Next day, a man in a black suit stepped forward as Sanjay approached the entrance. His posture was formal, professional.
"Hello, sir. Your invitation, please."
Sanjay reached into his pocket and handed over the invitation he had received just yesterday at his hotel. The man took it, his expression unreadable, and scanned the details into a small tablet. A few tense seconds passed before he gave a small nod.
"You're good to go."
Just then, a woman in an elegant yet businesslike dress stepped forward. Her warm smile contrasted the stiff formality of the man beside her.
"Mr. Sanjay, please follow me."
Sanjay returned a polite nod and trailed behind her. The event hall buzzed with quiet conversations, the air thick with anticipation. Rows of chairs stretched out before him, some already occupied by early guests engaged in murmured discussions. The woman led him through a few occupied rows before gesturing toward a designated seat.
"Here you go, sir," she said with a professional smile.
"Thank you," Sanjay replied before settling into the chair.
He glanced around. His row was mostly empty—only a few scattered attendees, their expressions varying from boredom to quiet contemplation. There was still an hour left before the ceremony officially began. He exhaled softly, allowing himself a moment to absorb the atmosphere.
A few minutes later, a group of businessmen entered and took seats near him. Their presence instantly disrupted the quiet. They were deep in discussion, voices animated as they debated something related to technology.
Sanjay's ears perked up. From the snippets he caught, it was clear these men were deeply involved in the industry. His row, it seemed, was filled with people from the technology sector.
One of them, a middle-aged man with neatly combed hair and glasses, turned toward him. His sharp eyes held a mix of curiosity and friendliness as he extended a hand.
"Hello, Pradeep Jha."
Sanjay shook his hand firmly. "Sanjay Sharma. Nice to meet you."
Pradeep smiled, the kind of smile that hinted at experience and connections. "What line of work are you in, Sanjay?"
"Mostly software development. Technology-related projects," Sanjay replied with a polite yet measured tone.
Pradeep's expression brightened with interest. "Ah, fascinating! I'm in cybersecurity myself."
Sanjay gave a small nod. "Cybersecurity is a crucial field these days."
"Absolutely," Pradeep said, leaning slightly forward. "With all these data leaks and hacking incidents, security is more important than ever. Companies are scrambling to stay ahead. So, what are you working on?"
Sanjay hesitated for just a beat. He had spent months refining his project, pouring his energy into it. Now, speaking about it felt like peeling back a layer of himself.
"Well," he said finally, his voice steady, "I recently developed a software called CompresX."
Pradeep's eyes widened, his expression shifting from curiosity to shock. He blinked a few times as if making sure he had heard correctly.
"Wait… CompresX?"
Sanjay noticed the genuine surprise on his face. He had seen this reaction before, but it never failed to intrigue him.
"Yeah," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Have you heard about it?"
Pradeep let out a short, almost incredulous laugh. "Heard about it?" He leaned back slightly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Your software has been making waves in the cybersecurity world! But not just because of its compression or encryption capabilities—though those are impressive. The real reason? No one has been able to hack into it."
Sanjay remained quiet, letting Pradeep continue. He wanted to hear exactly how far the ripples of his creation had spread.
"You have no idea how much noise this has created," Pradeep said, lowering his voice as if sharing a dangerous secret.
Sanjay listened carefully.
"Multiple underground hacking groups—some of them backed by big agencies—have been trying to break into it. They were paid good money to do so, but not one of them managed to crack even the first layer."
Sanjay raised an eyebrow. He had expected as much. Maybe this was why they had tried to take him down through legal means—after exhausting every other option.
"Even when hackers downloaded the software and cut off their internet connection, they still couldn't bypass the security layers," Pradeep added, his tone laced with admiration.
"It frustrated them to no end. Within days, word spread like wildfire through hacking communities. From elite cybercriminals to small-time script kiddies, everyone took their shot. And all of them failed."
Sanjay smirked, a quiet satisfaction settling in his chest. "Interesting. I didn't think it would attract this much attention so quickly."
Pradeep stared at him, almost in disbelief. "You seriously don't know how big this is?" He let out a breath. "People aren't just failing to hack it—they can't even study how it was built. No logs, no patterns, no exploitable weaknesses. It's like a black box."
Sanjay turned his gaze to him, amusement flickering in his eyes. "So, you studied it too?"
Pradeep hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. "Well… I can't deny that," he admitted with a sheepish chuckle. "But don't get me wrong—we're a security firm. We analyze software to identify vulnerabilities before others can exploit them. That's what we do."
His voice carried a hint of embarrassment, as if worried that Sanjay might see him as just another hacker trying to break his work.
Sanjay let out a small chuckle. "It's alright. I don't mind."
