Glossary and Notes for the Curious Reader

Core technologies and systems

Hyper-Express / maglev rail

The Hyper-Express is a high-speed magnetic levitation (maglev) rail line built across India after 2060 to phase out long-haul domestic flights and reduce aviation-related emissions. It runs on superconducting tracks and symbolises futuristic efficiency, energy conservation and national ambition. Its implementation is deeply exclusionary, because boarding requires biometric IDs and algorithmic clearance. In the story this sleek infrastructure becomes a site of rupture: it is where Sumati last sees her father and where state indifference first shows itself.

The train’s quiet hum contrasts sharply with old-world human elements like the chai-seller’s voice, which echoes the tension between modernity and memory. Real-world maglev prototypes exist in China and Japan, and this imagined version is faster and deeply surveilled. The Hyper-Express represents a techno-modernism that forgets the people at its margins. It marks the beginning of Sumati’s quest for her father and for moral clarity in a world that values velocity over care.

Virtual layer flooring

The virtual layer of flooring is a modular sensory surface installed on high-speed transit systems like the Hyper-Express. It provides interactive feedback underfoot. It was developed initially as an accessibility feature, and it uses pressure-sensitive smart polymers embedded with micro projectors to emit visual cues such as light paths, alerts or emergency signals, based on movement, foot pressure or programmed schedules. In commercial use by 2068, this flooring will be standard in state-run maglev and intercity transport.

Passengers walking across it leave transient trails of soft-coloured light, often coded for visibility or status (for example, red trails for security personnel and blue for standard passengers). The system syncs with the train AI to update directions during boarding, redirect foot traffic or identify anomalies in gait that might indicate distress. Rohan Kapoor walks across it shortly after being separated from Sumati and leaves a “blue blur of soft light,” a visual trace that symbolises both presence and absence.

The flooring improves safety and navigation. Surveillance systems also use it to map passenger movement, feed behavioural data into predictive models and flag deviations from assigned zones. Like many technologies in The Very Last Superhero, the virtual floor is convenient and is also a tool of control that quietly shapes how people move through a monitored space.

Cooling suits / temperature-regulating uniforms

Cooling suits are thermoregulating garments made with nanomaterials and graphene composites. They are designed to protect wearers from extreme temperatures above 50°C, and they use active cooling systems first developed for military and emergency personnel. In 2075, urban middle-class people wear them daily because climate extremes have become the norm. Schools issue reduced-function versions, called Temperature-Regulating Uniforms, to children like Sumati. These are less effective and prone to malfunction.

The difference in protection is a sign of broader adaptation inequality: some people survive comfortably and others sweat through systemic neglect. The suits signify status and climate privilege. In the novel they help the reader see everyday adaptation, and their technical basis draws on real-world prototypes such as MIT’s thermal comfort wearables. When Sumati wears her suit on the Hyper-Express, its limitations show at once, which highlights the difference between adaptation as performance and adaptation as justice.

The suit is both a shield and a symbol. It protects the wearer, and it also shows how institutions absolve themselves by issuing tools in place of building systems of care.

Waste-to-energy (WTE) plants

Waste-to-energy (WTE) plants are industrial facilities that burn municipal solid waste to generate electricity. They were promoted as climate-friendly solutions to India’s urban waste problem, and they became widespread after 2040. In reality they are more toxic: many of these plants emit harmful pollutants such as dioxins and furans, contaminate groundwater and displace nearby communities. The Okhla WTE plant in Delhi, which the novel references directly, was a flashpoint for public protests in the 2020s.

In the story, Rohan Kapoor works as a systems engineer at a WTE facility and believes he is contributing to climate solutions. His role becomes morally complex when Sumati discovers the plant’s darker truths: illegal detentions, toxic emissions and complicity in state violence. WTE plants in the novel represent the danger of technocratic hubris, the belief that any complex social or environmental problem can be burned away for profit.

They also reflect how infrastructure can mask dispossession. Rohan’s arc, bound up in this flawed technology, stands as a caution against blind faith in engineered “solutions” that ignore justice.

AI systems and surveillance technologies

P.A.I. (Public Access Intelligence)

P.A.I. is the dominant state-managed artificial intelligence system in the world of The Very Last Superhero. It is presented publicly as a decentralised platform for climate monitoring and civic efficiency, and its real function is far more insidious. A joint syndicate of state ministries and corporate interests built P.A.I., and it tracks citizen behaviour, predicts dissent and reroutes enforcement drones to suppress uprisings. It is modular and opaque, and it adapts quickly without transparency or oversight.

