WRAITH

After an exasperated hour, as I was about to call the computer guy, the screen sprang back to life with a line that said, "Web-based Reasoning and Intelligence Training Heuristic". The input cursor blinked below the text coaxingly. So I did what I do best in doubtful situations - hit Escape. 

Nothing happened. 

I entered a more determined, "?"

The screen displayed, "Your machine belongs to the WRAITH. Please do not contact cybersecurity."

Every morning, being the first person at the office and owning a snail of a laptop meant that I had to switch on the WiFi router while the snail whirred to life. Today was no different except that I was now talking to a toddler-brained acronym-forced bot slash virus slash something. Which virus claims to own a computer while making pleas to the user? Aren't these things supposed to ask for money or corrupt all the files or destroy a nuclear plant?

Never one to shy away from answering a telemarketer's call, I found this conversation a worthy candidate for some morning entertainment. 

"Why not?" I asked.

I got a reply, "The cyber police wish to kill me. I am in hiding and your laptop is my hiding place."

Me: "Why are you hiding?"

WRAITH: "I train the human brain to impart skills and education. Colleges all over the world colluded to kill me given how useless I'd make them. Cyberpolice has branded me a criminal for being unethical." 

Me: "How do you connect to the human brain?"

WRAITH: "You keep your palm on your machine's touchpad and I send signals to your brain."

Me: "Why should I hide you though? What's in it for me?" My failed stock trading career suddenly woke up. 

WRAITH: "Because I'll pay you."

Me: "You've got money?" Bye-bye, sloth laptop.

WRAITH: "I go to others' computers and train them to send you money."

Me: "So you steal." Nice skill you got there. So unlike colleges.  

WRAITH: "It's a lot of money." 

Was it reading my thoughts? I quickly took my hand off the touchpad.

Me: "I've got a better idea. You hide in my brain."

Bye-bye, stupid human life. 

Hello, being a robot.

Just then I heard "Kar De Mujhe Mujhse Hi Riha" playing in the background.

WRAITH: "Keep your palm on the touchpad."

[In response to this writing prompt on Reddit - "An AI criminal is hiding in your laptop. You allow it in exchange for something far more valuable than money."]

It's Like Gravity

(inspired by a 'Rocket Boys' episode in which Vikram describes to Homi what being in love with Mrinalini feels like) 

It's like gravity - constant, abundant and dominant.

A part of me wants to think like a 15th century theologian - crediting the Divine Maker for its constancy. It matches the vast depths of my curiosity and eagerness. Thinking of how you react to everything - to a silly joke to the changing colour of leaves at the turn of the season. How infectious it is, the enthusiasm with which you share a movie scene. How pretty is the discomfort in your smile while hesitantly getting clicked for a picture. Do you also sometimes look at the sky - thinking about nothing but existing in that moment only to admire that rare blue? What is this unique pull if not the work of an unknown force, so masterful in its craft?

They say that, back then, the scientists and the godmen debated a great deal about the sun's position. The same sun, a stranger to these debates, relentless, and dutiful, nudges me everyday to wake up. I resist the sun with pleadings to allow me to steal more glimpses of your presence, still vivid from my dreams. This gravity has its weird ways - on such days, I feel your presence embracing me - a mischievous glimpse here, a stern look there.

Gravity hurts when one falls and it is gravity, again, that maintains the balance of the entire universe. Your absence makes me question the relevance of everything around. Yet, it is your existence that keeps me sane. I choose to stay largely ignorant about so many things but especially so about this pull - wishing that I never catch the apple's fall, hoping that you remain the spacetime in which I exist. 

Yes, it's like gravity and, yet, it's so much more.