Feb 6–Feb 20, 2016
"When the Mountain Trembled"
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Dawn Before the Test
The morning of February 6th dawned silver-gray, the peaks glowing faintly under a pale sun. The air was razor-thin and biting, frost clinging to every rope and canvas in the camp.
Workers gathered in clusters, stamping their boots, breath puffing in clouds. The cutting head of the TBM stood poised against a sheer rock face — a colossal predator ready to bite.
Inside the command tent, glowing with heaters and soft blue light from holographic screens, the MC stood still, listening.
> Aarya (in his ear): "All systems calibrated. Thermal plasma cutters aligned. Power reserves stable. Estimated boring speed — 52.6 kilometers per day."
The MC smiled faintly.
> "Too fast. The world isn't ready. Cap it at twenty percent output."
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First Breath of the Machine
At 9:17 AM, the order was given.
Hydraulic clamps groaned. The cutting head shuddered, then spun — a deep, resonant hum that seemed to vibrate the very bones of the valley.
The mountain face cracked with the first bite. Rock shattered, not drilled, disintegrating under fields of invisible energy. A plume of powdered stone and steam burst outward, only to be sucked instantly into the machine's waste system.
Workers shielded their eyes, mouths hanging open.
Captain Arvind Singh, standing at the safety perimeter, could only whisper:
> "This… this is not drilling. This is eating."
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The Impossible Speed
By the second hour, the TBM had already chewed through three kilometers of solid mountain.
Inside the control tent, Arvind was handed real-time telemetry. He stared, stunned:
> "Sir… this says the machine advanced 312 meters in 20 minutes."
The MC leaned over his shoulder, gaze calm.
> "That's an instrument glitch. Record only 40 meters. Send that report."
Arvind whipped around.
> "You're underreporting?"
The MC met his eyes steadily.
> "If they knew the truth, Captain, India wouldn't be the only one knocking on my door. And not all knocks are friendly."
The officer fell silent, the weight of the words settling like snow on his shoulders.
---
Life Inside the Tunnel
By evening, the TBM had carved a shaft so deep it seemed like a vein cut into the Earth's heart.
The MC, in full gear, descended with a small team to inspect the interior.
The tunnel walls gleamed unnaturally smooth, fused by controlled plasma heat. Air circulation was perfect, debris almost nonexistent. It felt less like a manmade tunnel and more like some colossal worm had slithered through stone, leaving behind a polished hollow.
Arvind, trailing behind, muttered into his diary:
February 7th — The machine devours mountains like paper. We've built a monster. Or perhaps a god's tool. Hard to say which.
---
Awe Among the Workers
By February 10th, the word had spread among the human workers. They whispered around campfires at night:
> "Did you hear? Ten kilometers in a day. My cousin says it's true."
> "No, no. It's a cover-up. The real speed is higher. I swear I saw the machine vanish into the mountain faster than a train."
To them, the TBM was no longer a machine. It was a Rakshasa of steel, tamed by a mysterious master.
Some even began leaving flowers near the tunnel entrance, as if appeasing a deity.
---
The MC's Quiet Resolve
On February 15th, the MC stood at the mouth of the growing tunnel, snowflakes drifting onto his shoulders.
He closed his eyes. In another timeline — the one he remembered — India had spent decades struggling with inadequate infrastructure, soldiers dying because supplies couldn't reach them, villages cut off for months every winter.
Now, with every meter bored, those chains were breaking.
Yet he knew: if the true capabilities leaked, foreign powers would descend like vultures.
> MC (to Aarya): "Keep the logs clean. Twenty kilometers per day maximum. The rest — erased."
> Aarya: "Understood. Secrecy protocol engaged."
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The Officer's Change of Heart
By February 18th, Captain Arvind was a different man.
He had gone from skepticism to awe, and now to a quiet loyalty. One night, as snow hissed against the tent walls, he approached the MC.
> "Sir… forgive me. I doubted you. But after what I've seen… India needs this. Whatever it is, whoever you are — I'll file only what you tell me to. My country comes first."
The MC simply nodded.
> "Then you understand more than most."
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Closing Scene – The Living Tunnel
On February 20th, the machine powered down after its first phase.
The tunnel stretched nearly a thousand kilometers, though the official report would say "just under three hundred."
The workers cheered, hugging each other in the snow. Some lit firecrackers, red sparks flying against the night sky. For them, it was victory, progress, and miracle all at once.
But deep in his private tent, the MC watched silent projections of the real figures.
> MC (whispering): "Fifty kilometers per day… and I still called it holding back."
He glanced at the stars above the peaks, knowing the world beyond these mountains would not stay ignorant forever.
> "The real storm hasn't even begun."