Today everyone woke up with price tags floating over their heads, indicating the value of their life. Your tag is $50Tn, the biggest by far, and you have no idea why.
When people asked why I’m worth so much, I shrugged. I mean, what am I supposed to say? It’s a question as random as: “why are your eyes blue?” or “how’d you get to be so tall?”. There’s no right way to answer it without bullshitting.
Sure, I could say it’s genetics, but I highly doubt that. My father’s a farmer and is married to a stay-at-home mom. They’re nice people, of course, but nice doesn’t seem to correlate to value. They both barely scratch a hundred thousand dollars combined.
I could say it was a mistake. After all, there wasn’t always an explanation. Most people who did stand out were famous in some facet but every once in a while, a baby was born with an exceptional price. I feel bad for them. They have to live a life of everyone bearing down on them to reach their full potential. I’m just lucky that I’m already in my twenties and a somewhat established carpenter. It pays the bill and that’s all I need.
That was, until I gained worldwide recognition.
Ever since I’ve been valued at fifty trillion – yes, you read it right – people have been treating me a lot differently. Old friends, past girlfriends, and annoying family members have popped out of the woodwork like crazy to capitalize on my newfound fame. Suddenly, I was desirable because of the unknown. And as far as they knew, it was better to make friends than enemies.
I became the focus of many scientists. They figured if I didn’t have political, monetary, or social power, it must have been something inside me that was unique. A series of tests were run on my body, analyzing every single cell for what makes me tick. The results were a little… unsatisfactory.
Superior athletic ability? Nope.
Cancer-resistant genes? Unfortunately, no.
Unexplainable superpowers? Only in my dreams.
After wearing me to the bone with tests and sucking me dry of blood, they gave up their attempts. As far as they could tell, I was an enigma no one knew how to solve. And at the rate they were going, I was going to be long dead before they made any headway.
Then the paparazzi came into play. Do you know what it’s like being stalked by a gaggle of sleazebags with cameras who have no sense of personal space? I have one word for it – shitty.
Well, one day, I was jogging at the nearby park. In hindsight, it was stupid, but I thought it was safe enough. I never expected them to swarm me like a cloud of bees. But by the time they surrounded me, it was too late to get away.
So I did what any reasonable person would, I sprinted like hell. In fact, I ran so fast that I didn’t even notice I was on a direct course for the pond in front of me. By the time I realized, I already had one foot on the surface of the water.
And then another.
Before I knew it, I was running on water. It wasn’t a mind-trick, at least not as far as I could tell. I was actually doing it of my own accord.
I turned back to the paparazzi. They were momentarily stunned but started to snap photos again. After all, they had to get the perfect shot. It would be the height of anyone’s career once it reached the tabloids.
Everyone wants to see the first photo proof of the Second Coming.
Plume de Lynx 