Wordsmith

The billionaire is holding a press conference. “There’s massive fraud — massive —” he hears himself say. “None of the mainframes are encrypted — no defragmentation of the blocks at all—” He likes that. It sounds like a really smart guy thing to say. He should make note of it so he can remember it later.

The president’s eyes have sunk further back into the pink folds of flesh that envelope them.

“And they’re storing it all in a cave — it’s like in the 50s — and all this data is just going in the cave — it’s not efficient because there’s only one elevator — and it’s like the 50s when you go into that cave because it was built in the 50s—” He doesn’t understand why the government was storing data in a cave. He knows it’s not efficient to do that.

There’s a child between his legs, its name is Hyperion or Romulus or Endymion or something like that. It keeps saying, “You’re not the president. You need to leave.” It’s unclear if it’s talking to the billionaire or the president. The president watches it like a deep sea fish seeing a submarine.

The billionaire knows all about submarines. He built one, once. He told his engineers to make it and then it was there. He wonders what happened to it. Was there a court case? He thinks he probably won.

He sends the interns, all dressed in suit jackets over polo shirts and cargo shorts, to raid the Department of Education and they come back with a truck full of binders. He orders them all burned for efficiency’s sake.

He thinks the entire Department of Education should be deleted. He can just import skilled workers from other countries. They have fewer rights that way. If he doesn’t like them he can have them taken away by men in tactical gear. He and the president understand this.

The president keeps rambling on about kings and real estate and what he (The president, not the billionaire. The billionaire knows the difference. He knows they’re different people.) would do if he was attacked by a shark.

He has to fire an intern after getting into an argument about if Jews are white or not.

The drug is the only thing keeping him moving. He needs it. He’s back at his doctor’s — or does the doctor come to him? — having a scrip written. The doctor’s smile reminds him uncomfortably of his mother’s vulva. “Well, huh huh, I don’t usually with my patients, but, heh heh, in this case, surely…” and he is handed a sack full of the drug, he can barely lift it. He has to drop his trousers because the child on his lap has pissed itself. The doctor will chase it out with a broom. He is a billionaire; he has places to be.

Someone has published one of the intern’s name and face online. He yells for the criminal to be arrested but noöne comes.

He’s worried about his safety since that CEO got assassinated. They shot at the president twice but didn’t hit him. The president says it’s because of God, but he knows God is just a story made up by people whose IQs aren’t as high as his. He thinks computers will become the new God.

He would like to go to Mars. He thinks about it often. He thinks it will be like in Total Recall. Everyone will think he’s cool when he’s on Mars.

The president’s office is full of sweaty men in ill-fitting suits. They’re drafting an executive order to strip citizenship from everyone who didn’t vote for them. He likes that. It’s efficient that way. No wasted votes.

He spends the afternoon trying to call his children but none of them pick up. He resolves to remarry and make more as soon as he is done deleting the government.

The new bodyguards are dressed up like Praetorians. They say it’s because of how much they hate degeneracy. He thinks that’s cool. Isn’t it cool how he likes Rome? He should post some memes about Rome so people know he’s cool.

He tries to have an AI generate a more fertile wife for him but passes out before they’ve arrived at the correct number and arrangement of limbs.

He struggles for three hours to light an enormous candle and by the time he’s done he’s forgotten what he needed the light for. “It’s my gaming candle”, he says and grins. There’s noöne else around.

He keeps dreaming of a second, even larger cave system, with more files in it. He sends interns looking for it but most don’t come back.

The president doesn’t even blink when he accidentally calls him Daddy. It’s unclear if the president is alive.

He’s slept in the office again. He doesn’t know what time or day or year it is. He had all the furniture replaced with sofa beds so his workers wouldn’t need to go home to sleep. Sleep is weakness. He’s not weak. He yells until an intern emerges to bring him his computer monitor so he can get to work. After five hours he realises it’s not plugged in to anything. He masturbates furiously to images of fertile 19-year-old anime cat-girls until the blank black display is splattered with grey.

“And here’s our couch fucker!” the president says suddenly and he realises the vice-president has entered. “Yes sir. Thank you, sir”, the vice-president says with a smile that’s no more pained than usual. “Did you know that he fucked a couch? We’ve been hearing it more and more. He fucked it like a dog ”, the president says. The vice-president steps on one of his children, who bursts open and splatters green and purple innards over the floor. Interns in suspenders and Bavarian hats rush to lick it up. He notes this with dissatisfaction; he wants his children to be strong, not splattered by couchfuckers. He has never fucked a couch.

He spends six hours practising his jump. He would like all letters of the alphabet other than X deleted.

Maybe the AI was right — maybe a wife with six legs would be able to give birth three times as fast. He tries to explain his idea to the president but the president doesn’t seem to be listening.

