Note: All timelines are relative to today, i.e 11th December, 2062, 22 years since one fine evening, the sun refused to set.
The Daily Chronicle
Wednesday, 11th December 2062
Japanese drugs manufacturing giant ZP Global Pharma. has announced in an official statement that 'INSOCURE', their vaccine to fight ‘chronic insomnia’ and the result of 10 years of animal and human testing will finally be put into production from early next year. The drug will be available to the common man in the form of an intravenous vaccine at all leading medical institutions across the globe. It is expected to be priced between 200$ to 300$ per shot, but leading analysts believe that black marketers are going to make a killing on this one.
For the last 15 years, ZP, along with US Pharmaceutical giant MediCorp Inc. has been lodged in fierce battle to make the vaccine available to the general public and beat the other to it. While MediCorp's much lesser priced vaccine has been rejected by the International Medical Association (IMA), which controls the global medical scenario, claiming that human trials proved 'unsatisfactory', it passed ZP's INSOCURE, despite many leading experts finding this the less effective drug with greater side effects.
Sankalp Patwardhan, a leading medical researcher of Indian origin and currently associated with Harvard Medical School, has blamed the IMA of succumbing to 'a huge bribe' from ZP Pharma, an allegation that both IMA Director Enrique Amanabar and ZP Pharma President Hu Zao flatly denied.
In a surprising twist, MediCorp Inc. Chairman Raul Gonzales too, opposed the Harvard medic's theory.
Looks like only time, and INSOCURE's eventual use by and its effect on the common man, will be the telling factor.
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Houston, Texas
2 days ago, 2:30 am
Room no 325 of Drive-in Motel was hot and bright, the sun managing to find ways to get into the shanty room despite the windows and the doors being closed and protected by three layers of thick curtains.
"It feels like I am in the middle of a desert at bloody 1 in the afternoon", Sankalp mumbled to himself, slipping his shaking fingers through the thick black glasses he wore and rubbing his sleep-filled eyes to ease the burning sensation, unable to co-ordinate his movements anymore and struggling to persuade his brain against what his eyes were seeing.
He'd popped 3 sleeping pills already and his body and mind were slowly being lulled to sleep, but what his eyes saw was a bright and sunny day and subsequently his mind refused to believe it was night and hence his eyes refused to close and his body refused to sleep. And this had been his condition for the past 22 years, leading to what the medics rather unimaginatively called 'chronic insomnia'.
"INSOCURE", he said aloud, "Darn it! It’s not going to solve a single purpose and I am going to prove it to the world in tomorrow’s trials."
"But first, I have other things to take care of", he blurted out as he stumbled over to the side table to read that message he’d received in the morning.
For the fourteenth time.
Want the whole truth? Room 326, Drive-in Motel, Tonight. 3 am.
- Goran
Sankalp’s blood shot eyes blinked relentlessly again, as he read through the mysterious sender’s message.
His heart told him he loved his wife and there was no need to doubt her for the sake of a cheapster’s prank. His mind told him he wasn’t sane anymore, that he hadn’t slept for years now and that there was no one he could believe – not even himself.
Just as he was about to follow his heart and delete the message , the reminder on his phone went off, letting off a big beep and the words ‘ALWAYS TRUST YOUR MIND’ flashing on the LCD screen.
Sankalp slid the phone in his back pocket and walked towards the door.
What Sankalp did not know was that in the adjacent room no. 326, a 7’2” tall Russian was silently waiting with a custom made gold-plated high caliber country gun in his hand, with the words ‘WHAT GOD GIVEGORAN TAKES’ inscribed across it in the finest of diamonds.
He liked the smell of splattered human blood on the floor, especially if it was splattered in style.
*************************************
3 months ago
Rockstar Casino, Honk Kong City, 3:10 am
Vishakha Patwardhan was staring at the elevator. It had no levels to go up. Only 14 levels to go down. The Chinese had been rather inventive; and quick. They’d shifted most of their infrastructure underground to beat the perennial sun.
