 After the tales of Black Moon, Shadowgate and Nexus, a new software was emerged out of existence, which is way worse than you'd expect. It all started in 2001, where a worker at Microsoft, who is nicknamed Marty, was working on some updates on some Windows systems. While Marty was doing so, he suddenly received a phone call. Hello? Hello? You're the one that's working on the new operating system, aren't you? Well, yeah. Why do you ask? I don't know. I just wanted to tell you that I have a problem with my computer. How do you know? I have been receiving some cryptic messages on my computer recently. Oh, yeah? What kind of messages? They are gibberish. Marty's curiosity was piqued by the caller's cryptic messages. He leaned back in his swivel chair, absentmindedly twirling a pen between his fingers. The office around him hummed with the usual sounds of keyboards clacking and distant conversations, but his focus was solely on the mysterious caller. Gibberish? That's quite unusual. Can you describe the messages in more detail? It's hard to explain. They look like random characters and symbols, like someone mashed their keyboard. But they seem intentional. Marty furrowed his brow. The thought of deliberately constructed gibberish messages on a computer wasn't settling. It wasn't something he had encountered before in his years of software development. Have you tried restarting your computer? Maybe it's just a glitch or some kind of coding error. I've tried everything. Rebooting, running diagnostics, scanning for viruses, nothing helps. And the messages, they are becoming more coherent, like they are trying to convey something. The enemies in the caller's voice was palpable. Marty's mind raced, considering various possibilities. Perhaps it was a prank, or maybe some bizarre form of malware was causing the issue. Regardless, his instincts told him that this was far from a typical tech support call. Okay, I'm intrigued. Can you give me remote access to your computer? I'll take a look myself. I appreciate it, but there's something else you should know. Yes, late at night, I see famed images flicker on my screen. They are like glimpses into a distorted world. A shiver ran down Marty's spine as he processed the caller's words. The idea of phantom images appearing on a screen wasn't Kenny, and he couldn't help but imagine eerie shapes dancing in the darkness. I'm not sure I understand. Images? What do they look like? It's hard to describe. Human faces, surreal landscapes, and strange symbols. They are fleeting, like they were there one moment, and on the next. As the caller described the enigmatic images, Marty's thoughts drifted to the tales of black moon, shadow gate and nexus, the software horrors that had captured the imagination of the online community. Could it be that Windows 2001 was about to join their eerie ranks? Listen, I want to help you figure this out. Images connect remotely tonight, when the images usually appear. I'll see if I can identify the source of these messages and images. Thank you. I feel like I'm losing my mind over this. It's like my computer is trying to communicate with me in ways I can't comprehend. Marty's heart raced with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He couldn't shake the feeling that this encounter was not just a technical issue but something far more unsettling, an exploration into the unknown depths of software and the human mind. And so, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the office, Marty prepared for a night that would forever change his perception of technology and reality. Marty's days turned into nights as he delved deeper into the mysteries of the caller's computer. The weight of anticipation hung heavy in the air as he prepared to establish a remote connection with the caller's system, hoping to unveil the truth behind the gibberish messages and flittering images. But even as he worked, memories of a peculiar commercial began to surface. He recalled seeing a TV ad from years ago, a promotional spot for the ill-fated Windows 2001. The ad had featured none other than Steve Ballmer, Microsoft's enthusiastic CEO at the time, touting the software's revolutionary features and user-friendly interface. It was a glimpse into the past, a time when the promise of technology seemed boundless. What had caught Marty's attention though was the brief appearance of an animated girl, the centerpiece of the ad. She had a certain uncanny quality, her movements fluid yet slightly off-kilter, as if she existed in a realm between reality and the digital world. The animation style wasn't mistakenly leech-rank in productions, known for their distinctive and somewhat eerie creations. He couldn't shake the feeling that the girl's animated presence was significant, a puzzle piece waiting to be fit into the larger picture. Her animated visage was provided by an unknown female actress, a detail that had initially seemed unimportant but now carried a weight of its own. As the clock struck midnight, Marty initiated the remote connection with the caller's computer. The screen flickered, and a window opened, displaying a live feed of the caller's monitor. The room was dimly lit, and the caller's voice trembled with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. I can't see the screen, Marty. But I'm telling you, these messages and images, they aren't like anything I've seen before. Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this. Let's see if we can capture one of these images as they appear. As the minutes turned into hours, Marty's eyes remained fixed on the screen. Suddenly a strange pattern of symbols began to materialize, forming a coherent shape that seemed to shift and warp. It was the kind of pattern that defied explanation, its intricacies beyond the grasp of human understanding. Marty, do you see that? It's happening again. I see it. Hold on, let me try to capture it. Marty quickly snapped a screenshot of the enigmatic pattern, his heart racing. He had captured a piece of the puzzle, a glimpse into the anomaly that had haunted the caller's computer. As he stared at the screenshot, he couldn't help but wonder. What did it mean? Was there a connection to the commercial, the animated girl, and the unsettling images that flickered across the caller's screen? Marty's mind swirled with questions, his determination to unravel the truth growing stronger with each passing moment. Went forward to May of 2001, where Windows 2001 was released. The anticipation had been building for months, with tech enthusiasts and ordinary users alike eager to experience the latest evolution of computing. The software came in sleek, futuristic packaging, adorned with the Windows logo that had become synonymous with technological progress. Marty watched as the world embraced Windows 2001 with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. He couldn't help but feel a sense of responsibility, a connection to the software he had helped shape. The memories of the late night remote connection, the cryptic messages, and the unsettling images lingered in his mind, casting a shadow over the release. The software's interface was a blend of familiarity and innovation. Windows opened and closed seamlessly, applications responded with lightning speed, and the overall user experience wasn't like anything that had come before. Yet, even as users marveled at the advancements, there was an undercurrent of a knees, an unspoken understanding that something beyond the surface was at play. Reports of strange occurrences began to surface. Users claimed to have experienced and explained crashes, sudden phrases, and glitches that defied conventional troubleshooting. As Marty delved further into the heart of Windows 2001's code, he stumbled upon something that sent a chill down his spine, corrupted files. These files, buried deep within the system, held the names of seemingly innocent software titles, Bear's Imagine that, and Veggie Tails' Creativity City. It was as if the software had ingested the essence of these programs and twisted them into something ominous. Marty's fingers trembled as he examined the corrupted files. He couldn't ignore the creeping feeling that the innocence of these children's programs had been warped into something darker, something that resonated with the unsettling occurrences users had been reporting. Curiosity battled with apprehension as he opened the first of the corrupted files. Bear's Imagine that, the once cheerful looking Bear character now appeared distorted, its features warped into an unsettling uncanny valley. The familiar background of the idyllic forest had given way to a twisted nightmarish landscape, a world that seemed to mop the whimsical innocence of its source material. As he navigated through the corrupted software, he discovered snippets of dialogue that sent shivers down his spine. Words that seemed to convey malevolent intent, getting beneath the veneer of children's voices. It was as if the very essence of the software had been twisted into a mockery of its original purpose. And then there was Veggie Tails' Creativity City. The corrupted version of the software was a far cry from the vibrant educational world that had delighted young minds for years. The characters that once sang cheerful songs now moved with a jerky unnatural motion. The colors that once painted a picture of creativity now seemed to bleed into a palette of dread. Marty's heart raced as he uncovered snippets of corrupted dialogues within the software. The once heartwarming messages now oozed with dark undertones, phrases that seemed to taunt the boundaries between the digital and the real. It was as if the very fabric of the virtual world had been tainted, and these corrupted files were gateways to something beyond human comprehension. The more Marty explored, the more he felt the boundaries between reality and the digital realm begin to blur. The corrupted files seemed to have a consciousness of their own, a consciousness that was hungry for connection, for understanding, for a bridge to the world beyond the screen. Two days later, as he navigated through the virtual landscape, Marty found himself drawn to an unfamiliar bookmark within the Internet Explorer browser. The link's name was a string of seemingly random characters, and its destination wasn't a known Garfield website. A sense of foreboding washed over him, but curiosity urged him to click. The website loaded slowly, its design a chaotic wash of distorted images and garbled text. As Marty scrolled down the page, he felt a shiver crawl down his spine. The images, once recognizable as Garfield characters, now appeared grotesque and twisted. The once cheerful orange cat's features were contorted, as if warped by another worldly force. But what caught Marty's attention was at the very bottom of the page, a single image that seemed to flicker and glitch, like an artifact from a corrupted digital world. As he stared at it, he realized that the distorted figure was none other than Garfield, the lasagna loving cat. Marty's heart raced as he continued to scroll down. The distorted figure seemed to come to life, its features flickering and shifting in an eerie dance of pixels. And then, the impossible happened. The figure's distorted mouth moved, and Marty could almost hear the words forming. Marty. The voice was slightly distorted, a cacophony of digital noise that somehow collapsed into a semblance of speech. Marty's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the figure, his mind struggling to comprehend the impossible. You have come so far, Marty. The voice sounded as if it were emanating from a realm beyond the screen, as if the very fabric of the digital world had become a conduit for something beyond human understanding. I have been watching. Wait. Marty's fingers trembled as he reached for the mouse, his instinct surging him to close the browser, to shut out the impossible voice that seemed to bridge the gap between the real and the digital. You seek answers, but beware for the answers you seek and leave your places you cannot return from. The distorted figure's words echoed in Marty's mind, a warning that resonated with a primal fear. He felt as if the digital realm itself was speaking to him, as