1

THE MAN WITHOUT

QUINTESSENCE

When Iread in The Times of lndia that Ringo Singh Mann,

resident of Chedda Nagar, Mumbai, had died in an autocide,
my first reaction wasnt sorrow or arnger or regret; rather, it was
amusement. In death, Mann had achieved a visibility denied to
him all his life.
Ihave the Assistant retrieve the work notes from the period
Idbeen engaged in trying to locate him. The notes are more
than four years old, but the memories they evoke make the past
feel indistinguishable from the present. My quest to find Ringo
Singh Mann had been unlike any I'd engaged in over the years.
Atthe time, I only knewtwo things about Mann. First, unlike
couldn't be pinpointed because he couldn't be linked
us, he words,Mann
other
with a unique and permanent identifier. In
Grapevine had
lacked quintessence. Second, the chatter on the
Mumbai, which
Ientihed Mann as an Indian male living in
made the City the logical place to initiate my search.
 ANIL MENON

The Maharashtra State and Central Government Als bave

better things to do, of course, than indulge the requests of
journalists. Fortunately, the Municipal Corporation AI, or
it prefers to be called, remembered I had written
'Balasaheb' as
favourable review of a poetry collectionit hadd once generated,
a human time. Balasaheb ie
ten minutes of
and granted me
speak in Marathi, soI hadthe Assistant translate.
requiredto
that the City has abouttwenty-eight million patriots
Ilearn hundred and thirty-four patriots
as of the census, but justthree
were to shout "Hey Ringo
who wouldturn their heads if you
Balasaheb shares all their pinpoints with me. Of
Singh Mann:
Manns, thirty.
the three hundred and thirty-four Ringo Singh
custody, twenty-four
eight have passed on, three are in police asleep,
hundred and nine are
are brushing their teeth, one
writing poems,
seven are making love (self-report), twelve are
cetera, et cetera. There are dozens of formal and informal
et
Manns are in all the
clusters linking them to one another. A few
no Mann is
clusters and most clusters contain a few Manns, but
uncommon
an Island, disconnected from the main. It is not an
closer to the Mann
pattern or insight, and it doesn't lead me any
Iwant.
aware
'But they allhave quintessence. Even as I say it, Iam
of its inanity.
"So you want to pinpoint someone whocan't be pinpointed?
Balasaheb sounds like avery reasonable parent.
Yes--no, not exactly. I'm saying there must be some indirect
way to find them. Then I have an idea. "What about the Welfare
AI? That's under your jurisdiction. Could Mann be on welfare?
"There are nine Ringo Singh Manns in Welfare. Which one?
 THE MAN WITHoUT QUINTESSENCE 3

"The one without alegitimate pinpoint.

There's no such thing as an illegitimate pinpoint, just as there
is no such thing as amarried bachelor or healthy pollution'
'All right,temporary pinpoint! Ididn't like Balasahebs tone
one bit. Suppose someone has surgery. Then they get asigned
atemporary pinpoint, right? What happens then?
Ihave no idea what happens when someone has surgery.
I handle municipal matters. Are you thinking of locating your
imaginary Mann through an imaginary credit trace? It is
possible. Welfare uses the standard double-blind blockchain
protocol for all its transactions. An Account only ever talks to
another Account, and obviously, if someone has never existed,
they cannot have an Account.'
"TheGrapevine suggests he very much exists.
Idle speculation weakens the State,citizen. Is there anything
else Ican help you with? Good. Feedback would be appreciated.
Jai Maharashtra!"
'Jai Maharashtra.
Jai Bharat Mata!'
'JaiBharat Mata.'
For a journalist, dealing with this sort of helpfulness is
part of the job description. There had to be people without
quintessence. Of course there had to be. Just as there had been
people without passports, Aadhar cards, ration cards, and PAN
cards. How did the State deal with the 'married bachelors'?
Iask around but no one is willing to talk about the politics
of quintessence. Doctor Mumtaz Mustafa, Chief Technology
Officer of the Netra Reddix Group, won't talk about the politics
either, but he is more than willing to talk about the technology.
 ANIL MENON
4

'Yo' peepers prove your personhood, brax, says Mustafa.

