The address was correct, but the house was not what Trilok had expected. A writer’s bungalow would have been the perfect venue for a tete-a-tete in the middle of a sleepy coastal village. Instead, he followed the GPS to a shiny three-storied building with a glass façade.
A faded set of letters atop the structure proclaimed it to be the property of ‘ERCURY TRANSPORT SOLUTIONS.’
The empty space in front of the letters indicated that the ‘M’ had fallen off either in disgrace or exhaustion.
Trilok walked up to the reception, manned by a forlorn chair. He looked around for some sign of human life. Not even a security guard wandered into the empty lobby.
The elevator dinged and opened, breaking the shroud of silence. A balding middle-aged man stepped out and walked straight to the door. Trilok was too stunned by the man’s inattentiveness to call out.
But as soon as the man reached the door, he paused and turned around.
“Excuse me?” he said to Trilok.
“Hi! I mean, good evening, Sir,” Trilok fumbled. He took a book from his satchel and held it towards the man.
“Sir, I am a big fan. Can I have your autograph, please?”
The man looked astonished.
“Autograph? What’s this?” he asked, pulling the book from Trilok’s hands.
“The Red One by Bobby K,” the man read from the book cover.
He looked at Trilok for an explanation.
“Sir, I happened to find this at a thrift shop. I have read this at least five times by now. It’s a wonderful book. You’re a genius.”
The man puzzled over Trilok’s words as if he had uttered the most complex equation.
“Are you sure you have the right address?” he asked finally.
It was Trilok’s turn to be surprised. “Sir, aren’t you Dr. Bobby K, the founder of Mercury Transport Solutions?”
“I am Dr. Bobby. Sure. But I am not the author of this book, young man,” Dr. Bobby replied.
He hesitated before handing back the book. “Do you want to join me for tea? This is my last day in this office. I was about to buy a cup of tea from the roadside tea stall. Probably for the last time.”
Trilok did not hesitate. “I’ll be honoured, Sir. My name is Trilok,” he said before opening the door for Dr Bobby.
“Sir, maybe you wrote this so long ago that you forgot about it,” Trilok asked hopefully. “This book was published in 2000, at the turn of the millennium. Weren’t you teaching at the Central Science Institute then?”
Dr Bobby smiled at Trilok’s trivia. “You do know a lot about me.”
He looked at the book again. “Unfortunately, though, I have never written such a book. I have published papers and articles but never a book. I wish I had,” he said wistfully.
“Strange,” Trilok was in disbelief. “But it has your name. And I asked my AI assistant. It gave me your details.”
Dr Bobby laughed. “Your AI must have hallucinated and given my profile. I was in the news a few months ago, so I am not surprised.”
Trilok nodded sheepishly. “I read the news about your project. It shouldn’t have failed. Your idea was a breakthrough in the field of modern transportation technology.”
“I thought so too, but alas! The personal pods that we built are languishing in the warehouse.”
“How many pieces? If you don’t mind telling me.”
“We built one prototype and twenty full-fledged models. I had more ideas for the next iteration, but…”
“So, are you shutting down your office?” Trilok pointed to the building.
“I have to. I am running out of money and can’t pay the lease. I had let go of all my employees except one.”
“But this book…” Trilok flipped a few pages. “I can’t believe that you didn’t write it. It talks about a few of your transportation ideas in a futuristic world.”
“Really? But in 2000, I had not even started thinking about this idea.”
“Which is why I think this book was ground-breaking.”
“And you said you found it in a thrift shop?”
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