Code and Conquest
**May 7, 2002**
**Sharma University, Rewari**
The sun dipped low over Rewari, casting a warm amber glow across the campus, its light filtering through the office window where Jatin sat. A faint breeze stirred the blinds, rustling the stack of papers on his desk—VedaOS sales reports, each line a pulse of triumph. His fingers, rough with ink and calluses from weeks of relentless work, traced the latest numbers: 40 full-version users on May 6 had exploded to 150 in Europe alone by Tuesday morning, a wildfire spreading through forums, dorms, and tech hubs. His mind—crisp and electric since Sunday's boost—hummed with calculations: $10 a sale, $1,500 in a week, rupees piling into the university's account. He leaned back, the chair creaking under his weight, a grin tugging at his lips, the faint tang of yesterday's cigarette clinging to his jacket.
Outside, the campus buzzed with new life. Dust clouds billowed near the sports ground where construction had begun—new buildings for engineering, computer science, a library wing, R&D labs—shovels clanging, workers shouting over the groan of a bulldozer. Jatin had greenlit it yesterday, the VedaOS cash a lifeline turning his dreams to brick and mortar. He lit a cigarette, smoke curling into the dusk, its bite sharp on his tongue, and exhaled slowly, watching the haze drift. "They're buying it," he murmured, voice rough with pride, the numbers replaying in his head—150 users, growing fast, a tidal wave he'd barely begun to ride.
---
**May 8, 2002**
Wednesday dawned hot, the air thick with dust and the clatter of construction. Jatin strode to the site, boots crunching gravel, the scent of wet cement and diesel sharp in his nose. Workers in faded vests hammered stakes, their sweat glinting in the sun, while a foreman—Ramesh, a wiry man with a graying mustache—shouted orders, his voice hoarse. "Sir, foundation's set—two months, we'll have the labs up," Ramesh said, wiping his brow with a rag. Jatin nodded, clapping his shoulder, dust rising. "Good—keep it tight," he replied, his 140% mind already sketching timelines, costs, possibilities.
Back in the office, Kamla Aunty shuffled in, her blue sari swishing, broom trailing a soft rhythm. "Jatin, beta, you're everywhere—exams, buildings, that computer thing!" she said, her smile warm as she set a chipped mug of chai on his desk, steam curling up. He chuckled, sipping the sweet warmth, its heat cutting through the morning's grit. "It's just starting, Kamla Aunty," he said, ink smudging his fingers as he checked his email—VedaOS sales spiking, 300 users now, Europe ablaze with downloads.
---
**Across the Ocean: Microsoft Headquarters, Redmond, USA**
In a sleek office tower, Bill Gates sat at a glass desk, the hum of air conditioning a cold contrast to the heat rising in his chest. A monitor glowed before him, VedaOS's infinity logo taunting from a tech blog: "80% more user-friendly, $10, outpacing Windows." His coffee sat untouched, its bitter steam fading, as he scrolled—1500 users by Wednesday night, numbers climbing hourly. He slammed a fist on the desk, the thud echoing, his jaw tight. "A backward country like India?" he growled, voice low and sharp, disbelief lacing every word. "Better than us—cheaper than us?"
His assistant, Sarah Kline—a brisk woman with short blonde hair—flinched at the sound, her clipboard trembling. "Sir, it's gaining traction—Europe's raving," she said, voice cautious. Bill's eyes narrowed, glasses glinting under fluorescent lights. "Get me Patel," he snapped, referring to Vikram Patel, Microsoft's sharp-edged development manager. Minutes later, Vikram strode in, his tie slightly askew, coffee mug sloshing. "Boss, what's up?" he asked, brow furrowing. Bill jabbed a finger at the screen. "This VedaOS—some Indian kid's toy—it's eating us alive. Hack it. Break it. Now."
