January 1, 2005
Location: Shivpuri District Hospital, Ward 4 (Parallel Republic of Aryavarta-2)
The first thing Arjun felt wasn't pain. It was the sound.
It was a low, orchestral swell—a digital hum that ascended into a bright, triumphant chord. To any other man in 2005, it was just the sound of a computer booting up in the nurse's station. To Arjun, it was a vibration inside his very skull.
The Windows XP Startup Sound.
He opened his eyes. The ceiling was a sickly, jaundiced yellow, stained by decades of bidi smoke and monsoon leaks. A heavy iron fan groaned overhead, its blades cutting through the humid air with a rhythmic thwack-thwack-thwack.
Then, the world flickered.
A translucent blue taskbar materialized at the bottom of his vision. In the bottom-right corner, a digital clock blinked: 09:31 AM. Next to it, a tiny, pixelated yellow speech bubble popped up.
[System Notification]
DHARMA.vxd (v1.0) Initialized.
Current Status: Recovering from Critical System Failure.
User Identity: [ERROR: File Not Found].
Temporary Profile: Sub-Inspector Arjun Singh (Probationary).
Arjun tried to sit up, but his head throbbed with a "Future Hangover"—a sensation like his brain was being squeezed through a 56kbps dial-up modem. He looked at his hands. They were calloused, smelling of cheap soap and old gunpowder.
"You're awake," a voice grunted.
Arjun turned his head. Beside his bed stood a middle-aged man in a khaki uniform that looked two sizes too small. He was holding a grease-stained paper bag and a plastic cup of tea. Above the man's head, a floating text box flickered into existence.
[Target Scan]
Name: Inspector Gaitonde.
Corruption Level: 62% (Medium-High).
Current Intent: "Checking if the rookie is dead so I don't have to fill out the insurance forms."
"Sir?" Arjun's voice was raspy, unfamiliar to his own ears.
"Don't 'Sir' me, Singh," Gaitonde sighed, handed him the tea. "You took a brick to the head during the Bazaar Raid. Honestly, chasing a pickpocket into the 'Un-Registered' slums? You're either the bravest man in Shivpuri or the stupidest."
Arjun took a sip of the tea. It was over-boiled, sugary, and tasted like heaven. As he drank, a small green bar at the top of his vision nudged forward.
[Dharma Points (DP): +0.01]
Reason: Consuming local tea without complaining about the price.
"I... I don't remember the raid," Arjun said, his eyes scanning the room.
Everything felt off. Outside the window, he saw a police vehicle parked in the courtyard. It wasn't a standard jeep; it was a Hindustan Ambassador modified with heavy iron plating and a mounted searchlight. On its door, a logo read: SHIVPURI POLICE FRANCHISE #402.
"Of course you don't," Gaitonde waved a hand dismissively. "The doctor says it's amnesia. Just my luck. I finally get a Sub-Inspector who knows how to use a typewriter, and he goes and deletes his own memory."
Gaitonde leaned in closer, his voice dropping. "Listen, Singh. The monthly Bribe-Tax audit is on Friday. You haven't turned in your ledger yet. Your quota was ₹5,000 for the week. Since you were 'heroic' and got injured, I'll let you report ₹3,000. Just sign the declaration that you took it from the street vendors fairly."
Arjun stared at the man. Bribe-Tax? Quota?
Suddenly, a loud "Ding!"—the Windows Error sound—echoed in his mind.
A floating, pixelated police cap with a smiley face appeared in the center of his vision, dancing around.
[B.H.A.R.A.T Assistant]
"It looks like you're trying to commit 'Revenue Sabotage'! Under Aryavarta Legal Code 402, refusing to collect the Bribe-Tax is a Grade-B Felony. Would you like me to draft an apology to the Inspector, or should I search for 'How to survive a transfer to the Coal Mines'?"
Arjun closed his eyes tight. Memories—or were they dreams?—flashed behind his eyelids. He saw a city of glass and steel. He saw himself sitting in a high-back chair, wearing a suit that cost more than this entire hospital. He saw a truck's headlights, a screaming child, and a file labeled "FORMAT C:".
When he opened his eyes, he looked at Gaitonde.
"I won't sign it," Arjun said.
The room went silent. The iron fan seemed to stop for a second. Gaitonde's face turned a shade of purple that the System labeled as [Aggression Level: 85%].
"You want to play the 'Honest Cop' in a Franchise Station, Singh?" Gaitonde whispered, his voice dangerously low. "The government owns the air you breathe because we pay the tax on it. You don't pay your share, you don't breathe. Understand?"
Gaitonde stood up, leaving the grease-stained bag on the side table. "I'll give you until tomorrow morning. If that ledger isn't filled, I'm marking you as a 'Bad Sector' and sending you to the Registry Office. You can spend the next twenty years filing paper in a room with no windows."
Gaitonde marched out, his heavy boots echoing on the linoleum.
Arjun sat alone in the ward. He looked at the paper bag. Inside was a cold, slightly squashed Samosa.
He reached out and touched it. A small notification appeared:
[CHEF-XP Plugin]
Item: Samosa (Standard).
Oil Quality: 30% (Recycled 4 times).
Integrity Level: High (The cook is poor but honest).
Quest Trigger: "Eat the Samosa and start the Defragmentation."
Arjun took a bite. It was spicy, earthy, and real. As he chewed, a tiny blue block in the corner of his vision—part of a massive, mostly red grid—flickered and turned bright blue.
[Memory Defragmented: 0.001%]
Retrieved Fragment: "I used to hate Samosas in 2026. They were too oily for my diet."
Arjun leaned back against the hard hospital pillow. He had no memory of his past, a system in his head that sounded like a 1990s PC, and a boss who wanted him to be a criminal by law.
He looked at the digital clock in his vision. 09:45 AM.
"Okay," Arjun whispered to the empty room. "Let's see what else is on this hard drive."
Somewhere in the back of his mind, the sound of a 56k modem began to hiss, searching for a connection to a future that hadn't happened yet.
System Note:
Current Rank: Sub-Inspector (Probationary)
Current Wealth: ₹142.50
Next Quest: Surviving the Morning Roll-Call.
Chapter 1 End