Rockstar Casino – Level 12
The Ladies Only Club – Level 13
She pressed the button that said 13 and fished out a little piece of chewing gum from her purse and popped it in her mouth.
At level 13, she exited the elevator for a couple of seconds before sliding her hand stealthily back in and popping the gum off from her mouth and onto the lift’s security cam.
Back in the elevator and making sure she wasn’t being tracked by the cam, she pressed level 12, making the elevator whirr its way one level up.
She looked at her watch. 3:18 am. She was 3 minutes late. But she’d done exactly as he had instructed.
At a specially reserved booth in Rockstar Casino, Goran would be waiting. And Goran would be very angry. She thought of the punishment she would get that night from Goran and the thought made her shudder.
“A rather pleasurable shudder”, she thought to herself before exiting the elevator.
*************************************
ZP Global Pharmaceuticals Headquarters, Tokyo, Japan
Hu Zao was an excited man. 9 years of incessant trials were finally paying off. He looked at the reports lying on his table and dialed the operator’s number.
Even before the hapless employee could greet her boss, his voice rung loud and clear on the line.
“Get me Gonzales.”
All of 32, a man of questionable descent, what with his half-Japanese, half-Chinese parentage and with allegations of being involved in various scams on his way up the corporate ladder, ‘the foreigner’ was finally going to prove his mettle today.
With ZP winning the race to launch the vaccine for chronic insomnia in the global markets and if the drug proved to be as effective as it had during the 9 year long animal and human trials, he would be perceived as the savior of the human race.
A knight in shining armor at this ungodly hour.
This time, he had the papers clear. This time, he had hired two reputed third party vendors from India and Switzerland to officially approve and certify the tests.
This time, there would be no hindrance.
Except for the Professor at Harvard who was claiming ZP Pharma was running a scam and had bribed the IMA.
His thoughts were interrupted by a hoarse voice on the other end of the line, speaking in a thick Mexican accent.
“Gonzales here. Congratulations Hu! Wu Ming called half an hour ago. Our tests were successful! This calls for a big celebration, eh??”, the man sounded genuinely happy.
Zao considered the other man’s words for a moment. He found himself with no other option than to admit that none of this would have been possible without the helping hand lent by Gonzales. He owed this selfless man a vote of thanks.
“Hu?? You there?”, Zao’s thoughts wre interrupted by the voice at the other end again.
“Get the Russian. The professor needs to be fixed”.
His little thank you note could wait. There were bigger things that needed his attention.
*************************************
5 years ago
As their almost empty, specially designed anti-solar radiation flight landed in Chatrapati Shivaji International Airport, Sankalp and Vishakha Patwardhan set foot on Indian soil again, 29 years after they had left their hometowns in search of a better future in the United States.
The only fruit of their 19 years of marriage, their 16 year old son Vishal, was accompanying them on this rather important trip.“He better see his folks back in India before they give in to the heat wave”, Sankalp had told his wife before making his decision.
The airport seemed overly bright and excessively hot, the huge air conditioning system deployed by the controlling agencies not proving to be enough before the constant beating that the sun gave its metallic structure.
News flashes across the giant LCD units hung across the terminals seemed to echo only one thing in unison. That it was time to leave. Time to get running.
Over 18 lakh Indians had succumbed to the excessive heat wave across the Asian continent last year. Another 79 lakh had been diagnosed with ‘chronic insomnia’ and yet another 22 lakh had been diagnosed with symptoms of short term or permanent memory loss, triggered by undetected and untreated cases of chronic insomnia.
The sun had not set in the last 17 years and temperatures had soared up to 61 degrees Celsius in some parts of Western and Southern India, making it impossible for humans to survive.
Special ‘Cooling zones’ built by the government and other private players could only be afforded by the rich and the famous and the common man, for one, was getting burnt and roasted alive.
People across the country and other neighbouring countries like Sri Lanka , Pakistan, Bangladesh, Malaysia and Thailand were fleeing to the relatively cooler destinations of Europe and America.