His hair colour is synced to his emotions, and right now it is
full-arousal red. 'Folks used to tale that souls be unique and
unchangeable. Ennnnnh! Neti, brax. Its da windows to da soul
dat be tha damn marker of yo' eternal fixity
Mustafa dives deep into the tech, too deep for me to follow.
but the bottom line is the one we all take for granted. Every
animalwith eyes also has quintessence, namely, an iris signature
that is unique, unchangeable and not duplicable. The early iris
scanners were slow, bulky and could be hacked with little more
than cellotape and a smartphone (a once-ubiquitous ancestor
of the link). Today's scanners can fit inside a drone
mosquito's
head. They're laser precise, extraordinarilysecureand blindingly
fast. Quintessence, Mustafa is saying, doesn't require a soul. It
only requires one to have eyes, windows to the soul.
Mustafa reluctantly confirms that this requirement is
not always met. Though congenital horrors that prevented
proper eye formation such as microphthalmia, anophthalmia
and coloboma have all but been eliminated, they still occur.
Sometimes people have the misfortune to lose both eyes in
an accident. People living in Tier-3 and Tier-4 countries
could have had access to the tech, except for the geography of
their birth.
"So it's a real problem.
Very temporary problem, Mustafa assures me. 'Hope youz
not a jhola-type, brax?'
Well, Icertainly wasn't ready to wait for the Singularity. We
don't live in an open society for nothing. Ifiled RTI requestsfor
data on congenital eye disorders. More RTI requests for details
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE

Anance allocations for migrants from Tier-3 and Tier-4

nations. Still more RTI requests for details of accident victims
whod needed eye surgeries. I wrote an article on the limitations
ofquintessence tech.
ldecide to dig alittle deeperto understand the government's
eluctance. Imet with Sheila 'Sunny' Mazumdar, head of the
Ereedom Institute and a leading expert on open societies.
Sometimes people acquire the values of the subjects they
study. She is open and friendly and we hit it off almost
immediately. The professor's cosy office with its coir blinds,
comfortably battered furniture, bonsai plants, and book-lined
walls all encourage conversation.
The government's reluctance, Doctor Mazumdar explains, is
an attempt to maintain the people's trust in the trustworthiness
ofpeople.
"The more open asociety, the more it relies on trust. Trust is
as much a resource as sunlight, water, or time. For example, we
have never met before, but Im pretty certain youare who you
say you are. Even better, I know others can be equally certain.
other
So We can cooperate with each other and hold each
accountable. If we can only trust people after having known
them for some time, then everything gets slowed down.
ItellDoctor Mazumdar - call me Sunny, she says - that 1,
for one, am willing to take her word on pretty much anything.
Indeed, his relaxed, confident easy-going manner makes it
almost compulsory. But Sunny Mazumdar quickly points out
she isn't talking about that kind oftrust. Some kinds of trust still
have to be earned, but in an open society there is apresumption
of trustworthiness.
 ANIL MENON

To see how important this presumption is, simply look .

a society where trust has broken down completely.
used to be the poster child of such a society. It is now Moldova
known
for its sterling quantum biologists and incredibly expensive
wines, but in the 2010s things were complete shit. Moldovans
were very suspicious of each other. My thesis advisor Ru..
Veenhoven, whostudied happiness, discovered Moldova to be
the most unhappy place on the planet. It turns out trust and
happiness are closely correlated. Veenhoven once told me a
joke he'd heard down there. Every country wants its people to
be honest, intelligent and long-lived. But in Moldova, a person
could have only two of thesethree qualities. If you were honest
and intelligent, then you'd soon be dead. If you were honest
and long-lived, then you had a screw loose. And if you were
intelligent and long-lived, then you were definitely acrook.'
Isuggest to Sunny that if the Moldovans could laugh at
themselves, they couldn't have been that unhappy. He smiles as
if the thought has occurred to him. I ask her what had changed
for the Moldovans.
'A lot of things. Sunny hesitates as if he were weighing
something. 'In some ways, India wasn't that different from
Moldova. They fixed their trust problem the way we fixed ours.
The first step is to figure out away to be sure aperson is whothey
say they are. Quintessence tech made that possible. But there's a
catch: it is not enough to have atech. People also need to trust
that the tech is trustworthy. Mann and others like him - and
you can be sure there are others like him - makes us question
the technology behind quintessence, and therefore the basis
of our society' She gives me a peculiar glance. 'Change always
 THEMAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE 7

