Veerika Verma

Dad sat me down in the dimly lit room, his eyes reflecting the glow of multiple lamps. "Listen Veerika" he said, his voice hushed. "I know you despise the developers and rulers of AI, but we can't directly challenge them, not yet atleast" He leaned in, conspiratorially. 'The last warehouse of Sphere 39 is in the heart of the royal palace. From what I heard, the crown prince will be present there as well".

I leaned back in the creaky chair, my fingers tapping on the worn wooden table. "Dad, it's not as difficult as it seems," I assured him. "I've studied every inch of that palace map, and I can slip in without catching anyone's attention, certainly not the crown prince. Besides, I've got a plan to make it look like a mere glitch in their systems. Trust me, I can pull this off without leaving a trace."

Dad's eyes narrowed, worry etched across his face. "Veerika, I appreciate your determination, but don't let overconfidence cloud your judgment. Shakti thought she could outsmart them too. She was confident, just like you are, and she paid the ultimate price." He sighed, a weight of sorrow in his voice. "I can't lose you, too. This is dangerous, and we need to be cautious, not cocky."

The mention of my mom felt like a jab straight to my gut. A heavy silence hung in the air, and I saw in dad's eyes the realization that he shouldn't have brought her up. His expression softened, regret washing over his features as we both carried the weight of her memory in that dimly lit room.

Before he could apologize or explain, a sharp knock disturbed us. Anita Aunt, one of the surviving member of the Belt, was at the door, calling us for dinner. We exchanged a glance, putting aside our heavy conversation for the moment and heading towards the comforting smell of food, leaving the plans and memories of danger behind, at least for now.

Or so I thought.

The dining room exuded a warm and intimate atmosphere, adorned with soft, earthy tones that embraced the us in a comforting hug. The room was not vast, but its coziness was a testament to its charm.

The dinner atmosphere held a palpable tension, stretching from the youngest members to the seasoned elders of the Resistance Belt. In the gaze of each member, there lingered a question, unspoken but etched on their faces: Would I go through with the daring plan to pilfer the food supplies from the warehouse tomorrow? The air crackled with uncertainty, turning the usually communal meal into a silent battlefield of expectations and doubts, where every bite seemed to carry the weight of an impending decision.

Adhish Uncle, husband of Anita Aunt, cleared his throat and gestured for everyone to settle down on their chairs. The clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversations subsided as we obediently took our seats, the unspoken tension momentarily diverted by his authoritative yet reassuring presence. The dim glow of the dining room cast a subtle spotlight on the gathering, emphasizing the anticipation that hung in the air.

Mariyam, the 43-year-old widow who had borne the weight of loss for over a decade, faintly smiled at me as she skillfully served dinner alongside her two assistants. Her eyes, etched with the lines of hardship, held a quiet strength that resonated with the shared history of struggle, of 13 years ago. The clinks of plates and gentle hum of conversations resumed, but in that fleeting smile, Mariyam conveyed a silent understanding-a connection forged through adversity that transcended the ordinary act of serving a meal.

My father, sensing the unasked question lingering in the air, began to address it directly. His voice carried a mixture of reassurance and conviction as he announced that "Veerika wouldn't be partaking the raid on the warehouse within the palace". The collective exhale of relief from the Resistance Belt members filled the room, the unspoken weight lifted as my father's words quelled the anticipation that had permeated the dinner atmosphere.

Adhish Uncle, his face breaking into a genuine expression of joy and relief, conveyed his sentiments with heartfelt words about the newfound decision. His announcement garnered a collective nod of agreement from everyone in the room, a silent acknowledgment that our unity and shared purpose were stronger than any single daring mission.

Yet, a stubborn determination brewed within me. Despite the collective agreement, an inner voice persisted, urging me to reconsider. Something deep within insisted that robbing the warehouse was a path that would lead me closer to my overarching goal. The internal struggle mirrored the conflicting emotions swirling within the room, where unity battled with individual conviction, leaving the dinner table laden with unspoken tensions and diverging paths.

"I understand the concerns, and I appreciate the decision made for my safety," I spoke up, my voice unwavering. "But we cannot ignore the urgency of our cause, and I believe I have the skills to navigate it without putting myself at risk. I am ready to bear the responsibility, if anything goes south. We can't afford to let this opportunity slip away."

Aunt Mariyam intervened, her voice carrying a tone of concern. "With the successful robberies you've executed, we've secured enough food supplies to sustain us for a decade," she pointed out. "Putting you in danger for more might jeopardize more than it gains. We should consider alternative strategies that don't risk your safety. The well-being of the Resistance Belt depends on prudent decisions that ensures your safety."

"I understand the risks, and I value everyone's concern," I countered, determination lacing my words. "Yet, I can't shake the feeling that this mission is a crucial step towards achieving our larger goal. I'm willing to take on the challenge and see it through. We've come too far to back down now, and I believe this is a path that needs to be walked, even if it means shouldering the risk myself."