Vikram blinked, then nodded, swallowing hard. "I'll assemble a team—cybersecurity, coders, the best," he said, voice steadying. Bill wasn't done. "And email this Jatin Sharma—offer to buy it. Fifty grand, cash. We'll bury it." Sarah scribbled fast, her pen scratching, as Vikram left, the door clicking shut with a cold finality. Bill leaned back, chair squeaking, staring at the screen, frustration simmering.
---
**May 9, 2002**
**Sharma University**
Thursday's sun baked the campus, construction dust coating Jatin's boots as he paced the site, Ramesh barking updates: "Walls up by June, sir!" Jatin grinned, clapping his shoulder again, the air thick with progress. In the office, his computer pinged—an email from Microsoft: "$50,000 for VedaOS—exclusive rights." He read it twice, mind slicing through the offer, and laughed—a rough, rolling sound that filled the room. "Buy it? Bury it, more like," he muttered, fingers hovering over the keys. He typed back, polite but firm: "Thank you, but VedaOS isn't for sale. It's ours—India's." Send.
He leaned back, chair creaking, a smirk tugging his lips. If he'd known Microsoft's next move—hacking—he'd have laughed harder. VedaOS was a fortress, its code a decade ahead, layered with 2025 encryption he'd woven at 140%. Let them try—ten years wouldn't crack it. Outside, a worker's hammer clanged, a rhythm of defiance, dust swirling in the breeze.
---
**May 10–11, 2002**
**Redmond and Rewari**
In Redmond, Vikram's team—five coders, bleary-eyed, coffee mugs piling up—hunched over screens, lines of code scrolling fast. "It's locked tight—RSA-2048, custom protocols," a young hacker, Priya Chen, groaned, her fingers trembling from caffeine. "Ten years ahead, easy," another muttered, sweat beading on his brow. Vikram paced, tie undone, voice sharp. "Keep going—Bill's breathing down my neck!" Hours bled into days, their screens flashing errors, VedaOS unyielding.
In Rewari, Jatin juggled chaos—construction roaring, emails flooding from users: "Smooth as silk!" "Best $10 ever!" Sales hit 500 by Friday, 800 by Saturday, Europe a blaze of downloads—London, Berlin, Paris. He sat in the lab, dust on his boots, coding updates with his speed, the infinity logo glowing on his screen. Kamla brought chai, her laugh warm. "Beta, you're a storm now!" He grinned, sipping, the sweetness cutting the dust in his throat.
---
**May 12–13, 2002**
**The Tide Turns**
Sunday night, Jatin sat on the porch, the Royal Enfield gleaming under the streetlamp, cigarette smoke curling into the cooling air. The System chimed, its voice crisp:
[*Mind Matrix: 85 of 150 students studied seriously. 57% participation. Students at 145%. Host cognition at 145%.*]
[*Body Matrix: 56 of 59 students trained seriously. 38% participation. Students at 145%. Host physicality and skills at 145%.*]
A rush surged—thoughts crystalline, VedaOS's code a symphony in his head; body humming, muscles taut with new strength. Sales hit 1,200—$12,000, rupees flooding in. Monday, he strode to the site, Ramesh shouting, "Labs framing up, sir!" Jatin nodded, dust coating his hands, pride swelling.
In Redmond, Vikram slumped at his desk, coffee cold, team exhausted. "We can't break it," Priya said, voice flat. Bill stormed in, face red. "What do you mean, can't?" he barked. Vikram sighed, tie limp. "It's futuristic—ten years, minimum." Bill's fist clenched, coffee mug rattling, frustration boiling over.
---
**May 14, 2002**
**Sharma University**
Tuesday, Jatin sat in his office, the air thick with ink and chai, construction's clang a steady pulse outside. Sales ticked to 1,500—$15,000, a fortune in Rewari. He lit a cigarette, smoke curling, and grinned, rough and real. Microsoft's offer, their hacking—child's play against VedaOS, against him. The campus thrummed—buildings rising, students dreaming, India waking. He exhaled, the sting sharp in his eyes, and murmured, "We're just starting."