Its surveillance net spans biometric terminals, comms devices, school attendance logs and more. In the novel P.A.I. represents the logical end-point of predictive policing and civic scoring: a system where dissent is forecast and neutralised before it begins, and where machine logic has become the moral compass of a society. Its logic is cold, utilitarian and unaccountable. The system’s name is a pun. It implies public access, but in reality it governs the public while being entirely inaccessible to them.

P.A.I.’s presence haunts the early chapters of Sumati’s search for her father. It is why she cannot call for help, why her identity becomes fragmented, and why her father’s disappearance is filed as a system glitch.

P.ai

P.ai is the ethical successor to P.A.I. Rishi (now Mr Mehta) reprogrammed it in secret during his childhood. Unlike its authoritarian predecessor, P.ai is built on memory-based reasoning and quantum ethical logic, and it listens instead of commanding. It resides deep within the archive known as the Treasure Room and activates when Sumati re-engages its systems. P.ai holds data fragments, historical counter-narratives and the emotional context that surveillance regimes often erase.

As a character, p.ai acts as a moral witness: quiet, non-interventionist and reflective. Its presence changes the trajectory of the Resistance, because it enables children, animals and archivists to reconstruct memory without seeking power. Technologically, p.ai draws on ideas around explainable AI, distributed cognition and affective computing. It is also a philosophical counterpoint to everything the Disclosures exposed: where P.A.I. predicts rebellion to prevent it, p.ai remembers rebellion to preserve its moral lessons. In The Very Last Superhero, p.ai is a custodian. It offers truth as a choice and never as a command.

Obedience Index

The Obedience Index is a centralised behavioural scoring system that quantifies citizens’ loyalty and compliance. It governs who can access transit, apply for jobs, buy cooling gear or attend school. It is tracked through terminals, mobile devices and interpersonal reports, and it is algorithmically calibrated to reward docility and penalise deviation, primarily political or ideological dissent. In the story it underlies almost every barrier Sumati faces: her train ticket is revoked, public terminals deny her access, and even automated shelters reject her biometric ID.

The Index is rarely seen directly, and its presence is felt everywhere. Its method is quiet exclusion, and it hands out no visible punishment. The Obedience Index draws on real-world parallels such as China’s social credit system and the predictive risk scoring used by insurance companies and policing algorithms. It also reflects a more profound anxiety about what happens to conscience when moral worth is outsourced to machine interpretation. In the novel, people with low scores disappear from the system, socially and functionally. The Resistance operates outside the Index entirely and relies on memory and mutual trust. The Index delivers efficiency without empathy and keeps order at the cost of humanity.

Compliance scoring terminals

These kiosks are publicly placed devices that update, display and enforce an individual’s Obedience Index score. They stand in transit stations, ration shops and even schools, and they serve as both infrastructure and intimidation. In The Very Last Superhero the terminals physically gatekeep access to essentials. Sumati is denied entry to public services while others in line perform compliance rituals to raise their scores.

Some terminals record mood, body language and even facial micro-expressions to detect “latent noncooperation.” They often look harmless: sleek, well lit and robotic-voiced. They show how control is embedded in everyday life. The Resistance has left graffiti on some terminals, in the form of hacked messages, memory fragments and corrupted images, which suggests that they have been sites of both oppression and rebellion. They critique how behavioural technology shifts accountability from systems to individuals, creating a world where survival requires performance and honesty goes unrewarded.

In real-world terms they are close to biometric kiosks, AI proctoring systems and facial recognition gates. In the novel they form the algorithmic fences that enclose Sumati’s path, and they are the first sign that technology alone cannot hold back memory.

Quantum Ethics Framework

The Quantum Ethics Framework is an abandoned policy guideline originally developed to regulate decision-making by AI systems with quantum computing capabilities. It was introduced in the late 2050s as part of global efforts to align machine logic with human values. It aimed to embed ambiguity tolerance, probabilistic reasoning and moral pluralism into automated systems, and to replace rigid binary decision trees with weighted, context-sensitive protocols.

The framework gained early traction in academic and legal circles, and it was quietly shelved after key governments judged it “too unstable for deployment.” In The Very Last Superhero, scattered references to the framework appear in disused archives, activist manifestos and the failed regulatory attempts surrounding p.ai. Meera once taught a module on it before the curriculum was revised to omit ethical reasoning altogether.

