. Dr Pande, please continue’, the Minister added.

Navin paused briefly to take stock of what he had to say. Everyone waited expectantly.

‘Gentlemen, you have read in the report how we managed to open the container. As we examined its contents we began to appreciate how logically those people had arranged them. They started with numbers. We use ten digits, they used eight … the so-called octal system.’

‘Does it mean that they had four fingers in each hand?’ Harisharan hazarded what he thought was a clever guess.

‘No. They had five fingers in each hand—in fact they were humans just like us. Their preference for the octal system was based entirely on convenience. As you know, the computer uses binary arithmetic in which every number is expressed with just two digits, zero and one. It is the most fundamental of all digital systems, but it requires a large number of digits to express any number. Since eight is expressed as 2 × 2 × 2, the octal system can be easily converted to the binary and vice versa. At the same time you don’t need a large number of digits to write a number….’

‘I will take your word for it, Dr Pande, although I must confess that much of this is going above my head.’ The Minister smiled as he made the confession.

‘Mine too, for I never liked maths and was glad to give it up at the first opportunity’, Navin smiled in return and added, ‘but even I could make out that in the theory of numbers these fellows were leagues ahead of us. Perhaps Dr Arul could comment on this.’

‘What Dr Navin has said is, if anything, an understatement. Abstract mathematics can in principle be described entirely in symbols—without words. So it was easier for us to decipher their mathematical writings. Let me tell you that they had solved most of the problems that today’s mathematicians consider intractable. For example, the Riemann hypothesis….’

‘I don’t think we need go into the details, Dr Arul!’ The Minister could see the baffled faces around the table. He motioned to Navin to continue.

‘Turning to words, these people had prepared a dictionary of sorts in which pictures of concrete objects were given side by side with their names.’ Moreover, they had evolved a method of digitizing the letters so that each word could be fed to a computer.

‘Even their grammar was expressed in mathematical language! It was therefore easy for me to understand how they constructed sentences….’

‘If I may interject, sir’, Laxman added, ‘Navin is understating again, but this time with respect to his own achievement. It was a pleasure to watch him unravel the grammar and get at the language.’

‘Thank you’, Navin said with a mock bow. ‘From sentences to information was the next step. I am still collecting and documenting the information about the social conditions of those people. I will present a concise report to this committee when I am through. I think Arul should comment on their science.’

At a sign from the chairman, Arul started his piece, which he had carefully rehearsed so as not to tread on sensitive toes. He began: ‘I have always had difficulty convincing myself as a scientist that our Vedic ancestors were technologically advanced. For none of the descriptions to date have contained what we call hard core science, that is, laws mathematically worded and data quantified. Evidence in the form of precise figures and construction kits has been conspicuously lacking. Not so for the container people! Their documentation includes all these, from basic physics, chemistry and biology to their technological applications. The report touches on a few examples, but these are by way of being the tip of the iceberg. There is enough information to keep our research labs busy for years.’

‘May I say something, sir?’

The Minister looked towards the smokescreen from behind which these words had emerged.

‘By all means, Dr Raj Nath.’

‘It seems to me, sir, that there is a lot of knowledge in there waiting to be unravelled. But the human brain, such as it is today, may take several years to do so unaided … Unaided that is, by their supercomputer.’

‘I get your point, Dr Raj Nath, we need to build this computer as fast as we can. This committee should give it top priority’, the chairman observed.

‘I endorse it wholeheartedly’, added Probir Ganguly. ‘We need to take a holistic view—and it leads us to the computer. The computer is needed to understand and interpret all the knowledge buried in the box. Converting that knowledge to useful ends will have far-reaching consequences. Let us build it as a top priority.’

All except two around the table spoke up in support. The chairman, always very perceptive, noted this and decided to probe further.

‘Harisharanji, you have been silent!’

Harisharan was waiting for this opportunity. He spoke in his most official tone. ‘The idea is indeed worth supporting. But there are several practical difficulties that I must mention. First of all, Plan funds have already been allocated and there seems to be no way of getting funds for this project. Second, the Department of Electronics has recently issued a strict order barring all new computers. Then, of course, there is the question of which ministry will serve as the nodal ministry for it.’

