I was terrified, everyone was. The hunt had gone terribly wrong. A mere ‘discover and retrieve task’ had now turned into a struggle for survival. Arsal was wounded pretty badly last night by what looked like a shadow; its monstrous face still lingering in our minds. Alizy, exhausted from running, was on her knees, behind a giant rock. It is almost dusk. The mountains shone in the moonlight while the forest around them darkened.
I was terrified, everyone was. The hunt had gone terribly wrong. A mere ‘discover and retrieve task’ had now turned into a struggle for survival. Arsal was wounded pretty badly last night by what looked like a shadow; its monstrous face still lingering in our minds. Alizy, exhausted from running, was on her knees, behind a giant rock. It is almost dusk. The mountains shone in the moonlight while the forest around them darkened.
Our situation is worse than any nightmare I could imagine. It’s said that nothing is more terrifying than nightmares, but that’s not true. There is nothing more frightening then living in a real nightmare, and this was one for us.
We were mere explorers. None of us had the slightest idea of what we were getting into when we signed that contract. The amount of money they offered blinded us. This organization, RiMerx, offered Rs1.4 million to whoever discovered and retrieved an ancient treasure hidden in the depths of these mountains. Nohale saw the advertisement on the internet, and now we didn’t have Nohale with us anymore. We lost three of our friends since we came here. Now, only Alizy, Arsal and I are left to witness rest of this madness before we die, too.
We knew it was a tough job, as we had done things like this before. But, this clearly had a darker wave to it, considering the amount they were giving. This wasn’t a haunted treasure hunt movie; it was real, and it was supposed to be a natural discovery job. Hell, we were wrong. Reality is much darker than fiction, it’s true, and we were seeing it now. 
We went on to that organization, had a pretty cool meet-up and signed a contract. We had to find the treasure, bring it back to them and get the reward. Simple. There was no deadline, though. We went to these mountains with plenty of food and necessary equipment, all provided by RiMerx. A RiMerx helicopter dropped us 14 kilometers away from our destination. It seemed a bit strange ... why didn’t they send their own team or professional explorers for this task? Why only amateur explorers? Faiz surfed through the internet, but didn’t much except for discussions and videos of people who had won awards from RiMerx.
Once near the mountains, none of us talked or even thought about these things. Our group had six members. The first few days were amazing! W explored this beautiful place, but didn’t find any clues to lead us to the treasure. Towards the end of the second week, things started to get tough. We were running out of food fast, and most days went by with no new clue. We felt as were going in circles. We started to get frustrated and angry. At night, we could hear animals moving about around us under the moon light. We would sleep in one place and get up in another. By the end of third week we ran out of food and had to rely on water and wild leaves. Beyond our wildest imagination, the fourth week saw us literally stepping into hell. It was the first night of our fourth week. We could hear strange sounds coming out of living creatures all around us. Even after hearing them night after night, we couldn’t figure out what these creatures were. As usual, we holed up in a cave at night. After midnight, the sounds stopped suddenly! It was alarming; this was the first time they had ever stopped. It became surprisingly quiet, but that didn’t last long.
From the depth of the mountains, emerged a deep rumble, more like a grunt. The sound seemed to come from all around us, echoing all over the forest. Awais got up to look outside, but froze! His eyes widened suddenly. ‘Good God!’ he said in a haunting voice. Everyone turned to look what he had seen and we all went white with fear. 
Among the rocks, hovering in front of us was a dark thick shadow at least three meters in width and long beyond imagination. There was nothing we could see that would have thrown this snarling shadow! It was moving towards us, and we were paralyzed. Until Abeer stood up screaming and started running madly, while we watched gaping. The shadow noticed Abeer and with a lightning speed enveloped her in its darkness. Her screams were soon snuffed out by the monstrous bellows of the shadow.