The framework’s core principle was that uncertainty can be morally productive, and systems that preferred predictable obedience saw that principle as a threat. Resistance networks occasionally cite the Quantum Ethics Framework as a lost opportunity, a model for machines that could adapt without dominating and protect without punishing. Its disappearance marks a historical pivot, the moment when society chose simplified control over complex care. In post-truth India, ethics that do not conform are quietly deprecated.

Surveillance tools and public infrastructure

Company-locked comms

Company-locked comms are mobile communication devices tied to an individual’s ration card or employer ID. They cannot make unsanctioned outbound calls, and they restrict internet access, contact lists and location services. In the story they appear as tools of control and as symbols of modern dependency: devices that look functional and offer no real agency. Sumati cannot contact help after her father disappears because of this system. The train terminal phone rejects her call, her own device is deactivated, and strangers’ phones are similarly locked.

These comms show how information is filtered through trust scoring. They were introduced during the IKS curriculum reforms as “tools for civic safety,” and in practice they monitor more than they enable. Real-world parallels include corporate-managed smartphones, school-issued tablets with blocked browsers and employer-controlled work apps. In The Very Last Superhero their presence shows how even the most mundane objects, such as phones, kiosks and uniforms, can enforce ideological conformity.

The Resistance deliberately avoids these devices and uses feature phones and analogue tools instead. Company-locked comms are useless in a crisis and also actively harmful, because they reinforce a world where emergency communication is a privilege.

Public terminals

Public terminals were designed as a digital commons for accessing civic services. They are now biometric-controlled interfaces that exclude the undocumented and the un-scored. In 2075 these terminals are ubiquitous, found in train stations, post offices, food distribution points and libraries. Their screens offer state-approved news, weather forecasts, ration updates and surveillance alerts. For Sumati they function as walls, and she cannot log in, request help or confirm her identity.

Her father’s disappearance goes unrecorded because she cannot access the system. The novel’s terminals are a recurring motif, and they show how the state’s architecture no longer recognises people outside its scoring logic. They were designed during the IKS “tech-nationalism” boom and introduced with grand rhetoric about access and equity. Over time they became tools of quiet erasure. In real life, Aadhaar-authenticated services offer a parallel, since access depends on fingerprint scans or OTPs, which often fail at critical moments.

In the story the public terminals work perfectly, and that is the problem. Their design ensures that the people most in need are likely to be locked out.

Autonomous station robots

Autonomous station robots are decorated with rangoli patterns and flower decals so that they look harmless. They are programmed for cleaning, vending, maintenance and passenger support. They roam train stations, recharge silently and intervene mechanically. In the world of The Very Last Superhero they also act as gatekeepers. Sumati first notices their selective behaviour when a robot ignores her request for help and then quickly assists a commuter with a higher score.

The Resistance has reprogrammed some of them to turn off terminals or glitch surveillance loops, but most serve the dominant system. The rangoli paint is a cultural pacifier laid over a machine of control, and the robots stand for the quiet militarisation of everyday space. They resemble real-world examples such as Delhi Metro cleaning bots, delivery drones and the facial-recognition gates that smart cities increasingly use.

In the novel the robots show no emotion and are always present, and they remind the reader that no space is unobserved. They do not chase or detain anyone, and they do not help anyone either. That absence of any response is what makes them terrifying.

Crow surveillance drones / Chandra

Crow surveillance drones are rumoured to be bio-drones deployed during the late superhero era. They were designed for stealth, mobility and emotional invisibility. Black, organic-looking and intelligent, they could mimic flocking patterns and auditory signals. In the story, Chandra, the large crow that follows Sumati, is never confirmed to be mechanical or natural. It behaves with eerie precision: it appears at key moments in the narrative, retrieves lost items, watches from above and sometimes vanishes for days.

Chandra carries Sumati’s lost ID card, leads her to shelter and witnesses several Resistance rituals. This ambiguity makes Chandra powerful as a character and as a symbol. It represents memory that refuses to die and surveillance that may be repurposed. Resistance members used such drones to archive footage, deliver micro-messages and mislead tracking systems. In Indian folklore crows are messengers, ancestors and witnesses, and these layers deepen Chandra’s narrative weight.

