Key Insights from the University of Oxford’s AI,…

By Noreen Raza Pakistan’s waste challenge is no longer only a question of sanitation; it has become a question of climate resilience, environmental governance, resource security, and sustainable development. For decades, waste management has largely been viewed as a municipal responsibility focused on collection, transportation, and disposal. However, the realities of climate change, rapid urbanization, resource depletion, and ecosystem degradation require a fundamental shift in approach. Pakistan’s future waste strategy cannot depend only on moving waste from one place to another. It must transition from a linear “take, make, and dispose” model towards a circular economy where materials are valued, recovered, and reused. The urgency of this transformation is evident from Pakistan’s increasing climate vulnerability. The devastating floods of 2022 demonstrated how environmental challenges can quickly become national development crises. According to the World Bank-led Post-Disaster Needs Assessment, the floods affected approximately 33 million people, caused damages exceeding US$14.9 billion, and resulted in economic losses of around US$15.2 billion. The disaster highlighted the importance of climate-resilient infrastructure, improved planning, and stronger environmental management. Although climate disasters are often associated with extreme weather events, poor environmental management can increase their impacts. Plastic waste blocking drainage systems, unmanaged dumping sites, and pollution of waterways can worsen urban flooding and damage ecosystems. Waste management, therefore, should not be treated as an isolated municipal service; it must become an essential component of Pakistan’s climate adaptation strategy. The traditional linear economic model has created significant environmental pressures. Extracting resources, producing goods, consuming them, and disposing of waste after use places continuous stress on natural systems. Open dumping and uncontrolled disposal contribute to soil and water contamination, while organic waste decomposing in unmanaged sites releases methane, a powerful greenhouse gas. Open burning of waste further contributes to air pollution and creates risks for public health. The global waste challenge is also increasing. The World Bank’s What a Waste 3.0 report highlights that global municipal solid waste generation reached approximately 2.56 billion tons in 2022 and could increase to 3.86 billion tons by 2050 under a business-as-usual scenario. Developing regions, including South Asia, face growing pressure due to rising waste volumes and limited waste management capacity. Pakistan faces similar challenges. Population growth, expanding urban areas, changing consumption patterns, and increasing use of packaged products are contributing to rising waste generation. However, limited segregation at source, insufficient recycling infrastructure, and inadequate resource recovery systems prevent waste from being transformed into valuable materials. This challenge also represents an opportunity. Waste should no longer be considered only an environmental burden; it must be recognized as a resource that can support climate mitigation, economic development, and sustainable resource management. A circular economy provides a practical pathway towards this transformation. Unlike the linear model, circular systems focus on preventing waste generation, extending product life cycles, promoting reuse and repair, increasing recycling, and recovering valuable resources. Such approaches reduce dependence on virgin materials, conserve natural resources, and support cleaner economic growth. The benefits of circularity extend beyond municipal waste. Industrial and agricultural waste streams also contain valuable resources that are often overlooked. Organic waste can be converted into compost or used for energy recovery. Recyclable materials can return to production cycles, reducing pressure on natural resources. Construction waste can be recovered for infrastructure development, while improved wastewater management can support water conservation and resource recovery. Pakistan’s industries provide important examples of this opportunity. Several industrial by-products can potentially be converted into useful resources rather than being treated as waste. Ash generated from industrial processes, including power generation and agro-based industries, has potential applications in cement production, construction materials, and other resource recovery pathways. Similarly, agricultural residues such as bagasse ash from sugar industries and rice husk ash can be utilized through appropriate technologies. However, due to limited awareness, inadequate recovery systems, weak industrial linkages, and insufficient technical guidance, many such materials continue to accumulate in open storage areas or are disposed of near agricultural lands. These practices may create environmental concerns, including dust pollution, land degradation, and risks to surrounding ecosystems. Transforming these materials into productive inputs requires stronger collaboration between industries, regulators, researchers, and end users. The United Nations Environment Programme (UNEP), through its Global Waste Management Outlook 2024, emphasizes that sustainable waste management requires moving away from disposal-focused approaches towards prevention, resource efficiency, and circular economy solutions. However, Pakistan’s transition towards circularity cannot depend only on technology. Strong environmental governance must remain the foundation of sustainable waste management. Effective coordination among federal, provincial, and local institutions, improved regulatory enforcement, reliable environmental data, and climate-informed planning are essential. Environmental Impact Assessments (EIAs), environmental monitoring systems, and compliance mechanisms play an important role in ensuring that waste-related infrastructure operates responsibly throughout its lifecycle. Waste management should also be integrated with urban planning, industrial development, water management, and climate policies. Technology