POV Aritra NaskarDate December ten two thousand twelveLocation Majuli Island, Brahmaputra River, Assam & Jadavpur Villa TerraceTime late afternoon
The river smelled of wet sand and lotus blooms as our hoverboat skimmed across the wide Brahmaputra toward Majuli, the world's largest river island. The late afternoon sun slanted through saffron-gold clouds, setting the water aglow like molten metal. Fisherfolk in wooden coracles waved up at us, their nets empty for now, as they watched four Skyseer drones circle overhead. Bamboo groves and thatched huts rose on the distant shore, where floodwaters had begun their slow retreat.
Katherine stood beside me on the open deck, her hijab catching the breeze. The sky painted her profile in light—soft, determined. She held a tablet displaying the ledger node "Assam-Delta." The node glowed steady emerald, but a single amber star flickered at its edge.
"What do you see?" I asked, handing her a cloak against the chill.
She tightened the wraps around her shoulders. "A ledger write attempt moments ago. Coordinates next to the network of stilted homes near Nimatighat. Could be local mischief—or a probe to misdirect relief."
I frowned. "Then we move at once. Our relief swarm must reach them before dark."
Below, relief technicians unloaded crates of water filters and solar lanterns. Each crate carried a miniature ledger‐sealed tag, inscribed with its contents and destination coordinates. We'd learned long ago that even a simple jug of clean water became a matter of trust and proof.
As the hoverboat eased alongside a raised bamboo platform, I stepped off, Katherine at my heels. The villagers gathered in colorful scarves, children peering at the drones as though they were mythical birds. I caught the elder's eye—Tanujay, wreathed in saffron robes dusted with river silt.
He bowed deeply. "Mr. Naskar, welcome again. Our wells remain brackish since the floods. We pray for your help."
I smiled. "We'll begin the drop now." I tapped my wrist console. Within seconds Aurora VII hovered above the platform, its cable-winch descending. Rhea's voice crackled in my ear. "Payload is five hundred water purifiers and two hundred lanterns. Ledger sync at ninety‐nine point nine percent."
Katherine pressed a symbol on her tablet and the ledger entry appeared: "Majuli Station Coordinates – Payload Deployed – Timestamp." The villagers clapped, their voices rising in the language of gratitude. A sudden bee‐like buzz drew their gaze as Cloudfall VII and Blizzard VII joined the formation, each lowering supplemental kits of fish protein bars and mosquito-net windows.
The entire operation felt like a dance—machines silent, humans precise. Yet in the nodes and the skies lurked unseen eyes.
Moments later, as villagers unloaded supplies, my comm chirped again. Priya's voice was calm but clipped. "Aritra, we caught the ledger anomaly. It was a false write attempt: someone tried to reroute lanterns to Nimatighat's polling station. We quarantined the request, but I advise we inspect the storage crates in Nimatighat. They may have labeled tags."
I turned to Katherine. "We head there next. We must ensure they get their supplies."
She nodded, resolve in her eyes. "Let's go."
Night fell across Majuli's flooded fields as we sped toward Nimatighat in a smaller skiff, diesel engine sputtering beneath a canopy of stars. Our path followed the river's silver arcs, lanterns casting warm halos on the water. Somewhere above, the drones perched like ghosts, cameras trained on every bend.
At Nimatighat a long wooden ramp led to a raised veranda where three days ago relief had arrived but ballots had not. Two poll boxes—imprinted with Nova Tech and UNIPAK insignia—sat empty under tarps. Men in olive fatigues and women in cyclone-worn saris waited, their faces pale beneath lamp light.
Captain Ahmed Khan of the UN protectorate approached. "Sir, volunteers tried to cast votes but boxes were absent. Ledger logs show the boxes never arrived here—someone intercepted the drop."
I frowned. "What about the real supplies?"
A younger officer shook his head. "I only saw tags indicating they had been delivered. The crates vanished somewhere."
An unnatural chill ran through me. I tapped my tablet. "Show me every ledger entry for Nimatighat." On the screen a skew of data appeared—three delivery confirmations, each tagged with identical timestamps and coordinates. But the GPS trace diverged thirty minutes after deployment, veering north along a tributary channel.
Katherine gasped quietly. "The crates weren't stolen on land—they were siphoned off mid-air."
I clenched my jaw. "Deploy Duskflight VIII and Prism VIII immediately. Their thermal sensors will find heat signatures in the channel."
Within minutes the drones swooped low over the tributary waters, scanning for floating crates or drifting tarps. Suddenly a beeping alert: an isolated thermal blot on a sandbar where no village stood.
I guided the patrol boat to the spot. There, half-buried in silt, lay a single crate, its tag scuffed but legible. We pulled it aboard. Blood drained from my face when I saw the label: "Ballot Box – Arunachal Seven."
This was no relief theft—this was political sabotage. Someone had disguised the ballot box among relief crates.
I looked at Katherine, horror and anger dancing in her eyes. "They meant to disrupt the referenda."
She stepped close, voice fierce. "We must retrieve and restore it to the node. No one changes the will of the people."
I nodded. "Captain, take us to Kamlapur Bridge. The predawn fetch will avoid crowds."
Under her hand on my arm I felt a calm I ached for. "We'll do this together," she whispered.
Back at the deck, we pried open the ballot box with gloved hands. The local ballots remained intact, edges stiff with silt but their biometric seals unbroken. Katherine scanned the iris hash. "They didn't break the blockchain proof." Relief flickered in her eyes.
"Upload immediately," I said. She tapped her tablet and the ledger node blinked. "Arunachal Seven – Box Recovered – Integrity Verified – Timestamp."
As dawn broke in lavender haze, I watched the new entry pulse as emerald. They had tried to steal a vote but they had failed.
Katherine slipped her hand into mine. In that moment I realized every challenge tested not just our technology but our faith—in each other, and in the promise of transparency.
We stood on the river's edge as the first crows called. In the returning light the water gleamed like glass. In our hands was proof of a truth no darkness could rewrite: that every voice, every vote, every life would remain etched in the living ledger—guardian against every shadow.
And beside me, Katherine's hand was my ledger of hope.
In the hush before a new dawn, we walked toward the rising sun—two souls bound by code and by love—ready for whatever the world would write next.