Free Ode to Broken Things by Dipika Mukherjee

changed. I should call her doctor.”
    He allowed a small silence before he said, “I am curious about your work.”
    “My department maintains the system security of the Integrated Operations Network at the airport.”
    “And that means…”
    Agni turned to smile at him. The effect was dazzling. “Modern airports are connected by large information systems which connect a number of subsystems, like Point of Sales, Baggage Handling, and so on. The one at the Kuala Lumpur International Airport is called the ION , Integrated Operations Network.”
    She looked at the rearview mirror briefly before zooming into the next lane without signalling. “My group maintains the security of the iOn so that the whole airport is connected. And, of course, working efficiently.”
    “So you are an engineer?”
    “Um, an electrical engineer with a Master’s in Computer Science. But on most days I’m the jaga , the security guard I mean, on standby all night in case something goes wrong.”
    “It sounds like an interesting job.”
    “It’s stressful, Professor, especially as the subsystem that oversees the airport’s security, and the surveillance systems, are my also responsibility. I have to be at the airport whenever I’m needed, to fix a software bug before it becomes a crisis. Even on Sundays.”
    Jay’s tone was carefully playful. “Such odd hours probably don’t leave you with much time for socialising then?”
    “Not much.” Agni switched on the radio to indicate that the conversation was over.
    The traffic seemed dangerously dense. He recognised the curve at the old Parliament House, and the landscaped Lake Gardens. They followed a trail of picturesque Victorian lamp-shades until they came to a standstill in front of the historic Tudor building that was Selangor Club. On the left, a monstrous plastic recreation of a Venus flytrap gurgled with water in the middle of the honking traffic.
    On the radio, a local scholar was saying, People are turning to religion because they have no place in the political debate .
    Agni turned down the radio and muttered. “I should warn you – the street protests might get ugly in the next few days.”
    He didn’t have time to ask what she meant before the car drew up smoothly at his hotel foyer. She acknowledged his goodbye with a quick wave, before zooming down the tree-lined boulevard past the man-made feng shui fountain and out of his sight.
    Whatever had come over her, Agni wondered, to tell that professor about her mother’s death, and then insist on the details? He probably thought she was a bit of a lunatic, and she didn’t blame him a bit. He probably knew how it all happened, so why was he asking so many questions? She didn’t want his pity, or his nosy curiosity invading her life. Some scabs still hung tight to raw skin.
    It felt good to drop him off at the hotel and head for the airport. He made Shapna more agitated than Agni had seen her grandmother after the stroke. She should find out why. The Professor made her uneasy too – she looked at her watch and sighed – but this job left her so tired that she couldn’t think straight.
    He was more handsome than she had expected. The childhood pictures of an acned teenager didn’t do justice to the man with salt-and-pepper hair falling low on his nape.

Fifteen
    Abhik had woken up alone in his bed with the uneasy memory of Agni leaving in the night, and now, by midday, the unease had mutated into a dull throb in his temples. The roads of Kuala Lumpur were back to normal, with the detritus of the Hindsight 2020 protest – brochures, torn hoardings, discarded shoes and bottles – swept to the sides of the streets. The traffic moved slowly along Jalan Sultan Ismail for the next two long miles (as far as he could see), with the cars aggressively negotiating their way up a bottlenecked ramp at the end.
    Abhik hit the steering wheel in frustration. Some fucktard had decided that taking that ramp at an awkward angle and