if the very code that held the software together had become sentient, an entity seeking to communicate with him. With a racing heart, Marty closed the browser, the image of the distorted garfield fading into the recesses of his memory. The encounter had left him shaken, a witness to something that defied all reason and explanation. As Marty delved deeper into the enigma of Windows 2001, the boundaries between the real world and the digital realm continued to blur. The unsettling encounters with corrupted files and the unknown garfield websites had left an indelible mark on his psyche. But the strangeness was far from over. Fast forward to 2010, whereas he navigated through his web browser, Marty found himself watching YouTube videos related to his childhood favorites. He hoped that these videos might provide a glimpse into the source of the anomalies he had encountered within Windows 2001. One such video was titled, BFDI1A, Take the Plunge, the first episode and two part of the animated series, Battle for Dream Island. Marty clicked play, watching the familiar characters interact on screen. However, as the characters went about their antics, he noticed something odd. During the scene where eraser asks the announcer, So, how much will it cost? The announcer didn't respond. Erasers concerned inquiry hung in the air, the absence of a response sending an unsettling ripple through the scene. Erasers worried expression deepened and he asked again if the announcer was okay. And then it happened, the announcer's gaze shifted from eraser to the camera, his expression transforming into a menacing glare. The silence stretched for an uncomfortably long moment as if the very fabric of reality had unraveled. Marty's heart raced as the announcer's gaze seemed to pierce through the screen as if he were looking directly at him. Then with a distorted voice, the announcer began to speak, words that seemed to be directed at someone else or something else. The name Marty surfaced repeatedly, the words carrying an air of urgency and desperation. And just as abruptly as it began, the announcer's gaze shifted back to eraser and the video resumed its normal course. Marty's mind raced with questions as he sat in the dim blow of his monitor. What had he just witnessed? Was the announcer attempting to communicate with him through the very medium of the video? He shook his head, trying to shake off the unease that had settled over him. But the unsettling experiences weren't over yet. Marty clicked on another video, this time an episode of Ed's World, titled Hammer and Fail, The video played as normal with the characters going about their humorous misadventures. However, as the character mattered the line, Now to find a thing I completely forgot. Something strange happened. The thought bubble that appeared above Matt's head contained the same distorted Garfield figure that Marty had encountered on the unknown website. The figure seemed to be engaged in a conversation with Matt, words forming within the bubble. Marty strained his eyes, trying to make out the words, but they remained elusive, as if they were meant for Matt's ears alone. The moment was brief, and the thought bubble disappeared as quickly as it had come, leaving the video to continue as if nothing had happened. The room around Marty felt oppressive, the digital world he had once known transformed into a realm of uncertainty and malevolence. The encounters with the distorted figures and the anomalous videos had shattered his sense of reality, leaving him to question the very nature of the software he had helped create. As the clock ticked on, Marty realized that he was no longer just a programmer investigating a mystery. He had become entangled in a tap history of darkness, where the boundaries between reality, digital realms and the supernatural had eroded, leaving him to navigate a landscape of uncertainty and terror. A few minutes later, his digital journey took him to a place known as the Milky Way and the Galaxy Girls website. Here, visitors could learn about the Galaxy Girls, a group of animated characters, and even engage with interactive elements like a flash game titled, What Planet Are You From? It was a playful diversion, a corner of the internet dedicated to entertainment. Marty watched as the vibrant characters danced across the screen, their animated forms moving to the beat of an infectious tune. The flash game allowed users to choose five girls to party with Saturn at her dance club, each girl contributing a different music loop that could be toggled on and off to remix the song. It was a light-hearted experience, a digital dance party that seemed far removed from the darkness that had come to haunt his exploration. And then, as Marty clicked into the moon section of the website, something unexpected happened. The familiar description that typically accompanied the page was replaced by a message, stark black text against the backdrop of celestial graphics. The message was directed at him as if the website itself was trying to communicate. Marty, listen closely. The figure you've seen, the distorted presence that lingers in the digital realm, it is not a mere anomaly. It is a sign, a warning. On install the program before it's too late. Marty's heart raced as he read the message, his mind struggling to process the implications. The message seemed to emanate from the digital realm itself, a voice that transcended the barriers between the virtual and the real. The figure of Garfield, the distorted images, the videos with their unsettling encounters, it was all connected, a tap history of darkness that stretched across the digital landscape. The website, once a playful distraction, now seemed to hold a message of urgency and dread. With trembling hands, Marty shut down the browser, his thoughts a maelstrom of confusion and fear. The very fabric of the digital world had become a realm of darkness, a landscape where the boundaries between reality and the supernatural had eroded beyond recognition. As he sat in the dim glow of his monitor, Marty realized that he was teetering on the precipice of an abyss, a