In her past life, this was the year she first discovered a strange little game four years later—Flappy Bird. It was stupid, addictive, pixelated—and it made its unknown Vietnamese creator millions, before he pulled it off the app store claiming it was "too addictive." That had always stayed with her.
Now she was sixteen again. And this time, she would launch it first.
She grinned to herself. "The game that frustrated a generation... will be mine."
---
She had already sketched out the bird. A round little thing with wide eyes and a constant look of panic. Bani wasn't a coder, but she remembered the mechanics—tap to flap, dodge the pipes, game over with a loud crash if you fail. It wasn't complicated. Just timing and obsession.
The only problem?
At seventeen, most girls were worried about college entrance exams or secret crushes.
Bani? She was about to create a million-dollar mobile game.
Because she had a secret.
A secret no one in this world would believe — not even if she screamed it from the rooftops. Yes
In her other life, she remembered everything. The rise of viral mobile games. The chaos Flappy Bird created. The millions it earned in ad revenue before being shut down.
Now it was 2009. The world still didn't know what an app store addiction looked like.
But she did.
And tonight… she would begin.
The road from Mysore to Bangalore stretched longer than usual that day. Dust clung to the windows, traffic crept slowly, and Bani's eyelids felt heavier with every passing hour. By the time they reached home, her body ached with the quiet fatigue only familiar journeys can bring.
Lunch helped—hot rasam, steamed rice, and fried curd chillies on the side—but it was the sweet boxes Appa placed on the table that truly lifted her spirits.
"Badam halwa, laddoos, and Mysore Pak!" Manu announced as if unveiling a treasure. "Appa went to that Mandya shop again."
Of course, he did.
Their father couldn't resist stopping at that tiny store off the highway. And neither could the rest of the family. Because in this house, sweets were more than dessert—they were tradition.
And like all sacred things, they came with rules.
"Divide everything in four," Manu said seriously, holding up the knife. "One each for us, two for Amma and Appa."
"Don't act like you invented the rule," Bani said, stretching lazily. "You're just scared I'll eat more than you."
"As if you won't hide some in the fridge again," he smirked.
She rolled her eyes. Because he was right.
---
Bani had a habit.
She would eat one or two sweets during the day and quietly save her remaining share—usually neatly wrapped in foil, hidden behind the curd or under a box of roti.
But Manu—her older brother with a radar for anything sugary—had a worse habit.
He would wake up early. Not to study. Not to exercise.
But to raid the fridge.
Before even brushing his teeth.
And somehow, every time, her sweets would vanish.
She'd open the fridge in the morning, sleepy-eyed and hopeful, only to find an empty plate or half-licked wrapper.
"MANU!" she'd shout from the kitchen.
"I thought you left it for me!" he'd shout back, shameless.
"You KNEW I didn't!"
And yet… every time, she still kept some behind.
Knowing they wouldn't survive the night.
Maybe it was habit.
Maybe it was hope.
Maybe, deep down, it was just love wrapped in jaggery and ghee.
It's always like that full of love and cute fighting.
After a warm family dinner filled with laughter and a cute little fight over the last gulab jamun, Bani and her younger brother Manu retreated to their shared bedroom. The soft hum of the ceiling fan and faint city sounds outside created a cozy lullaby.
Manu curled up under his Spiderman bedsheet and dozed off almost instantly, his breathing turning slow and steady.
But Bani lay wide awake on her side of the room, the glow of her tablet lighting up her determined face. The moment Manu's light snore confirmed he was asleep, she quietly sat up and began her secret search — for the legendary Flappy Bird game. She had heard it was nearly impossible to find now, deleted from app stores and wrapped in a layer of internet nostalgia.
So she reached her magical space for help.
Where can I get the information about how to create the Flappy Bird game?"
Around her, the shelves of the floating space library shimmered with countless books, each glowing faintly in the cosmic dark. But Bani didn't want to go through every single one — she didn't have all night. So she asked again, more clearly this time.
The space responded.
From the center of the wreck, a single book rose upward, glowing like pure light. It floated toward her gently, its pages fluttering though there was no wind. There were no words on the cover—just a flickering image of a tiny pixelated bird.
A calm voice echoed around her.
Host > "Copy this book. It holds everything you need—the logic, the physics, the sprites, the code, and the secrets behind how Flappy Bird was made. Each element is explained. Copy it, and the knowledge will be yours."
Bani reached for the glowing book, her fingers tingling as they made contact. In that moment, she knew—this wasn't just about making a game. It was about learning how things worked. About building her own world, one pixel at a time.
Though Bani held the glowing Flappy Bird book in her hands, a wave of uncertainty settled over her.
"I don't know how to code," she murmured to herself. "I've only ever used computers for making presentations and typing notes. I don't know anything about building games or artificial intelligence..."
She sat quietly in the soft glow of her space wreck, surrounded by stars and silent bookshelves. In both her real life and this hidden world, she'd never gone beyond the basics of PowerPoint, Excel, and Office tools—just enough for schoolwork, not enough to build anything magical.
Sensing her hesitation, the space responded once more.
From the far end of the library, a gentle hum began. A stream of glowing books floated toward her, each with a unique color and symbol on its cover. As they approached, their titles revealed themselves one by one:
"Computer Basics for Creators"
"Beginner's Coding: From Zero to Python"
"Logic Through Art: Understanding How Programs Work"
"Building Simple Games: Your First Interactive Project"
"AI for Curious Minds: A Creative Starter Guide"
"From Arts to Algorithms: Learning Step by Step"
Bani blinked in awe. "So many books… but how long will it take me to learn all this?"
The space whispered softly:
> "You don't have to read them. You only need to copy them."
At that moment, she stretched out her hand, touched the first book — and in a fraction of a second, its knowledge flowed into her. Not like reading, but more like remembering something she already knew. A warm rush passed through her mind. File structures, basic coding concepts, visual design tools—everything was suddenly clear.
One by one, she copied the books: coding, logic, game design, AI. Each one made her stronger, more confident. She wasn't just an arts student anymore. She was becoming a creator, a thinker, a digital dreamer.
She smiled, her eyes glowing in the starlight.
> "Now I can build my version of Flappy Bird. And maybe even more."
The space hummed in approval. Her real journey had just begun.