He notices his gums are bleeding. He goes to ask his doctor about it but remembers he’s replaced the doctor with a robot that discharges more of the drug when he presses a button. It’s more efficient. The robot doesn’t look like his mother’s vulva. He made sure his engineers understood that when he told them to make it.

“…for his many projects, his cars that don’t drive and his rocketships that don’t fly… We love to fly, don’t we, folks? We don’t love it so much when they don’t fly… and if I’d asked him to beg on his knees he would have done it. It’s true… Should we make him beg? We won’t. Would it be beautiful if we did? We won’t do it folks. He’s our big beautiful billionaire, that’s true, and maybe if I tell him ‘you’re fired’ he won’t be so much anymore, but who knows…” The president trails off, staring at a strange angle. Who’s the president talking about?

He yells at some government employee until she cries, and feels a bit better.

He realises it’s 6 pm and it’s time to go home to his wife, or ex-wife, number six or seven, something like that — he’s the alpha of the relationship and that’s what’s important. They flap around like a pair of dying fish secreting their fluids and make another child. It slips out from between them and hides under the bed. It has three faces on three sides of its tailed body but the fourth side is blank. This disturbs him slightly. He’s tired. The cleaners will find it in the morning.

The sofa beds have all been replaced with anti-homeless benches so his employees would spend less time sleeping and more time working. He feels good about his efficiency. He hasn’t slept in 88 hours.

The president’s office is full of crawling things with many arms and great curving horns on their heads and chests with floppy penises discharging bitter yellow fluid but no legs, no legs at all. They’re drafting an executive order to make it illegal for anyone to be a woman. He likes that. He makes sure all his children are men so they can spread his genes.

He sends the interns, all dressed as Harkonnen soldiers from Dune (the old good one, not the new woke one), to raid the Department of Energy, and they come back with a truck full of radioactive materials.

He deleted everyone who knows what a nuke is. That’s good. Nukes are old. They will have new weapons soon, rods from God (the new God, made by a computer, not the old woke one) and nanoviruses and all the cool things from the Culture books. He likes The Culture.

He comes across the vice-president mounting a couch, redfaced and sweating, hips thrusting, arms trembling, surrounded by a ring of rhythmically clapping interns. They disperse as he arrives, leaving the vice-president alone. The vice-president keeps thrusting and bellows as if in pain.

He’s ordered his engineers to make the Treasury more efficient. “Dogecoin taxes! Make it cyberpunk! Delete everyone who can’t explain what they do in 30 seconds! Like the kind of government the Blade Runner would have!” His engineers scramble to write it all down. They think he’s funny. They think it’s cool how he knows who the Blade Runner is.

The interns are all skeletons with brown shirts and red and white armbands. They march in circles with their arms propped in a permanent erection and chatter uproariously when he quotes Rick & Morty.

The president doesn’t even breathe when he accidentally calls him Führer.

Great fat white maggots the size of small dogs squirm at his feet. He picks one up and wonders which one is his child. It says “No, no, no”, and he throws it, or tries to, it’s heavy and won’t fly far, then picks up another and wraps it around his neck. If he can’t tell how would anyone else? He’s a genius after all.

He looks into a mirror and sees himself physically turning into a frog. He needs to up his dosage.

He’s found the entrance to the underground tunnels. He sends the interns all clad in Great War trench coats and gas masks to raid them and they come back with a truck full of mole children with social security numbers tattooed on their skins.

It’s terrible what the deep state pedomen are doing, he thinks as he idly daydreams of eager teenage girls with voluminous babymaking-holes.

The president appears to be slowly rotting.

He has a machine for impregnating his wives with. It’s big and has a lot of tubes and it looks just like it was from Alien, like it was a machine the alien from Alien would have. He had his engineers make it like that. That’s why he’s an innovator.

He likes to sit inside the control booth and watch as the machine whirrs to life and the wives eye the approaching mechanical penis suspiciously, trying to relax.

He sends the interns, all armed and armoured as crusaders, to raid places of worship and they come back with a truck full of icons that weep blood and scriptures made of teeth.

He comes across the vice-president being tortured by the Inquisition. He remembers the Inquisition from Monty Python. It’s funny. He should make a post about it on X so people will know he remembers the funny thing from Monty Python.

He browses the internet for news of his wife’s death in a fiery car crash, but finds none.

The president has two faces, one that smiles and one that leers. He wonders how he hasn’t noticed that before. It must be because his dosage was too low. The president has two faces and four great curving phalluses that discharge urine like a fountain.

He has finally uncovered the location of the Department of Wokeness. He sends his interns, all dressed as Totenkopfverbände, to raid it.