The sun didn’t set in these continents either, but as per leading weather experts, there was still a good two decades or so to go before it started roasting people alive in those parts of the world.
The government had increased the number of flights to these destinations by tenfold and was hoping to rope in many new players in the field of solar aviation to meet the ever increasing demand.
Sankalp caught the worried look on his son’s face through the corner of his eye.
“Don’t you fret, son! We have these specially designed personalized cooling suits to help us around here, don’t we? C’mon now, put these on!”.
Curious onlookers gathered into a huge crowd around them, as the Patwardhan family suited up in their rather alien looking cooling suits.
*************************************
London, UK , The Newcastle Pub, 1:32 am
The all glass exteriors of the newly built joint were designed in such a way that they kept out the excessive heat and light of the constantly hovering sun, but let in just the correct amount of light and heat at all times of the day, 24*7, so that the patrons inside could enjoy their dates along with the perfect meal and their usual pints of beer.
Electricity was not an option for proprietor Graham Horrigton anyways, what with most of the major electricity providers across England, Europe and the globe shutting shop in the last few years.
Solar power was the buzz word. Relatively small players in the solar energy field had made it big owing to the constantly available sun. Special architects like the German master Rudolph Weinstein, from whom Horrington had had his pub designed, were coming up with innovative ideas to override the need of conventional electricity altogether.
‘Make money while the sun shines!’, was the new mantra for the opportune players in all fields of business.
For 5 years, mankind had struggled to come to terms with the never setting sun, but now they were finding ways to make the most of it.
“Life, as they say, always finds its own way.”, Horrington thought to himself as he assimilated his thoughts and threw a lazy eye across his pub.
Tonight, a particularly interesting couple was sitting at one of his tables, not interested in making any conversation with each other but gulping down their shots of whiskey and vodka with a hint of melancholy.
They seemed to be of Indian origin; the man in his mid forties, a rather weakly built male of about 5 ½ feet in height with a plainly carved face that was reeling with the effects of aging, and a personality that called for no attention at all.
The woman was altogether another pint of beer.
She seemed to be in her late twenties, a superbly chiseled face that called for instant attention and a heavenly figure that dripped with sensuality. She wore a rather low cut dress, revealing just enough to have onlookers drooling for more. A total contrast to the rather nattily dressed man she was with.
As Horrington leaned over the bartender’s counter and tried to hear the odd pair’s conversation, all he could manage to catch was,
“It’s over Sankalp. I am in it only for Vishal. And I am in love with Goran. And, I can’t help it, Sankalp. I am sorry.”
Horrington watched the man’s bloodshot eyes silently writhe in agony as the woman left him alone at the table.
“Justice”, Horrington thought to himself, “That woman deserves some good loving!”.
*************************************
22 years ago
San Jose, California , The Patwardhan Residence, 3:30 amAs Sankalp Patwardhan made slow, almost reluctant love to his stunning wife Vishakha, he wondered whether marrying her had been the biggest triumph of his life or his biggest mistake.
She was young and stunning. Check. She was intelligent. Check. She had charisma. Check. She had the most seductively pleasing personality that he’d ever come across. Check. She had the most amazingly successful career in mass media. Check.
And what was he? A balding, stout, bumbling professor researching the nitty-gritties of medical side-effects! He always felt a surge of inferiority complex running through his spine whenever he was beside her, but he also felt an immense attraction towards her that his mind couldn’t resist.
It was only after marrying her did he find out that his body couldn’t justify what his mind felt.
And this ate at his insides slowly and surely, taking him to a slow point of boil.
Tonight, he was going to give it all he had. He had to do it, for her.
But something was bothering him. It was not the fact that she lay uninterested, as usual. It was not the fact that the neighbours seemed to be in high spirits after a late night drinking sojourn, as usual. It wasn’t even the usual late night barks from Rocky, their pet Labrador.