That night was the longest since we came here. The sounds never ceased. Abeer was gone. We sat frozen through the entire night. We weren’t able to believe what we had seen. The next morning, when we decided to go back, we couldn’t find Awais. We looked for him for hours, shouted his name over and over again but he was gone. Vanished just like that without a trace. We became frightened, even worse we lost our way. By the time we figured out the route, it was nearly sundown. Eizy suggested to keep on moving even in the night to get out faster, but soon it became pitch black, making it impossible to see where we were going.
What little hope we had of getting out of this nightmare shattered when we woke up the next morning. We found ourselves in a completely different place. We were lost, trapped and stuck; we were never getting out of here.
Since that day we have been running insanely for our life, day and night, looking for a way out of this madness. Dehydrated and starved our only hope for getting out of here is to keep on running. But no matter where we run, how long we run in any direction, these mountains don’t seem to have an end.
Now we sit exhausted, hiding behind a big pile of rocks. Only three of us are left. Arsal got a serious wound last night while running away from the shadow. He is sweating with pain. His wound needs immediate attention. I turned to Alizy who was on the lookout, ‘It’s getting worse; the infection is going to spread.’ She looked at Arsal’s wound and was about to say something when suddenly she jerked! Her eyes widened and the words chocked in her mouth as she fell. I couldn’t feel my mouth as I wanted to scream her name. The next instant, I felt a sharp pain in my left arm. Slowly I turned to look at the tiny arrow stuck in my arm....
A black smoke engulfed me as I lay on the ground. Slowly it took me in its darkness, blinding my vision. I couldn’t breathe. I tried to inhale deeply and started choking. I tried to scream but failed and succumbed to the darkness.
I jerked open my eyes and closed them again. My eyes could not bear the extremely bright light. I opened my eyes again, this time slowly. I saw a white ceiling with bright white lights on it. I am in what looks like a small room with white walls. What is this place? How did I get here? Why can’t I remember anything? All these questions filled my mind. I looked around to take in the surroundings. I think I am lying on a hospital bed with a side table right next to it. I saw a table with five screens in a corner. A bald man wearing a white gown is sitting on a chair, monitoring the computer screens. I couldn’t see the screens but the man was constantly shifting his vision from one screen to another with his fingers tapping the keyboard rapidly. I tried to call out, but didn’t have the energy. I looked around and found a call button sat right next to my left hand. The man jumped off his seat and turned towards me when I pressed the call button, which produced a delightful tone. He smiled to find me awake and walked right towards the bed eagerly, ‘Hello, Mr Alex, it is very good to have you back. You did extremely well out there.’ He smiled as he said that. I tried to figure out what he was talking about, failed. I asked, ‘Where am I?’ My voice felt very weak. The man looked as if he was waiting for me to ask this and replied, ‘Oh you’re in a safe place, nothing to worry about. You just need to take some rest and you will feel better, I am sure.’ It was not what I had asked. ‘Why am I here, what happened to me? What is this place?’ I tried to sound more compelling to get some real answers. He looked like he gets these questions every day and is frustrated at being asked over and over again. ‘You are in a safe place. Everything is according to plan. Just have some rest.’ Plan? What is he saying! I tried to think and suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of my head, which spread through my body. I shut my eyes hard to fight the pain and suddenly it was gone. I opened my eyes, wide with bewilderment and fear. I remember! It has all come back. The hunt, my friends, getting lost in the forest and that menacing shadow!