In short, he does not want to be saddled with anything new, thought Laxman. He exchanged glances with Arul, who had also arrived at the same conclusion. But the chairman was undaunted. ‘Points all well taken. So far as D.O.E. is concerned, I am sure there will be no problem. The ban is on imported computers. We are making the computer here, not importing it. Regarding money, we all realize that this presents us with an unprecedented opportunity for which we have to make new rules. Just before coming here, the P.M. called me. He is greatly interested and has assured me that there will be no problem of a financial nature. In fact, in view of his interest, let us resolve to request the P.M. that his office will be the nodal ministry.’

‘Hear! Hear?’ Navin broke out excitedly. He had echoed the mood of the committee. The chairman, however, had to solicit the view of another silent member.

‘Professor Kirtikar, you have been quiet so far. May we know what you think about this project?’

Given this question, Kirtikar had no option but to speak out his reservations.

‘Mr Chairman, in normal circumstances one would, of course, have unreservedly welcomed the opportunity of constructing this computer.’ In fact it would have been silly to let the opportunity pass us by. But, gentlemen, I am reminded of the story of the Trojan Horse. The Trojans under siege found a large mechanical horse left outside their citadel by the Greek army. They took it inside … and that was their undoing. This story led to the saying “Beware of Greeks bearing gifts”. Before we accept the gift of this container we should think twice….

‘Why is this civilization that was once so advanced extinct today?’ Of course civilizations can be destroyed for two reasons. Natural causes, like earthquakes, volcanic eruptions and ice ages can easily destroy a very advanced civilization. If this one perished for such reasons, I have nothing further to say….

‘But what if it was destroyed for man-made reasons? Today we are fairly advanced compared to our ancestors of a century back. But our technologies have brought their own perils, for example, nuclear extinction or large-scale pollution. What if this container has information that is potentially lethal? Would it not be wiser to first find out why those people were destroyed?’

As Kirtikar made this impassioned speech he looked round for reactions. He realized that his caution would fall on deaf ears. Strange, he felt, that the only person on his side in this mixed assembly was the one he least expected. And even Harisharan’s support was based on entirely different arguments that would not serve his purpose.

There was a discussion of Kirtikar’s point of view, but the committee would not budge from its decision to go ahead. The only concession he got was a rider attached to that decision: ‘Great caution should be exercised in applying for practical purposes any information pertaining to or coming from the container.’ A concession that he knew very well was merely intended to keep him satisfied.

As the meeting broke up and Laxman followed the Minister to his sanctum sanctorum, Arul took Kirtikar aside.

‘When are you leaving for Bombay, sir?’

‘By the last flight tonight. Why?’

‘Laxman and I want to talk to you quietly … may be for an hour.’

‘Then come to INSA at five in the afternoon. I will be through with my meeting by then.’

As he left Shastri Bhavan, Kirtikar wondered what it was all about.

Navin and Pyarelal were having lunch at the Nalanda, a restaurant of Gautam Hotel near the Pusa Circle. Although a sumptuous buffet had been laid on, the two were more interested in talking in a dimly lit corner.

‘I need the manual for the computer … a copy would of course do’, Pyarelal said.

‘Impossible! Absolutely impossible! As I told you, this information is top secret and Laxman has deposited it with the Minister … I guess the Minister will constitute a task force to oversee the building of the computer. But I won’t be on it for sure! My brief henceforth is to compile the history of the container people.’ Navin’s voice rose in expostulation.

‘Take it easy Navinbhai’, Pyarelal purred in his peculiar, silky voice. ‘Nothing is impossible in this world. In any case, with suitable lubrication even the stiffest joint can be made to move.’

Navin hesitated. He knew what lubrication Pyarelal could apply.

‘Karl has gone abroad to find the clientele. Be assured that this time we are talking of really high stakes … How about one lakh?’

Pyarelal held out a finger. Navin held out both his palms with all fingers opened out.

‘You are asking a lot, Navinbhai.’

‘As you said, PL, these are high stakes. You are lucky that I have only two hands with only five fingers on each.’

‘OK, done! We will celebrate.’ Pyarelal called the waiter to serve the drinks. The alacrity with which Pyarelal had accepted his demand made Navin wonder if he had underbid.

As they were celebrating, a young man on a nearby table got up. He then slipped out and went to a public call box in the lobby downstairs, where he dialled a local number and talked for a long time.

Traffic was at its peak on Balhadurshah Zafar Marg as the scooter brought Arul and Laxman through the gates of the Indian National Science Academy. Two pink buildings stood in the grounds and Arul asked the driver to drop them at the building on the right. The beginnings of summer were noticeable, and they were relieved to leave the hot, dusty road and enter the waiting room.