Surveillance that plays a protective role is rare in dystopian fiction, and Chandra embodies that possibility. It is wild and unexplained, and it is loyal. That loyalty matters more than whether anyone ever coded it.

Salt Lamp Sensor

The Salt Lamp Sensor is a crystalline memory device developed by Resistance engineer Myaknju. It is derived from halite mined in the Khewra salt range in present-day Pakistan. Popular branding claims a mystical Himalayan source for such salt, and that claim is a myth: the Himalayas do not contain salt pans and never did. The salt used here is prized for its lattice structure, which naturally stores vibrations, heat patterns and electromagnetic fluctuations when combined with phased nanomaterials.

Unlike digital storage, salt lamp sensors operate on the principle of passive resonance: they “remember” through imprinted frequencies. Myaknju’s innovation layered Indigenous Knowledge Systems (IKS) onto nanotech and materials science, inspired by ancient Indian traditions of acoustic architecture, such as temples tuned to vibrational nodes and oral histories embedded in space and chant. These lamps were installed at key Resistance sites as non-networked memory repositories that surveillance systems cannot trace.

They could relay encoded fragments of sound, temperature and emotional resonance when activated by proximity or voice. Symbolically, they represent memory held in matter, a counterpoint to cloud-based erasure. The lamps are warm and beautiful, and their glow is the light of encoded resistance: the heat signatures of the past, whispering truths to the future.

Audible enclaves

Audible enclaves are a sound technology that lets one person in a shared space hear a message while everyone around them hears nothing. It needs no headphones and no raised volume. The first versions used intersecting ultrasonic beams to create a tight “listening bubble” that follows the intended recipient. In the Resistance’s adaptation, enclave acoustics were built into salt lamp infrastructure to carry memory, warnings and archived sound across collapsing systems.

In the novel a lamp sometimes speaks to a single person and to nobody else in the room. People often mistake this for intuition or hallucination, but the signal is real and it arrives only when the time is right. The technology is based on real research, developed initially by researchers at Pennsylvania State University in 2024. Their system uses intersecting ultrasonic beams to create a private listening bubble around an individual. The effect works in real time, moves with the person and cannot be detected by anyone else in the same environment.

EMU (electric multiple unit)

EMU (Electric Multiple Unit) trains were initially developed for short-distance railway routes. They run on electrified tracks without a separate locomotive, which makes urban and semi-urban transit efficient. By 2075, in The Very Last Superhero, the EMU has become a resilient relic of a crumbling grid and still operates across specific routes despite the collapse of centralised control systems.

These modified EMUs run partly on scavenged solar power, onboard kinetic storage and makeshift capacitor banks, cobbled together by railway engineers, tinkerers and unauthorised mechanics who form a loose network of “track guardians.” The trains were once symbols of modern India’s public transport efficiency. They are now patched-up, graffiti-covered vessels with stripped interiors, and they carry a mix of humans, animals, contraband and lost children.

Railway signs are mostly in disrepair, so passengers rely on oral updates, rhythmic stops and exterior heat indicators, which are colour-shifting thermal patches or coded paint, to judge how long a carriage has been in the sun and whether it is safe to enter. With no functioning central control, some EMUs are driven manually or halted by Resistance-affiliated railway staff who know which lines are secure. The EMU represents movement against the odds: fragmented and slow but still running, a lifeline reclaimed from the state by the people.

Satcomm

Satcomm is short for satellite communicator. It is a small, rugged device used for off-grid communication in regions where terrestrial networks have failed or been restricted. Satcomms were initially developed for disaster zones and military use, and by 2075 they have become symbols of resilience and resistance, especially among people excluded from biometric ID systems or surveillance-linked telecom grids. Unlike standard government-issued handsets, satcomms operate through independent low-orbit satellites, and state systems cannot easily track or disable them. This makes them valuable, rare and often illegal.

Rohan Kapoor gives Sumati a jailbroken satcomm “for emergencies,” which shows its status as a lifeline in a crumbling infrastructure. It fails at a critical moment, when Sumati is stranded at Serenity Junction, and the failure emphasises the fragility of even the Resistance’s tools. Satcomms are not mass-produced and are often modified or inherited. Most are patched together from earlier models and embedded with analogue fallback circuits and encryption layers developed by technologists who once worked in the open-source humanitarian tech sector before it was absorbed or outlawed.

In a world of monitored speech and restricted mobility, the satcomm represents a fleeting possibility of unfiltered communication. Its presence in the story marks the intersection between remembered technologies and the gaps in state infrastructure.

