By the time Thursday arrived, every WhatsApp group within the bank had settled on a ship-name.#NaMe Inc. trended for two consecutive days on internal chat.Even the canteen's chalkboard read, "Today's special: Alpha-Beta Biryani – mildly spicy partnership."
For Nacikate Rao, the week had lasted a century.He hadn't slept properly, caffeine had replaced blood, and his inbox now resembled an emotional support group for confused auditors.
At 8:55 a.m., his phone buzzed with a message that froze him mid-sip of coffee:
From: Ministry of Finance – Integration DeskSubject: Mandatory Demonstration – Successful Alpha-Beta Collaboration
He read it twice, then a third time. The government had scheduled them for a live demo of their "innovative partnership" during the upcoming Digital India Week. In front of press. And cameras.
He set the cup down very carefully and whispered, "I'm going to implode."
Ten minutes later, he stormed into the server room, hair immaculate, composure not.Mehul was already there, upside-down on a beanbag, eating chips and humming a Bollywood theme.
Nacikate slammed the printed email on the desk."Explain this."
Mehul squinted at it. "Ooh, VIP invite. Dress formal?"
"This isn't a wedding!"Pause. "And if it were, I would elope alone."
"Relax, uncle. We just need to show them a harmless prototype. I can fake a data-visualisation dashboard."
"You are the reason they think we're innovators!"
"Exactly." Mehul brushed crumbs off his hoodie. "Let's innovate our way out."
They spent the morning wrestling with the portal.Every command Nacikate typed triggered more automated cheer:
"Wonderful progress, partners!""Your synergy has improved 12 percent this hour!"
At one point the system produced digital confetti.Tiny rupee signs floated across the monitor.Mehul applauded. "Aesthetic."
Nacikate muttered something about divine punishment.
After four straight hours of debugging, the screen finally displayed a status bar labelled "Bond Reversal Protocol – Beta Test."
Mehul leaned forward. "That's us! Beta test."
Nacikate didn't even look up. "If you make one more pun, I'll file you under capital losses."
They initiated the protocol. The room lights flickered. The cooling fans roared louder.On the monitor, progress ticked upward: 30 % … 45 % … 71 %.For the first time in days, hope fluttered in Nacikate's chest.
"See?" he said, half-triumphant. "Control. Discipline. Logic always—"
The progress bar jumped to 99 %, blinked, and replaced itself with a pop-up:
ERROR 999: Public Demonstration Mode Activated.Streaming Commencing…
A camera icon lit up in the corner. Somewhere in the building, the projector in the main lobby powered on.
"Oh no," Mehul breathed. "We're live."
Across the lobby, employees looked up as the huge display screen flickered from the daily exchange rates to a crystal-clear video feed of the server room.
Onscreen:One furious banker in a rumpled suit.One barefoot hacker balancing a chip packet on his head.Behind them, a banner automatically generated by the system shimmered into existence:
"National Demonstration of Collaborative Bond Success: The Future Is Together!"
The audience erupted into delighted shrieks. Someone started recording on their phone.
Inside the server room, Nacikate's expression went from disbelief to mortal horror.He lunged toward the keyboard. "End broadcast! End broadcast!"
The system cheerfully replied, "Cannot terminate during celebration phase."
Mehul doubled over laughing. "Celebration phase! Bro, the AI ships us too!"
"Stop—laughing—Shah!"
"Sorry, can't hear you over our fame!"
When the feed finally cut out, HR was already on the line with Marketing. News portals had picked up the clip, calling them "the embodiment of digital synergy."The Ministry's official account retweeted it with three heart emojis.
By evening, they had invitations to speak on a televised panel titled "Love, Logic, and Ledger: Human Bonds in the Digital Age."
Nacikate read the email silently, then set his phone down. "This is no longer damage control. This is a contagion."
Mehul plopped into the chair beside him, scrolling through the comments section. "At least they spelled our names right. Mostly."
"You find this funny?"
"Bro, this is destiny with Wi-Fi."
A soft chime echoed from both their phones at once.They exchanged a wary glance and checked the notification:
System Alert: Bond Stabilisation Threshold Reached – Emotional Calibration Required."Please remain in close proximity for optimal performance."
For a heartbeat, the room hummed with nothing but machine noise and disbelief.Then Mehul grinned, slow and mischievous. "Guess the system wants us to hang out."
Nacikate shut his laptop with the finality of a gavel. "Over my audited body."
But the screen behind them flashed one last line before fading to black:
"Congratulations, partners. Thirty days remaining."
Outside, the city buzzed, neon lights flickering like nervous laughter.Somewhere in its endless servers, India's tax system had just declared its favorite couple—and they were both trapped inside it.