comes at a price. We paid a stiff one. You must understand the

totalitarian impulse is to make mis-recognition impossible.
Suddenly, we both laugh. As we've been talking, our Assistants
have been busy trying to hook us up. They are convinced we have
achance.
"Should we?' Iventure.
T'm already in auniamorous relationship; she reminds me.
Ah, that trustthing again. But Iam not entirely disappointed.
Ihave made a friend, and I understand the government's
position a lot better. As the old proverb goes, it is good to have
an open mind but not soopen that our brains fall out. Sotoo for
societies. The Assistant informs me it is not aproverb, buta line
from abureaucrat's speech. Maybe so, but stil.
The pressure Id applied seemns to have paid off. A few days
after Ihad met Sunny, I get alink request, courtesy Balasaheb.
Iam Tanaji Shinde. You want to meet Ringo Mann?
Ialready know who he is. He is Mann's welfare oficer. He
already knows what Iwant. I want access to his client. We
agree to meet in Chembur around five-thirty in the evening at
the India Coffee House, a landmark heritage restaurant. The
restaurant has undergone extensive renovations over the years,
the menu is fusion-confusion, not to mention the motorized
staff, and the location has shifted (it used to be closer to the
nOw-defunct flyover). Allthis might upset purists. But if George
Washington's axe can remain George Washington's axe even
after having its head and handle replaced, I don't see why our
heritage should be any less resilient.
Tanaji hasasafari suit and a brusque manner, the kind that
so often hides akind heart. He has the stocky square build ofthe
 ANIL MENON

Bihari and looks tired. I know he prefers to speak in Marathi, so

formalities to take
we settle on Hindi. There are some official
Though Mann
care of, plus Mann will only be free after six.
can change his
has agreed to see me, Tanajiemphasizes Mann unnecessarily.
mind. Hes not a zoo animal, Tanaji clarifies quite
the forms, sipping
Aswe tap and gesture our way through to be chai (the
that claims
the insipid, tepid and milky water
Tanaji informs me his
restaurant no longer serves coffee),
Mann is a
jurisdiction extends over fifty-seven people. But
special case.
Special in what way?'Iask.
Hahn,
Heis a living ghost. How do you say it in English?
quality
the "Invisible" Mann Tanaji smiles and there's a sad
many
to it, perhaps because it feels like he's cracked the joke
times. He was kidnapped a few months ago, did you know?
because he
They thought he would make the perfect assassin,
made some
isregistered in so few databases. Our Bhagavan has
real donkeys.
Tanaji elaborates on the stupidity of the kidnappers, who
of course have been caught. For one thing, Mann isn't very
mobile, whereas assassins are required to zip around in the
fastest vehicles possible. The welfare officer mimics the act
of driving acar in the days they used to have steering wheels,
leaning back in his seat on account of the terrifying imaginary
speed at which we were going.
'Let me ask you something; says Tanaji. "Would you preter
to be ajombie or aghost?"
Easy. Iam a vegetarian, so definitely not a zombie. I eyeroll
into Tanaji'sprofle, I learn that he too is avegetarian. When I
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE

everol back to the moment, I find him examining me with that

sad half-smile.
Hahn, I'm also vegetarian, says Tanaji, in English. 'But,
Sir-ji - you're gentleman gender, no? - I will tell you with one
hundred per cent guarantee that we will prefer to be jombies.
Ask why'
Why?
'Because jombies don't know they're jombies. But ghosts
know they're ghosts. So which is worse?' He laughs, shaking
helplessly at his insight. Correct point or not?
He does have a point. If I don't know I am consuming
brains, I could just as well be chomping down on cauliflower.
Yum, yum.
Eventually, we are done with the forms and set off to meet
[Link] is on one side of the Eastern Express Highway,
Chedda Nagar is on the other. Iam not keen to trudge in the
sun and theexpense account definitely covers travel (I think),
but Tanaji assures me that our destination isn't far and that
he wants to stretch his legs. So we stretch our legs. As our
legs near the highway, a strange smell suffuses the air. Strange
because it seems to be an odour from a bygone era. I query the
Assistant, but Tanaji's empathic nature has already anticipated
my question.
"You're smelling salt pans. Chedda Nagar is built on
reclaimed salt pan land.
He knows a lot about the politics of the local real estate.
At the start of the twentieth century, the central government
leased several large plots ofland for salt production to anumber
of business families such as the Garodias and Bomanwallas. In
 ANIL MENON
10

colonies
the 197Os, developers constructed large housing
Chedda on
these lands. Chedda Nagar, built by Ravji Khimji
Or, as the
140-acre plot, hadbeen one such housing colony.
saw it, illegal tenements. The matter had gone to
governnment
limbo for the past half.
court, and the lands had been in legal
or more. Which meant that people were afraid to buy
century guarantee they would
these areas, since there was no
houses in couldn't be sold,
a few years hence. Houses
retain ownership roads in NDZareas,
(couldn't) maintain the
Balasaheb wouldn't
development was forthcoming, and Chedda Nagar and
no new Meanwhile, the country's
were frozen in time.
other areas like it
elsewhere.
salt is manufactured
telling me, I realize, is that such areas trapped
What Tanajiis
limbo are natural homes for a person trapped in a legal
in legal
after all.
limbo. Ghosts live in ghost houses,
'Are there many like Mann?" fork in the road. "The
pointing to a
'We turn left,; says Tanaji,
Abhilasha building!
laundromat is just after the
the answer to my question also lies there, but he
I askhim if to sing a
seconds later,
and, a few
only smiles and starts to hum
Kabir doha.
hot. Everything that can be said about
It is hot. Very
been said but let me add to the litany
modern weather has is like
brutal, constant, inherited. It
nonetheless. The weather is
insists on being kissed. I feel
relative who
a sweaty and fleshy patches, marking out the valleys
damp
sweat collecting in large their sumbrellas, and to prevent
people
of my surface. Ienvy heat-depression I focus on the world
full-blown
the onset of a
around me.
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE

rChedda Nagar is a ghost colony, then it is a flourishing

oe The buildings with their Hindu south Indian names are
decrepit, the roads are ina terrible condition,and overall the
placelooks like a scene from a "70s Hindi movie. But these
patriots are very much from this time and world. My awareness
Alls withtheir life data, the slightest eyeroll will let me dive into
their likes and dislikes, they know me, Iknow them, and the
shimmering sideshadows of life are as rich here as anywhere
else in the City.
I will go in first, says Tanaji. 'After the kidnapping attempt
he's becomea little fearful'
As Tanajidisappears inside the shop, I compose my features
intothe most guileless and non-threatening expression possible.
Five minutes. Ten minutes. Twenty. I sweat under the merciless
sun. Ayoung couple approaches. They must have noticed I am
astranger in the area and there is no need for any eyerolling
verify Iam suffering. They look like nice, decent people.
The Shettys are into rock climbing, been to Bali three times,
it is their favourite spot ever, and are waiting for the requisite
permits to have a baby. They smile; I smile.
'Are you still regretting not bringing a sumbrella? says one
of the inseparables.
'How did youpossibly guess, Christopher- Sarika?" They
prefer to be addressed by the same name.
They have two sumbrellas, offer me one. I swear I can't
Inconvenience them. They swear it is abs no pain at all; in tact,
Iwill be helpingto make their walk more romantic. We swear
at each other, but finally Iaccept their sumbrella [Link]
sun
sun already
al feels less warm, even without the sumbrella. As the
12 ANIL MENON

