This is my translation of Tamil writer Ra.Giridharan’s இந்த நிலத்தில் கதைகள் எதுவும் கிடையாது. This story is a piece of speculative fiction that blends environmental science with a deeply human yearning for authenticity. It is a cautionary tale about a future where “perfect” technology might solve our resource problems, but at the cost of our connection to nature and each other. Many thanks to Radhika Ramesh for reviewing my draft.
***
… that is because I am not on land. No, that’s not quite right. Let me put it this way – I am on a land that moves.
It is a city floating on the sea, like a ship. I do not know from what era you are listening to me. My time: 2124 AD. Location: A moving city called Greenhouse. You can’t even really call it a city. It’s almost a small country, like the island of Singapore used to be. This island is located in the Indian Ocean, nearly 1000 km east of India.
“Your velai ends in three hours, doesn’t it?”
“Shift.”
“I know. But I have orders to speak to you only in Tamil.”
“Are all their orders for our benefit?”
“Wait, that sounds like a trap,” Joy replied. Joy is clever.
“It’s not a test. I’ve had this doubt for a long time. There are many things wrong here.”
Joy didn’t answer. “A call from Grayhouse. I’ll be back,” she said. Her image vanished from the screen, replaced by the flickering picture of the Aralvaimozhi windmills. It looked like a dreamscape. Rows of windmills between green mountains seemed to fan the hills. Though they appeared within reach, the distance between me and the South Indian mainland couldn’t be measured in kilometers. To my island, the South Indian land where Joy lived was like a motherland.
I haven’t received a call from the Greenhouse leadership yet. My colleagues think I won’t be getting a call. No one has likely read the fifty-plus page indictment I submitted to the grievance department. Even if they did, they have a team ready to prepare a lengthy rebuttal for every argument placed against them. Greenhouse’s renewable energy projects weren’t built yesterday; they were conceived nearly a hundred years ago, around 2024. The fact that they haven’t banned members like me, even after projects contradicting their “holy” global stance were leaked, is just a performance to show that their foundation is strong.
I looked through the window. My room faced the setting sun. In the eastern grid visible through my window, there were over forty windmills. They looked like giant Ferris wheels, one rising as another descended. It was as if a massive wave from the churning sea was tossing the floating windmills. I closed my eyes and stretched comfortably.
Though my shift was ending, I had nothing to do in the evening, so I reclined my chair further. With the press of a button, I started playing some jazz music. To avoid the monstrous wind speeds, the floating windmills had stopped spinning one by one. It would take a few moments for the great wave to pass our land. I waited for that pleasant swaying sensation in my stomach.
We had twenty farms surrounding Greenhouse in the Indian Ocean alone. Each had over forty floating windmills. My job was simply to analyze the program that collects data from there. The green wheel on the edge of my screen showed that the surge-power generators were ready to spin at monstrous speeds. By evening, the day’s electronic procurement data had to be sent to Muppandal, where the Central Control secretariat is located. That’s where Joy is. India manages a power storage center in Muppandal – a land that once held old windmills. In a hundred years, it had become South Asia’s primary power storage hub.
“What, haven’t you left yet?” Joy again. Her voice fragments, coming in as waves, suddenly cut through the music. The volume lowered.
“Leave and do what with my evening? I’d rather keep talking to you.”
“Just another half hour. Then I have to go speak with Meghanadhan from Grayhouse.”
I wasn’t going to reply. The wave had arrived. The objects in the room locked into place automatically.
“Anand… Anand.” The connection with Joy flickered. The wave lifted and dropped Greenhouse with a sudden leap. Having experienced this since birth, I felt an indescribable sensation in my body every time. Engineers coming from Muppandal or Bali would usually sit down, clutching their stomachs. You have to be born here to experience this. Waves rising over forty feet are just minor movements in this region, yet they can’t bear it.
“Tell me. I’m right here.”
“I thought you were angry.”
“No.”
“Isn’t your windmill mechanics exam next month?”