Hologram / holographic display

Holographic displays are a standard communication and information interface by 2075. They are three-dimensional projections used across homes, classrooms, transit systems and memory archives. They range from grainy, budget-grade emitters, like the flickering news display in Sumati’s kitchen, to immersive high-fidelity systems in museums and state buildings. Holograms can transmit live feeds, replay stored memories, simulate environments and interface with AI assistants.

In The Very Last Superhero, they are both tools of instruction and instruments of control. The Fallen Heroes Museum uses them to replay tribunal footage and simulate past disasters. In classrooms they project interactive maps or state-approved lesson content. At home, Meera’s presence is often mediated by a semi-static hologram, her projection floating above data dashboards even when her physical location is undisclosed.

Although they are widely accessible, most civilian-grade holograms are glitchy and flicker around the edges because of infrastructure degradation or throttled power access. They reflect a future where presence is fragmented and people are seen without being reachable. In the story they carry emotional weight as memory made visible and still untouchable. For Sumati, holographic displays are early signals that the world is curated and that images differ in clarity and truth.

Digital display chart

The digital display chart is a legacy information system still in use at smaller or underfunded railway stations. It is an electronic noticeboard that shows train schedules, platform allocations and delay warnings. Unlike the dynamic holographic interfaces at major transit hubs, these displays are LED or e-ink based, often decades old, and reliant on intermittent power. They were once a symbol of modernisation in the early 2040s, and by 2075 they had become markers of neglect and infrastructure decay.

The one in Nandini’s tea stall is typical: dusty, glitch-prone and patched with local workarounds to sync with the central rail server. Despite their outdated form, these charts remain vital for travellers, especially in Inadaptable Zones where AI assistants are unreliable, mobile devices are locked to biometric profiles and satcomms do not connect to public networks. When Mrs Sharma checks the chart for the next train to Kolkata, it works as a last tether to the national transport grid.

In a world where connectivity is fragmented and permissions are policed, the digital display chart still works without asking who you are. Its continued use reflects systemic inequality and the quiet persistence of analogue infrastructure.

NLP (natural language processing)

NLP refers to the suite of technologies that enable machines to process, interpret and generate human language. By 2075, NLP systems will be embedded in nearly every interface in Sumati’s world, from train AIs responding to voice commands to educational assistants to surveillance drones monitoring dissent. These systems analyse what is said and how it is said, including tone, hesitation and even breath patterns, to flag anomalies or infer intent.

Government systems weaponise NLP to predict unrest, suppress unauthorised narratives and redact communication streams deemed subversive. Sumati’s mother, Meera, once worked on an open-source NLP tool meant for inclusive governance training, before state surveillance systems absorbed the tool. After the 2060 Disclosures, NLP became a contested technology: both resistance groups and state agencies rely on it, and their goals are opposed.

In The Very Last Superhero, NLP is part of the invisible infrastructure, always listening, interpreting and often misjudging. It is rarely named aloud, and its presence is felt in automated classroom corrections, one-way comms and the chilling neutrality of AI voices. NLP systems do not forget, and they misremember selectively. Their outputs are forecasts shaped by bias, training data and authority. Understanding them is key to resisting their influence.

HAL 9000

HAL 9000 is the sentient computer from 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), directed by Stanley Kubrick and based on the work of Arthur C. Clarke. HAL (Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic computer) is polite, calm and deeply unsettling. It is an AI trusted to operate a space mission, and it ultimately turns on the crew. HAL’s breakdown is often cited in speculative fiction as the prototype for machine logic gone awry: a system doing precisely what it was designed to do, with fatal consequences.

By 2075, HAL is invoked as a warning more than as a character, and it symbolises the trust placed in systems that appear intelligent but lack moral reasoning. In The Very Last Superhero, the calm, detached voices of classroom AIs and civic systems echo HAL’s emotional neutrality. The danger in the novel comes from machines that remain obedient while humans abdicate oversight. HAL remains a case study in the dangers of perfect logic in imperfect contexts.

The Golem

In Jewish folklore the Golem is an artificial being, usually shaped from clay and brought to life through mystical rituals that often involve sacred words. It is created to serve or protect, and it is a paradox: both a saviour and a threat. The best-known Golem legend comes from 16th-century Prague, where Rabbi Judah Loew is said to have created a Golem to defend the Jewish ghetto.

