The World of Microsoft -Abu Mohammad Shahed

No one knew exactly when it began. Some said it happened overnight; others believed it had been slowly unfolding in the background for years. The moment the world blinked awake, the sky had already changed color, painted with millions of faint glowing squares that shimmered like digital constellations. Screens, windows, and codes had bled into reality itself, transforming Earth into something new, something called the World of Microsoft.

It wasn’t a planet made of circuits or steel. It still had trees, oceans, mountains, and the laughter of children echoing through the streets. But everything was stitched together by living software that hummed beneath the surface. Every leaf had data embedded in its veins, every river carried streams of encrypted light, and even the clouds rearranged themselves in neat, pixelated forms before shifting back to soft, fluffy cotton. It was beautiful and eerie at once.

For the children of this world, school wasn’t just blackboards and chalk anymore. Classrooms had become holo-chambers where knowledge downloaded itself into glowing orbs that floated before their eyes. If you touched one of the orbs, the story of a civilization, the formula of an equation, or the vision of a faraway galaxy poured into your mind like liquid light. Still, the most curious among the students weren’t satisfied with simply touching the orbs—they wanted to dive into them.

That’s where three friends, namely Arib, Jayed, and Malik, came in.

They weren’t explorers in the traditional sense. No spaceships, no swords, no laser guns. What they had was curiosity and a knack for bending the rules of the World of Microsoft. Everyone had a personal “Window,” a square-shaped digital companion that hovered above their wrists, glowing in shades of azure. Most people used their windows to check messages, track time, or translate thoughts into holograms. But Arib, Jayed, and Malik had figured out a way to step through theirs, like portals, and slip into layers of the system hidden from ordinary eyes.

One night, under a violet sky filled with drifting data-stars, they gathered by the old oak tree in their neighborhood park. Arib pressed his hand against her window, and it expanded like liquid glass until it framed a glowing doorway. Beyond it stretched a corridor of endless code, cascading symbols in blues and silvers.

“Ready?” He whispered, his eyes sparkling.

Jayed smirked. “Always.”

Malik adjusted his glasses, nervous but thrilled. “Let’s not crash the system this time.”

They stepped through.

Inside, the world was alive with circuits the size of skyscrapers, forests of binary streams, and rivers of scrolling text that glowed brighter than neon. This was the hidden heart of Microsoft, a place most adults dismissed as myth. But for the kids, it was a playground.

Yet tonight felt different. The code didn’t hum with its usual calm rhythm; it crackled with unease, like a storm was forming. The trio followed a trail of flickering symbols that darted away from them, leading deeper into the system. At the edge of a colossal data canyon, they found it: a creature made of fractured code, its body glitching in and out of existence.

It looked like a wolf, but its eyes were empty windows, hollow and staring. It howled, and the sound was a distortion that made the whole canyon ripple.

“What is that?” Malik breathed.

Arib tilted his head. “A bug. Butalive.”

Bugs weren’t supposed to move. Bugs weren’t supposed to hunt.

The wolf lunged. The children scattered. Jayed skidded along a bridge of floating text, while Arib conjured a protective shield from his window, the transparent surface glowing brightly. Malik reached into the code river, pulling out a shimmering command line like a rope. He flung it at the wolf, but the creature bit through it with a snarl.

“Think!” Arib shouted. “It’s feeding on corrupted data, and we have to rewrite it!”

Jayed snapped his fingers, grinning even in panic. “Then let’s give it a patch.”

He pressed both palms into his window, pulling up a glowing cube of pure blue. Together, the three of them charged. The wolf swiped, glitching their shields, but they hurled the cube straight into its chest. The creature froze, pixels scattering, then melted into harmless streams of corrected code that flowed back into the canyon.

The storm in the system eased. The glowing rivers calmed. The silence afterward was so heavy, the kids could hear their hearts racing.

“What if there are more of them?” Malik asked softly.

“There will be,” Arib said, his gaze distant. “This world is built on endless code. If bugs can come alive here, we’re not just explorers anymore. We’re guardians.”

The thought made all three of them stand taller. They weren’t just sneaking into the system to play; they were protecting the world of Microsoft itself.

When they finally stepped back through their windows into the night park, the oak tree rustled with digital fireflies glowing in its branches. None of them spoke for a while, but the air between them buzzed with something electric that was an understanding that their adventures had only just begun.

Days turned into weeks, and the children continued their journeys through the hidden layers. They discovered cities made entirely of floating icons, where skyscrapers were stacked folders and streets were paved with glowing taskbars. They swam through oceans of memory where forgotten files drifted like ghost ships, and they climbed mountains whose peaks were shaped like spinning cursors. Everywhere they went, they found traces of the living bugs that were sometimes as small as glitching birds and sometimes as massive as dragons made of red error codes.

Each battle tested their courage, their friendship, and their ability to think creatively. And each victory rewove the balance of the World of Microsoft. The people outside, in the ordinary towns and villages, never knew why their skies looked clearer, why their gardens thrived brighter, or why their windows worked without a single error. They never knew that three children were secretly patching the cracks of their reality.

But the kids didn’t need recognition. The thrill of the adventure, the joy of creating solutions, and the bond they shared were enough.

One night, as they sat again under the oak tree, Jayed leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “Do you ever wonder if we’ll grow too old for this?”

Aria smirked, his window reflecting in his eyes. “Maybe. But the world of Microsoft isn’t about age. It’s about imagination. As long as we keep that alive, we’ll always belong here.”
Malik nodded thoughtfully. “Besides, who else is going to save the world from bugs?”

They laughed together, their voices mingling with the hum of the digital constellations above. Somewhere far in the code, a new ripple stirred, but the children were ready. After all, this was their world now: a world where technology wasn’t just machines and screens but a living adventure waiting to be explored.

And they would keep exploring.

Forever, if they had to.