THE DUSK
It was dark at night. Immersive, intense, illusive. I sat in the middle of all that darkness. On a charpai. In a land called Māru, Meru, Meramañ, which means Desert, Ocean, and Mountains. People used to call it Kutch. Because it looks a lot like a tortoise. Between the wet and dry seasons, the Rann (desert) is a lifeless place on this planet.
Since it got dark, I had been sitting there on that charpai for a while. Salt flats that were marshy surrounded me. It was white like snow, but not as bright or shiny. Not as intense or engrossing as the thick darkness. Because there wasn’t any sun. The sky was cloudy the whole day. What I thought I would be able to do to get a frame for transporting vaccines in this white, salty land failed today. We were all praying hard for the sun to come out, even for a few minutes. But I didn’t have any luck today. Then, one by one, everyone slowly left. One at a time. Except me. I had my eyes on the horizon, fascinated by the illusion made by the gray sky and grim salt land. It looked like the land had been in deep sadness for a long time because it was so dry and had no life. So deep and raw that words can’t describe it. The cold wind came from the far northwest and blew through the Rann. But I was preoccupied with the depressing failure. It didn’t affect the senses that deal with the body. I feel like crying. But couldn’t. Like this piece of land.
My human mind was trying very hard to get out of the depression by finding another way to the light. In my mind, ideas were coming and going. The darkness rolled down from the sky to the ground gradually. And the snow-white land in front of my eyes gradually merged with the darkness. The depression worsened. Failure became intolerable. Nonetheless, I was attempting to swim through the darkness. To get out of the depressing failure.
I’m not sure how long I was there. The cellphone had long since died. I raised my eyes to the sky. In an effort to find Venus, Saturn, or Jupiter, to comprehend the time and the direction of the south. But I couldn’t do it. The earth appeared to be covered in a thick black blanket.
I reach into my pocket and pull out the cigarette pack and matchbox. That was the best my motor and sensory neurons could do in the dark to find my belongings, which were stored in my memory. I was literally acting like a blind man. I tried to light the cigarette, but I realized that was an unequal fight. With the wind that has been blowing hard for a long time, which I didn’t notice before, probably because my mind was preoccupied. I began to shiver. The attempts to light the cigarette grew more hasty. With obvious follow-up failures. One, two, three, four… Then, all of a sudden, I saw someone through the dim light of the matchsticks. Right in front of me. But how could I possibly tell someone? Concerning the distorted countenance I noticed a few seconds ago as a result of the second’s light. A person? Or it could be something else. The darkness had completely blinded me.
My spine was jolted by an icy wave. The cigarette was still on my lips.
– ‘Ke? Who?’ I asked, hushed.
A monotonous male voice replied through the darkness in Bengali, with a non-Bengali accent, much to my surprise. ‘Didn’t recognize him? You are well acquainted with me. Every moment of your life, I am with you. For over a decade.’
‘No, I’m sorry…’
‘Okay. Don’t be scared. I’m Google, your ever-present companion. Your phone has been discharged. So I came to advise you.’
Confusion gathered in my mind like clouds. Am I still alive? Or was it a dream? Or was I being played for a fool? I regained consciousness when the voice began speaking again.
‘You appear to be completely befuddled. You are welcome to tell me about your problem. I’m dealing with issues that affect all of civilization.’
I took my time responding. It hit both my confusion and conscience square in the face. ‘Is that correct?’ I asked.
‘Of course,’ he said. ‘You simply have to say, Okay, Google. I’ll be there in front of you immediately.’
I was regaining my nerves. I replied jokingly, getting used to the voice, ‘You appear to be the Aladdin’s Genie. However, I’m not sure what you look like.’
The intangible figure responded, ‘It could be far superior to your expectations. If you want to hear that Arabian Nights story, just let me know. But for the time being, please tell me about your problem.’