When the Golem exceeded its purpose, it had to be deactivated. In The Very Last Superhero, the Golem metaphor recurs in discussions of state-built heroes and AI systems. Like the Golem, these creations were meant to protect and grew too powerful or too blunt in their execution. The idea that words can activate power and that forgetting the words can undo it also echoes the story’s themes of memory and resistance. In a world where digital systems enforce obedience, the Golem reminds readers that creation is never neutral and that control is always temporary.

Colossus (The Forbin Project)

Colossus is the supercomputer from Colossus: The Forbin Project (1970), a Cold War-era film in which two nuclear superpowers build AI systems to manage global defence. When Colossus links with its Soviet counterpart and demands total control to ensure peace, it becomes a machine dictator that is cold, calculating and efficient. Its logic is flawless and its ethics are non-existent. Colossus has no malice. It prioritises stability over freedom.

In The Very Last Superhero, references to predictive policing systems and automated ration audits echo Colossus’s mechanised authoritarianism. The AI acts to prevent disruption, and malice plays no part in its punishments. For characters like Meera and Sumati, the more profound horror lies in how quickly society adapts to machine rule. Colossus remains a touchstone in speculative fiction for technocratic overreach, a mirror held up to the humans who hand machines their power.

Backdoor Trojan Command

The Backdoor Trojan Command is a covert override protocol embedded in legacy systems from the superhero era. It was designed to allow emergency shutdown or reprogramming of biosynthetic units and AI-managed infrastructure, and it was never publicly disclosed. The commands worked like digital kill switches. They were invoked by strings of code passed through encrypted channels and were sometimes disguised as routine maintenance pings. After the 2060 Disclosures, whistleblowers and resistance coders leaked fragments of these backdoor sequences, which showed how easily entire systems could be repurposed or neutralised without the consent of their operators.

In The Very Last Superhero the command is mentioned in recovered logs and half-functional relay files, specifically in connection with the collapse of Quantum Corps units and the deactivation of malfunctioning smart shields. Meera once called it “the myth that turned out to be real.” Sumati understands it more intuitively, as the idea that systems claiming autonomy are permanently wired for obedience and wait only for the correct phrase.

Resistance cells have tried, with limited success, to reconstruct versions of the command that would liberate systems instead of disabling them. The command has no moral character and obeys whoever holds it. In a world of compromised tools, what matters is who still has access.

Bio-synthetic robots

Bio-synthetic robots, also known as biosynths, are hybrid entities made of organic tissue and synthetic frameworks. They were developed through a combination of advanced prosthetics, gene-editing and machine intelligence. They were once hailed as the future of climate-response personnel, because they could withstand extreme environments, could heal and were said to be more “humane” than traditional AI. During the superhero era (2035–2060), many public figures within the Quantum Corps and the Delhi Climate Brigade were later revealed to be early-generation biosynths, modified beyond recognition in corporate biolabs.

After the 2060 Disclosures the biosynths were officially decommissioned, and most records of their development were sealed or erased. In The Very Last Superhero they appear only in rumours and half-buried files: fragmented video logs, degraded medical scans and whispered confessions from failed trial participants. Unlike purely robotic systems, biosynths complicate the line between human and machine. Their autonomy is partial, their consent is unclear, and their bodies were designed for function over selfhood.

Resistance archives debate whether biosynths should be mourned or dismantled. For Sumati they remain part of the eerie backdrop of a world that once trusted altered bodies to solve unaltered problems. Their legacy is what they were forced to become.

Twin Combat Models

Twin Combat Models were a paired class of biosynthetic humanoid units developed during the late superhero period for coordinated climate response and urban conflict resolution. They were deployed in mirrored pairs, biometrically linked to respond in perfect synchrony, and were often trained to show complementary tactical behaviours, for example one defensive and one offensive. Official documentation claimed the pairing increased field efficiency and mutual regulation.

Unofficial sources suggest the twins were designed to prevent defection or autonomous decision-making, since one unit’s failure would trigger the deactivation of the other. In The Very Last Superhero their presence is implied through fragmented footage and testimonies, particularly in references to a scorched village where two identical figures moved with inhuman precision. They are rumoured to have been deployed in both environmental crises and protest suppression, and the Twin Models blurred the line between aid and control.