“No. I’m going to cancel it and move to Muppandal in a while.”
“Are you ever going to stop this talk? Do you think they’ll just say ‘go ahead’ once they read your complaint?”
“You won’t understand my confusion. You weren’t born here. You’d only understand if you lived from birth in a fake world built on fake propaganda, Joy.”
“Come here, then. In Muppandal, it’s a different lie, a different propaganda. That’s the only difference.”
“No, there’s something there that isn’t here… wait, I’ll call you back.”
An audio call from Central Control came into the room, so I abruptly cut the conversation with Joy. With a bit of irritation, I went to the front door. The wave that had risen like a wall was moving past Greenhouse. The floating windmills on the left began to spin as if someone had snapped their fingers. The wind was 40 km/h – moderate. It would hit 100 km/h by night. The schedule to stop the windmills at dawn had already been sent to the Central Control of the four farms.
As I opened the door, the music stopped automatically. The auto-locks released, and the room felt alive again. Shyam, the engineer for the next shift, had arrived. After a brief nod to him, I went downstairs. The lock opened as I placed my bag on my bicycle. Greenhouse had a circumference of ten kilometers; I could reach my apartment, my so-called home, in fifteen minutes. The eastern part where I passed the Central Control office was entirely smoke-free. Even kitchen smoke is recycled to become electricity for my room. Greenhouse, where I lived, was linked to India through renewable energy hub agreements made fifty years ago between India, China, and Sri Lanka. The power generated by the twenty windmill farms under Greenhouse’s control travels through deep-sea high-speed conductors to join Muppandal. Our small centers are connected like an umbilical cord to the mother-house, Muppandal. There are many such islands in the Indian Ocean today. It is history now – how the production of windmills in the Tamil land decreased, and they became mere storage centers.
Sensing my arrival, the room’s temperature had adjusted to my preference. As I entered, Teddy started a little game. “Hey Teddy, I’m a bit annoyed today.”
“When are you not?” Teddy seemed to say unsurprised, as he threw small rings onto three sticks simultaneously. The rings landed on the sticks in the corner of his water tank in a Fibonacci sequence of one, two, three, five. It was a game he had recently learned. He had been practicing for the last two days, waving his eight arms like a magician.
“Wow, perfect.”
I tapped the outside of the water tank with my fingers. Expecting it, he touched his hands exactly where I had placed mine. Every time I moved them, he connected perfectly. Our high-five was flawless today.
“You’ve become an expert at this. Save some of it to show Daisy.”
Daisy was another octopus he was secretly infatuated with. Every weekend, there was a chance to play with other deep-sea creatures in the lounge at the city center. Among the nearly five hundred permanent families staying there, half had some kind of pet.
The clock on the table loudly announced the audio notification for my class which was set to start in two hours. Before I could say “Alexa, stop,” it listed three more tasks I had to do. Teddy had now added rings in a two, four, six sequence. “Nicely done, buddy. I still have to shower and talk to Mom. I’ll watch your game tonight.” Teddy kicked the pebbles at the bottom of the tank with one arm to show his protest.
If I didn’t talk to Mom today, she would show up at the house tomorrow. She had already sent two messages. I tossed my bag onto the table.
“How are you? Did you just get in?”
“Yes.”
“The exam is in two weeks, right?”
“Oh, is that so?”
“What’s that supposed to mean!”
“Tell me.”
“I’m coming over in two days.”
“Don’t. I’ll be going to Muppandal in two months anyway. I’ll see you on the way.”
She didn’t reply. Neither did I. She had absolutely no interest in me leaving this island.
“I won’t understand even if you told me! Is that it?” I felt a surge of anger, enough to cut the connection immediately. I grabbed the table rod and tugged at it.
“Just two more exams. You’ll reach the next grade. There couldn’t be a better time to join the research team. How many more days are you going to stay in windmill construction? In a few months, the tech for infinite energy will be possible. That’s going to be everything from now on.”