coolness envelops me in its airy cocoon, I have the Assistant

send them flowers to sweeten their day.
Since Iwas waiting, I decided to put the time to use. Iset
off on an exploratory stroll. The municipal facilities are shabby,
store.
but the shops are reasonably well maintained. Grocery
flower shop, a drone repair shop, a number of hole-in-the.
wall food dispensers, and a Greek restaurant with a dispirited
ambience. It occurs to me that we still do everything our great
grandparents used to do, except we do them in seemingly
different ways. As Iunpack this heavy thought, the Assistant
alerts me that Tanaji is coming up behind me. I turn, and my
attention fixes not on Tanaji but the man accompanying him.
It is hard to describe how it feels to be in someone's presence
and yet face only their absences.
Let me be less clever. Ringo Singh Mann is of a certain
height, has such-and-such frame, such-and-such tics, and such
and-such features. These are the trivial physical details. What is
not trivial is that the trivial details one sees is all that one gets.
Gazing upon Ringo Singh Mann is like staring at a mirror or a
mannequin. Actually, even a mannequin has depth. Mann is all
surface. Flat, opaque.
It makes me slightly nauseous. I know I am being unfair, but
that doesn't ease the nausea one bit. I know our ancestorsonce
met and mingled and mated with nothing more than this level
of [Link] I must be honest. Idon't just feel nausea. There
is also a peculiar vertiginous revulsion. As if I have been given
an uncooked glimpse into ourprimordial animal nature. There,
but for the grace of the fire in our minds, go all of us. I clutch
my sumbrella, absurdly grateful for its artifcial and pliable soul.
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE 13

Ladmit my feelings have no legitimacy, but if we are to have

honest feelings then the illegitimate ones too must be admitted.
lam so pleased to meet you' Ihope my face isn't revealing
my feelings. The Assistant holds up a mirror but strangely I
resistan eyeroll. It:somehowfeels inappropriate.
Mann nods, glances at Tanaji. Hahn hahn, says the welfare
officer encouragingly, as if they have a private language of their
own. Tanaji gives me his half-smile, as ifhe knows something of
my inner turmoil.
Tanaji has persuaded Mann to show me his apartment. It
isn't far from the laundromat, and we start walking towards his
apartment. The pavement is too broken and bumpy touse, but
he sticks to the road's edge. Tanaji says with a laugh that Mann
isterribly afraid of the autocars. The driver-less cars sometimes
can't see him. He's been sideswiped several times. I say a few
reassuring things to Mann in Hindi, then switch to English once
it becomes clear that Mann is quite fluent in the language.
I onlywant people to understand what it's like to be vou. I
say to Mann.
He wants a peep into your life, translates Tanaji, from
English to English.
Igave Tanajialook. 'Let's start with your job. Why a laundry?
Why did youchoose to work in alaundromat?"
'Ironing and folding cant be automated, so people like
me are still needed: Mann explains that laundromatsfound it
especially hard to hire people willing to iron clothes. There is
always talk of ironing robots and they may perfectly iron the
Clothes of scientists in labs, but they are too expensive or too
Incompetent for most laundromats. The shortage of labour
 ANIL MENON
14

meant the laundromat was willing to undertake the hassle of

dealing with him.
In retrospect, it isn't surprising so much of the old continues
to coexist with the new. During the Second World War, the
German Wehrmacht invaded Russia with more horses than
Napoleon did in his attack on the country. Asbestos-cement has
been banned for decades, but the houses inChedda Nagar are
all made from that stuff.
'But without quintessence, how do they compensate youfor
your time?'Iask.
'But the pay must be very little?' translates Tanaji.
Ilearnthat Mann's pay is indeed lousy. Don't get me wrong,
Iam as much a patriot as anyone else. Our great land has many
virtues, but compensating people adequately for their manual
labour has never been one of them. Worse, compernsation isn't
a simple affair. True, Mann has a blockchain account, but for
allpractical purposes he is utterly dependent on welfare for
any actual transaction. His account can be credited directly
(provided the amount isn't larger than a certain limit), but
debits - a toothbrush, a kilo of flour, a packet of sugar, a new
bicycle chain - require 'quod' or quintessence-on-demand.
Quod. It was the first time Ihad heard the term, and Ihad that
privilege, because like other privileged patriots Ifit seamlessly
into the financial system. But Mann didn't have that privilege
and I guessed the world never let him forget it.
Mann's second-loor apartment consists of a living room,
bedroom and a small kitchen. Everything is small. The living
room is small. The bedroom is small. And the small kitchen
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE 1S

is onthesmaller side as far as small kitchens are concerned.