The receptionist informed them in Hindi that the meeting was still going on and that Kirtikar Sahib was inside in the committee room. They waited on a sofa beneath a ceiling fan.

‘You have been here before?’ It was more a statement than a question. Still, Arul felt like answering.

‘Five years ago I came here in April to present myself for an interview on my research work. I had been shortlisted for the INSA Young Scientist Award.’

‘Did you get it?’

‘I did! But the awards are not given here. They are given by the P.M. or the President at the academy meeting held at the annual congregation of the Science Congress. That year it was in Lucknow … Ah, here is Professor Kirtikar.’

INSA had been founded in 1934, but it had really come into prominence after independence. It patterned itself on the Royal Society and, with its headquarters moved to Delhi from Calcutta, it served the many official purposes that a national academy is called upon to perform. Kirtikar had come for one of the numerous committees that INSA constituted to conduct its official business.

‘Let us go into the committee room—it is air-conditioned’, he led them in as other members of the committee walked out with their papers and briefcases.

The committee room was very spacious. Small tables had been joined together to make an oval-shaped ring that could easily have sat fifty. The smaller committees occupied only one corner, as was the case today. When the secretary and typist had cleared all the papers and left, Kirtikar motioned to Arul.

‘Arul, the floor is yours!’

‘Well, Laxman can describe it better than I can … in fact, I myself don’t know most of it.’ At this prompting, Laxman produced a sheaf of papers.

‘Sir, today I gave some secret documents to the Minister. They basically contain the blueprint for the computer. Sensational as a photonic computer will be, what I have here is even more so. I need your advice on how to handle such a hot matter.’

‘Must be pretty hot if you did not want to part with it even for the Minister!’ Kirtikar commented drily, looking at the sheaf of papers.

Arul and Laxman looked at each other. Finally, Laxman proceeded further. ‘Sir, unfortunately we have a mole in our midst right in the Science Centre … Navin.’

‘Navin Pande?’ exclaimed Kirtikar. ‘A distinguished archaeologist like him? I can’t believe it.’

‘Unfortunately it’s true. Major Samant has a big file on him and he has advised us to be cautious. Which is why I had to use the subterfuge I did at the meeting this morning.’ Laxman said. Arul then narrated their encounter with Samant.

‘It figures … well Laxman, if I may so address you informally, you did the right thing … but what a shock about Navin! … To come to the business, however. May I read these now?’

‘Please do!’ Laxman added.

As Kirtikar finished the last page his face clearly reflected an internal turmoil. ‘I can’t believe it!’ he added, still holding on to the bundle.

‘Nor did I … but then, with this container I have relaxed my bounds of credibility’, Laxman said.

‘A von Neumann machine! A blueprint for this fantastic thing right in our hands? Laxman, are you sure it will work?’

‘What is a von Neumann machine?’ Arul interjected.

Laxman clarified: ‘Arul, you have heard of the mathematical genius John von Neumann. Amongst his researches in artificial intelligence during the nineteen-fifties was the notion of a machine—a robot if you like—that can reproduce itself. Von Neumann proved mathematically that such a machine can in principle exist. But from a mathematical construction to technological achievability is a long step. Nobody believes that von Neumann’s construction is achievable in the foreseeable future. Not with our present technology.’

‘And now you have evidence that these container people had succeeded in making such robots … unbelievable!’ Professor Kirtikar said.

‘But true! These robots can be made once we have the computer. For the logical maze needed for their construction can only be penetrated with the supercomputer … But once we make them, they will prove tremendous assets to our technology. These robots played an important role in the lives of their makers. This much is now clear from whatever account we have about the container people.’

Kirtikar was silent for a while. Then he spoke, a thoughtful expression on his face. ‘You know my views expressed this morning. A photonic supercomputer is bad enough … now this further step of a self-replicating robot! My mind simply boggles.’

‘I agree, it is a hot potato … and that’s why you have to tell us how to handle it. More so because Navin and his lot will be after it … We are totally out of our depth’, Laxman added.

Kirtikar was pacing up and down the long committee room—his habit whenever in deep thought. Arul motioned Laxman to silence as they waited patiently. They could hear the rumble of traffic on Bahadurshah Zafar Marg. What a contrast between that world and the ideas they were grappling with….

Suddenly Kirtikar stopped. His face had cleared and he now spoke in decisive tones: ‘Our strategy, my young friends, must be like this….’