can further strengthen this transition. Geographic Information Systems (GIS), remote sensing, satellite monitoring, and digital reporting platforms can improve waste mapping, identify illegal dumping areas, optimize collection systems, and support evidence-based environmental decision-making. A sustainable circular economy must also be socially inclusive. Across Pakistan, informal waste workers contribute significantly to recycling and material recovery, yet many work under unsafe conditions without adequate protection or formal recognition. A just transition should integrate these workers into formal systems through training, occupational safety measures, and improved livelihood opportunities. Women should also be recognized as important contributors to emerging green sectors. Expanding opportunities for women in recycling enterprises, environmental entrepreneurship, and community-based sustainability initiatives can strengthen both environmental outcomes and social inclusion. Public participation remains equally important. Governments cannot achieve circularity alone. Communities, industries, educational institutions, and civil society must contribute through waste segregation, responsible consumption, reduction of single-use plastics, and environmental awareness. Pakistan’s climate commitments and sustainable development objectives require integrated solutions that connect waste management with biodiversity conservation, pollution control, resource efficiency, and climate resilience. Circular economy principles should become part of national and provincial development planning rather than being viewed only as a waste sector initiative. The success of Pakistan’s waste sector should

“Federalism is self-rule plus shared rule”—Daniel J. Elazar The recurring demand for creating new provinces in Pakistan resurfaces with remarkable regularity. Whenever governance falters, regional disparities widen or perceptions of neglect become politically expedient, voices emerge advocating the redrawing of provincial boundaries. Southern Punjab, Hazara, Bahawalpur and other regions are periodically cited as compelling examples of territories whose aspirations can supposedly be fulfilled only through separate provincial status.  The proposition appears deceptively simple: smaller provinces would bring government closer to the people and consequently ensure better governance. Yet constitutional questions are seldom answered by geographical arithmetic. Before redrawing Pakistan’s political map, we must first answer a more fundamental question: what is the constitutional purpose of a province within a federation? The quote by Daniel J. Elazar, one of the foremost scholars of federalism is a simple expression that encapsulates the philosophy underlying every successful federation. A federation is neither a unitary state nor a loose confederation of independent entities. It is a constitutional partnership in which constituent units voluntarily participate in the exercise of shared sovereignty while retaining their distinct political identities. The essence of federalism, therefore, lies not in the number of constituent units but in the constitutional balance between unity and diversity. Pakistan’s provinces were never intended to function merely as administrative divisions. Punjab, Sindh, Khyber Pakhtunkhwa and Balochistan represent historical regions possessing distinct linguistic, cultural and political identities. Their constitutional status cannot be viewed solely through the lens of administrative convenience. They constitute a federal compact upon which Pakistan’s constitutional structure rests. Altering provincial boundaries is therefore not merely a question of improving governance; it involves reconsidering the architecture of the federation itself. None of this implies that demands for new provinces are devoid of merit. Those advocating separate provincial status often point towards genuine grievances. Regions distant from provincial capitals frequently complain of inadequate public investment, poor infrastructure, unequal employment opportunities, weak political representation and an enduring sense of neglect. Such concerns deserve neither dismissal nor ridicule. Every federation must continuously reassess whether its institutions are responding equitably to the aspirations of all its citizens. There are, undoubtedly, persuasive arguments in favour of creating additional provinces. Smaller administrative units may improve governmental accessibility, reduce bureaucratic distance, strengthen regional representation and permit more focused development planning.  India’s creation of states such as Chhattisgarh, Uttarakhand and Telangana was largely justified on similar considerations. In certain instances, administrative decentralisation has indeed facilitated more responsive governance. It would therefore be intellectually dishonest to dismiss the proposal merely because it challenges existing boundaries. Yet comparative constitutional experience also counsels caution. Nigeria expanded from three regions to thirty-six states without eliminating corruption, insecurity or administrative inefficiency. India itself continues to witness demands for further statehood despite repeated territorial reorganisation. The number of constituent units has never, by itself, guaranteed good governance. Effective administration ultimately depends upon the quality of institutions rather than the quantity of provinces. This distinction is often overlooked in Pakistan’s public discourse. Governance failures are frequently attributed to geography when they are, in reality, institutional. Weak local governments, politicised bureaucracies, uneven fiscal distribution, inadequate accountability and inconsistent policy implementation cannot be remedied simply by drawing new boundaries upon a map. Multiplying provinces without simultaneously strengthening constitutional institutions merely reproduces existing weaknesses on a smaller scale. Perhaps the most neglected dimension of this debate is local government. Modern constitutional democracies recognise that genuine democracy begins not in distant capitals but within local communities. The closer government remains to the citizen, the greater its responsiveness and accountability.  