There are clumps of objects that seem to go together. The
throw-rug under the Formica coffee table matches two of the
cheap wooden chairs. The other two chairs, however, are of the
kldable and stackable steel type. Most of the furniture, he tells
me,are gifts from various kind people over the years. It explains
the mismatched decor. But looking around the neat and ordered
rooms,,one feels thequiet peace that comes from the desire that
doesn't seek to present abeautiful face for strangers, but rests in
order for its own sake.
He loves old toys. The showcase in the living room is neatly
Alled with a teddy bear, a soapstone Taj Mahal miniature,
springy dashboard dolls, and other such knick-knacks that are
faded from age, not play. Mann points out an antique model
of an Air India plane, a gift for his father from some ancient
relative in Dubai, back in the day. Mann's grandparents stare
at me with some disapproval from the living room wall. They
look like how all our grandparents look. Good, honest, hard
working middle-class patriots determined to give their children
a better life. Mann tells me that this included, among other
things, having to keep the model airplane under lock and key in
the showcase cabinet.
It's funny; says Mann with a ruminative smile. I'm more
like my grandfather than like my father:
He explains that his parents always saw themselves as part
of the modern generation, taking India into the twenty-first
century. Mann sees himself as the last representative of an
earlier time, not the future.
 ANIL MENON
16

My eyes were meant to see a different world!

He doesn't sound sad. And there is biological truth in what
he says. I had had Mumtaz Mustafa do afull analysis of Mann's
evo-complex for me. According to Mustafa, Mann comes
from the Baluchi and Chitrali communities, people who had
inherited the northern lands conquered by brave Sikander and
his unstoppable Greeks. These communities exhibit a wide
spectrum of eye colour, because of their large variation in the
geneticcomplexes responsible for iris pigmentations. Now, the
primitive twentieth-century belief that we are our genes has
been completely overthrown, but in Mann's case, much of the
responsibility for his unfortunate situation can be laid at their
door. His irises, to put it crudely and inaccurately and bluntly,
keep changing unpredictably over time. Ergo, no quintesence.
Actually, Mustafa froths at the word 'quintessence. He's
reminded me more than once just how cranked out stoopid'
it is to say 'quintessence' when the correct word is 'quiddity':
Mustafa loves saying the word perhaps abit more than the
word itself, mouthingit as ifhe were about to spit out aseed. As
with most things regarding the tech, he turns out to be correct.
Quiddity is what makes something different from everything
else. Acamel has the same quintessence as another camel, but
its quiddity is what makes it this camel and not that camel. It is a
difference that makes an important difference for philosophers
and quantum physicists but Iam neither, so Idecide to stick
with the cranked-out-stoopid word.
Mann is hoping Mustafa willigure out how to stop his irises
from mutating all the time. There are radical treatments out there
 THEMAN WITHoUT QUINTESSENCE 17

- the coolest one involves implantinga semi-permanentthird

butMann has also reached asteady-state equilibrium. He
isn't content exactly, but he isn't discontent either. He is a minor
celebrity in the neighbourhood. His neighbours look after him.
Thev donate food, clothes. He is invited to parties. Some people
find his afliction a sexual turn on.
Ijust need to give one look, he says, with a grin that
pretends to be sheepish but can't hide his relish. It's sometimes
a nuisance'
Tanaji'svigorous nod testifies to the animal truth ofthe man.
Perhaps the attraction is that Mann represents amore innocent
.But for all his claims of getting plenty of attention, I can
tell Mann is lonely. He gets nervous when I glance at him,
but he timidly keeps trying to meet my eyes. Itell him I have
brought a gift. Just a thank-you token for sharing his time.
He jumps up like a kid to take the small gift-wrapped box of
Namacacao-bitter chocolates,glances at Tanaji, who nods. My
gesture has brought pleasure, but I then learn that Mann doesn't
like chocolates. He has cancer, has been warned off sugar, and
his treatment is complicated by the fact the nano-medicine is
utterly dependent on quintessence tech. Tanaji steps into the
breach, and between several large withdrawals from the box,
informs me that the chocolates are delicious.
I reflect that this sort of thing must happen to Mann all the
time. For afew seconds, I marvel at the complexity of the lives
our opaque ancestors must have had. How many questions they
must have needed to ask one another, allthe time!
Mann says he is hungry and looks at Tanaji expectantly. The
18 ANIL MENON

