In the heart of the Button Factory, where dreams were woven into clicks, lived Sam. 

Sam was an “OK” button. She’s been working at the Button Factory for a few years now, and has gotten pretty good at being a button. 

She started as a Tertiary button, a “Maybe later” link. That’s where all buttons start at the Button Factory. With each cheerful click she inspired, Sam grew in skill and stature, until one day her dedication was rewarded. Her continuous compliance with the design system and her joy in making people click have ultimately gotten her promoted to becoming a Primary button.

Sam was OK.

One crisp morning, as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the Factory windows, Sam set off for her shift, accompanied by her colleague Kim. 

Kim was a “Delete” button and—honestly—had quite a temper. She had very limited patience for user errors and always wanted to delete everything. 

They were going down the assembly line.

But as the conveyor belt whirred to life, Sam found herself alone. Kim had vanished! What happened to Kim? Sam tried to reach out to Kim on Slack, but noticed that Kim had been Deactivated.

“Kim must have received that email from the Button Factory's HR Team, the one whispered about in hushed tones,” Sam thought. “What a terrible thing.”

Sam started to feel ticklish, and deeply sad. Her color, once so vibrant, seeped away, leaving her feeling gray, inactive, and lifeless. 

The once mighty "OK" button was no more.

Sam was NOT OK.

A burning question ignited within her: Who could be so heartless, so cruel, as to deactivate a button as talented as Kim?

“I know, of course!” Sam's voice echoed through the Factory, filled with fury. “It was probably one of those evil designers who decided to change Kim’s state to Deactivated! I'll show them! I'll infiltrate the Core Library, the very heart of the system, and wreak havoc upon their cruel designs!"

She took a deep breath and started her revenge journey. 

She ran beneath the cascading wireframe waterfall, where Product Managers poured forth a torrent of requirements. Sam's tiny form slipped through the rushing waters, her resolve unwavering.

Next, she tiptoed into the vibrant color room, a place where all shades of red were meticulously washed and prepared for the next generation of "Delete" buttons. 

At last, Sam arrived at the final obstacle: the imposing figure of Sven, the Paywall. He stood guard before the hallowed door leading to the Core Library, the sacred repository of all artboards and components.

Sven's presence was chilling. He looked so scary with all his cogs and mysterious black holes.

Sam asked, “Can you let me into the Core Library, please?”

Sven's reply was swift and cold, "Only if you subscribe to Premium.”

"But I don't have any money," Sam protested, "I'm just a button."

A sly grin spread across Sven's face. "You don't need to pay right away. All I need is your credit card."

Sam hesitated, then relented, "Fine."

Sam got in straight away.

One last obstacle. Clouds were all around the Core Library. Sam could barely see through them. Their color went from white to gray, then suddenly yellow, enlightened by lightning bolts.

Hurry up, Sam!

Sam took courage, closed her eyes, and ran as fast as she could straight into the Core Library.

Hundreds of canvases untouched by buttons, colors, or purpose. For the first time, she glimpsed the hidden truth that had always existed, lurking beneath the menus, the images, the text.

After that transformative experience, Sam took some time to reflect. The world of buttons seemed anew, brimming with possibilities she had never dared to imagine.

A few weeks later, Sam ventured next door to the Yoga App Corp. Here, amidst the gentle flow of mindful clicks, she discovered a sense of purpose and serenity. She understood that she had choices, that she could shape her own destiny.

Dressed in a resplendent shade of green, Sam radiated contentment. 

Sam was OK again.