Unfortunately, Pakistan has historically oscillated between centralisation and reluctant decentralisation, often treating elected local governments as temporary administrative experiments rather than permanent constitutional institutions. Before concluding that additional provinces constitute the solution, we ought first to ask whether meaningful local self-government has ever been sincerely allowed to flourish. Equally important is the constitutional process itself. The creation of new provinces cannot become an instrument of transient political expediency or electoral bargaining. It must emerge from broad constitutional consensus, careful economic evaluation, administrative necessity and, above all, the informed consent of those directly affected. Constitutional engineering undertaken without social consensus has rarely strengthened federations; more often, it has deepened existing divisions. The debate, therefore, should not be framed as one between those who favour additional provinces and those who oppose them. The real issue is whether territorial reorganisation genuinely addresses the underlying causes of poor governance or merely offers an attractive political slogan. A federation derives its strength not from the number of provinces appearing on its map but from the confidence its citizens repose in the fairness of its institutions. Where constitutional principles are respected, resources distributed equitably and local governments empowered, both large and small provinces can flourish. Where these foundations are absent, no amount of territorial rearrangement can compensate for institutional decay. Pakistan’s future will ultimately be determined less by the cartography of its provinces than by the constitutional maturity of its federation. If new provinces emerge through genuine constitutional consensus and demonstrable administrative necessity, they may well strengthen the federal structure. If, however, they arise merely as instruments of political convenience or regional rivalry, they risk replacing the promise of federalism with the peril of fragmentation.  The challenge before Pakistan, therefore, is not simply to decide how many provinces it should have. It is to determine whether the federation can faithfully uphold the constitutional promise of self-rule and shared rule upon which every enduring federal democracy ultimately depends. _____________________________________________________________________________ The writer, lawyer and author, is former Adjunct Faculty at Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), a member Advisory Board and Senior Visiting Fellow of Pakistan Institute of Development Economics (PIDE) 

Bio: Hamza Tareen is a student at LUMS majoring in Political Science, with a keen interest in philosophy and theology. ‘I am utterly overwhelmed; the deluge of quizzes is beyond my capacity,’ my friend slowly sighed as his head drooped in exhaustion. Students across the country nurse dreams of pursuing higher education in premier institutes such as the likes of LUMS or IBA. They navigate the rigorous selection process, pay exorbitant fees and, when they finally clinch admission, little do they anticipate the stringently demanding atmosphere that would exact a heavy toll on their mental health. Those who get into these prestigious universities are students who have already demonstrated exceptional academic excellence, and, unsurprisingly, they formulate a highly ambitious criterion for defining success, i.e., consistently acing their courses. However, since the assessment follows a bell-curve distribution which evaluates performance relative to peers, the grading is highly competitive and only a small proportion land in the A/A- categories. This not only fails their expectations but plunges them into depression as they call into question their academic capabilities and self-worth. And, to top it off, peer pressure, which is ever pervasive in the culture, further complicates the problem. It would be tempting to label setting unrealistic expectations as the sole culprit; but the elephant in the room is something else. It is the culture that continuously pushes students to the brink of burnout and brands it as ‘academic rigor.’ From having interminable quizzes, assignments and mid/final exams to being expected to excel in four/five different courses simultaneously, the pressure is intense. And students are expected to somehow manage it all—along with carving out time for extracurriculars and social life. University is not all about academics, and there are a multitude of other problems that students steer through during the semester. But, to their dismay, they are assumed to carry through it all. Justified it would be to say that by the end of the term, they are sapped of all strength, teetering on the precipice of collapse. It is a well-researched—and unfortunate—fact that depression and mental health problems abound in elite universities. The aforementioned factors, coupled with other personal and social challenges that characterize this phase of students’ academic journeys, become a crucible of pressure for them. They stumble, totter, and fall into a shroud of uncertainty. And, lamentably, the stigma associated with seeking help or counselling multiplies the problem. Mental health is stigmatized as something alien, suited for the ‘feeble.’ Amidst these circumstances, the onus falls upon the administration. Supportive counselling sessions which help students in threading their way through university life and academics are crucial; dedicated mental wellness centers need to be introduced, encouraged and endorsed; and students should be empowered to zoom in more on learning than deriving their self-worth from grades alone. This does not mean exhibiting apathy towards academic performance, but a reorientation of priorities which do not impede their growth and self-esteem. Finally, a reconsideration and reassessment of balancing academic rigor with students’ well-being is indispensable on the part of the administration. Mental well-being will naturally translate into more productivity.