welfare oficer tells him toorder whatever he likes. The meal ie

on my expense account. We all laugh for no particular reason.
Mann has a special device to make these calls - Tanaji says
it's called aRouter. It looks like one of those quaint old-time VR
goggles and links to a service provided by the Welfare Al. The
details are Byzantine, but Igather the Router basically allows
Mann and the world to pretend he has quintessence and makes
him 'visible' in the digital world; at least, for small transactions
and short durations. Iwatch Mann link and order thefood. He
begins in acommanding manner, mentioning he has important
guests, butthen laughs and shiftsto a more appeasing tone. As
soon as he is done, he quickly puts away the Router.
His circumspection reminds me of the wounded soldiers
I'd interviewed after the Indo-China war. They would joke
and horse around with one another using their newly fitted
prosthetic limbs, but in my presence suddenly turn awkward,
minimize the motionsof the artificial limbs and act almost as if
their pseudopods belonged to someone else. It suddenly
to me, with the brilliant clarity of a lightning flash revealing
darkened ground, that Mann is a digital paraplegic and our
world has noreal way to deal with his situation.
We learn there is some problem with the order. The Router
hasn't been upgraded in awhile, and what with the new security
regs and all, the pseudo-quintessence manoeuvre fails. As
Tanaji fiddles with the Router, I pay for the Dal Fry, the Dream
of Red Chamber (very spicy bean-based dish, only for the
experienced and insightful bowel), Heavenly Doctrine of the
Confucian Chicken (like Kierkegaard, an acquired pleasure)
 THE MAN WITHOUT QUINTESSENCE 19

The Iniustice To Dou E (mushrooms with a Maggi noodle base

highly recommended), accompanied by ample servings of fried
rice,and terminated, oddly enough, with pedas. We study the
golden-coloured oblong sweets. There are three of us, but only
two pedas.
"Sir-ji, I don't want any,' says Mann to Tanaji, rubbing his
stomach. Imust avoid sugar:
Tanaji gives me a meaningful glance. The restaurant had
made a simple error in estinmation, but it was the kind of error
that would never have happened if Mann had had quintessence.
He had been invisible for the Manager AI.
The Assistant informs me that it has been unable to take
photos because new security regs require all photos with people
to be tagged. The rule will makeus all safer, so that part iseasy
to understand,but whowill explain to the tagging software that
Mann is the exception to therule? It takes a considerable use of
resources to sort it all out,and by the time the Router is updated
and the photos can be taken it is quite late.
There's another alert from the Assistant. Sunny Mazumdar
has been arrested for sedtion. Her friends are putting together
apetition, do Iwish to sign? I don't mind signing, but there is
no need! I'm sure it is all just a misunderstanding and Doctor
Mazumdar will soon be released. Due process and all that.
Tanajisayshe willstay behindand listen to some Hindi songs
- he says Mann has old audio hardware capable of producing
Subtle harmonics that modern devices simply cannot match. I
tellMann that the article could draw some attention to him,
but he only shrugs. His eyes are affixed on mine. I bid them
 ANIL MENON
20

then
goodbye. Mann gets up, accompanies me across the room,
stands at the doorway, watching me walk down the flight of
gaze.
stairs. I look up from the bottom of thestairwell, meet his
mouth another farewell, and step out to meet the autocar.
Even as I write these words, I can feel his living eyes
upon me.