I looked at the man still standing and asked crazily, ‘Where are my friends? What did you do to us?’ The man who, up till now, had been smiling turned dead serious. He took out a device from his gown’s left pocket and clicked a button on it. ‘Subject 61 showing aggression and instability. Send the suspenders to room 16 right now!’ I couldn’t help but stare unbelievably at him! What had he just said? He referred to me as Subject 61! ‘What the hell are you doing? Why don’t you answer my questions? Where are my friends?’ I didn’t realize I was screaming madly until I had said it. The man smiled wickedly while he bent towards me and said with a grin, ‘What’s wrong, Alex? Don’t you remember? You signed up for this yourself.’ Behind him the door burst open and three men entered in plain, dark green uniform with syringes in their hands. It is not happening! This is not real! I kept telling myself that but right now, it all is very real. The man’s face now looks pure evil with an abnormally wide smile on it. He stares deep into my eyes, ‘It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. The forest was merely an introduction to see how you all would handle such environments. The real fun is yet to begin.’ My mind gets numb and in an unworkable state. I feel rage and fear rising inside me, ‘You are insane! Let me go!’ The man laughed lightly and said, ‘There is no escape from this, dear. You are a part of this experiment now. We are about to create the next generation of human race with unimaginable survival instincts. Don’t you see? This world is getting wild and crazy. The people living now won’t survive much longer. If we don’t train your generation for what is to come then the human race will come to extinction sooner than you can imagine.’
This has to be a nightmare. I can’t believe this. My temperature started rising and my body started sweating. The men with syringes came closer and I could feel a rush of fear go through my body. ‘No, no! Stay back! Leave me!’ They all grabbed me tightly. I couldn’t move and the man said wickedly, ‘Brace yourself. You are on a journey for the greater good of mankind! Let go off the fear that it will hunt you down when you enter the next battle ground!’ One of the men shoved a syringe into my right arm. An extremely sharp burst through my body and everything went dark.
Sherlock Holmes - a tweet in silence
By Bassama Tanvir
‘It is fortunate that no causalities have been reported after the bomb blast at Nuclear Science & Technology University (NSTU), but it is up to the government now to restore peace in the area. This is Rebecca Mathis, BBC, Lahore.’
‘Ha! I knew it.’ Sherlock smiled.
I was in the kitchen making coffee. ‘Knew what?’
‘About the attack. I was studying this case.’ He replied.
‘What? Did you inform the Pakistani Intelligence? People could’ve died.’
‘Why so emotional? You almost sound like a woman!’
‘How did you know?’
‘Well, you know, John, James Moriarty is my biggest enemy. What he does concerns me.’
‘Moriarty was behind this! What does he have to do with Pakistan?’ I asked.
‘That’s what we are going to investigate in Pakistan.’
I spit out my coffee, ‘You’re kidding?’
‘No I’m not!’
‘Anyway, who’ll let us solve this case in the first place?’
‘The Pakistani Intelligence.’
I looked at him, totally confused.
The doorbell rang and Mrs Hudson, our house-keeper, went to answer it. It was Lestrade, the Scotland Yard inspector. ‘Most interesting case, Sherlock! The Pakistani Intelligence wants us to investigate the NSTU bombing.’
The next day, we were on our nine-hour flight to Lahore. As soon as we landed, I knew that I’d enjoy my stay there; I had never seen a city so cheerful.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Day One
Having served in the Afghan war, I already had some idea about Pakistan’s development, and thus wasn’t as surprised at its progress as was Sherlock on our arrival at Allama Iqbal International Airport, Lahore.
‘Could this get any better? Look, there are even jean-clad women here!’
I didn’t expect Sherlock to be this stupid.
‘Will you just shut up, please?’ Lestrade said. ‘We need to find Miss Alizey Nawaz, who’s going to assist us on this case.’
‘Oh, women even wor—-!’
He was about to begin again when I saw an attractive young woman coming our way.
‘Assalam-u-alaikum, Alizey!’ Lestrade greeted. ‘I hope I pronounced it right.’
‘Wa-alaikum-asslaam.’ Alizey replied. ‘You pronounced it perfectly.’
I was pleasantly surprised; she defied the traditional Pakistani woman image I had in my mind.
Lestrade introduced us.
‘Nice to meet you both - must be a tiring journey! Let’s go to the hotel first,’ She recommended.
‘I’d like to visit the crime scene instead.’ Sherlock said decisively.
‘Haha, I know you British are workaholics, but please give us Pakistanis a chance to display our hospitality.’
