-• the winning streak •-
Rudra
"We've shortlisted a few celebrities to be the brand ambassador of Rajawat Motors, and the marketing team has been in talks with," I tune out of the boring meeting, scribbling lines of codes on a rough paper that had produced tons of errors last night and trying to figure out a way to run them. I could clone my old repository but the latest packages might not support most of the features in there. So far, Yara can only speak, he cannot move around, walk, express himself like normal humans, his emotions end at happiness, sadness, anger and disappointment. As long as he was only a voice, there was so much scope to do better, but the moment I added visuals, he started to look like a cheap AI that's trying to be advanced. Though, I can change that with high quality graphics but it's his behaviour that feels off. His movements are restricted and hence, it makes him borderline creepy. No wonder Tara stared at him like he was a ghost.
"Shourya!"
I drop the pen and look up. Twelve pair of eyes stare at me, including the Chairman's. I clear my throat, glancing towards the screen and quickly winding up a conclusion based on what the meeting is about.
"You don't look interested in the meeting. Is it boring?" The Chairman inquires.
I look at the team head. He's clutching the pointer tightly, sweating bullets in the air conditioned hall. Not his fault. If he failed to keep his audience engaged, especially during an important meeting, he doesn't have what it takes to lead a team of ten. That's what the Chairman thinks. And if I answer yes, poor guy is getting fired right off the bat, no justifications considered.
"It's not boring, per se, but it doesn't have what it takes to appeal the mass. And isn't that what we're here for? To draw up a strategy so we can attract the public?" I wave the end of my pen towards the screen, "That's not going to work. It's used, reused, and recycled. Nothing original about it."
"But it's a tried and tested method. It has worked multiple times." The presenter says.
"Yes, that's what I'm saying. It's not original. It's not risky enough."
"Why should we take the risk anyway?" His subordinate asks me. "If this works, what else do we need?"
"It's not going to work this time." I shrug.
"Why?" She leans forward, hands interlaced on the desk.
"What are we making, Miss. Das?"
"A car."
"What kind of car?"
"A sports car." She answers in a clipped tone.
"Who's our target consumer?"
"The youth. Especially the men." She replies.
"Exactly. When a young person thinks of a sports car, he automatically associates it with highways, speed, races. He imagines the thrill, the excitement, the risk. Using a fifty year old Bollywood actor to endorse a sports brand, because he's big in the industry and has millions of followers isn't going to work. Yes, you may create the hype using his name. But it's similar to those ten second short videos that go viral on social media platforms once in a while. People share and enjoy them for a time being, and then forget about it completely." I explain, fixing my attention on the Chairman next, "This is one of the biggest projects Rajawat Corporation has undertaken in the last decade. We've worked blood, sweat and tears over it. The Government is anticipating a boost in economy considering the millions we've invested together. We can't rely on our Prime Minister and a fickle, cheap publicity to bring a revolution in the Indian automobile sector."
The Chairman nods, "You're right."
"So what do you suggest?" Miss. Das questions me, in a jeering, derisive manner.
I clench my jaw. "Is that my job? Is that why you get paid? So you can make your boss do your work?"
She blinks, pulling back and burning in humiliation as her juniors glance at her in pity.
I get up from my chair and move towards the presentation screen, beckoning the presenter to give up on his laptop. He quickly steps aside and I hunch over the podium, opening the browser and pulling up the search results for the worlds popular motorsport event.
"FIA," I glance towards the screen. "How many of you have heard of the Indian Grand Prix?"
A young man quickly raises his hand. "It was a formula 1 race. But 2014 onwards they stopped because of tax issues with the Uttar Pradesh government. They never returned to India." He pouts in the end.
I nod. "The Venue used to be Buddh International Circuit in Noida, am I right?"
He beams. "Yes! I went there once. It was amazing."
"The Indian Grand Prix had the potential to generate around $170 million in revenue and employ as many as 10,000 people. And it was wasted due to disputes between the ruling government and FIA. Now there's a little to no chance of their return, unless the side that cut off the partnership tries."
"Are you saying we can tie up with them? And set up a venue here in our state?" The team leader inquires further.
I shrug.
"I agree the idea sounds great, but it's ridiculously extravagant." Miss. Das speaks.
That's the point, sweetheart. I want you to waste the money in the greed of earning more.
"And honestly, sir, we don't have enough time in our hands. The launch is four months away." She continues, looking at the Chairman earnestly.
"I'm an audience here, Miss. Das, he's your boss not me." He slams down her hope.
She swallows and sits straight.
"Our relations with the current government are not that great, Shourya. While your plan sounds good, it's not practical. At least not anytime soon."
"We can push the dates further." I suggest.
"We can't." He replies. "The date is fixed, and you know I never go back on my words."
"Can we try once?" The young man chimes in unexpectedly. "Please?" He looks around the table, at the people looking at him in confusion. "Shourya sir is so right. Getting a fifty year old as our brand ambassador might create a hype, but not the kind Rajawat Motors deserve. The youth of India has been anticipating the F1 return since 2014."