Something was unusually out of place. Sankalp looked around the room. The curtains were drawn. The room was beautifully decorated with aromatic candles and fine satin. The wine was still on the table, with one glass still left untouched. Vishakha’s.
Sankalp felt a hint of anger rise up inside him again.
But that was soon put to rest, as he noticed the unusually bright room. It was 3:30 am in the night.
“In the night”, he repeated to himself.
He had been locked in the room with Vishakha since late evening and had paid no heed to the happenings of the outside world.
He wrapped a blanket around himself and rushed for the window.
What he saw outside, would not only change his life in weird ways in the coming years but also change the lives of millions across the globe.
The image of a beautifully sparkling sun, shining away in all its glory, high in the western sky, like a beautifully polished golden ring, with heaps of dazzling diamonds on top, at 3:30 am in the night and hordes of curious people out on the streets to witness the phenomenon, would not only be imprinted in Sankalp Patwardhan’s eyes, but also in all the leading news papers across the globe.
“The Evening the Sun Did Not Set”, a leading daily branded its article.
If only they knew it wouldn’t set for another 100 years.
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EPILOGUE – I
The Afternoon Telegraph
Thursday, Dec 12th 2062
Sankalp Patwardhan, a leading researcher in the field of medical side-effects and associated with Harvard Medical School, has been arrested for the murder of his we Vishakha Patwardhan.
Texas Police Deptt. found the body of 46 year old Vishakha in room no. 325 of the Drive-in Motel, and the assailant, her 63 year old husband Sankalp, in room no. 326, searching for a man named only as ‘Goran’.
Sheriff Maynohan, in charge of the case, confirmed that the murder weapon used was a customized handmade gold-plated gun with the words ‘WHAT GOD GIVES GORAN TAKES’ emblazoned on it.
The gun was registered and licensed in the name of Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan.
Motel check-in records indicated no signs of any Mr. Goran checking in and both room no. 325 and room no.326 were booked under the name of Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan.
Mr. Patwardhan’s cell phone records curiously indicated him sending a text to himself on the morning of Dec 9th ,2062, summoning him to the motel and using the moniker 'Goran'.
Medical experts have started work on analyzing whether Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan has signs of MPD or Multiple Personality Disorder, as alleged and suspected by some of his friends and colleagues the Texas Police Deptt. spoke to.
He was quoted as getting “a little loony in the head”, by one of his closest advisors and friends, Mr. Hu Zao of global medical giant ZP Pharma.
Zao said Patwardhan, his former professor at Harvard, had always been jealous of his protégé’s steep rise in the corporate world and had went so far as to falsely accuse him of having an affair with his wife and trying to bribe the IMA to pass his vaccine INSOCURE, among other things.
Co-incidentally, Zao also revealed that while at Harvard, he used the moniker ‘Goran’ to do his medical research write-ups.
A name suggested to him by Professor Patwardhan himself.
The police found several interesting leads in the case, including a leisure trip the Patwardhans made to Hong Kong city 3 months ago, where they were said to be registered under the names ‘Vishakha’ and ‘Goran’ wherever they stayed, although their identification proofs said Mr and Mrs.Patwardhan.
“Just another way of getting kinky”, the hotel staff remembered Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan as telling them.
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The Afternoon Telegraph
Dec 20th 2062
In a new twist in the Patwardhan murder case, ZP Pharma head honcho Hu Zao has admitted to have ordered a hit on Mr. Patwardhan 1 year ago, when all his convincing had fallen on the professor’s deaf years and Zao, not wanting to take a chance with his high stakes in INSOCURE, had ordered the hit through Raul Gonzales of MediCorp Inc. ,whom the public know as Zao’s arch rival but was actually an ally in a highly confidential inside job at the IMA to get MediCorp Inc. to help Zao’s ZP Pharma for the greater good of mankind.
The public rivalry was kept as a show to keep other big players from entering the field.
Mr. Gonzales is said to have contracted the Russian outlaw Boris “The Terrible” Kusalev for the hit.
