The servers hummed like a living thing, data pulsing through fiber-optic veins as Mwitter went live across the globe. Magina's holographic display flickered in front of me, real-time analytics painting the air blue with user metrics. 50,000 registered accounts, not bad for Day One.
I leaned back in my chair, watching the numbers climb. In 2004, the internet was still a novelty—dial-up connections, clunky desktop browsers, and the occasional tech-savvy college student who knew what "Wi-Fi" was. Social media? Practically nonexistent.
And then came Mwitter.
Manhattan, Coffee Shop,
"Wait, you actually downloaded that thing?" A middle-aged businessman in a wrinkled suit squinted at his younger colleague's phone.
The tech enthusiast grinned, fingers flying across the keypad. "Yeah, why not? It's free. Look—I just posted a picture of my lunch. My sister in Chicago can see it right now."
His coworker blinked. "That's... actually kind of amazing."
Brooklyn, Subway,
A teenager scrolled through his feed, snorting at a post from The Daily Bugle. "Politicians are a mess," he muttered, showing his friend.
His friend leaned in, eyes widening. "Wait, these updates live? No waiting for the evening news?"
"Nope. Instant. And you can comment too—look, people are roasting him!"
Los Angeles, College Campus,
"WEOTT!" A frat boy shot up from the bleachers, fist-pumping.
"Party at Johnson's tonight! Just got the Mwitter notification!"
His friends crowded around, phones out. "No way, you didn't even text anyone?"
"Why text when you can just post?"
Mwitter was sleek. Intuitive. Addictive.
The interface—clean blue and white—felt like a breath of fresh air compared to the clunky forums and archaic chat rooms of the early 2000s. Instant updates. Seamless sharing. And, most dangerously, 'memes. Mwitter were designed to be visually pleasing and attractive, the simplicity and the user-friendly app really, made users that uses them felt attached the moment they used it
And thus, a new culture was born overnight.
Queens, Basement Apartment
"You really trust this thing?" A paranoid conspiracy theorist eyed his friend's phone like it was a ticking bomb. "How do we know the government isn't spying on us?"
His friend rolled his eyes. "Read the terms, man. 'Guaranteed user data protection from any agencies (Government or Corporations).' This is Shadow Magina's company—the same people who fixed The Daily Bugle's trash reporting. You really think they'd sell us out?"
The paranoid man hesitated. "...Fair point."
Behind the scenes, Magina's encryption protocols were airtight. Every data packet, every login, every post—wrapped in layers of quantum-level security. Governments scrambled to crack it. Corporations offered billions for access.
They got nothing.
Meanwhile, the user count exploded.
Day 7 Analytics:
5,000,000 active users.
Mwitter wasn't just a hit—it was a phenomenon. Server farms spanned three continents, employing thousands. The app localized seamlessly—Japanese in Tokyo, French in Paris, Spanish in Buenos Aires.
Forge burst into my office; eyes wild with excitement. "We're trending in Europe! And—wait for it—memes are going viral!"
Kwannon, ever the skeptic, crossed her arms. "This is dangerous. Too much attention."
I smirked. "Exactly." The world had just taken its first step into the digital age. And I owned the road. The headlines splashed across newspapers and TV screens worldwide painted two very different pictures of Magina Electronics' meteoric rise:
"Mwitter User Base Skyrockets – The Dawn of a New Digital Age!" – Daily Bugle.
"Is Mwitter Breeding Radicals? Concerns Over Unchecked Free Speech" – New York Times.
"Tech Experts Call Mwitter 'The Most Addictive App Since Solitaire'" – Wall Street Journal
I smirked as I scrolled through the polarized coverage on my tablet. The irony wasn't lost on me—the very publications criticizing Mwitter were using it to spread their hit pieces. A particularly scathing editorial from the Washington Post titled "The Dangers of Instant Gratification Social Media" had already been shared 50,000 times... on Mwitter.
Magina's hologram materialized beside me, her voice laced with amusement. "The algorithm is successfully diverting 92.7% of users away from negative press. The remaining 7.3% are either journalists or professional contrarians."
I leaned back in my chair, watching real-time data streams flicker across the screens. "Let them talk. Every critical article just drives more traffic our way."
These smear campaign barely worked, as the users barely sees them nor even paid attention to this sort of article. Why, it is because secretly Mwitter utilized the Algorithm to steer users away from this smear article. Making the one that starts the smear campaign frustrated. Unless I allowed this campaign to be able to touch anything I want, no one would be able to see their attempts to discourage the spread of new internet age that were pioneered and begins by me.
SHIELD Headquarters – Classified Briefing Room,
Director Fury's eye twitched as Maria Hill delivered her report. "So let me get this straight," he growled, slamming a fist on the table. "We can track a Hydra operative through twelve layers of proxy servers in Kazakhstan, but we can't crack a *social media company's* firewall?"
Hill didn't flinch. "Correct, sir. Their security protocols adapt in real-time. Every penetration attempt triggers an immediate countermeasure." She pulled up a holographic map showing thousands of red dots converging on ME servers worldwide. "In the past 72 hours alone, they've repelled over 200,000 attacks—including ours—while filing 1,437 police reports against corporate espionage."
Fury's remaining eye narrowed. "What about Stark?"
---
Malibu, California – Stark Mansion,
Tony Stark's workshop looked like a tornado had swept through it. Three shattered keyboards littered the floor beside an overturned coffee maker. The billionaire genius was currently attempting to strangle his fourth keyboard, veins bulging in his forehead.
"You. Absolute. Bastard " he seethed at the lines of incomprehensible code flashing across his screens.
"Sir, might I suggest—"
"No, Jarvis! No suggestions!" Tony jabbed a finger at the screen. "This isn't coding! This is digital witchcraft! Who the hell uses quantum encryption for a messaging app?!"
"An entity far more advanced than ourselves, apparently,"* Jarvis replied dryly. *"Shall I order more keyboards?"
Tony collapsed into his chair, running grease-stained hands through his hair. After four sleepless days, even his ego couldn't deny the truth—he'd met his match. "Delete all traces of this... humiliating incident. And Jarvis?"
"Yes, sir?"
"If Pepper asks, I was working on renewable energy. Not getting schooled by some basement-dwelling hacker."
Undisclosed Hydra Facility,
A dozen technicians jumped as their mainframe exploded in a shower of sparks. Alarms wailed as fire suppression systems activated.
"Report!" the lead scientist barked.
"Counter-hack traced us!" a junior operative coughed through the smoke. "They—they sent a message..."
On the sole surviving monitor, flashing red text appeared:
"[ATTEMPTING TO STEAL USER DATA? HOW... UNORIGINAL. – M]"
Then the screen went black permanently.
---
Back in my office, Magina pinged me with an alert. "Hydra's Austrian server farm just self-destructed. Shall I send flowers to their funeral?"
I chuckled, watching Mwitter's user counter tick past 6 million. "Nah. Let the bodies hit the floor."
A lot of people try to hack Mwitter and Magina Electronics, but no one were even able to come close in cracking the first layer of our Firewall and security. Why? it was simple, because Magina and me, created everything that we have and used, on a codding language that I created. Not something that were available in the current world. unless they knew what language I use, there is no way in hell that they can even see what I'm doing.