The sky was heavy today, weeping in a relentless downpour over the frantic streets of Dhaka. But there was no poetry in this rain—only a lingering bitterness.
Niloy stood at the entrance of his office building, clutching a small cardboard box.
Inside were the remnants of five years of his life: a battered five-year-old laptop, a chipped mug, and a few stray pens.
For half a decade, he had poured his soul into this company, working day and night, only to be discarded like a stray dog.
Niloy's shirt clung to his skin, soaked in a mixture of sweat and rainwater.
His mind raced back to the scene from just thirty minutes ago.
Arman Saheb, one of the company's lead investors, had carelessly spilled coffee on Niloy's desk. When Niloy had calmly remarked, "Sir, that wasn't right," he hadn't realized he was signing his own professional death warrant.
That was his only crime.
Arman Saheb had erupted in a fit of ego, screaming at the top of his lungs—how dare a lowly clerk lecture him? Within minutes, Niloy was summoned to the boss's office and handed a termination letter.
"What use does a pauper have for self-respect?"—the boss's gravelly voice still echoed painfully in Niloy's ears.
Niloy stepped onto the pavement. Water seeped into his shoes with every squelching step. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet; it was soaked through.
Fumbling inside, he found a single, solitary ten-taka note. His father needed five thousand taka for his diabetes medication by tomorrow, or his condition would turn critical.
Yet here Niloy stood, without even enough money for a single meal.
"O God, do You even exist?" Niloy cried out, looking up at the grey expanse. "If You do, why do You play with the lives of people like us?"
At that exact moment, something impossible happened. Like a flash of cerulean lightning, a blinding blue light erupted before Niloy's eyes. He slammed his eyelids shut, but to his horror, the light remained visible even in the darkness of his mind.
Slowly, the radiance stabilized, forming a translucent digital screen. Niloy opened his eyes, but the screen didn't vanish. It floated right in front of him, mimicking a computer's 'Taskbar.'
Deep blue text began to crawl across the interface:
[ System Initializing... ]
[ Global Data Syncing... 10%... 45%... 88%... 100% ]
[ Integration Complete! ]
[ Welcome, User Niloy. 'Modern God's Taskbar' is now active. ]
Niloy froze. People hurried past him on the street, oblivious to the glowing construct in front of him. He wondered if the trauma had finally snapped his mind.
He shook his head violently, but the digital window tracked with his vision perfectly.
Suddenly, a red icon began to blink in the corner of the taskbar.
[ 1 New Mission Pending ]
Instinctively, Niloy reached out his hand toward the imaginary screen.
To his shock, as his finger made contact, a crisp sound echoed in his mind—Ping!
[ Mission Name: The God's First Step ]
Description: A black Mercedes Maybach is parked right in front of you. Its owner, Arman Saheb, has wounded your pride.
A 'Modern God' never tolerates an insult. Crush his arrogance within 10 minutes.
Requirement: Use Arman Saheb's hidden weakness to humiliate him publicly.
Reward: 500,000 BDT in cash (Direct Bank Transfer) and 1 'Mystery Box.'
Penalty: The last 10 taka in your pocket will be lost in the sewer, and you will face 48 hours of extreme misfortune.
Niloy stared at the text, his heart hammering against his ribs. Five lakh taka? Was this a dream? He looked across the street.
There it was—the sleek black Mercedes.
Inside, Arman Saheb was visible through the window, laughing into his phone.
He was likely regaling someone with the story of how he had just fired Niloy.
A sudden, fierce resolve flared up inside Niloy. If he was going crazy, he might as well see this madness through to the end.
He tapped the 'Scan' option on the taskbar.
Immediately, a progress bar appeared over Arman Saheb's head.
[ Scanning Target: Arman Mallick... ]
[ Secret Found: Target is laundering company funds into a private account. Evidence located in his phone's 'Hidden' folder named 'Project X'. ]
A jolt of adrenaline surged through Niloy. He had always suspected Arman was corrupt, but he never had proof.
Now, he didn't just have information—he had the exact location of the evidence.
Ignoring the rain, Niloy marched toward the car. Arman Saheb rolled down the window, a sneer plastered on his face.
"Well, if it isn't our 'noble' clerk! What's the matter? Did the rain wash some sense into you? Come to beg for your job back?"
Niloy didn't smile. He leaned against the car door and spoke in a low, chilling tone.
"Mr. Arman, I'm not the one who will be begging. You are. I wonder what the board members would think if they found out about 'Project X'? That hidden folder on your phone isn't as secure as you think."
The sneer vanished instantly. Arman's pupils dilated, and beads of sweat began to form on his brow, despite the cool rain.
He stammered, "W-what... what are you talking about? What Project X?"
"Don't waste time," Niloy said, his voice growing firmer. "Transfer five lakh taka to my account right now, or this information goes straight to your boss's inbox.
I have nothing left to lose, but you? You have a prison cell waiting for you."
Niloy noticed a countdown timer ticking away on his taskbar: [ 02:45 seconds remaining ].
Arman frantically checked his phone. Pure terror washed over his face.
He couldn't comprehend how this insignificant boy knew his deepest, darkest secret. With trembling hands, he opened his mobile banking app.
"I'll... I'll give you the money. Just please, don't tell anyone!"
Exactly one minute later, the old smartphone in Niloy's pocket vibrated.
He pulled it out to see a notification:
"Your A/C 4452 is credited with BDT 500,000.00. Current Balance: BDT 500,010.00"
Niloy stood paralyzed. The taskbar in front of his eyes began to glow with a brilliant golden hue.
[ Mission Accomplished! ]
[ Rewards have been distributed. ]
[ You are now Level 1. New Skill Unlocked: 'God's Eye - Level 1' ]
Niloy didn't spare Arman another glance. He began to walk through the rain, but this time, his chest was burning with a new power.
He realized that this city was no longer his prison—it was his playground.
This 'Modern God's Taskbar' would take him to heights common men couldn't even fathom. He remembered the boss's words: "What use does a pauper have for self-respect?"
Niloy whispered to the wind, "From this day forward, I will be the one who determines the respect and fate of this city."
Lightning flashed across the sky again, but to Niloy, it no longer felt like a mockery. It felt like a royal fanfare for his coronation.