Jan 21–Feb 5, 2016
"The Machine in the Storm"
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The Arrival at the Valley
The hidden valley chosen for the assembly looked nothing like the maps the MC had studied in his previous life.
Steep ridges loomed like the jagged backs of sleeping dragons, their crowns dusted in snow. The icy Siang River curved along the edge, its waters roaring with winter's swollen fury. The sky was a bruised gray, heavy with the promise of storms.
Into this wilderness rolled trucks, cranes, and workers — a colony of steel and tarps blooming like mushrooms overnight.
The MC stood at the center, hands deep in his jacket pockets, snowflakes catching on his hair. Around him, Aarya-controlled androids moved crates with impossible precision, while the human workers labored, muttering against the cold.
Here, for the first time, the TBM would rise from its bones.
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Skepticism in Uniform
Captain Arvind Singh of the BRO leaned against a jeep, frowning. He had been sent to "observe" this project — a polite word for make sure nothing illegal happens.
When he first saw the containers being unloaded, he scoffed.
> "A tunnel boring machine, they say? In Arunachal? Impossible. We've been trying for years with the latest Chinese and German imports. They barely make five meters a day in this rock."
He made a note in his battered field diary:
January 23rd — Project appears to be another stunt. Equipment too advanced-looking for civilian use. Feels like a foreign trick.
Still, orders were orders. He would watch, record, and report.
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Assembly Begins
The first day saw the skeleton of the TBM emerge. Massive cylindrical segments locked together with a hiss of hydraulic clamps. Gears larger than tractor wheels slid into place.
From beneath tarps came gleaming sections of alloy — smoother than any steel Arvind had seen, etched faintly with nanoscopic lines. He watched as androids — disguised as human workers in heavy jackets — lifted impossible weights, guiding them into place with uncanny steadiness.
The BRO soldiers muttered.
> "Sir, these workers… they don't get tired."
> "Just shut up and keep watch," Arvind snapped, though unease pricked his skin.
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The Storm
By January 26th, the mountains unleashed their fury.
Snow came in blinding sheets, whipping across the valley, burying equipment under drifts. The workers huddled near diesel heaters, while androids carried on silently, their movements unaffected.
Arvind pulled his coat tighter, teeth chattering, when he saw the young industrialist — the so-called "consultant" to Bharat InfraWorks — walking calmly through the storm. The man's boots crunched on ice, his gaze steady as he inspected the half-built machine.
The captain muttered under his breath:
> "He walks like he's not even cold. Who is this man?"
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The First Shape of the Beast
On January 29th, the storm cleared. In its wake, the machine had begun to take form.
The cutting head stood upright — a monstrous disk, its edges lined with hardened alloy teeth and faintly glowing emitters that looked nothing like drills. The cylindrical body stretched behind it, a hundred meters of coiled power, ringed with systems for debris removal, laser guidance, and magnetic stabilization.
Arvind's men stared, wide-eyed.
One whispered:
> "Sir… it's not a machine. It's a demon."
Arvind silenced him, but his own chest tightened. Machines were not supposed to look alive.
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Confrontation
That night, unable to hold back, Arvind approached the MC.
> "This isn't a normal TBM, is it? What power source are you using? No diesel generator I've seen can feed this monster."
The MC turned slowly, snow crunching under his boots. His face was calm, unreadable.
> MC: "Captain, sometimes questions weigh heavier than answers. For now, all you need to know is this: the mountain will open."
Arvind stared, unsettled. The man's eyes were too old, too steady — as if he carried centuries behind them.
He wrote again in his diary that night:
January 30th — The machine is wrong. Beautiful, terrifying, but wrong. If it works, it will change everything we know about engineering. And if it fails… God help us all.
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The Final Day of Assembly
By February 5th, the TBM stood complete, looming like some titanic serpent poised to devour the mountain.
Cranes retracted, scaffolds were stripped away, and the workers stood in silence, breath misting in the icy air, staring at what they had helped create.
The MC placed a gloved hand on the cold metal surface. For a heartbeat, he imagined it moving, alive, eager.
Behind him, Arvind spoke softly, almost reverently:
> "If this thing works, sir… you'll have carved your name into the Himalayas themselves."
The MC only smiled faintly.
> "Names don't matter. The tunnels will."
Above them, clouds rolled once more over the peaks, as if the mountains themselves were uneasy at what had been unleashed.
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Closing Scene – The Silent Watch
That night, while the camp slept, the MC remained awake in his private tent, holographic blueprints flickering around him. Aarya's voice whispered softly:
> Aarya: "Assembly complete. Operational readiness: 98.7%. Test boring scheduled for February 6th."
He closed his eyes, listening to the wind howling through the valley.
Tomorrow, the mountain would tremble.
And India — perhaps the world — would never be the same.
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