The first system came on a Tuesday.
By Friday, there were four.
By the following Monday, the lab no longer looked like a classroom. It looked like a clinic.
CPUs lined one wall. Old monitors stacked carefully in a corner. A register lay open on Varun's desk—not official paperwork, just names, problems, outcomes.
Students stopped joking when a system arrived.
This was someone's money now.
Someone's trust.
Amit noticed it first.
Earlier, when his phone buzzed, it was usually his mother asking if he needed money for the bus. Now, it was his uncle asking if he could "just look at a laptop, nothing serious."
Another student repaired a neighbor's system and came back with ₹300. Another replaced a faulty RAM stick and earned ₹500. Small amounts. Nothing dramatic.
But the direction had changed.
They were no longer asking.
They were giving.
The HUD flickered quietly above Varun's vision as he supervised.
[STUDENT INCOME EVENT DETECTED][AVERAGE DAILY EARNINGS (CLASS): ₹220][STUDENT MORALE: +6%]
No celebrations.No announcements.
Just movement.
Amit's House
That evening, Amit stopped outside a small shop near his lane.
Pizza.
He stared at the sign for a few seconds, then nodded to himself.
Inside, he counted carefully. He ordered one medium—nothing fancy. When the shopkeeper handed him the box, Amit carried it home like something fragile.
His mother looked up when he entered.
"What is this?" she asked.
Amit placed the box on the table.
"Pizza," he said.
His father paused mid-sentence.
"Why?" his mother asked. "Did someone give it?"
Amit shook his head.
"I bought it."
Silence.
His father's eyes moved slowly from the box to Amit's face.
"With whose money?" his father asked.
"Mine," Amit said quietly.
He reached into his pocket and placed a few folded notes on the table. Not much. But real.
"I fixed a computer," he said. "Office one. Sir helped."
His mother sat down heavily.
His father didn't speak for a long moment.
Then he picked up the box and opened it.
The smell filled the room.
"Sit," his father said. Not angrily. Not softly. Just… decided.
They ate.
No one rushed.
After dinner, Amit handed his mother a small paper bag.
She opened it and froze.
Glass bangles. Simple. Green.
"For you," Amit said. "You like this color."
His mother touched them slowly, as if they might disappear.
"You didn't have to," she whispered.
"I wanted to," Amit said.
His father watched quietly.
Later, when Amit went to his room, his father stood alone in the kitchen for a long time, staring at the empty pizza box.
For the first time in years, the house felt… lighter.
Back at the College
The next day, systems arrived before students.
Word had spread.
"College boys repair computers," someone had said."Cheap, but they explain properly."
Varun watched the class work. Not perfectly. Not fast. But carefully.
The HUD updated in bursts.
[STUDENT CONFIDENCE: +4%][HOUSEHOLD PERCEPTION SHIFT: POSITIVE][LOCAL DEPENDENCY INDEX: RISING]
Then—
A new notification flashed.
Red.
[WARNING: SYSTEM RETALIATION — 30%]
Varun stiffened.
No explanation.No source.
Just probability.
He looked around the lab.
Students leaned over machines. Screwdrivers moved. Someone argued gently about power supply ratings.
Everything looked… alive.
Too alive.
Varun exhaled slowly.
Money had started moving.
And whenever money moved inside a sleeping system—
Something woke up.
He closed the HUD.
"Finish properly," Varun said aloud. "No shortcuts."
The students nodded.
Outside the lab, footsteps passed.
Varun didn't look up.
Not yet.
But he felt it.
The system had noticed.
And it wouldn't stay asleep forever.