And that was it. We checked in at Falleti’s, the most regal of all the hotels in Lahore. Built in the British era, it epitomized elegance. There, we enjoyed one of the best suppers we had in years. After that, it was bedtime for us.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Day Two
The ringing of a phone bell woke me up at six a.m.
‘Join us in Lestrade’s room,’ invited Sherlock.
They had already been to the crime scene.
‘So what good did this morning promenade bring you?’
‘A lot, actually. For instance, there are no guards at NSTU at 3 a.m. I knew where I had to go - Lab 23 - one of the labs given to the students. I found out that it was the only lab undamaged. As for your question regarding Moriarty’s involvement, John, well, it all started with a ... tweet!’
‘A tweet. As in on Twitter? ‘I probed.
‘Yes, I follow James. Now don’t give me that look. It was his tweet that started it all. He said he was in Lahore enjoying his holidays. This intrigued me; who goes to Lahore for vacationing? So I asked Mycroft, my brother, to find out about his plans. His motive behind the blast at NSTU was simple. He needed to get access to Laboratory number 23. Why? Because ... he needed these.’
He pointed at a bundle of papers on the table.
‘What’s this?’ Lestrade asked.
‘K13 - the codename given to a top secret strategy against atomic warfare.’
I laughed.
‘You wouldn’t laugh if I tell you that a young NSTU genius Omar was specifically recruited by the Pakistani government to work on a national protection plan against atomic bombing. Lab #23 belongs to him and it was where he came up with his brilliant thesis which was then tested in Balochistan. Viola, it worked! Some places of Balochistan are not even inhabited, so it was safe to experiment there. Any questions?’ Sherlock said.
‘So how did James come to know about it?’ Lestrade asked.
‘He loves Balochistan because there are three gold mines over there.’
‘What? Okay...so he must have gone to Balochistan the same time Omar did. And found out about the tests he’d been running. But...why did it intrigue him? And how the intelligence knew that a British citizen was involved? Most importantly, why he didn’t just steal the papers when he wanted them so badly?’ Lestrade asked a mountain of questions.
Sherlock made a face like an English teacher was asked to name all the alphabets. ‘He wanted to be known as James, the Great. What do you expect Lestrade, someone getting hold of that thesis and not winning the Nobel Prize? Moreover, the Pakistani intelligence had an eye on him. That’s why they contacted the Scotland Yard Police. As for your last question... that’s something I am clueless about, too.’ 
‘He apparently wanted to kill two birds with one stone.’ I said. Later, Alizey took us to the crime scene. We surveyed the entire university campus.
‘The guards stay here 24/7?’ Sherlock inquired.
‘Of course!’ Alizey said.
‘Liar! I know you came here last night.’
‘How...umm.... do you...?’ Sherlock fumbled
‘I’ve an eye on you, sir.’ She sarcastically remarked
‘So now that you’ve seen the campus and shrewdly studied the reports, what do you reckon?’
‘Actually, Mr Sherlock has shared vital information with us that will be of your interest.’ Lestrade chimed in.
With each detail that Lestrade shared, Alizey’s face became redder with fury, mixed in confusion. She abruptly picked up the phone and asked her colleague, Hasan, to locate either of Moriarty or Omar in Balochistan.
‘Why this?’ It was Sherlock’s turn to question her.
‘Omar has been missing since the day of the NSTU blast and his life seems to be in danger.’
The phone rang.
‘Really?’ she remarked while the others watched.
‘Get ready! We’re going to Quetta.’ She said right after ending the call.
In thirty minutes, we flew to Quetta in a helicopter and were received by Hasan.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Quetta was a dry valley bounded by rugged coal-black mountains. Conical trees lined the road on which we drove. ‘Are we tracking them?’ Alizey was literally barking at Hasan. ‘I’m trying.’ Hasan replied.