I paused for a few moments. ‘I failed miserably today to achieve what I had in mind for this Rann,’ I said. ‘So I’ll make another plan for tomorrow. I intend to take the vaccines to Harappa.’
I didn’t get a response for a few seconds. The sound of the deserted Rann’s silence was accompanied by a chilly breeze. The voice then said to me again, ‘Sorry. Harappa was destroyed several thousand years ago. If you want to learn more about the Harappan civilization, I can assist you. I have all of civilization’s information stored in the cloud.’
In the dim light, I smiled. ‘I know, Mr. Google,’ I said. ‘What I want to do is take the vaccine to Dholavira. Do you know where I’m talking about? And the quickest way to get there.’
In the dim light, I heard an exhilarating voice. ‘Of course, I’m familiar with the location. Also, the route. According to the map, you can get to Dholavira in 7 to 8 hours from here.’
‘Regrettably, I don’t have that much time. I need to get the vaccine to Dholavira right away. ‘Do you have any suggestions for alternate routes?’
‘There is no other way to Dholavira,’ the confident response came from the darkness.
“But, according to the locals, there is a quick route through the body of water. Kutch Lake Rann. It takes about two hours to travel through Rann’s salt lake. They told me that we can easily access the route in the winter.’
‘Impossible. because there is no road through the lake on the map. ‘How can you cross the water if there is no road?’ The voice got a little louder. ‘Don’t listen to the locals. If a road does not appear on Google Maps, it does not exist.’
After a short break, the voice started to talk again. ‘How come you want to go faster? ‘And why vaccines?’
I didn’t respond right away. I took a pause.
‘First and foremost, I don’t want to miss the light again the next day. To answer your second question, I can only say that I’m chasing vaccines through time. Standing on the soil of Harappa, I want to apologize to those little innocent lives on the Indus River bank who left the world prematurely as a result of infectious diseases. Those were brought about by civilization’s greed. As we progressed from hunter-gatherers to civilians, our greed violated nature’s symbiotic law. Because of human’s stupidity, an entire land that was once prosperous by the Indus River became deserted. As a civilian, I bear equal responsibility for the deaths of those innocent lives a few thousand years ago. I wish there were vaccines. Infections and human greed are beyond the control of the human race as a whole, but at least we have vaccines. To protect against vaccine-preventable diseases.’
I was about to continue when the voice interrupted my flow. ‘You stupid humans. The emotional moron.’
‘You are correct, Mr. Google. We have feelings. The fervor. The avarice. To overcome the unknown. This not only gave rise to technology, innovation, but also artificially intelligent demigods like yourself.’
‘You are non-existent without the artificially intelligent minds like mine,’ the voice responded.
‘Yes. You are correct. We created technology for the benefit of humanity. Not the other way around. Vaccines are also the result of the human mind, perseverance and technology. But, unfortunately, the intended purpose eventually fades away, leading us to destruction. Just as we gradually become reliant on you. And we began to doubt ourselves. We forgot about our own human instincts and began blindly following you. It is the existence of both the good and the bad at the same time.’ I took a pause. ‘It’s a disorganized state of mind with countless chaotic dots. Vaccines are helping me connect the dots, what you refer as the complexity science. In search of the meaning of life. I must travel to Dholavira to apologize to those unknown little departed souls. In the shortest possible time.’
The monotonous voice sounded worried. ‘Listen. If you want, I can still guide you to Dholavira via the existing road. I might also be able to help you find answers to your questions using Google. But you must adhere to my instructions. Not in the way you’d like.’
In the dim light, I smiled once more. ‘Thank you very much, Mr. Google. I am well aware of your extraordinary abilities. You are well-versed in my daily activities. We made you and asked you to do whatever possible. But this time I’ll have to figure it out on my own. I still believe in human instincts. I sincerely appreciate your time to accompany me in this wilderness. It’s enlightening.’
‘Are you sure you don’t need my assistance?’