“Mom, I’ve been hearing this “any day now” research since I was born. It’s been twenty years now…”
“You think we haven’t made any progress? How many years has it been since the leak-proof power conductor was developed? Can we store electricity today without that? Just wait a few more days – we won’t need solar or wind. Uninterrupted power is coming.”
“No, I’ve written to be transferred to the Muppandal control room.”
“That’s why I’m chasing you down. Are you crazy? What’s even there? Just heat and dust. The land has turned toxic.”
“How is dad?”
“Don’t change the subject. Even people from the Grayspace are applying to join my team!”
Teddy curled his eight arms into a ball and rolled toward the center that was filled with rings and algae. One arm remained raised and folded, mimicking the rhythm of our conversation. A good actor. My irritation faded, replaced by a sudden laugh. Would there be a place for Teddy in Muppandal? Humans in the South Indian land didn’t even have clean water to drink. Specifically, would he come without Daisy? Above all, having been born here, could I naturally integrate into such a distant land? Though I shuddered at the thought, I couldn’t imagine spending my whole life here either.
Mom was still talking. “stop thinking about India now and focus on preparing for the exam.”
“Fine.”
“I saw in last month’s memo that your eating has decreased too.”
“No, it hasn’t.”
“Am I getting incorrect data?”
“Am I still a child?”
Though I noticed Mom’s face fall, this long-distance affection had lowered my tolerance. The floating city she lived in was even larger. It was the place where all the power conductors from the windmills gathered. There, they were processed and packed into power cylinders to be exported to various cities in Europe. South Asia had become the leader in power sales for many years now. This wasn’t even possible when I was born. The next stage involved future plans to create infinite power from black holes and dark matter in space, all under the control of my mother’s team. If man could produce infinite power, he wouldn’t stay on Earth.
While creating such power destroys the marine environment on one hand, the alteration of bird migration paths through bird-diverters was another major impact. To prevent birds from being killed by the windmills, migration paths had been changed using heavy gravitational force. They had diverted it toward the Greenhouse island side. In my indictment, I had released data showing how the deep-sea drilling for windmills were creating excessive electromagnetic waves at sea level, destroying species. Since I knew the secretariat would definitely delete the conclusion that Greenhouse had become a city of lies built on such destruction, my team has saved a hidden copy somewhere on the internet. I didn’t feel like I could make mom understand all this.
Before heading to the shower, a steady sound from Teddy’s tank reminded me of something. It was only when I turned on the shower that I realized it was the rhythm of the music I always listen to in my office.
*
“Nearly a hundred years ago, we began by installing the stationary windmills on the Indian coasts and the Pacific region. We obtained nearly 25 percent of our electricity production from the force of the wind. Yet, five percent of that was lost in conductor leakage and electromagnetic heat. Muppandal, in South India could be called the first forest of windmills. Across a stretch of land spanning two hundred miles, our giant wheels spun toward the sky. Just when we thought we had achieved self-sufficiency, we realized that stationary windmills were being affected by underground shifts and environmental temperatures.”
My lessons played on the screen in a sleepy voice. How wrong it was to think I could understand societal changes from my social science courses! What I was being told here was an origin story full of distortions! The real reason the power plants were relocated was that a major nuclear leak made the land too toxic to live on. I had learned from my team that this was banned in my lessons. My mouth itched to ask about it. Since these were virtual classes and the two-way communication was interactive, I could ask to change the direction of the lesson, but it’s better to let the curriculum run its course. Any change could raise suspicion.
