Lucky Man, Lord of Accumulation
Mike Angsbury, age seven hundred and ninety-eight was a resident of King of Prussia, in the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. His mornings for the past century had been a very welcome reprieve from the chaos of times prior. Each morning, on days he chose to sleep at all, everything had already been prepared for him. Mike lived in the king of smart mansions, and his veritable palace took care of his every need. He liked to start his day with a sandwich from McDonkey’s, and if he wasn’t feeling it that day, he’d have it destroyed and something else sent in its place. This was usually not the case however, his algorithm usually could predict what he wanted in advance and adjust the state infrastructure accordingly.
This morning mike opted for a U.F.C. Centro cup of coffee, decaff, and a Lunchables. As he tucked in to his little meal, he grabbed his laptop and checked if his rankings in the Nuggydex had changed. Last night his wealth ranked number seven in the United States out of four hundred and ninety-eight, and he was pleased to find that one of his competitors had died during the night to a drone attack, moving him to number six out of the four hundred and ninety-seven Americans. Honestly, he wasn’t a vain man and knew how unstable positions one two and three were, and he was fine with just owning Pennsylvania and eastern Ohio through Cleveland.
The good news during breakfast put him in the mindset to check the global Nuggydex, which he usually avoided due to his distaste of the non-Americans that flooded it. Logging in to the global index the population had hit eight thousand thirty-one. Immediately he wanted to gag, thinking about the hordes of lesser beings, but he bravely swallowed his disgust and carried on. He still maintained his spot, number twelve globally. As he took another sip of his coffee however, he nearly choked as in real time he saw his wealth ranking drop three places as it seemed three men he had gotten onto a pump and dump scam a month prior had grown wise to his con and had shorted several of his crypto coins.
Nothing short of a slap in the face, Mike knew he had to make an example. They had shorted his precious assets, violated a contract they signed onto, defaced his property by devaluating it and violated the sacred non-aggression principle. They needed to die. Mike’s drone fleet would be his sword. He knew the men, one was the owner of Hokkaido and the Kurils, the other two competed for Vladivostok and the eastern part of Russia.
It was done with a sigh; he knew his wealth number would take another hit to arm the fleet needed to make the men dead again. It was poetic, he thought, to hit his lucky number thirteen on the wealth index. It was by afternoon that he received the glorious news that his counter-scammers had been rendered meat from bone, evidence streamed to him from his drones. By evening he would be back to number six.
Mike was a lucky man, perhaps the luckiest to be. It would come to pass that he would survive the fourth world war, a grand parade of earth’s resources fought between the last fifty children of her girth. Destroyed in grand hellfire over accumulation of invisible numbers, Mike would be earth’s last living child. He had won the game of accumulation and thought that he might exist forever as earth’s undying god.
He would die from slipping in the shower, with no other human to call out to.
Then earth tried again.