"Just cut it out. They won't even be driving our cars." Miss. Das rolls her eyes.
"Of course, they won't." He says, almost irritated. "F1 uses open-wheel, open-cockpit, single-seat racing cars having 1.6 litre four-stroke turbocharged 90 degree V6 double-overhead camshaft reciprocating engines." She appears flabbergasted with the info dump. I hide the quirk of my lips beneath the disguise of clearing my throat. The young man realises everything went right over her head so he simplifies, "You can't compare a foal with a horse. I love and respect our company, but we can't outright compete with the big giants the moment we enter the race course. But we can definitely tie up with them, we can make ourselves seen, and we can make our youth proud. Who wouldn't want an Indian brand to one day become one of the engine suppliers to the biggest motorsport event in the world?"
"No, he has a point. The marketing will be worldwide. And if we can request them to add another unofficial, non-profitable race using our cars into their schedule, I'm sure it'll be enough to garner the attraction. But to convince them, we'll have to sponsor everything, right from their stay to their flights. We can even add prize money to create the hype around the non-official race and donate the money to the orphanages run by our corporation." The presenter adds thoughtfully. "Thank you so much, sir. The plan sounds far fetched, but if we succeed, no one's stopping Rajawat Motors from becoming a worldwide sensation." He smiles at me gratefully.
I nod back, patting his back gently. "Take your time and prepare a strong strategy."
"We will." He says confidently.
"That's a wrap up, guys. Get some work done." I announce.
The team of twelve files out of the conference room with their belongings, and the double doors swing close with the last one's exit. I pick up the water bottle from the podium and untwist the cap, taking a swig straight from the bottle.
"It's a big risk," the old man comments.
I nod, wiping the back of my hand over my lips before I close the bottle and toss it on the desk. My secretary quickly leans over to make it stand straight.
"Indeed."
"If things go wrong, we might never be able to revive Rajawat Motors." He says.
That's the plan.
I shrug. "If you want to play safe, Dadu, we can always revert back to the original plan. But I've studied your progress as a businessman for the span of sixty years and you were never afraid of risks."
"My age must be catching up." He smiles playfully.
I chuckle. "What does your gut feeling say?" I sit down on the empty chair, facing him on the other end of the table, my arm spread out in front of me as I cross my legs and regard him curiously.
"To trust my grandson." He mutters.
"Then trust me." I say, "Have I ever disappointed you?"
He shakes his head. "But I'm afraid. One day the winning streak has to end, and I've a feeling this one might be it."
"If my victory were to depend on my luck, Dadu, I'd be doubting myself right now." I smirk.
He laughs. "That's what I love about you. Your confidence."
I shrug cockily.
Having instilled the seed of greed in the minds working for Rajawat Motors success, I play the part of Boss and indulge them in whatever queries they bring to my desk post the meeting.
The Chairman leaves an hour later. He's commuting back and forth between Rajawat Estate and the company often these days since the launch date is closer. I like him more when he's back at home, in his study, getting updates via his secretary, but I can't blame him for coming here so frequently. This is a big budget project, it requires constant monitoring of the progress and evaluation.
I wrap up my work at Rajawat Motors by three and then return to my main office at Rajawat Finance, spending rest of the day winding up the pending work on my desk. By the time I make it to my own office, I'm completely frazzled.
I don't realise when I fall asleep in the middle of the work.
It's when my phone let's out a shrill noise that I jump up in surprise and groan softly in the cup of my hands.
"You look exhausted."
My eyes shift to the man at the doorstep of my office.
"How do you manage working two shifts at two different companies?" I grumble, rolling my neck and wincing every time it cracks.
"It's easier now since Arush helps out a lot." He nods, coming in and putting a cup of coffee on my desk.
"Lucky you," I stifle a yawn with the back of my hand. "Thanks," picking up the cup, I take a small sip and breathe out in relief. The strong, dark taste awakens my senses almost immediately.
"How was the meeting?"
"Dropped the bait."
"They took it?"
"They're not sure, but willing to give it a chance." I nod, taking another sip from my cup.
"I pity Abhimanyu Rajawat," he shakes his head in amusement.
I frown. "Why?"
"Had he not wronged you and your family, I can't imagine the heights you'd have taken Rajawat Corporation to." He replies. "I'm almost relieved you're on our side."
"I'd have been on your side either way. I'm married to your sister." I remind him.
"Right," he mumbles. "And I was once married to your sister."
"We're meant to be a family." I tease.
"Family that tries using each other's sisters."
I smirk. "See? An ideal family."
"Very ideal." He chips sarcastically.
I chuckle and take another sip of my coffee, placing the cup on the desk to reach for my burner phone to see how many missed calls I've from our respected Chief Minister.
3 Missed Calls.
"Did you fix the meeting?"
"Next Tuesday." I confirm. "Seven pm. I'll send you the location details through my secretary."