“After Gujarat and Maharashtra, wind speed is highest in Tamil Nadu. The same goes for Sri Lanka. To pay off Chinese debts, Sri Lanka handed over the windmills on its coast. Turbine engines from Denmark, rotors from Texas, stones and cement from India – all were brought in Chinese military planes. The first platform was built twenty kilometers into the sea from the Tuticorin port. Since the seabed would be stable there, foundations for the windmills were laid by drilling deep into the ocean floor. Long cement pipes were laid, providing power connections up to the Tuticorin central power grid. Since this was the first of its kind, the Indian Renewable Future Corporation didn’t worry about power leaks or losses. Creating a team called the Indian Engineering Organization, they worked with the Indian Government Science Council to enact new laws. They amended the old law that said marine structures could be given to private entities, changing laws across various sections including recognized private companies’ security, marine life protection, ornithologist-approved migration path laws, and plastic waste levels. You will study more about these under the titles of Wind Regeneration laws & Government Policies.”
My head began to spin. A good freshwater bath, hours of analyzing complicated calculations since dawn, and loathsome voice – all combined to send me into a vortex.
“What are the main crimes in Case U342, the list you submitted regarding the environmental damage caused by long windmill poles drilled into the deep sea?”
I snapped awake and sat bolt upright. I hadn’t expected such questions in the middle of a lesson. I suspected one of my friends had inserted this interruptive clip. I went near the screen without answering.
“Shall I remind you of the U342 grievance list?” The system for pointing out crimes is highly classified. Anyone can file grievances anonymously. It is the duty of the Central Security Agency to take it forward and respond. Decades ago, the law kept whistleblowers under surveillance. I had heard that Muppandal had such strict laws.
“I can’t recall from the top of my head, but grievance lists aren’t actually known to anyone external!”
“Yes. But these boring curricula seem to be putting you to sleep.”
I smiled. This was the work of a mischievous program designer.
“The algae and plants that grow on the deep-drilled poles create artificial marine forces that go against nature. They spread propaganda that Greenhouse island enhances nature. But our team has submitted several studies proving otherwise. Specifically, algae creates new kinds of diseases for the fish (the electromagnetic force affects the poles where small fish lay eggs) and vegetation of that region.”
“This is a very long-term impact, isn’t it? Even the area surrounding Greenhouse is filled with electromagnetic forces. If there’s a power conductor, such impacts are inevitable. Don’t you know that?”
“Consequently, electricity travels to the lands through long-distance conductors extending thousands of miles along the seabed. Even sharks, which have a very strong nervous system, are affected by these. Their navigational ability and the symbiosis that keeps other creatures alive in the deep sea will be gone in another hundred years. Consequently, the impact will spread to all living beings in the world. Even now, microplastics are being found in human blood.”
No other sound came from the screen. “We shall move to the next part of the lesson: Greenhouse Project Management.”
Suddenly, it felt like I had been dropped into a void. A sophisticated program intrusion. “I need to talk more about U342. Based on our team’s study, violations have been recorded under more than fifteen headings. We can talk about those too,” I said, but as I spoke, the volume of the opposing side increased, drowning out my voice.
“Apologies. The power connection lost due to the great wave has been restored. Our lesson will continue once the Central Control Application performs some tests. Sorry for the interruption.”
Was the voice I had been speaking to until now not the government system? Was someone else testing me by hacking into the Central Control system’s lesson? Who asked me about the U342 crime list I had created? Was it some interference tactic? If such a shadow organization existed, why the long delay in giving us news? Or it could even be the work of some hackers. According to my estimation, there were many possibilities for this being a message from a shadow organization. Such speculations were very popular in the team when I was designing my first program test. Our assumption was that secret code exchanges could be made in certain hidden spots within the program’s structure. In the interim, I sent my doubt in our exclusive code to the program team run by Javed. “This is new. While one can create difficult paths within a program to establish new connections, playing with voltage possibilities is not easy,” Javed replied.
“Anand, your lesson cannot continue today. We will send you a message again tomorrow. Sorry,” a message appeared on the screen. My classroom screen closed thereafter.
I informed Javed. “Hmm, is this bigger than we thought it might be?” the lines came from his screen.
