Earth’s Chosen: The Aryan Protocol

Geneva – WHO Headquarters

The emergency chamber of the World Health Organization pulsed with urgency. Under harsh lights and even harsher truths, the Director-General addressed the gathered team of epidemiologists and diplomats.

"The mutation has stabilized. It is airborne."

A grim silence followed.

"Cities reporting clean air infections: Delhi, Berlin, New York, Lagos, São Paulo. This is no longer a regional crisis. It's a global breath war."

A holographic globe illuminated the uneven spread. In wealthy nations, filters, stockpiles, and ventilated isolation pods flared green. In low-resource regions, the map turned a dull, ominous red.

"We cannot flatten this curve with privilege. And not all answers lie in pharmaceuticals," said one senior advisor. "Countries like India, China, and Vietnam are already turning to their ancient medical systems. Even Uganda's Health Ministry is promoting eucalyptus steam and neem infusions."

The director nodded. "We encourage this. Let the Earth's oldest knowledge guide us when new science runs out of breath."

---

New York City – Upper East Side

In a penthouse overlooking Central Park, an air purification system hummed behind glass walls. Parents fitted oxygen sleeves onto their children. Delivery bots arrived with surgical-grade masks and imported herbal supplements. Television anchors wore respirators even while live.

Down the block, just three subway stops away, a single mother boiled ginger and lemon peels in a tin kettle, her son coughing beside her.

She'd applied for a hospital appointment three times.

There was no answer.

---

Kampala, Uganda – Rural Clinic

In a village surrounded by sugarcane and river reeds, the local herbalist worked alongside a young nurse, combining neem, guava, and eucalyptus into a steaming brew. Children lined up with masks made of cloth soaked in turmeric water. A banner from the Ministry of Health fluttered nearby:

> "Our roots protect our lungs."

An elder patted her chest and smiled. "When the wind is sick, the trees remember."

---

Mumbai – Social Media Command Center

Screens lit up the darkened newsroom like constellations in a storm.

"Hashtag update," barked the coordinator. "#AirborneReal trending in thirty nations. #PharmaProfit is catching up. Meme traffic is overwhelming filters."

A chart showed Aryan Dev's image being used in thousands of conspiracy threads—from savior cults to secret bioweapon theories.

No one noticed that the most accurate scientific posts—under an anonymous handle simply called "Avd437"—were being retweeted quietly by grassroots health workers worldwide.

---

AIIMS Campus – Aryan's Quarters

In the hush of the midnight lab, Aryan stood before a flickering mud statue of Mother Earth he had sculpted himself in the quiet months. A single diya burned at her feet. Neem leaves circled her like garlands. He placed another microbe-sample at her base before closing his eyes.

A Sanskrit shloka whispered across his breath:

> "त्वमेव माता च पिता त्वमेव

त्वमेव बन्धुश्च सखा त्वमेव"

"You are my Mother, my Father, my kin, my companion…"

Outside, the city breathed heavily. Inside, Aryan's system pulsed quietly, feeding data to servers he would never claim.

One new model uploaded: viral protein vulnerability to turmeric vapor in low-oxygen conditions.

No one noticed the code signature. Just the proof.

---

Disguised High-Rise, Dubai – Mimickers' Node

The alien observers adjusted their false human skins and stared into streaming feeds from around the world.

"Global stress has breached the 8.2 threshold," one said, voice as flat as steel.

"Their instinct is fragmentation. Not unity."

"They weaponize truth and theory alike."

"They return to soil remedies faster than forecast."

The second Mimicker tapped a screen. A green spike had appeared on the Rajasthan segment of the map.

"This... anomaly is unscripted. Recovery rates rising."

They watched silently. The script they had followed for centuries showed its first crack.

---

Lagos – Community Shelter

Chants drifted over the humid evening air as women gathered around a large cauldron. Steam rose like incense, flavored with bitter herbs and prayers. A grandmother whispered stories of an ancient illness her own mother had fought with roots and fire.

No one had electricity. But someone had uploaded a treatment protocol printed on worn paper.

"Found it on a health forum," said a volunteer. "No name. Just: 'Resistance begins where the air is clean.'"

They all breathed deeply.

---

Delhi – Intelligence Bureau, South Block

The PM stood at the window, fingers pressed against the glass. Behind him, his advisors argued again. Biowarfare theories. Foreign sabotage. Market manipulation.

"Enough," he said finally.

"He's not the only scientist on Earth," one muttered.

The PM turned. "No. But he might be the only one still listening to Earth."

He dismissed the room and turned back to the skyline—now blurred with the haze of infection.

---

The world map on an open-source health server flickered with pulses—red for chaos, green for recovery. A few new lights blinked to life: rural Odisha, a mountain village in Croatia, a coastal town in Vietnam.

No governments claimed them.

No scientists were awarded.

But the air there was changing.

A silent line scrolled across the server log:

"The lungs of the Earth are not defended by power—but by those who listen to its breath."