Islamabad – Early 2026
The heater in the room crackled like a cheap speaker, and someone's phone kept buzzing with breaking news: a price hike, a leaked audio, a new cabinet reshuffle. Nobody at the table paid it much attention.
Rayan spread a stack of papers across the table. Diagrams, flowcharts, bullet points.
"This isn't a political movement," he said, pointing to a sketch labeled Strategic Governance Layer (SGL). "This is civil engineering—of the state."
Mehtab Qureshi adjusted his shawl, squinting at the paper. "Looks like a transformer station map."
"Close," Rayan grinned. "It transforms Pakistan."
Ali Mahmud leaned over. "You're proposing we install a parallel bureaucracy?"
"Not parallel—above. A clean layer. Lean. Data-driven. Connected directly to the Prime Minister's Office, but run like a company, not a ministry."
General Munir exhaled smoke through his nose. "And who's the CEO in this fantasy?"
"Temporarily?" Rayan said, sipping chai. "Me."
A pause.
Then laughter—half amused, half nervous.
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Over the next few weeks, the "Blueprint Circle" got to work, quietly assembling what they jokingly called Operation Software Update.
Zara Faisal began mapping out a "National Listening Tour"—a series of disguised meetups in universities, dhabas, and rural town halls to crowdsource frustration and filter it into policy ideas.
Ali Mahmud set up a secret dev team in Karachi under a fake startup name, coding the first modules of SGL-One—a governance dashboard that tracked public complaints, budget flows, and real-time service delivery.
Justice Rahim quietly reached out to two judges known for their silence and spine. "When the moment comes," he told them, "don't block the wave."
Nadia Tirmizi reopened dormant files on land mafia cases, customs leaks, and ghost schools. She built a hitlist of policies that needed killing.
Mehtab Qureshi used old favors to ensure key mid-tier bureaucrats were reassigned. "Always start with the section officers," he said. They're the real government.