The days following the unlocking of the Library's computational section passed in quiet intensity. Arjun now spent hours in meditation, reading the luminous books that floated in that endless hall of light. Each one was a universe of logic — equations alive, algorithms flowing like rivers.
He learned of structures that used harmony instead of sequence, code that could loop through dimensions rather than lines, and computation that responded to intention rather than instruction. These were not things Earth could yet understand, but he could translate them — shaping them into principles that would work here.
When he woke from meditation, he would write furiously for hours, sketching diagrams, equations, and mock algorithms. His notebooks filled with pages of strange symbols and flowcharts no one else would recognize.
By the third month after unlocking the section, he knew what he wanted to create — something achievable on Earth, but born from those cosmic patterns: a compiler that could optimize code like a living organism.
He decided to call it NovaCore.
But for that, he needed a tool — a good machine. One evening, after dinner, he sat with his father in the living room.
"Papa," he began, careful but firm, "I need a powerful laptop. Not a normal one — something fast, with a good processor and high memory."
Rajesh looked up from his newspaper. "How powerful are we talking?"
"Enough for programming and simulations," Arjun replied. "It's important. I've been studying a lot. I think… I can make something useful. Something new."
Anaya, who was home for the weekend, grinned. "Let him have it, Papa. It's not a waste. He's probably smarter than all of us combined."
Rajesh sighed. "Those laptops cost more than my scooter."
Arjun smiled. "I promise it will be worth it."
A week later, a refurbished high-end workstation arrived — a sleek silver HP ZBook with a dedicated GPU, nearly sixty thousand rupees in cost. Rajesh signed the delivery paper with a reluctant pride. "Don't make me regret selling those bonds," he muttered, half smiling.
"You won't," Arjun promised.
---
Nights turned into weeks of restless creation. Arjun coded through the evenings, sometimes forgetting meals. He combined modern programming languages — C++, Rust, Python — with logic patterns derived from the Library. The compiler took shape slowly, like a living thing learning to breathe.
By the end of the fourth month, NovaCore Compiler was ready.
When he tested it, the results were stunning. A sample code that normally executed in forty-five seconds finished in just three. Memory leaks vanished. Processor usage dropped by half. It was flawless.
Arjun quietly filed an international patent application with the Indian Patent Office and WIPO, under the title Adaptive Fractal-Logic Compiler for Software Optimization.
Then, using a pseudonym, he released a demo online. Within a week, programmers on developer forums began posting stunned reviews. Words like "impossible," "unreal," and "alien logic" appeared repeatedly.
Soon, the emails started.
First from Infosys. Then from IBM India. Then from Tata Consultancy Services.
They all wanted to know who had built NovaCore.
Arjun stayed cautious. Through an encrypted channel, he presented himself as a freelance developer with proprietary optimization software. After weeks of negotiation, he agreed to a licensing deal with Tata Consultancy Services (TCS) — one of the world's largest IT companies.
They wanted the rights to use NovaCore across their systems. The contract was simple:
₹3 crore upfront licensing fee.
₹15 lakh per month in royalties.
All intellectual property remained with Arjun.
He signed electronically under his real name, his hands trembling only once — when he pressed "Submit."
---
A few days later, the first payment arrived. Arjun stared at the notification from his bank, reading the figure again and again.
He walked to the living room, holding the printout. "Papa," he said quietly, "I want to show you something."
Rajesh adjusted his glasses, glanced at the statement — then blinked. "Arjun… this number… this can't be right."
"It is," Arjun said, trying not to smile.
"Fifteen lakhs? Every month?" Rajesh stammered.
Rohit, standing nearby, gasped. "Bhaiya! That's more than the principal of my school earns in a year!"
Their mother, Anita, covered her mouth. "Beta, are you sure this is legal?"
Arjun laughed softly. "Yes, Ma. Completely legal."
Then, serious again, he said, "But I need one promise from everyone. You must not tell anyone about this — not relatives, not neighbors, no one. Until the right time comes."
Rajesh raised an eyebrow. "And when will that be?"
"When I'm ready," Arjun replied.
His father nodded slowly. "Alright then. We'll be silent. But I'll need time to get used to having a millionaire son."
Arjun chuckled. "You'll get used to it faster than you think."
---
With the money came quiet changes. He helped his parents renovate the old house, repaired the leaking roof, bought new furniture, and set aside funds for Rohit's education. The rest he saved — every rupee meticulously accounted for.
The royalties arrived like clockwork each month — fifteen lakh rupees, transferred directly into his account. Within six months, his total balance crossed ₹4.8 crore.
But even as wealth flowed in, another kind of fatigue began to grow.
Between emails, client calls, legal documents, and technical reports, his hours in meditation grew shorter. The Library waited each night, silent but patient, while he remained trapped in meetings and paperwork.
He knew this wasn't sustainable. If he wanted to continue creating, he needed a shield — a structure that would handle everything earthly while he focused on the extraordinary.
One late night, sitting at his desk, he opened his notebook and wrote:
"A company — my company — will manage customers, contracts, and finances. I will handle technology. They will deal with the world; I will build its future."
He underlined the words twice.
Outside, the night was quiet except for the sound of crickets. Above, the same stars shimmered faintly — the same ones that had sent him that mysterious light a year ago.
He closed his notebook and whispered, "It's time."
And in the stillness, far away in the corridors of his mind, the Library of the Cosmos pulsed once — as if acknowledging his decision.
---
💠 Arjun Mehta — Progress Log [Year 1 Post-Event]
Age: 22
Health: Fully recovered, peak mental performance.
Scientific Achievement: Created NovaCore Compiler — world's most advanced software optimization tool.
Financial Status: ₹4.8 crore accumulated through licensing and royalties.
Next Objective: Establish a private technology company to manage clients and operations, freeing time for advanced research.
---