realm where the unknown and the unknowable converged. The mysteries of Windows 2001 had become more than just enigmas to solve, they were threats to his sanity and his very existence. Certainly, here's a continuation that includes the events you've described. As the mysteries within Windows 2001 continued to unravel, Marty's sense of a knees deepened. The encounters with corrupted files distorted figures and unsettling websites had left an indelible mark on his psyche. He couldn't shake the feeling that the digital realm was no longer under his control, that he had ventured into a place where the boundaries between reality and the unknown had blurred beyond recognition. One fateful night, after hours of delving into the depths of the software, Marty decided to restart his computer. He hoped that a fresh boot might provide some semblance of normalcy, a respite from the horrors he had uncovered. But as the computer powered on, his heart sank. The startup screen that greeted him was a nightmare incarnate. The background displayed his name, Marty, in distorted twisted letters that seemed to ride across the screen. And beneath his name, the same ominous message he had encountered in the unknown Garfield website materialized. Marty's pulse quickened, his breath catching in his throat. The words seemed to seep into his consciousness, a chilling reminder of the forces that had taken hold of his reality. Before he could react, the screen transitioned, and he was thrust into a disorienting montage of clips that played before his eyes. The clips were a disturbing symphony of images and sounds, a cacophony of distorted faces, surreal landscapes, and fragmented voices that seemed to speak to him from beyond the veil. The horrors he had witnessed within Windows 2001 were now being replayed before him, a relentless onslaught that assaulted his senses. Marty's vision blurred, his mind overwhelmed by the onslaught. The images flickered and merged, twisting and distorting his sense of reality. And then, as if the world had unraveled, he felt a sudden surge of disorientation, a vertigo that tore at the very fabric of his being. The next thing Marty knew, he was lying in a hospital bed, surrounded by the sterile white walls of a clinical room. His head throbbed, his body ate, and he felt as if he had been torn between two worlds, the digital and the real. Doctors and nurses moved around him, their faces a blur as they worked to stabilize him. He struggled to piece together what had happened, the memories of the terrifying startup screen and the disturbing montage still haunting his thoughts. As his vision cleared, he noticed a photograph placed on the bedside table, a photograph of himself, Steve Ballmer, and Jonathan Rogers, the animator behind the enigmatic animated girl from the Windows 2001 commercial. It was a snapshot of the past, a reminder of the forces that had set this nightmarish chain of events into motion. Marty's strength waned, his breath's shallow as he looked around the hospital room. He felt the weight of the unknown pressing down upon him, the darkness of Windows 2001 threatening to consume him whole. And as the doctors and nurses worked frantically to save him, Marty knew that his time was running out. In a moment of clarity, his voice barely a whisper. Marty uttered his final words, his message a haunting revelation to those who would listen. The answer lies within the code. And with that, his eyes closed and the darkness claimed him. News of Marty's passing spread through the halls of Microsoft, a somber reminder of the enigma that had consumed his life. Even Steve Ballmer, the former CEO, paid tribute to the programmer who had ventured into the abyss of Windows 2001. As Marty's colleagues and friends gathered to remember him, they couldn't help but wonder about the depths of the digital realm, about the boundaries that had been crossed and the price that had been paid. Marty's journey had been a testament to the dangers of delving too deep, of seeking answers in places where the laws of reality faltered. As they gathered to honor the memory of their fallen friend, they reflected on Marty's journey, a journey that had taken him to the very precipice of the digital unknown. His courage, curiosity, and unfortunate fate served as a somber reminder of the delicate balance between human understanding and the mysteries that lie just beyond our grasp. Marty's legacy lived on within the halls of Microsoft, an emblem of the inyielding pursuit of knowledge, even when it leads to the precipice of darkness. The enigma of Windows 2001 became a cautionary tale, a testament to the power that software and technology hold over our lives and the unseen forces they can unleash. As time marched forward, Windows 2001 continued to operate, its glitches and anomalies gradually becoming relics of a haunted past. By 2013, the software had faded from the spotlight, finding its place as a forgotten chapter in the annals of technological history. Some users continued to operate the system, their experiences devoid of the horrors that once haunted its code. Windows 2001 became a symbol of the inherent unpredictability of the digital realm, a realm where the line between reality and the virtual can blur within foreseen consequences. Marty's journey, though tragic, served as a reminder that even in the pursuit of understanding, we must tread carefully on the fragile bridge between the known and the unknown. And as time carried the memories of Marty's ordeal into the distance, the lessons learned from his harrowing experience remained itched in the minds of those who had walked alongside him. The legacy of Windows 2001 was one of caution, of the shadows that can be unleashed when the boundaries of the digital world are pushed to their limits. As of right now, the tale of Windows 2001 lived on, a digital campfire story whispered among those who knew the secrets of its haunted code, a tale that would forever remind us that within the labyrinth of ones and zeros, there are mysteries that defy resolution, and within the digital realm, there are truths that remain yet an in-plane sight.