It has been a week since David found the watch. His daily routine has changed drastically.
Now, he wakes up early in the morning for a run. During breakfast, he glances through the newspaper—not to read it himself, but to let the watch scan the pages. NEAA analyzes the text in seconds, extracting relevant current affairs data and summarizing key points for his future Civil Service exam. It is the ultimate cheat sheet.
Today, however, studying is on hold. He is going to meet his friend, Varun, who is moving to Hyderabad to join him and Ajith.
Varun has finally landed a job in Hitech City after a grueling series of interviews. He has been appointed as a trainee at a Japanese equipment manufacturing company. Even though Varun has a degree in Agriculture, the corporate world is shifting. According to NEAA's analysis of recent economic news, Japan is aggressively entering the Indian market, seeking a younger workforce to counter their own aging population.
It looks like it will be easier for Indian students to find jobs in Japanese firms soon, David thinks. That's good news for us, and lucky for Varun.
David spots him at the bus stop.
"Hey Varun! How are you, man? It's been so long. You've become fat!" It is the standard, affectionate greeting among South Indian friends—a sign that the other person looks healthy and well-fed.
"And you've become more handsome," Varun shoots back with a grin.
"Now I know how you got the job—smooth talker. Come on, let's go. I'll show you the room. Ajith is coming in the evening; he has a class right now. Here, let me take one of your bags."
As they walk, Varun looks around the bustling city streets. "Hey, I heard there are so many beautiful girls in Hyderabad. Did you find a girlfriend yet?"
It is the inevitable second topic of conversation for any bachelor, right after career talk.
"I don't have time for that," David laughs. "First a job, then marriage."
Soon, they reach the PG hostel. Varun is happy with the accommodation; it is cramped but livable.
"Are you going to the office starting tomorrow or next Monday?" David asks.
"Tomorrow, actually. I can join anytime this week, but since Republic Day is coming up, I figure I'll start tomorrow and get the orientation over with."
"Ah, right. For Republic Day, Ajith and I are going home. So, you'll have to wait two weeks to roam around Hyderabad with us. Or you can explore alone."
"No way, I'll just go to the office and wait for you guys to get back. When are you leaving?"
"Day after tomorrow. I'm taking the train; Ajith is taking the bus."
David has a hidden agenda for this trip. This time, when I go back, I have to visit the location on the Kerala-Tamil Nadu border marked on the map.
After showing Varun around, the three friends go out for dinner and decide to catch a late-night movie.
The watch has a passive safety feature: it monitors everything David sees to protect him from accidents. It also has a new way of communicating with him. David keeps his old phone connected to a pair of earphones. When the watch vibrates, it means NEAA has something to say. David plugs in the earbud, and NEAA speaks directly into his ear through the phone connection.
Midway through the movie, the watch vibrates.
David casually plugs in one earphone.
"David, I have identified a person with access to a supercomputer in this theater."
NEAA, how do you know that? David thinks, instantly curious.
"We scanned an article about him in yesterday's newspaper. He is a professor at Hyderabad University who specializes in meteorology research."
Okay, where is he sitting? What is his name? David isn't about to lose an opportunity like this.
"His name is Sadhique Ali. I cannot determine his exact seat from your current angle. Please look back and raise your right hand slowly so I can perform a night scan."
David stands up, whispering to his friends that he needs to use the restroom. He walks toward the exit, glancing back at the dark theater while slowly lifting his right hand as he steps outside.
Once he reaches the washroom and checks that no one else is there, he starts his conversation with NEAA.
"Did you find his seat? Also, show me his photo."
The watch projects a small holographic image of the professor onto the bathroom mirror—the same photo from the newspaper. It also displays data about his family: his wife is also a professor, and they have a son and a daughter, both studying at the university.
Now that is tricky, David muses. You know, NEAA, a father with a daughter tends to be protective and unfriendly to young men. I hope she isn't too beautiful. If she is, he'll think I'm hitting on her, and our chances of getting access to his computer will drop to zero.
"Noted. The professor and his family are seated in the second-to-last row, near the middle."
David goes back to the theater hall. While walking to his seat, he scans the back rows and locates the target. I feel like James Bond, he thinks, suppressing a smile.
"Hey, what were you looking around for?" Varun whispers when David sits down. He isn't asking about the professor; he is asking the important question: Where is the food?
"Sorry, dear, I forgot the snacks. We'll buy some during the interval," David consoles him like a child.
During the interval, the three of them go out to the lobby—ostensibly to "look for beauties" and buy popcorn. But David is hunting.
He spots his target heading for the restrooms. He follows the professor and waits outside like a security guard, his mind racing for an opening line. I should have drunk more juice; standing here without needing to pee is awkward.
Finally, the old man emerges.
"Hello, sir," David steps into his path, blocking him politely. "Excuse me, I read about you in the newspaper—about your research and findings on changing weather patterns."
At first, the professor looks annoyed at being blocked. But hearing about his research softens his expression immediately. "Oh? Are you a student of meteorology?"
"No, sir. I am a student of Agriculture. But you know, meteorology is closely related to agriculture. In fact, one could argue that the very need for meteorology arose because of agriculture, even more than human settlement planning. Don't you think so?"
David has found the perfect opening. Academics love nothing more than discussing the importance of their field.
"You think meteorology is not as important as agriculture?" The professor raises an eyebrow, slightly unhappy with the comparison.
"Every branch of science is important, sir," David counters smoothly. "But nothing is more important than human life, and that starts with food."
He can see the professor preparing a long rebuttal, which is exactly what David wants—engagement. But he sees Varun and Ajith approaching.
"Sir, could I possibly get your contact number? We can talk more after the movie. What do you think?"
The sudden stop to the conversation is like a fishbone stuck in the professor's throat—he is itching to finish the argument. Dazed by the sudden request, he instinctively recites his number.
David saves it immediately. "Thank you, sir. Let's meet again after the movie!"
He walks away quickly before the professor can process what just happened.
"Hey, David, who was that old man?" Varun asks, confused.
"Who, him?" David smirks, pocketing his phone. "That is a Professor at Hyderabad University. I was just suggesting a better movie for him to watch."