The press was no longer just a place to work. It was his test ground.
By now, twenty-six threads floated behind Vikram's eyes. Each one alive, warm, anchored to a mind that still thought it lived free.
He stopped relying on luck.
Now he picked them.
The milkman — touched during a morning exchange — carried Intermediate Route Memory, Beginner Time Discipline, and Elementary Strength. Vikram took them all.
The chaiwala's niece, barely sixteen, had Beginner Bartering, Elementary Spice Knowledge, and the sharpest memory he'd seen so far. He took her skills and passed Elementary Cleaning and Beginner Folding to Gauri, just to see what happened.
Gauri began folding cups in neat stacks by instinct the next morning.
No one said anything. No one noticed.
But their behavior changed.
They moved cleaner. Quicker. More organized.
Vikram started keeping track.
He split his targets into types.
Stamina Bodies: Sweepers, loaders, runners.Hands-On Workers: Tea brewers, tailors, cooks, mechanics.Information Nodes: Errand boys, delivery kids, paper vendors, petty traders.Managers: Floor heads, store owners, school clerks.
He began to fill each category slowly. Connecting two or three in each. Not enough to be noticed. Enough to be useful.
By the end of the week, the network held forty-two people.
It wasn't just the orbs anymore.
He used their active thoughts in real time.
When Ramu caught two boys stealing scrap metal, Vikram sensed it before it happened — the boys' thoughts filled with fear and hesitation.
He walked into the storage shed a minute before the act, said nothing, and just looked at them. They dropped the tools and ran.
One of them he'd already connected days ago. He removed the connection silently that night.
He didn't need risk inside the net.
In the evening, Vikram sat behind the press with a bundle of roti and mashed aloo, handed over from Ammaji. He watched the workers move. Noticed how some now paused for decisions — waited for eye contact. How others took orders from Sattu, who had never been anything more than a helper.
The boy didn't know why he was being listened to. But he'd copied three new orbs that week.
Beginner Coordination from a retired dhobi.Elementary Memory from a school assistant.Beginner Direction Sense from the delivery runner.
Vikram fed him leadership quietly. Without a word.
It worked.
One by one, his connected grew more stable. More useful. More trusting.
None of them knew why.
They just felt steadier near him. Calmer. Like he understood what they needed before they spoke.
The network was forming.
He could feel it now — not just threads, but structure.
His mind no longer swam in noise. It was tuned. Balanced.
And with each new connection, the internal space inside him deepened. A silent sky, infinite and still.
But he wasn't rushing.
Not yet.
This was the spine of something bigger.
The press was small. But it would be his first fortress.
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First-time author here — your feedback really matters. If you liked this part, I'd be grateful for a short review or reaction.