It began with an itch.
A sensation Vikram couldn't name at first — not pain, not tension, but something like the urge to speak when no one had asked a question.
He was sitting beneath a neem tree outside the city, watching a group of press boys attempt to lift sacks of paper onto a bullock cart. Sattu struggled. His back hunched. The sack tilted. Ramu laughed from a distance.
Vikram barely moved.
But in the threadspace, he reached.
He selected four skill orbs:
Beginner Lifting Technique
Beginner Balance Coordination
Elementary Muscle Memory
Beginner Group Synchronization
He pushed them.
Not one at a time. Not to one boy.
To all of them.
At once.
He didn't touch anyone.
He didn't whisper.
But suddenly, their rhythm changed.
Sattu adjusted his stance. Ramu stopped laughing and moved instinctively to the center position. Two others tilted the cart forward slightly — exactly as needed.
The sacks loaded cleanly.
No instruction. No training.
Only skill infusion.
Radiated.
Magicnet had crossed a threshold.
It could now transmit skill sets within a certain radius — no touch, no sleep required. As long as a user was connected consciously or subconsciously, and within 30 meters of Vikram, they could receive what he sent.
The radius was small.
But the implications were enormous.
He tested the range carefully.
First, he entered a leather workshop in Daryaganj. Six workers shaped sandals by hand, all with varying speeds and clumsy angles.
Vikram stood quietly by the door for ten minutes.
Then radiated the fused skill:
Intermediate Hand Craftsmanship
Each worker flinched once — as if jolted.
Then, their hands flowed better.
By hour's end, the output had doubled.
The foreman scratched his head. "They've been the same for years. Never seen this kind of sync."
Vikram smiled faintly. "Maybe it's in the air today."
By week's end, he had refined nine radiated skill bundles:
Urban Observation
Mass Lifting Coordination
Basic Hand Assembly
Street Route Memory
Group Combat Positioning
Silent Movement for Workers
Document Sorting & Filing
Script Reading for Illiterates
Entry-Level Manufacturing Technique
Each one fused from hundreds of orb fragments gathered over time — structured like a blueprint, compressed like a mantra.
He began deploying them during morning visits.
By simply walking through a schoolyard, students sat straighter.
By passing a construction site, workers lifted smarter.
By entering a prayer hall, volunteers folded mats more efficiently.
It wasn't overt.
But it was real.
The people called it "Vikram's Presence".
A phrase that started in whispers.
Then appeared in wall chalk.
"Where Vikram walks, work walks better."
But there was a second layer.
Radiation wasn't just for shaping hands.
It was for shaping minds.
Vikram began crafting ideological orbs — small thought patterns fused from thousands of subtle memories.
A fusion of childhood prayer, grandmother's stories, and temple chants became "Dharmic Comfort."
A mix of poverty frustration, factory cruelty, and disillusionment with missionaries fused into "Foreign Distrust."
A soft blend of joint family rituals, village games, and marriage festivities formed "Home Attachment Instinct."
These weren't commands.
They were emotional seeds.
And when Vikram passed through train stations, markets, or school events, he'd pulse them once.
Lightly.
Enough to tilt a thought.
Enough to shift a whisper.
Enough to plant a mood that would flower over weeks.
Education changed first.
He began visiting local gurukuls unannounced — standing at the edge of the courtyard during Sanskrit recitals.
He'd radiate:
Elementary Mantra Retention
Vedic Verse Rhythm
Beginner Moral Alignment
Children who couldn't remember more than a line suddenly chanted full shlokas.
Their teachers called it divine.
Vikram called it pattern reinforcement.
Industry changed next.
At the textile unit in Sabzi Mandi, he arrived each full moon. Workers grew used to him.
He'd stand silently near the dye station and push:
Color Matching
Thread Strength Assessment
Error Correction Reflex
Their wastage dropped by 23% in two months.
No supervisor ever noticed how or why.
He wrote nothing down.
Filed no plan.
Issued no decree.
But by month's end, nine industries and seventeen schools reported unexplained improvements in skill, speed, and error correction.
And all had one thing in common:
Vikram had passed through them.
By now, Magicnet had connected nearly 500 people.
Each one added a new possible orb resonance — a chance to refine fused skills, emotional pulses, and ideological biases.
The radiated system self-corrected.
When a worker in Kanpur began falling behind, Magicnet scanned for a better efficiency pattern.
When a child rebelled against Sanskrit recitation, Magicnet nudged his memory to recall laughter with his Sanskrit tutor.
The system was becoming adaptive.
But with this growth came vulnerability.
If an outsider managed to reverse-engineer this — if someone tapped into the threadspace or learned to mimic the pulses — the damage would be incalculable.
Vikram began training a firewall caste — select users assigned the task of guarding the structure from corruption.
He gave them specialized orbs:
Mental Intrusion Detection
Disruption Isolation
Orb Cleanse Instinct
They were not warriors.
They were mental janitors.
And without them, the net would rot.
But still, the work continued.
Each week, Vikram radiated new skills to groups across sectors.
One evening, he walked past a group of blind beggars near Jama Masjid.
He gave them:
Spatial Hearing
Balance Correction
Verbal Timing Instinct
By next month, one had joined a theater troupe.
Another began teaching rhythm.
And a third disappeared entirely — rumored to have joined a royal kitchen as a spice identifier.
And through it all, the people whispered.
"Vikram doesn't just lead."
"He makes others better."
"Where he walks, minds awaken."
It was still invisible.
Still quiet.
Still unclaimed.
But across Bharat, a thousand tiny fires lit the air.
And the wind that carried them was named Magicnet.