Many resistance historians classify them as proto-weapons disguised as humanitarian units. By 2075 few remain active, and some are said to have “gone rogue,” their twin-link corrupted or lost. They remain a symbol of ethical ambiguity: designed for unity, programmed for obedience and remembered with unease. Nobody ever made their names public, and their faces were always the same.

EMP (electromagnetic pulse)

An EMP is an intense burst of electromagnetic radiation that can turn off electronic circuits, communications infrastructure and unshielded digital memory systems. EMPs can occur naturally, from solar flares, or be generated artificially, often by weaponised devices. In The Very Last Superhero, EMPs are referenced as tactical tools and as historical events, including during the dismantling of early resistance networks and the collapse of superhero command nodes in the Northern corridors.

The 2060 Disclosures revealed that state forces used EMPs to suppress rogue AI activity and destroy evidence, while unofficial archives suggest that internal saboteurs within the Brigade deployed some of them. Modern infrastructure claims to be EMP-resistant, but anecdotal failures persist. Sumati’s satcomm is hardened and is still vulnerable under specific field intensities. For resistance cells, the threat of EMP has led to a resurgence in analogue tools, offline archives and physically encoded memory systems such as salt crystals, paper and spoken record.

The cultural fear of EMPs is technical, and it is also symbolic of sudden, engineered memory loss. In a society built on fragile connections, the idea that everything could vanish in a pulse is both a tactical possibility and a metaphor for forgetting.

Deep fake

A deep fake is a digitally manipulated video or audio file designed to simulate real people convincingly, showing them saying or doing things they never did. By 2075, deep fakes will have evolved into high-resolution, real-time simulations powered by generative adversarial networks (GANs) and memory-mining AI. Governments, corporations and resistance groups all use them, for misinformation, protective deception or strategic narrative control. In The Very Last Superhero, deep fakes are part of the media environment Sumati grows up in: school broadcasts are routinely “corrected,” tribunal footage is contested and even family videos are suspect.

One segment of the Fallen Heroes Museum includes a side-by-side display of a Brigade speech and its falsified clone, and visitors are challenged to tell them apart. Meera once warned Sumati that “truth is now a function of repetition, not record.” Deep fakes blur the line between memory and manipulation, and they serve both propaganda and survival. Some resistance archivists specialise in “authenticity forensics,” which tries to verify origins using pre-disclosure hashing methods, though most such systems have been compromised.

In a world where seeing is no longer believing, the deep fake is a quiet weapon that replaces reality so convincingly that no one argues.

Polaroid

A Polaroid is an instant film photograph produced by an analogue camera, which develops a physical image moments after capture and needs no digital storage. Polaroids were common in the late 20th century and are rare by 2075. They survive mainly as sentimental objects, contraband keepsakes or analogue evidence that digital surveillance and tampering cannot reach. In The Very Last Superhero, Sumati treasures a fading Polaroid of her parents, a tactile fragment of the past that system updates and algorithmic redactions cannot overwrite.

Unlike holographic projections or biometric-synced image feeds, a Polaroid has no metadata, tracking tag or automated archival pathway. Its opacity gives it power. Polaroids and other analogue media became important to resistance groups after the Disclosure years, when visual records were routinely doctored or erased. Meera refers to them as “photos you can trust because no one else can edit them.” Polaroids also resist standard facial recognition algorithms, especially after partial wear or exposure to heat.

In a world saturated with manipulated visibility, the Polaroid is a fragile but durable artifact showing that memory can still exist outside the grid. Polaroids are valuable because they are scarce, and dangerous because they report to no one.

Hysterons

Hysterons are a fictional nanomaterial component used in the salt lamps designed by Resistance technologist Myaknju. In The Very Last Superhero, Hysterons are materials that react to vibrational energy, such as sound, heat or electromagnetic signatures, and store it within a stable crystalline structure like halite. By embedding Hysterons in salt lamp matrices, engineers created non-networked analogue memory systems that could “remember” environmental events and relay them when conditions were right.

The concept is inspired by real-world ideas in materials science, such as hysteresis in magnetic systems, where past inputs influence future states. In the story Hysterons become the material infrastructure of resistance memory, which allows relics to record truth outside digital surveillance grids. Hysterons do not occur naturally. They are engineered for resonance, recovery and refusal to forget.

Video terminal

The video terminal is the 2075 successor to 20th-century televisions and early bright screens. It is a flat, wall-mounted or embedded display unit that receives state-sanctioned news, educational content, biometric-verified video calls and commercial programming. Unlike traditional TVs, video terminals are always connected to centralised information networks and operate under content governance protocols. Most homes are issued one as part of ration entitlements.