By  Engr. Saqlain Abid tarrar Political Commentator | MS Power Engineering | NFPA-Certified Electrical Engine President Donald Trump, addressing a public rally, reportedly announced that the United States would soon “free” the Strait of Hormuz from what he described as Iranian captivity and suggested that it could effectively become American territory. The rhetoric immediately evokes his earlier statements about acquiring Greenland. But Hormuz is not Greenland. It is a strategic maritime chokepoint whose international legal status, geography and military consequences make any attempt to seize or control it an entirely different proposition. The question is whether Trump is merely bargaining through maximum pressure—or preparing the political ground for a ground invasion of Iran. Several geopolitical analysts, including a Chinese professor and commentator who has repeatedly warned that Trump could eventually choose ground intervention, now see such a possibility as increasingly rational from Washington’s perspective, even if strategically dangerous. The political clock is also ticking. With the US midterm elections approaching in November, a weak Republican performance could cost Trump control of the House. Having already signed the June 17 MoU, while Iran appears to have rejected or resisted key conditions, Trump may calculate that allowing Tehran to emerge claiming victory would carry a domestic political price. Yet this is precisely where strategic calculation can become strategic miscalculation. The Netanyahu government has also indicated that Israel could continue fighting even if Washington decides to stop. That creates an uncomfortable dilemma for Washington. The initial air campaign apparently exposed serious questions about the assumptions behind the war. If American planners underestimated Iran’s endurance, missile inventory and drone-interceptor economics, the conflict could become dramatically more expensive than anticipated. Even senior American military voices have reportedly debated whether continuing the war is necessary for credibility and deterrence. The USS Abraham Lincoln’s prolonged deployment, alongside reports of severe psychological strain among personnel, illustrates another hidden price of extended warfare. Meanwhile, Washington faces the enormous projected cost of the Golden Dome missile-defence programme, potentially requiring resources approaching $1.5 trillion. The central question is therefore simple: can America afford another open-ended adventure when it already needs enormous resources to compete with China and Russia? Iran, meanwhile, appears to be raising the price of any settlement. Its reported demands include lifting the naval blockade so that it can sell oil and gas freely, withdrawal of American forces from West Asia, release of roughly $12 billion in frozen or seized assets, an end to Israeli attacks on Yemen and Hezbollah, and substantial war reparations. Reports of command changes within the IRGC, including the appointment of hard-line figures, suggest that Tehran wants to signal a transition from a purely defensive posture towards greater offensive preparedness. Iran has also kept some capabilities, including submarines, underwater drones and long-range missile systems, relatively restrained. Whether all these claims are accurate or not, the message is unmistakable: Tehran wants Washington to understand that the next round could be more costly. The third actor is the Gulf. Saudi Arabia, under Mohammed bin Salman, has powerful economic reasons to prevent another escalation. A major American-Iranian war could threaten Saudi infrastructure, Vision 2030 projects and the enormous investments being built around them. Riyadh therefore has an incentive to use its relationship with Trump to discourage another military adventure. The UAE has likewise pursued back-channel diplomacy aimed at reducing the risk of Iranian retaliation. For the Gulf monarchies, the lesson is increasingly clear: money, investment and economic stability are more valuable than ideological confrontation. They may cooperate with Washington, but they do not want to become the battlefield. Pakistan has an opportunity—and a responsibility. With Iranian officials, including Mohammad Bagher Ghalibaf and Abbas Araghchi, expected to engage Islamabad again, Pakistan can provide a diplomatic channel between Tehran, Washington and the Gulf. The visit should not be treated merely as ceremonial diplomacy. Islamabad should push for a ceasefire mechanism, maritime de-escalation, protection of Gulf shipping, and a negotiated framework for American and Iranian security concerns. Trump now faces a historic choice: a safe exit that preserves American power, or another costly adventure that could transform Hormuz into the graveyard of his political calculations. Controlling the Strait by force is not the same as controlling the consequences. The real test of “America First” is knowing when not to fight.

