Hands in the Fog

March 15, 2010 – 8:30 PMJadavpur Villa – Balcony Overlooking Dakuria Lake

The balcony door stood half-open, allowing the faint breeze from the lake to drift into the room. It carried the scent of fresh earth, cool water, and something faintly metallic — the ever-present undercurrent of the city's machinery, too far to see but always close enough to sense.

Aritra stood against the iron railing, one hand resting on the cool metal, the other holding the sleek silver device — Nova One Ultima. It rested easily between his fingers, light but heavy with implication.

This wasn't just a phone. It was the seed of control.

Not a single soul outside his inner circle knew what had been launched into the sky last month — the silent deployment of two satellites whose very existence rewrote the rules of global telecommunications. And now, in his hand, was the first instrument capable of wielding that invisible power.

From behind him, the faint shuffle of cotton against marble.

Katherine stepped onto the balcony, her hair still damp from her evening shower, loosely tied back with a plain band. She had abandoned her old sense of style almost entirely — the designer dresses, the delicate accessories, all left behind in exchange for a simple grey cotton salwar kameez. Light, comfortable, unremarkable — yet somehow, on her, it looked softly radiant in the pale moonlight.

Aritra didn't turn at first, but the subtle scent of her shampoo — faint jasmine — found him anyway.

"You've been out here for hours," she said softly, her voice gentle in the night. "The food's getting cold."

Aritra glanced at her, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes — not tension, exactly. More like the weight of a man balancing on the knife's edge between satisfaction and paranoia.

"It's fine," he murmured. "I'm not hungry."

Katherine took a step closer, resting her forearms on the railing beside him. "You only stare at the lake like this when you're either planning something… or waiting for something."

Aritra's knuckles tapped lightly against the Nova One Ultima. "Maybe both."

Katherine's gaze drifted to the phone, her brow furrowing slightly. "That's one of the new ones, isn't it?"

He gave a small nod.

"I thought the factory was still ramping up."

"They are," he said. "This one's from the first batch."

Katherine tilted her head slightly. "And?"

"It's perfect."

There was no boast in his voice — no excitement, no pride. Just cold, mechanical certainty. The tone of a man who didn't need to hope anymore because he already knew.

She didn't ask what made it perfect. She had learned not to probe too hard when his voice took on that edge.

But something about the way he held the phone made her uneasy. It wasn't just a product to him. It was a weapon disguised in polished titanium and glass.

She shifted her weight, the night air cool against her bare feet. "You've been quieter than usual since… since the Jharkhand results."

That drew a faint smile from Aritra, the kind that didn't quite touch his eyes. "Quiet isn't always bad."

"No," she agreed softly. "But this doesn't feel like peace."

He turned to her then, his gaze dark and sharp under the moonlight. "It's not."

Katherine inhaled slowly. Even after all these months living beside him, she still couldn't see through all the layers. Aritra wasn't just secretive — he was compartmentalized. The man she shared meals with, the one who touched her waist absentmindedly when passing by, the one who sometimes smiled faintly at her jokes — that version of him was real. But so was the other version, the one who stood alone on balconies, eyes locked onto horizons only he could see.

That version scared her.

But it also drew her closer.

"Are you at least happy?" she asked, her voice quieter now. "With the way things are going?"

Aritra's thumb brushed over the phone's screen, the device awakening with a faint glow. 5G – Direct Satellite Link – Secure Connection Active.

"Happy?" he echoed. "Happiness isn't the goal."

Katherine exhaled slowly. "I know."

She stepped closer, resting her palm against his wrist, her fingers brushing the edge of the phone. "But I still want to know if you are."

There was something in her touch that softened the line of his jaw — not enough to drop his guard, but enough for a rare honesty to slip through.

"I'm close," he said.

"To what?"

"To making sure no one else decides what happens next."

The weight of those words settled between them, heavier than the night air.

Katherine's hand lingered against his wrist, her touch grounding him in the present — away from satellites, from secret networks, from the unseen wars already unfolding in the markets and ministries.

"You'll tell me someday, won't you?" she whispered.

Aritra didn't answer, but his fingers curled briefly over hers. A silent promise, or maybe just a temporary reassurance — even he wasn't sure.

Earlier That Day – Newtown MegaFactory – Secure Prototype Lab

The sterile hum of filtered air filled the room, muffling the distant whir of assembly lines. On the central inspection table, three devices lay side by side — Nova One Ultima, Nova One Pro, Nova One Edge.

The lab was sealed — no external technicians allowed. Only Aritra, Ishita, and the small handpicked team who had overseen the entire production process had access.

The phones were unlike anything on the market — not just for their materials, but for their architecture. Each device was built directly around the satellite connection module — bypassing every traditional carrier system.

No SIM card slot. No carrier lock. Each phone connected directly to Aritra's personal satellites — untouchable by any government, any regulator, any competitor.

Aritra picked up the Ultima, feeling its weight, its balance. The sapphire crystal screen curved seamlessly into the titanium-aluminum frame, while the graphene battery beneath the casing promised a week's charge under heavy use.

The Edge, thinner and slightly smaller, was meant for ultra-mobility — designed for executives and politicians who wanted power in their pocket without bulk.

And the Pro, somewhere between the two, balanced cutting-edge hardware with understated elegance, targeting those who demanded both performance and discretion.

Each phone contained quantum-encrypted messaging, real-time AI call filtering, and direct access to Lumen — his personal intelligence system.

In his hands, these devices were more than communication tools — they were control terminals.

Control over information flow, data access, and global narratives.

He placed the phones back on the table, one by one.

The world wasn't ready.

But they wouldn't have a choice.

Later That Night – Blackthorne's Invisible Hand

In a private residence in Geneva, a man dressed in a charcoal suit sat alone, sipping a glass of aged scotch. On the table before him lay a plain black phone — unmarked, untraceable, its screen glowing with a single secure line.

Nathaniel Blackthorne didn't need to see Aritra to know the boy was ready.

The shipments were arranged.

The European markets were already preparing to open doors they didn't know were unlocked.

By the time they realized who stood inside, it would be too late.

Nathaniel raised his glass.

"To the new age," he murmured.

And drank.