The first prediction hit exactly as I'd calculated. Rajesh Construction announced their new
partnership with NCP-affiliated projects on a Tuesday morning, followed by Sharma Industries
the next day. By Friday, the third contractor had quietly shifted their political donations. The
business journalists who'd received our anonymous tip were suddenly very interested in their
mysterious source.
"Political Intelligence Network" was what Arjun had called our fake organization in the encrypted
emails. Professional enough to sound legitimate, vague enough to maintain deniability. The
journalists ate it up—everyone wanted an inside source in Maharashtra state's political reshuffling.
I was reading about our success in the newspaper during morning study period when Angelica
slid into the seat next to me.
"You've been grinning at the politics section for five minutes," she whispered. "Either you've lost
your mind or you know something the rest of us don't."
"Maybe both," I replied, folding the paper. "Just interesting to see how predictable politicians
can be."
"Predictable how?"
"Follow the money. Construction companies don't switch political loyalties for ideological reasons
—they switch because they know which way the contracts are going to flow."
She studied my face. "Jake, sometimes you talk like you're forty years old instead of fifteen. It's
weird."
"I read a lot."
"Yeah, but you read like you're planning something."
Smart girl. Too smart for my own good, sometimes.
Football practice that afternoon was brutal. Coach had us running suicide drills in the winter heat,
and my lungs felt like they were on fire. But I kept up with the middle pack now instead of
trailing behind like a wounded buffalo. The transformation was slow but real.
"Cipher's not completely useless anymore," one of the senior players, Vikram, commented as we
grabbed water bottles. "Still soft, but at least he's not embarrassing the team."
"Thanks for the ringing endorsement," I shot back, earning a few laughs from the other guys.
Kane jogged over, sweating heavily. "You coming to the café after this? New Counter-Strike
update dropped."
"Can't. Got some study stuff to handle."
"Study stuff or secret business stuff?"
"What's the difference?"
"Secret business stuff sounds cooler."
If only he knew.
I met Arjun at a different café this time—a small place near the university where students and
young professionals mixed together, making our meetings less conspicuous. He looked pleased
with himself, which usually meant good news or trouble.
"Our anonymous intelligence network is getting attention," he said, sliding a folder across the
table. "Three journalists have responded asking for more information. Two of them have direct
contacts in Patel's inner circle."
"What kind of contacts?"
"Press secretary, policy advisor, and someone in his business operations. They're asking their
sources about who might have access to the kind of information we're providing."
"Good. That means we're on their radar. What's our next move?"
"I've prepared a more detailed intelligence brief. Municipal election predictions, upcoming policy
announcements, and some insights into ED investigation patterns that should get their serious
attention." He paused. "But Jake, the information you're asking me to include... how the fuck do
you know this stuff?"
The honest answer was time travel and future knowledge, which would get me committed to a
mental hospital. "I have good sources," I said instead. "And I'm very good at connecting dots."
"Sources in the government?"
"Sources everywhere. You don't need to know the details—you just need to trust that the
information is accurate."
He studied my face. "You're either connected to people I can't even imagine, or you're the
luckiest guesser in history."
"Does it matter as long as we're right?"
"I suppose not." He opened the folder. "Here's what we're sending next: predictions about the
municipal election results, a heads-up about upcoming ED raids in the sugar sector, and some
intelligence about political alliance negotiations that haven't been announced yet."
"How are we delivering this?"
"Multiple channels. Anonymous email to two journalists, encrypted message through a business
contact, and a physical drop at one of his party offices."
"Physical drop?"
"Envelope with no return address, left with reception. Old school, but it shows we have local
access."
I nodded. "Timeline?"
"This week. Then we wait to see if anyone bites."
That evening, I was helping Mom with dinner preparation when Dad came home looking
unusually excited.
"Interesting news from the education department," he announced, washing his hands at the
kitchen sink. "Word is there's going to be some major policy announcements soon. Digital
education initiatives, technology upgrades for government schools."
"That's good news," Mom replied, stirring the dal. "Our school could use new computers."
"More than that. They're talking about cashless payment systems for school fees, digital record
keeping, online student portals. The whole system is moving toward computerization."
I looked up from chopping onions. "When is this supposed to happen?"
"Nobody knows for sure, but the rumors suggest it's part of a larger government initiative.
Something about modernizing all public services, making everything more transparent and
efficient."
Another piece of the puzzle. The digital transformation was already being planned at multiple
levels. Demonetization would be the shock that forced rapid adoption, but the infrastructure was
being built in advance.
After dinner, I called Arjun from my room.
"Add something to the intelligence brief," I said. "Information about upcoming digital
infrastructure investments. Government contracts for payment systems, banking technology,
mobile app development. There's going to be massive spending in this sector over the next two
years."
"How massive?"
"Billions. Maybe tens of billions. And the smart money will position itself before the
announcements are made public."
"Jesus. You're talking about inside information on government technology contracts?"
"I'm talking about understanding where the world is heading and getting there first."
The next morning brought news that our second prediction had landed. The municipal election
results matched our anonymous intelligence report with ninety percent accuracy. More
importantly, one of the journalists forwarded our materials to someone in Patel's organization
with a note: "This intelligence source has been remarkably accurate. Might be worth
investigating."
At school, I found myself distracted during classes, thinking through the next steps. We were
building credibility, but we needed to escalate soon. The longer we stayed anonymous, the
higher the risk that someone else would figure out our game or that our luck would run out.
"Earth to Jake," Angelica said, waving her hand in front of my face during chemistry class.
"You've been staring at that beaker for ten minutes without adding anything to it."
"Sorry. Just thinking about the experiment."
"The experiment is mixing two simple solutions. Either you're overthinking it or you're not
thinking about it at all."
"Probably both."
She leaned closer, lowering her voice. "Jake, are you in some kind of trouble? You've been
acting strange for weeks. Distracted, secretive, always checking your phone."
"No trouble. Just... working on some projects."
"What kind of projects?"
"The kind that are too complicated to explain but too important to abandon."
She frowned. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only answer I can give right now."
"Fine. But if you need help, you know you can trust me, right?"
I looked at her—really looked at her. Fifteen years old, smart as hell, loyal to a fault, and
completely innocent of the world I was navigating. "I know," I said. "And I appreciate it more
than you realize."
That afternoon brought the call I'd been waiting for. Arjun's voice was tight with excitement and
nervousness.
"We got a response," he said. "Not from Patel directly, but from someone close to him. They
want to set up a meeting."
"When and where?"
"Tomorrow evening. Small office in the commercial district. They're calling it a 'preliminary
consultation' to discuss 'ongoing intelligence services.'"
"Who's going to be there?"
"Someone identified only as a 'policy advisor.' Could be anyone from a junior staffer to a major
player."
I felt my heart start racing. This was it—the moment when our careful planning either paid off or
blew up in our faces.
"Jake," Arjun continued, "are you sure about this? Once we walk into that room, there's no
pretending we're just playing games anymore."
I thought about bitcoin prices in 2021, about demonetization chaos, about the digital revolution
that was coming whether people were ready or not. I thought about my parents' modest dreams
and my own vast ambitions.
"I'm sure," I said. "Let's go make history."