For years, people uploaded photographs, videos and voice recordings believing they were sharing moments or building audiences. What many did not realise was that public material could become training data for artificial intelligence. Large AI systems may be developed using datasets containing personal information collected from websites and platforms. European regulators acknowledge that AI models can be trained on personal data, while the UK Information Commissioner says developers still need a lawful basis even when information comes from the open web. Training a general model and cloning a person are not identical. The first learns patterns across datasets; the second uses targeted samples to reproduce an identifiable voice or appearance. Yet both raise the same question: who authorised the use? A new proposition is emerging: instead of companies quietly collecting human material, people may knowingly license their faces, voices and movements for AI development or commercial digital replicas. In return, they could receive a one-time payment, royalties or a fee whenever their synthetic identity is used. This is beginning. Shutterstock operates a contributor fund that compensates contributors when material from its library is licensed for AI model development. SAG-AFTRA has negotiated protections for digital replicas. The voice platform Narrativ allows performers to set prices and advertising preferences for AI-generated versions of their voices, with payment for approved uses. At first glance, this is progress. People’s data has already been feeding digital systems, often without their knowledge, meaningful choice or financial benefit. A transparent marketplace could be fairer. At least individuals would know that a voice sample or facial scan was being collected. There would be a contract, and some value created from human identity could return to the human being. It could also create work. A person might license a recorded voice for educational narration in several languages. A model could approve a digital replica for advertisements without attending repeated shoots. People far from production centres might gain opportunities previously unavailable to them. But payment is not the same as protection. A person offered a modest amount may sign away far more than they understand. A broadly written agreement could allow a company to reproduce a face or voice for years, transfer it to other businesses, train additional models and place the replica in contexts the person would never endorse. The human receives one payment; the synthetic version may generate revenue indefinitely. Faces and voices are not ordinary digital products. A password can be changed after a breach. A face cannot. A cloned voice can imitate a family member, support a fraudulent request or manufacture a statement that was never made. The US Federal Trade Commission has warned that scammers can create convincing voice clones from short audio clips found online. The answer is not to ban every voluntary AI licence. It is to establish non-negotiable human protections. Consent must be specific, informed and renewable. Companies should state whether material will be used for training, identity replication or both. Agreements must define the product, audience, country, platform and time period. Permission for an educational video must not silently become permission for political advertising, gambling, medical claims, intimate material or religious messaging. Compensation should continue when the replica continues earning. Where a digital identity is repeatedly used, the person should receive royalties or per-use payments, not merely a small initial fee. Individuals should be able to set minimum prices, reject industries and see where their replica appeared. There must also be a genuine right to stop future use. Companies should delete source files, block new generations and notify third parties when a licence ends. Independent audits should test compliance. Strong security and penalties for leaks are essential because biometric material cannot simply be replaced. Every synthetic performance should carry visible disclosure and a machine-readable marker. The European Union’s transparency rules, applicable from 2 August 2026, require certain AI-generated or manipulated material to be identifiable and deepfakes to be disclosed. Labels will not prevent every abuse, but they help preserve the distinction between human action and machine-generated imitation. Children need stronger protection. Parents should not be able to permanently commercialise a child’s future identity. Any limited agreement should expire and require the individual’s fresh consent upon adulthood. Pakistan should treat this as urgent. As of 2026, the country still lacks a comprehensive enacted personal data protection law. This creates vulnerability just as international companies may seek diverse and comparatively inexpensive populations for AI training.  The greatest risk is not that humans will earn from AI. Fairly sharing value could correct years of silent extraction. The danger is that people will exchange permanent control for temporary payment. As AI advances, societies must recognise the face, voice and digital personality as extensions of the human person, not raw material waiting to be harvested. Without consent, continuing compensation, traceability and the power to say no, we may lose more than jobs or privacy. We may lose the trust that allows us to believe what we see, hear and recognise. AI should expand human possibility, not gradually replace human ownership of the self.