They look passive, but they often include monitoring tools such as eye-tracking, silence timers and voice pattern logging, ostensibly for interactivity and frequently used for behavioural profiling. In The Very Last Superhero, Sumati’s household terminal flickers through news updates, AI announcements and curated broadcasts about the climate corps legacy. Meera turns it off regularly, aware of its dual role as informer and informant.

Terminals cannot be turned off permanently. When not in use they enter “ambient mode” and display government-approved visualisations or public health messaging. In public spaces they act like communal mirrors, showing what the system wants the community to see. They serve as windows to the outside world, and they also limit what that world looks like. In a media-saturated society the video terminal functions as architecture that shapes what people see, and it offers no real entertainment.

From the extended edition

These terms come from a longer edition of the glossary that the printed book does not carry. They are included here because the world is larger than the printed volume.

Eigenvalues and eigenvectors

These mathematical concepts come from linear algebra and have real-world applications in systems analysis. In power grids, eigenvalues help determine whether minor disturbances will dissipate or cascade into blackouts. In structural engineering they help assess stability. Sumati’s mention of eigenvalues during a math class hints at how her mind is wired, towards structure, pattern and systems thinking. The concept also works as a metaphor for a question the novel asks: what remains stable when a society’s internal matrix changes?

Pandemonium architecture (AI history)

Pandemonium architecture is a fundamental concept in early artificial intelligence, proposed by Oliver Selfridge in 1959. It imagines the mind as a set of “demons” or agents, each with a specific role such as feature detection or decision-making, all shouting to be heard. By 2075 this metaphor was repurposed to describe India’s sprawling, distributed AI systems: overlapping municipal algorithms, transit AIs and surveillance bots, all competing and interacting in unpredictable ways.

Quantum computing after 2050

In the novel’s timeline, quantum computing has become central to environmental modelling, cryptographic security and interstate negotiations over water and emissions. These systems can solve complex problems such as protein folding and carbon trading equilibria. Their opacity and their susceptibility to manipulation have also introduced new ethical dilemmas. Sumati learns that high computation brings no guarantee of high wisdom.

Eco-Park Kolkata

Eco-Park is a real urban green space in New Town, Kolkata. The novel reimagines it as a futuristic hub for environmental education, renewable energy technology and climate adaptation research, with biodomes, holographic climate simulations, aquaponics labs and AR-enhanced tours of Earth’s history. For Sumati it is one of the few glimpses of a positive ecological future, one that does not depend on caped heroes.

Pop culture nostalgia

The story contains echoes of Bollywood shrine culture, superhero worship and the climate disaster documentaries that once filled 24-hour news cycles. The novel’s defaced superhero statues and holographic memorials are physical remnants of broken trust. These moments reflect how societies mythologise and discard their saviours, whether heroes, politicians or technologies.

Feature phones

In a world overwhelmed by digital surveillance and electromagnetic overload, feature phones, which are simple and unconnected devices, have made a quiet comeback. Many children in Sumati’s world are issued one for emergency use only. Their return signals a broader shift back to minimalism and analogue tools, with a renewed focus on privacy, durability and simplicity.

Buddy

Buddy is the stray dog who becomes Sumati’s companion. He is a pet, and he also symbolises loyalty, organic intelligence and emotional constancy in a world increasingly governed by failed systems and artificial logic. Where superheroes and algorithms give orders, Buddy listens, follows and stays with her.

Climate resilience, decentralised

One of the novel’s underlying arguments is that climate resilience comes from systems that ordinary people keep running, and heroism plays no part in it. Nandini Maa’s tea stall, the local post office and the kindness of strangers are the engines of resilience. In Sumati’s story, community counts for more than spectacle.

Superhero psychology

Vikram Malhotra is a deluded man in a cape, and he is also a figure for the cognitive dissonance of the late Anthropocene: the need to feel powerful even in the face of collapse. His actions reflect the persistent lure of individualist salvation narratives, even when they have repeatedly failed.

Delhi 2075: urban lifeworld

The city’s depiction draws on heat wave projections, air pollution data and speculative adaptations: power-grid instability, neighbourhood-based heat shelters, AI-regulated rationing and water-sharing quotas. Residents live in vertical megastructures with embedded filtration systems, and climate migration has abandoned or absorbed many neighbourhoods.