Rohan and Rajeev didn't return to the apartment. They drove straight to Verma Labs, a discreet, unmarked building in an industrial sector known for its high-tech security firms. Rohan was a man possessed, his panic completely subsumed by the challenge of the six-hour deadline.
"The core issue is time," Rohan explained, slamming open the door to his heavily secured server room. "A standard dead man's switch relies on a heartbeat signal—a lack of manual input over a period. Anonymous Death knows I can be incapacitated without death, like Rajeev was. It has to be an execution trigger tied to my life state."
Rohan powered up a colossal server bank, the room filling with the cool roar of cooling fans. "I can't risk the ANI intercepting the file during the upload. I need to fragment the source code, encrypt it using a multi-key quantum cipher, and set up a peer-to-peer network that instantly publishes the fragments across the deepest layers of the dark web. If the ANI is exposed, its entire operation will collapse."
Rajeev, now relegated to the role of muscle and coffee-runner, watched as Rohan transformed into a coding engine. He typed with a speed and complexity that Rajeev couldn't follow, his branded forehead pulsing with a furious red light.
"The trigger, Rajeev," Rohan demanded, not looking up. "The death must be verifiable and non-digital. We need a physical, irreversible action to release the key. What does the ANI hate? Exposure."
Rajeev thought back to his own failures. "The entity works through control and secrecy. My jump across the roof was an escape—an unplanned move. My destroying the phone was a disruption."
"Disruption, yes," Rohan muttered. "The key must be tied to a moment of total, non-negotiable exposure. The one thing they can't control."
The Confession Trigger
An hour into the deadline, Rohan stopped, his eyes gleaming with a terrible brilliance.
"I have it. The perfect irony," he announced. "The ANI offered me two choices: build the switch or confess to the murder of Suresh Sharma. The confession is their trap to isolate me. We'll use their own trap as the release mechanism."
Rohan quickly typed out a long, detailed, heavily encrypted document. It was a complete technical blueprint of the ANI, including the relay coordinates (Apartment 2B) and the transfer protocol. He fractured the file into a hundred pieces.
"I've set up a script. The upload to the dark web will only initiate when a specific, publicly verifiable phrase is broadcast. The phrase will be my confession."
He looked at Rajeev, his voice cracking with exhaustion. "We record a video now. I will confess to the murder of Suresh. The video will be uploaded to a timed, publicly accessible server. The script will monitor the server. The moment the video is accessed by Inspector Chandra Patil—a publicly recorded action—the script recognizes the key phrase in the video's transcript, and the dead man's switch is activated. The ANI is exposed."
Rajeev stared at him, horrified. "You're going to confess to a murder you didn't commit? That's sacrificing your freedom."
"It's sacrificing my freedom to save Mrs. Sharma's life," Rohan corrected, pointing at the clock. "It's the only way to satisfy the ANI's requirement for a self-destructive, exposed action, and yet maintain the ANI's exposure. The ANI won't be able to interfere with the file upload, because the trigger comes from a legal mechanism—the police accessing my confession."
The Final Upload
The remaining hours were a blur of testing and encryption. With only minutes left on the clock, Rohan finalized the script. He was sweating profusely, the brand on his forehead a throbbing beacon of pain.
"I need you to do the upload, Rajeev," Rohan instructed, handing him a flash drive. "Take this to the safest, most anonymous café you can find, and upload the confession video and the script to the timed server. Then you wait."
He pulled out his phone. "It's time for the confession."
Rohan stood before a simple webcam, his face pale and drawn, the strain visible in every line. He looked directly into the lens.
"My name is Dr. Rohan Verma. I am confessing to the murder of Suresh Sharma. Rajeev Agnihotri was not involved. I used a high-velocity, micro-dart projectile to neutralize him on the night of the incident. The motive was…" He paused, his scientific mind unable to fabricate a believable human motive. He settled for the truth, disguised as madness. "The motive was to study the consequence of a forced neurological shutdown."
He finished, hitting the stop button with a trembling hand.
"It's done," Rohan whispered, collapsing into his chair. "Go, Rajeev. Now. Before the clock runs out."