Pack-up had wrapped early that evening. It was just 6:30 PM, and Bani, quietly exhausted from the day's shoot, decided to take a slow walk through the nearby mall before heading home. She wasn't in a rush—just needed space to breathe, to wander.
With her usual backpack resting lightly on her shoulder—a simple one she carried everywhere—she stepped inside. She didn't come to shop, not in the ordinary sense. There was no list in hand, no wallet full of cash to spend.
She was just... looking.
---
She passed the electronics counter casually, pausing for a second near a display of Sony earphones. Sleek, matte black, the kind she liked. She didn't pick them up. She didn't even touch the packaging—just brushed her fingertips through the air nearby.
> Copy: Sony earphones. Maintain shelf integrity.
The item stayed where it was, undisturbed. Yet, her system—quiet, internal, connected not to her bag but to her being—had already stored an identical copy. Not stolen. Not seen. Simply... acquired.
---
At the personal care section, her gaze wandered:
– A Lakmé compact powder
– A tinted lip balm, soft pink
– A Lakmé kajal pencil
– A travel-sized Vaseline body lotion
– Mini deodorant
– A sleek bottle of body mist
She stood by the counter, never lifting a product, never drawing attention. To anyone else, she was just browsing. Yet with each passing glance or subtle turn of her palm:
> Copy brand item. Log scent preference. Do not alter shelf.
The real item stayed where it belonged.
---
At a quieter aisle, she passed the sunglasses section—one pair, with a strong case, caught her attention. A few steps later, she noticed a diary, a pen-highlighter combo, and breath mints stacked neatly by checkout.
> Copy. Store items in sequence. No physical imprint.
---
The health and snack rack drew her next. She eyed a mix of protein bars and nut packets, something simple for late nights.
At a tucked-away shelf nearby:
– A small emergency med pouch
– A well-packed period kit
– A water bottle, sleek steel, built to hold hot water
Again, no bag opened. No product touched. Only her silent internal system—bonded to her, not to any object—activated quietly.
---
She walked the entire mall like a ghost in plain sight—fully visible, yet never leaving a trace. Not a scratch in her bag. Not a change on any shelf. Just a quiet girl with tired eyes, seeing things she liked.
And with a touch of thought, they became hers.
The sky outside her window was already a dull navy by the time Bani closed her door behind her.
The paper bag rustled faintly in her hand, heavy with foil parcels. One hand held the Gadbud cup carefully upright. She didn't want the jelly to shift. Somehow, she liked it layered exactly the way it was handed to her.
Her studio apartment greeted her like a warm pocket of silence—one that never asked for explanations.
She walked in, flicked on her desk lamp, and set the food gently down on the table.
She didn't sit. Not yet.
Instead, she unwrapped the foil with a quiet focus:
– Pav bhaji steaming in its silver tray
– Two pav buns, soft but lightly toasted
– Vada pav, still crisp, still holding warmth
– A small packet of green chutney and one whole chili
– Gadbud in its tall steel tumbler, glass fogged and beautiful
She crouched beside the table, inhaled once, and pressed her fingers together—not touching the food, but activating something inside her.
COPY SEQUENCE STARTED
Copy Confirmed. Meals stored. System on standby.
Bani opened her eyes and exhaled gently.
The real food was still there. Still untouched. But now, her system had recorded this exact version. Not just the taste—but the smell, temperature, and texture. Even the weight of the spoon.
It was practical, not indulgent.
With ten straight days of TV shooting starting tomorrow, she needed meals she could rely on. Meals that wouldn't need cooking.
She finally sat and began to eat—slow, steady, grateful.
She finished the Gadbud slowly, scooping the last of the jelly from the bottom.
After dinner, Bani sat at her desk, opened her laptop, and checked the week's Flappy Bird earnings.
iOS: ₹8,430
Android: ₹12,100
PC Mode: ₹5,740
Not bad for a casual remake with a twist.
She closed the dashboard and launched her mining app. The system fan kicked in. The screen blinked to life.
Bani sat back after checking her game earnings.
It was time.
She had researched for weeks—read articles, watched videos, tweaked her system.
Tonight, she was ready to start mining Bitcoin.
She opened the mining software.
Created a wallet.
Linked the pool.
Then she clicked Start.
The fan kicked in. The hash rate appeared on screen.
Her system was now part of the blockchain.
No earnings yet. Just lines of code and a quiet hum.
But Bani smiled.
This was the beginning—one block, one coin, one quiet step at a time.
By day three, the hum was getting louder.
Her tiny studio echoed with the sound of fans, and the GPU ran hot.
Electricity usage climbed. Bani watched the meter nervously.
This wouldn't last.
She closed her laptop and placed her hand on the machine.
The faint shimmer flickered across her fingers.
The system listened.
She never used the magical thread for money before—not directly. But this wasn't greed. It was preservation.
She whispered:
"Cool it down. Run quiet. Don't leave a trace."
The machine fell silent. The fan slowed, almost still.
But the hash rate—
Unchanged. Even higher.
She opened her dashboard.
0.00004113 BTC
Power usage: near zero.
Bani smiled.
Her mining rig was now tied to the hidden current—the same current that copied food, sarees, and perfumes when she liked them.
Now, it powered her earnings.
No sound. No bill. No attention.
Just quiet magic working under the surface, as always.
The screen showed just a few bitcoin.
0.00004113 BTC — still tiny.
But Bani knew better.
She remembered reading those obscure forums and archived tweets.
Whispers that the price would skyrocket in 2025.
Not just double—explode.
One BTC could be worth tens of lakhs. Maybe crores.
She didn't need to mine fast. She just needed to start early.
Her magical thread now powered the system in silence. No bills, no sound, no suspicion.
She minimized the window and opened her notebook.
"Hold every bitcoin . Withdraw nothing."
That was the rule. Her rule.
One coin in 2025 could change everything.
Fashion, freedom, film—whatever future she chose.
Tonight, it was just 0.00004113.
But Bani smiled.
Because she was mining the future. Quietly. Patiently.
And when the time came, she'd already be there—waiting.
A week into shooting, Bani had already become part of the rhythm.
She arrived on time. Spoke only when needed. Delivered her lines clean. No fuss. No retakes. The crew had started calling her "one-take girl" behind the monitor.
Today's scene was different. Serious. Personal.
It was with the main lead—Arjun.
The moment came late in the episode: her character confronting him after a bitter argument over her sister's name being dragged into a crime she didn't commit.
Arjun, in full costume, stepped into frame, eyes cold.
> "You think truth matters? I'll make sure your sister rots in jail, whether she's guilty or not."
He paused for effect, voice biting.
Even he didn't expect the slap.
Bani struck.
A crisp, stinging slap across his cheek. No hesitation. No break in eye contact.
The air went still.
Director shouted, "Cut! Yes! That's the energy. Perfect!"
Even Arjun blinked, stunned. He touched his cheek, then half-smiled.
"Didn't hold back," he said, stepping off his mark.
Bani glanced at him. "I don't pretend when family's involved."
It was their first proper exchange.
There was curiosity in his eyes now.