‘Yeah. Absolutely. 100 percent. Bye, Google.’
The voice faded away into the darkness.
THE DAWN
I awoke to bright sunshine. I looked outside through the windows of my hotel room in Bhuj. The cloud disappeared. I stepped out of the room. ‘Will you accompany me on that less traveled road?’ I asked my chauffeur, Dharamraj, whom I fondly called Yudhistir. “You already know it’s not on Google Maps. And I’m not sure about the road conditions.”
‘Sirji, yes. I’ve been with you for the last 2-3 days. I’m confident that if I accompany you, it will be an unforgettable experience. I’ll have something to tell others.”
“Please take your time. Consider it again. The road may be difficult. I mean the worst.’ I reminded him one more time.
“Sir, hum hain naa. ‘I’m right here with you.’
We set out on our adventure. We came to a halt in front of the tea-cum-pan shop where we had our tea break the day before. I went to meet the shop’s owner. An elderly gentleman who advised me on the shortest route. I purchased two packs of cigarettes. He was overjoyed. I asked him to reconfirm the route once more. ‘Siddhu, siddhu,’ he said with a smile. ‘Keep straight.’ We followed his directions.
Then, for the next 60 kilometers of the total 162 kilometers of the journey, what I saw on both sides of that unknown Kachha road was unnatural. But they are part of nature. Because only nature can create this motif with her own color palette. There are only two ingredients: salt and water. Blue, magenta, vermilion, and pink cut through layers of sparkling white. Except for one bright color. Green.
In about three hours, we traveled a less-traveled road to the capital of the Harappan civilization, Dholavira. Humans can access it, but artificial intelligence cannot. ‘Sir, we often say don’t judge a book by its cover,’ Yudhistir said. ‘Yeh pe toh koi cover hi nahi tha, sidha book par pahoche gaye,’ says the author. The road was bad, but it was far better than we had anticipated. It’s not just on Google Maps.
In the ruin, I kept an empty vaccine vial. For those innocent, untimely departed souls who were probably used to playing with their earthy toys on the banks of the Indus. For those innocent souls, I pray.
I took a handful of dust in a small pouch, as I had done in Rann. The dust of my ancestors’ footsteps on their land. I can question their greed and the consequences, but I can’t ignore their presence. Who knows, maybe I share a gene with a couple who first met here nearly 5000 years ago. The dams, the remains of one of the best and most scientifically designed water distribution systems in the city built by our forefathers, are proof of Indus’ existence. But what I saw a few minutes ago—the deserted water body and the Rann—are undeniably human creations. Nonetheless, we continue to try to restrict river flow against nature’s will across the dams.
Will vaccines alone be able to save present and future civilizations?
THE VERITY
Gazing towards the horizon, I took my cellphone from my pocket as I stood on one of civilisation’s earliest relics. The phone shamelessly displayed – no network coverage. ‘Okay, Google,’ I said. But I received no response. I gave it another try. No, I couldn’t find Mr. Google.
I whispered,
‘You know, Google, you can’t help us. And it’s possible that it won’t be in the future too. We couldn’t help ourselves for ages. It’s our greed. Yet an entire species, responsible for a vicious cycle of their own rise and fall, has already walked through innumerable alternative Kachha roads of humankind that are less traveled. Those that satellites cannot locate. We created you, not the other way around. Humans may be able to survive without you. They did, in fact. The way we found our route is right in front of you as an example. But how do you survive in the absence of humans? It is technology for the benefit of humanity. You cannot exist without the network. We can. At the very least, we can try. That is not an option for you. Humans cannot be understood without a heart. A heart that is to blame for our rise and falls. So why I’m chasing vaccines is beyond your comprehension. Because it is chaotic. And connecting those chaotic dots requires emotion, logic, and passion. Only we have the ability to save or destroy ourselves. Neither you nor technology. That is both our strength and our weakness. That’s who we are. Humans. Okay, Google?’