"I won't let you go alone, never" dad declared, slamming his fist on the table. His eyes bore a mixture of paternal concern and unwavering determination.

A collective realization swept through the room, and a subtle smile played on the lips of those present. "It's a family thing," someone whispered, encapsulating the shared stubborn determination that ran in our veins. In that moment, the dining room transformed into a nexus of shared history and familial resilience, each member understanding that the strength to face challenges head-on was a legacy passed down through generations.

A voice, silent since the evening's deliberations, finally spoke. "I would go with her and protect her," it declared, breaking the stillness.

All heads turned towards Yuvaan at his bold statement, and Anita Aunt was quick to jump in. "No, you wouldn't," she asserted firmly to her 19-year-old son. The room held its breath, caught in the tension between a family's protective instincts and the unyielding determination that permeated the air.

With determination, Yuvaan responded, "What kind of friend would I be if I didn't protect her? We've always had each other's backs, and this mission won't be any different. I won't let anything happen to her." His words hung in the air, a declaration that shifted the dynamics in the room, adding a layer of unwavering friendship to the familial bonds that intertwined in our quest.

"I don't need anyone to protect me; I'm quite capable," I asserted confidently. Yet, as our eyes met, an unspoken understanding passed between us. My gaze softened, conveying gratitude for his willingness to stand by me, a silent acknowledgment that even the strongest could find solace in the support of a trusted companion.

Ignoring my statement, Adhish Uncle turned to his son, concern etched on his face. "Won't the serum in your bloodstream allow the cruel owners of AI to trace you and potentially catch her as well?" he inquired, his voice laced with a father's worry for his son and the unforeseen dangers that could unfold. The room hushed, awaiting Yuvaan's response, acknowledging the complexities that the mission held.

"We all know how capable our Veerika is in manipulating the AI waves; she always has been," Yuvaan acknowledged, breaking the tense silence. His words carried a hint of admiration, a testament to the unique skill set I possessed. The room seemed to exhale collectively, finding reassurance in the acknowledgment of my capabilities and the trust that had been forged over time.

With a set plan, Yuvaan and I departed for the palace warehouse at 4 a.m. in the dawn's muted darkness. The absence of the sun for the past 13 years had rendered the distinction between dark and light almost irrelevant. The silent streets, devoid of the usual hustle, became our clandestine path towards the heart of the royal palace, where the secrets of Sphere 39 awaited discovery.

After manipulating every wave and line that the AI used to track, we reached the palace with a subtle assurance that our presence remained concealed. The silent streets bore witness to our stealthy advance, a dance of shadows in the perpetually dim world. The absence of surveillance felt both liberating and eerie, a stark reminder of the oppressive regime we sought to undermine as we approached the warehouse shrouded in secrecy.

Indeed, as we neared the palace, a flying booth sliced through the air, unmistakably indicating the presence of the Crown Prince. Our hearts quickened, and we melted into the shadows, acutely aware that any encounter with royalty could jeopardize our mission. The early morning held its breath, the suspense thickening as we navigated the palace grounds, determined to evade any unforeseen obstacles in our quest for the elusive warehouse.

It took us around three intense hours to execute our meticulously planned distraction, diverting the attention of every vigilant guard scattered throughout the palace. Swiftly and silently, we infiltrated the warehouse, maneuvering through its labyrinthine corridors with the precision of a well-practiced dance. The pulsating adrenaline and the hushed echoes of our actions underscored the gravity of the moment as we successfully executed our daring plan to pilfer the coveted warehouse from Sphere 39's last stronghold.

As we set in motion the last phase of our plan-making our exit-we were met with an enormous level of commotion echoing through the corridors. The unexpected disturbance sent a ripple of tension through our carefully laid out scheme. In the dim-lit passages, we exchanged wary glances, realizing that the tranquil silence we had so deftly manipulated had been disrupted, casting a shadow of uncertainty over our escape.

In the sudden commotion, all the commanders, soldiers, servants, and maids stood in four queues. In the midst of this unexpected formation, Yuvaan and I discreetly jingled our way into the disciplined crowd, attempting to blend in seamlessly with the uniformed figures, our hearts pounding with the realization that our exit strategy had taken an unforeseen turn.

I discreetly observed the entrance of the prince, flanked by a few commanders and the two chiefs, including the Crown Prince. As their presence filled the space, a surge of fear gripped me. However, as my eyes locked onto the face of the Crown Prince, I couldn't conceal the flicker of hatred that flashed across my ever-so-poker face. The challenge now was to maintain composure amidst the tumultuous sea of emotions, ensuring my true sentiments remained veiled in the shadows, but I really doubt that as our eyes meet.