Tension hung in the air. It was after fifteen minutes when Hasan’s detector started buzzing, indicating we had tracked Omar.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
It was a very rusty old house with no gates. Special Forces commandos surrounded it.
Sherlock took the lead and warned Moriarty to come out. Suddenly, we heard a laugh, ‘Look your saviours are here.’ It was Moriarty.
‘James, talk to me.’ Sherlock tried to distract him while the commandos slowly snuck into a room on the right.
‘I still hate you, but you are not the enemy this time.’ His voice echoed across the building.
‘He is using the voice reflector. Go to the left corner on my back.’ Sherlock directed the commandos by using his observational skills.
The commandos smashed the door and we found frightened Omar sitting in the corner, all tied up.
Moriarty fired gun shots at us, but was hit by Sherlock in the leg with his gun. He was left with no other option than to surrender himself.
‘So...this is why he never needed those papers. His motive behind the blast was Omar. It was a trap to abduct him. Clever move, Moriarty!’ Sherlock remarked.
‘But...I still have one thing in mind...’ Sherlock said as he motioned me to follow him into the van where James was held.
‘Ah, my guests! Welcome, welcome!’ James smirked.
Sherlock sulked, ‘What suddenly made you so interested in gold, James?’
‘My fiancée, Emma,’ he replied.
‘She wanted a certain pair of gold earrings and I couldn’t find it anywhere. She wailed like a baby, so I decided to gift her three gold mines, instead.
‘Don’t even think about making me fool, you nincompoop! I can see it in your eyes that there’s something you’re hiding from me.’
‘Only if you polish my boots with your tongue, I may tell you.’ James said
I was afraid that Sherlock might even do it because you never know what he is going to do next. But to my relief, he just stamped his foot and went outside.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Our Last Day
Back in Lahore, we were given a farewell brunch by the intelligence. We enjoyed mouth-watering Pakistani cuisines.
As for Sherlock, he went to a senior general who’d forgotten to wear a napkin and said, ‘A tissue paper will even work.’
The general cracked up.
Finally, we flew back to Great Britain with great memories of Pakistan.
Mr and Mrs Geek:
a tale of bookish glitches
By Iqra Asad
The chargers were enough to strangle somebody - the laptop charger, the iPod charger, the tablet charger, the mobile phone charger, and a random charger with a broken pin that she kept for sentimental reasons - all threatened to overwhelm the other inhabitants of the work desk. Before, the desk had been colonised by an assortment of papers (his), pens (borrowed), and the sole laptop (his), but now there was an avalanche of discarded post-it notes (stuck onto the screen of her laptop, her laptop (password protected with a freely accessible guest account for him to use in case of emergency), and the castoff cases of their devices (mixed ownership).
His mother had expected the new bride to bring furniture and appliances as dowry. He had surprised both his mother and his mother-in-law by refusing the traditional dowry. Expecting her to bring makeup, jewellery and other girlish necessities along with her, he had braced himself for the onslaught of feminine paraphernalia in his previously man-only domain. What he hadn’t expected, however, was that she would bring a tidal wave of gadgets, books and stationery with her.
What kind of newlywed woman owns jumbo size washable markers? Or brings a box of Enid Blytons salvaged from childhood into her married home? Who negotiates that the master bedroom should hold her own personal bookcase in the prenuptial agreement? Questions unvoiced bounced around in his brain; every time he flung one out of his mind into the far-flung reaches of his mind, it came back garbed as a response. Those markers would look good in his next work featuring traditional media. He had not yet forgiven his cousins for never returning his Enid Blytons when they were small. A separate bookcase was better than integrating her books into his already established library.
The library. It was a bone of contention between them. She had been thrilled to know that he believed in displaying books in the living room. She had been not so thrilled to discover that he didn’t want her books to be added to the display. It was just too embarrassing to have a do-it-yourself pottery book sitting next to his latest volume on model airplanes, or to have her fiction magazines rub shoulders with his IT magazines. Fiction belonged in books, everyone knew that. Who read stories in magazines? Cream-coloured pages bound in paperbacks were the real deal. When she showed him a magazine that was in paperback form, he was stumped. It was an aberration, plain and simple.