“That doesn’t get us anywhere,” I dismissed it and closed the screen. It wasn’t the first time hackers had harassed Greenhouse communications. My telescope system, connected to Muppandal, was the only way to communicate with the outside world. An attack on it occurred at the substation in the sea. A firewall I used saved my research site. Previously, many countries had provided them with unhindered freedom for enemy attacks and spying. I entered the hall of the platform operated by bio-machines that had made the next leap from artificial intelligence. Other than the exchange of views on daily events, there wasn’t any chatter. It’s more accurate to say I couldn’t immediately detect anything. I lay there, thinking this shouldn’t be a normal event. If those who questioned me were hackers, it was only certain that they were my friends.
*
I suddenly woke up in the middle of the night. It was 3:00 AM. I went to my rooftop via the security stairs in my apartment. I don’t get a lot of chances to get here. The rooftop consisted of other levels through gardens. Dawn broke. Like a cry toward the sky, like a great plea, all the windmills were looking upward. More than forty massive rotors looking like folded hands. A thin blanket of light covered the entire island. The light, spreading like smoke, dimmed the scattered glows. The island’s port stretched across the sea like a blue light. The substations looked like sprinkles of stars. I heard a low growl. The scattered apartments and small huts lay there without straining the eyes. Everything was swaying, yet nothing moved. Beyond the island, there was no light as far as the eye could see. On cloudless days, I have seen some power stations in the distance. These were scenes I had seen since childhood, yet at dawn, each brought a certain old-world longing. Can I see “land” as my identity?
Coming from the east, a long row of birds advanced to Greenhouse. The view looked like a beautiful painting came into being, then changed itself as the birds came toward me. I had never seen such a vivid painting. An urgency to hand over great treasures to man was evident in the speed they hit the air. I sat watching the sky coming to deliver my desires. But they had never flown like this before. That migratory flock, resembling a bow, had only changed their paths in the last half-century. A hundred years ago, migratory birds were the greatest enemy of the windmills in Muppandal. In fact, over a hundred thousand migratory birds died annually, caught in the windmills. The first amendment in my lesson was about the protection of birds, trying to erase these old stories. All early studies by the Greenhouse Council focused on technology to divert migratory birds. There was also an effort to divert birds using the colors of the turbine blades. The island city of Greenhouse was started with the vow of being a complete regenerative system to attract them. I couldn’t bear to see technology, which thinks it’s protecting nature, actually destroy it. Once I realized that, I found out in my teens that there were others like me.
*
“Do you believe in infinite power? And what can one do with it?” Javed’s eyes widened. The original goal of Greenhouse was to create a machine that generates perpetual lossless power.
“Isn’t it against entropy?”
“Water evaporating, becoming rain, then evaporating again is also against entropy.”
“It’s nature’s daily show. India and Europe have been creating power in many ways. Ancient power generation methods have almost disappeared.”
“Yes, why lecture me when all I want is to live in Muppandal.”
“No, this pot of power is filled in many ways like waves, sunlight and wind. Can something like Victoria Falls be formed if you save one drop at a time?”
“Yes, but even that great fall started with a first drop.”
“Yes, that first drop is the catalyst – the connectivity for a massive power generation. Do you see where we’re failing?”
“It’s when these different forms of energy attempt to merge…”
“…it should be like a relay race. Each surge touching the next, handing off the spark to create infinite energy.”
“But it can’t be controlled…”
“That is the future.”
It sounded like child’s play, yet my team possessed a clarity that others lacked. Our only remaining flaw was that we still had more questions than answers.
*
It took me two days to realize that Teddy wasn’t playing in the tank with much interest. I didn’t know if those who played with me two days ago were hackers or the result of a normal electrical interference. My lessons progressively got harder. The joy I found in office work had taken a break.
At first, the dust on the stones remained undisturbed. Teddy hadn’t moved them into small piles or stacked them into towers as he usually played. Even his food sat untouched. One of his hands kept tapping against the glass, though there was no rhythm.
Within thirty minutes of my return home that evening, they arrived from Central Control to collect me. When they call, you don’t refuse.