From Laraib Zahra Once upon a time, far from Earth, beyond the reach of our skies, there existed a planet called the Worthlands. In the Worthlands, there was an equal proportion of humans and ghosts. Whenever a human was born, a little ghost was born by their side. These little ghosts were called Hounds. Every Hound possessed a superpower: it could know exactly what its human companion was thinking. The entire planet was ruled by three powerful ghosts, commonly known by humans and Hounds as the Great 3Gs. Each of the three had a separate kingdom. They were the Ghost of Guilt, the Ghost of Productivity, and the Ghost of Fear. The Ghost of Guilt was the eldest of the three. He controlled the capital of the Worthlands. He had his own Guilt Police and Guilt Pumps. Guilt was a magical liquid found inside these pumps. The Guilt Police, along with the Hounds, kept a constant check on the behaviour of the people in the capital. Their job was to make sure that nobody ever ran out of fuel—the fuel of guilt. Whenever a person was caught running out of guilt, the Hounds immediately reported them to the Guilt Police. They were then provided with more guilt fuel to make sure that nobody went “insane.” The biggest crime in the capital was the Rest Crime. As soon as a person became exhausted and decided to take some rest, the Hounds would begin fiercely whispering in their ears: “Strong people don’t stop.” They would tell them not to rest until they reached somewhere. But where exactly this “somewhere” was, nobody really knew. Sometimes, when a person was genuinely unable to work any further because of an overwhelming workload, the Hounds would call specialised therapists known as the Fear Feeders from the Kingdom of Failure for counselling—a kingdom I shall discuss in greater detail later. On the other hand, the entire north of the Worthlands was ruled by the second Great Ghost: the Ghost of Productivity. Unlike the Guilt Police, who were actually in charge of the capital, there was no such police force in the north. Instead, there was a ministry known as the Ministry of Merit. The humans there were never supposed to sit idle. Instead, they were expected to work harder and harder to make sure that they remained at the top of the list maintained by the Ministry of Merit. Every year, there was a grand ceremony known as the Annual Worth Ceremony. The humans who earned the highest number of merit points received a golden star carved with their names in the Worth Register of the Ministry of Merit. Every time a human refused to rest in order to increase their productivity, the Hounds would greet them by saying: “Congratulations! You have earned three merit points.” Humans were comparatively happier in the north than in the other two kingdoms because here, they were rewarded with golden stars bearing their names. The more golden stars a human had beside their name in the Worth Register, the more likely they were to become part of the Hounds—the most respected position in the Worthlands. After all, the Hounds had the superpower to read human minds, and they could even fly. Their slogan was: “You could be doing more.” To the south lay the third kingdom—the Kingdom of Failure, ruled by the Great Ghost of Fear. This kingdom was the most terrible of them all. The humans there were weak and diseased. Every second person was a victim of anaemia. They looked as though they had been starving for days, perhaps even weeks. On the contrary, the Great Ghost of Fear was the fattest of the three ghosts. The reason for this strange contrast was hidden in the Hounds. Unlike the Hounds in the north and the capital, the Hounds in the south had a distinct name. They were called Fear Feeders. The Fear Feeders had one duty: to sense fear-bearing thoughts in human minds and suck them out, because the Great Ghost of Fear fed on those thoughts. There were many kinds of fears that humans carried in that kingdom: The fear of not doing enough. The fear of getting left behind. The fear of failure. And many more. The Fear Feeders collected these thoughts and presented them to their master. The Great Ghost of Failure had one dish that was especially dear to him. It was his favourite dish of all: “What If” Spaghetti. “What If” Spaghetti was a special dish found in all three kingdoms, but it was particularly abundant in the Kingdom of Failure. The humans looked starved because they had to constantly produce fear in their minds so that they could feed it to the Fear Feeders. These fears were produced through a process called whispering, carried out by Hounds that were not themselves Fear Feeders. Then, one day, something unexpected happened. A few Hounds disappeared. Seven Hounds. Everyone in the Worthlands was deeply concerned about their sudden disappearance. The Guilt Police, along with other investigation departments, launched a search operation. But not even a single missing Hound was found. The humans whose Hounds were missing were arrested and questioned. The results of the investigation shocked everyone in the Worthlands. The Hounds could only exist if their humans obeyed them. This was something that neither the Hounds nor the humans had ever known before. The humans whose Hounds had disappeared were, surprisingly, close friends. During the investigation, they confessed that one day, they had decided to step back from their usual exhausting routines and take a break to rest their tired and ruptured nerves. All of a sudden, seven Hounds appeared and began whispering their usual slogans: “Strong people don’t stop.” “What if you get left behind?” And their most favourite: “You could be doing more.” The humans became lost in their thoughts once again and decided to give up on their plan to rest. But then, suddenly, a voice echoed through the room: “But