She thought he was weird for smelling books before he read them. He thought she was strange for following Khwateen Digest serials as well as Readers Digest cover stories.
The chargers snaking their way across his precious work table were a good point to start, but that was just the tip of the iceberg. She refused to fold pages in books or to write in them, and considered his dog-eared and annotated books as blasphemy. The separate work table (the original one was designated “his” work table, and the new one, the “disputed” work table) appeared to be an offense to her worktop organisation capabilities. He couldn’t manage to instil in her the sensibilities of a true gadget lover (or, at least, how he defined a true gadget lover: someone who tapped away at a touch screen with one hand while slurping away at a soft drink in dangerously close proximity was not a true gadget lover, in his opinion).
He made the mistake of asking her what she wanted for their first wedding anniversary. Of course she would want jewellery, he reasoned, but no, she wanted a Kindle Voyage. Having a tablet and an e-reader seemed too much and then when someone would ask what he got bhabhi for the anniversary present, how could he say ‘e-reader’? He would put his foot down. He would make his opinion heard. He would—throw his ridiculous notions out of the house, was her declaration. (She always seemed to make declarations instead of statements and her questions, commandments.) He bargained his way down to a Kindle Paperwhite; OK, how about a Nook, instead? She stormed out of the room! He turned back to his latest graphic design assignment. It was only when he heard the telltale thump of a book being shoved onto the floor that he hurried into the living room and found her arranging her childish fancies next to his sophisticated tastes on the bookshelves - no, throwing his precious reads out of the shelves and substituting her own carefully placed volumes in their place.
The biggest row ensued. He lost track of what they called each other, but at the end both of them sat nursing their own headaches in different corners of the house. He called his mother; she knew what would come from bringing an English Literature graduate into the family. She called her mother; her mother declared that if she spent less time reading she would have become a mother by now. Phone slammed down in disgust; call disconnected in despair, and back to having to behold the same face that violated his/her reading wishes!
It would have been simpler if they had been robbed of all their belongings, he thought vehemently. Then he cooled down and began to think about other things. He would go into the workroom and fiddle with his model airplanes, he thought.
Sitting there in the workroom was her tablet, its screen glowing; she had forgotten to lock it, and he immediately pounced upon it, burning with curiosity. His curiosity was dampened a bit when he saw that the screen showed boring old Pinterest, that ladies’ whims slideshow, but then his gaze fell upon a picture. It showed a “his” and “her” towel stand with a blue “his” and a pink “hers” towel. The picture next to it was of a bedspread that was half white, half black. Tapping around brought him to her “reading” board. It showed an article about a couple arranging their bookcase together. He poked around for a “his/her” division but there was none.
He was hit with a sudden realisation. This wasn’t her tablet, it was his phablet, and he had failed to recognise it because it was wearing one of her device covers. What was her Pinterest doing signed in on his device?
He could confront her about it, or he could take it as a silent message. He locked the phablet.
It was a bumpy ride, but they managed to demarcate which areas were “his and her” areas and which were shared. In time, they learned to take turns on the see-saw, balancing each other out to keep things going. He knew how to cook an egg better than her, but her tea was miraculous. Except when one of her screens had a new unexplained scratch, and that was when he knew an inner-city excursion for a plastic screen cover was due, and once the mission was accomplished, the tea was back to its usual brilliance.
As for the Kindle? His father-in-law got him a Voyage for their wedding anniversary, on the condition that they would keep it out of the reach of their child when it eventually arrived. Personally, he thought she would be too busy with the baby to even think about the e-reader, but she made him promise that they would swap babies every few hours; that way, each parent could cradle the flesh-and-blood baby and the digital one in turns. Peace roosted in the household, not threatening to take flight until the discovery of the next software update error. That, however, is another story.