He nods and gets up from the chair, putting it back in its place. "Get some work done." He orders me before turning around and walking out of the office.
So I do that. I get some work done on my AI. I've fed him over a hundred video clips, audio clips and images of me as unsupervised data, but he still hasn't been able to incorporate my behaviour in his system. He has my sound, my attitude, but it's all stiff, forced, fake. I don't know what will be enough to finally get him acting like me.
At nine pm, I take my work home. Taranya snorts at me as soon as I freshen up and take my seat in front of the desk.
"Why do you even return home?" She grumbles, applying a light coat of moisturizer aggressively over her bare arms and legs.
"Why can't he act like me!?" I groan frustratedly.
"You're being impatient." She says, catching my attention towards her.
"I've been working on him for over a month now!" I tell her. "It never took me so much time to add a feature in him. Just look at him. It looks forced! If he looks so fake on the screen, I cannot imagine him as a hologram fooling people in my place."
Yara pulls his lips down, acting sad.
"Drop that. Even a toddler can tell the difference." He stops the act, looking at me poker faced. "Try to be more real! Learn my behaviour pattern. How I smile, how I act, my gestures, my movements, the way I talk, the way I express myself."
Taranya gets off the bed and comes to stand behind me. "And how is he supposed to learn?"
"I recorded over a hundred video clips to feed him as a data to learn and absorb."
"That's enough?" She frowns at me.
"Of course,"
"You're saying he should be exactly like you by watching a hundred clips of you? And doing what?"
"The regular. Working, talking, smiling, laughing." I shrug.
"Rudra, I'm not a tech nerd, but even I can tell that's nowhere enough for someone to understand and embody another person completely within yourself. And you're expecting that from an AI?" She tsks, "Not smart of you." She shakes her head and moves to go back to bed.
I turn the chair and hunch forward to grab her wrist, dragging her to my lap. She groans, realising she's trapped just like this morning.
"Are you saying he can't be like me through different videos of me doing the mundane, normal things?"
She shakes her head. "You made those videos with the mindset of teaching him, so it's obvious you tried to be perfect, and what's perfect, cannot be natural. Everything natural has flaws. But you didn't show him your flaws. Of course, he won't be able to impersonate you."
I slouch in my seat. That makes so much sense. "You're right. But- But how do I show him the real me?"
"By letting him see you in real time." She shrugs.
"And how's that possible?"
"He can see everything through the glasses right?" Yara and I nod at her.
"Ask someone to wear them around you. Let him learn you as you are, and not as you want to portray yourself to him." She suggests.
"Good idea." I hum, "but who'll wear the glasses-" my eyes land back on her.
Taranya stiffens on my lap.
"My love-"
"I need to pee!" She rips herself out of my arms and dashes straight inside the bathroom.
"Tara!" I call out after her.
She slams the door close in response.
Getting up from the chair, I knock on the door harshly. "Tara, please, yar, help me."
"No!" She denies vehemently.
"Tara, you just have to wear the glasses. I promise it's safe. You won't be electrocuted or something." I clarify.
"No, Rudra. He's creepy. I don't like him."
I glance at Yara. He's now making a face of disappointment. Geez, no wonder he can't impersonate me. That's so fucking fake and practiced.
"Tara, you're the only one who can help me-"
"Try asking Yuvraaj Bhai."
"I don't spend as much time with him as I spend with you." I reason.
"What bullshit." She scoffs. "Half the time you're at the office."
I sigh exasperatedly. "Yes, working. And I don't go to my office often. If I do, it's to work in my cabin, while he works in his own. We rarely even speak to each other."
"But!" She groans.
"Please," I request softly.
It takes her few seconds of silence to come to a sound decision. Then she opens the door and stares at me defeatedly. "Thank you!" I snatch her arm and drag her out, making her sit in front of the chair. "Yara, you'll be with Tara henceforth. And you've only one task. Watch me. Learn me. And impersonate me. Is that clear?"
"Yes, boss." He nods. "And when you're not around?"
"Watch other people. How we differ from each other, what sets us apart, the way people differently react in different situations. Remember you said with me as your only human exposure you're not understanding the intricacies of a human life? This is your chance. And of course, protect my wife." I shrug.
"I don't need protection." She grunts. "Especially from a pair of fragile glasses." She snorts.
I chuckle. "Oh, no Esther, he may not physically be there to fight off the danger, but he has enough resources and power to bring the entire city to a standstill if the situation calls for it. Don't underestimate him. He's my greatest invention so far." I smile at Yara proudly.
She places her hand on top of me on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, as if telling me she hears me, and is proud of me all the same.
"So, when do we start?" Taranya questions.
"Tomorrow." I answer.
But the fourth time? That's no luck.
You won, because that's what winners do.
They win. Always.
I love this man in his 'only business no bullshit' mode. So hot.
Hope you enjoyed the chapter. Don't forget to vote and comment. Makes my day.