They took me to a structure on Harbor Street that looked like a sprawling manor from the outside, but inside, the technology was ancient, completely outdated. I couldn’t tell if I was being held there because of my discussions with the hackers, or if my formal indictment had finally been processed.
In my room, there was nothing but a single desk. Resting upon it was a dark, bulbous growth, like a black, bloated sphere.
“You had applied for a transfer to Muppandal, didn’t you?”
“Yes. That is my goal.”
“The beginnings for a new world are on our island. Why do you desire an ancient backward place like Muppandal?”
“There are many reasons for that. You’re probably aware of them.”
“I am aware. Yet, for this investigation, can you state them?”
“The research done here aims to create infinite power while being determined to end living beings. This is the first reason.”
“I think you don’t understand the immense capabilities of infinite power.”
“I work for the security department of the windmill center turbine program. You know the IQ required for that, don’t you?”
The machine recording our conversation ran again with a gentle sound. I couldn’t bear that one second of silence.
“Curt-2199 is the name of your team, isn’t it?”
“Yes. That’s the security connection team we run.”
“Can you tell us the essence of the conversations you have there?”
“We talk about everything, from the numerical nuances of Sanskrit to the power that will be extracted from black holes in the future. Please let’s get straight to the point.”
“Anand, the question is about your contact with the hackers who spread misinformation about Greenhouse’s basic philosophies through many secret studies. We found files in our communication hubs that contain doubts about the scientific impact of our renewable power. They are mostly read and discussed on your Curt-2199 channel. Since these conversations are encoded, we wish to hear and record it from you. Anything you say will be held against your application to go to the Muppandal land.”
“This is unacceptable. I am a global citizen. Do I need permission to go to another land from this island?”
I felt the panic in my legs. The speed of my voice also increased.
“You can go. But the conversations you have with our Central Control system personnel there are against our rules.”
My jaw tightened. “Let the Central Control room bring that up. Or let Joy, who works there, say it.”
The opposing response took awhile.
“Anand, you are our citizen. We have great concern for your welfare. Would you believe it if I told you that the human life you believe to be Joy is actually a machine?”
I laughed out loud. “I knew you folks would lie to hide your faults! That’s how you’ve made other nations believe you’re creating a world without harming the environment! Yes, not just Joy, I am a machine too. Anything to keep from sending me there!”
“The power created by floating windmills and great waves is the only reality today. Muppandal is a windmill farm that existed a hundred years ago. A branch project of Aralvaimozhi. They have now become mere storage centers. South Tamil land is now just a power storage land.”
“Maybe. But as far as I’m concerned, we all need infinite humanity more than infinite power.”
“Someone has brainwashed you. Humanity is a reductionism. Yesterday, single-celled organisms ruled the sea. Today, we exist. Tomorrow, machines will rule the universe. We are just wayfarers. There is a cosmic vision that we cannot fully understand. We are only naturally progressing toward it.”
It sounded like the rambling of an old man to me. Or like the deceptive speech of a great leader.
“Infinite power will unite us all.”
“No, it won’t. Infinite power will destroy us. It has always been great calamities that united humans. That’s where man’s character has flourished. Even this island we are on was created because of the challenge of not being able to create electricity. We try to establish it like a land of God through false propaganda.”
“We hacked into your Curt team and installed Trojan horse software to spread misinformation. The mirage they created is what exaggerates the toxic environment of our island. It’s a trap for people like you.”
“Maybe. But the voice calling me is in Muppandal. It may be the land left by my ancestors. But the image of humans gathering together during a catastrophe attracts me to that place. Such great obstacles are the keys to many stories humans create. Uninterrupted power might not be available there, but as long as the last human exists, humanity will flourish. Like a hand quenching the thirst of many months with a single cup of water.”
The door opened. Directly outside the room was the vast sea. I could see the floating windmills. I walked out of the room. No one stopped me. Nor did they ask me to leave. I looked back, searching for the way to my room. The wind began to blow hard. I could stay right here, but someday my foot will land on a land that has stories. My first step will begin from that footprint.
Transverse 