Zao , however has claimed that a chance meeting with the professor and a close encounter with his deteriorating mental condition put him in two minds and he eventually cancelled the hit.
The police could contemplate taking both Zao and Gonzales into custody, but highly placed sources at the IMA and the US Govt. could pull them out of this one, citing ‘not wanting to jeopardize the production of INSOCURE and subsequently, the safety of mankind’.
Meanwhile, leading criminal psychologist Mr. Edward Shwick has confirmed that Mr. Patwardhan is at an advanced stage of MPD, and needs immediate attention.
Mr.Patwardhan’s lawyers are likely to plead for insanity and try and get the minimum term for their client.
*************************************
The first day the sun refused to set, Sankalp had felt the anger rise inside him. But the unusual celestial display had laid it to rest. But he knew Goran was born.
Sankalp was weak, a coward. Goran was strong, fearless. Sankalp sulked before his wife. Goran commanded respect from his wife. Sankalp followed her orders, Goran gave them to her. Sankalp knew only how to use his mind. Goran explored the full capabilities of his body. Sankalp gave. Goran took.
Goran made Vishakha do kinky things like insult Sankalp using his name, like she did at that pub in England; ditch Sankalp and meet Goran secretively, like she did at that casino in Hong Kong. Her mandate was simple. Treat Sankalp like a slave. And treat Goran as her master.
With Goran’s unique brand of punishments that gave her nothing but pure pleasure, she happily followed.
Sankalp felt that the incessant sun messed with his mind, but it only acted as fuel to Goran’s, the sun’s constant light providing him with a rare clarity of thought. A clear thought to let Sankalp know that he was no longer needed. That Vishakha was his now.
And that is why he had sent Sankalp the simple text message that should have ended it all. It was rather unfortunate that Vishakha had snooped in on the message and in a bid to save Sankalp had reached the motel, and ended up losing her own life.
A life priceless to Sankalp; a life worthless to him. He could always find another slave.
In prison now, he couldn’t wait for the day he would manage to completely take over Sankalp.
The Shwicks of the world weren’t going to come in his way.
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EPILOGUE-IV
Dec 12th 2140, Friday
In a first, all the continents across the globe were able to witness darkness at one single time, leaving leading scientists to ponder on whether this was a one-time phenomenon or whether henceforth, the whole world would live in one time zone, witnessing the birth of new mornings and the death of old ones at the same time every day.
This could potentially have a big impact on world economy, leading business experts say.
A 100 years and an unexplained phenomenon have gone by, leaving the world a much richer place in terms of experience.
The century saw some curious things like the decline of the conventional power industry, the rise of the solar energy industry, the tremendous spells of heat wave that swept Asia, the entire Australian continent being wiped off the planet, countries investing half of their annual budget to controlling heat waves and providing safe zones for their citizens, the rise and the rise of chronic insomnia and other mental disorders that came with it and finally the one saving grace that helped most survive – INSOCURE, the vaccine that could and that did prevent millions of people from falling into the jaws of chronic insomnia.
Hu Zao and Raul Gonzales were post humously honored with the Nobel Prize in Medicine for their work in getting INSOCURE on the stands at their earliest.
A prize marred only by the one stray incident of them having ordered a hit on Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan, the prime accused in the sensational 2062 Texas murder case.
Mr. Sankalp Patwardhan, meanwhile, was the only case of MPD originated/aggravated by chronic insomnia, according to leading medical experts.
After his release from prison in 2070, though Mr. Patwardhan never surfaced publically, rumours of a very Indian looking one Mr. Goran leading a peaceful life somewhere in the foothills of the Himalayas began to surface in the late 2070’s.
The seventy-something Mr. Goran a.k.a Mr.Patwardhan, the locals claimed, was often seen in the company of two of his seemingly favorite possessions- an old, shriveled copy of the book 'I am God' by Swedish extremist author Goran Kaminski and a very young local girl in her early twenties, whom he’d lovingly christened ‘Vishakha’.