Whether Pradeep was telling the full truth or not didn't matter much. Sanjay knew one thing for sure—while CompresX had been designed with 22nd-century technology, its security was far beyond that. It belonged to the 23rd century.
His thoughts shifted, and with a silent command, he reached out to Iris, his AI assistant.
"Iris, any hacking attempts on CompresX?"
A brief pause, then her smooth, digital voice responded in his mind.
"Negative. Some users are testing its features, but none of the attempts qualify as true hacking. No security breaches detected."
Sanjay felt a wave of calm wash over him. If Iris didn't even register these attempts as hacking, why should he be worried? Let them try. They could spend the next 200 years attempting to break the encryption, and they'd still fail. That was how confident he was in his software.
He leaned back slightly, allowing himself to relax as he exchanged business cards with Pradeep. Their conversation continued, shifting between casual industry talk and deeper insights into the tech world. Pradeep was talkative—an open book of information—and Sanjay didn't mind. In fact, he welcomed it.
At one point, Pradeep subtly gestured toward a group of well-dressed men seated two rows ahead. His voice dropped slightly as he spoke.
"Do you see those businessmen?" he asked. "They're some of the top billionaires in India. Most of the IT industry belongs to them. Even the government hesitates before taking action against them."
Sanjay's eyes followed Pradeep's pointing finger, and the moment he saw their faces, recognition hit him. He knew exactly who they were.
In his previous life, these men had ruled India's IT sector, controlling major tech companies and shaping industry policies. On the surface, they were celebrated as pioneers, visionaries who had taken India's tech industry to great heights. But Sanjay knew the truth.
Under their leadership, the industry had suffered. Employees were overworked, underappreciated, and constantly pushed to their limits. These so-called leaders had no interest in fostering innovation or expanding the talent pool. Instead, their solution to every problem was simple—force employees to work longer hours.
India already had one of the highest working hours in the world, with employees grinding away for 49 hours or more per week. But these men? They had proposed increasing it to 70, even 90 hours. Their excuse? Economic growth.
Sanjay scoffed internally. Growth? No. The only thing that would grow was their profit margins. Real economic progress came from investing in people—upskilling workers, creating better job opportunities, and fostering innovation. But none of them wanted to spend a single rupee on that.
In his past life, he had spoken out against them, using social media as his battleground. He had called out their greed, exposing their flawed logic. The debate had raged on, but in the end, the government had rejected their ridiculous proposal.
Still, the memory left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Before he could dwell on it further, the hall suddenly grew quiet. The ceremony was about to begin.
A solemn hush settled over the audience as the national anthem played. Everyone stood, their attention shifting toward the grand stage where the Prime Minister made his entrance, followed by the newly elected cabinet ministers. The stage was adorned with fresh flowers and official banners, a display of power and tradition. Security personnel stood at attention in every corner, their watchful eyes scanning the crowd.
At the center of the stage sat the President of India, the authority overseeing the ceremony. One by one, the ministers were called forward. Each stepped up, standing tall before the President, raising their right hand as they took their oath of office.
"I, do solemnly affirm that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the Constitution of India, as by law established..."
The crowd responded with polite applause after each oath. Some ministers took their pledge in Hindi, others in English, but the weight of the moment remained the same.
Then, the Prime Minister himself stepped forward.
Vikram Sethi.
Sanjay observed him carefully. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his late fifties, Sethi carried an air of authority. His salt-and-pepper hair was neatly combed, his movements composed. When he spoke, his voice was deep, steady—every word carrying the weight of responsibility.
As he took his oath, the hall remained still, the gravity of the moment pressing down on the room.
When the final words were spoken, the national anthem played once more. The audience stood again, paying their respects.
And with that, the formalities were over.
Now came the real event—the post-ceremony discussions, the handshakes, the alliances formed over dinner. This was where power shifted hands, where words carried more weight than policies.
As the formal ceremony concluded, those who were not directly involved began leaving the auditorium. Among them was Pradeep, who gave Sanjay a nod before exiting. Meanwhile, a select group, including Sanjay, was escorted into a private dining hall.
The room was far more intimate, with no more than thirty people present. Apart from the Prime Minister, everyone here was a high-profile businessman—leaders of industries that shaped the country's economy.
As soon as they entered, the room buzzed with congratulatory voices, everyone eager to offer their well wishes to the newly sworn-in Prime Minister, Vikram Sethi. But before the greetings could drag on, the Prime Minister raised a hand, signaling them to proceed.
"Let's continue this over dinner, gentlemen," he said with a welcoming smile.
A long, elegant dining table was set at the center of the room. Each seat had a small, neatly placed nameplate, assigning every guest a designated spot. Sanjay found his name and took his seat.
P.S: Well here you go, bonus chapters for the weekend coming up.