PART TWO: THE CRASHOUT,
OR IF THAT GIVES YOU DYSPHORIA, THE BUTTERFLY EFFECT
Screens, they’re watching back.
*
The clear Tampa skyline sparkles on the horizon, camera bobbing as the boat practically skids across the water, and Dylan Mayhew, better known DJ Lonestar Ranger, pulls KFC’s new Firebomb Chicken Sandwich out of a paper bag.
His round face fills the screen, and he licks his lips, ginger beard shining in the sun. “Yessirreeee! I love me a good ol’ McChicken.”
A social media firestorm ensues.
*
“But like, it fucks up your estrogen, or is that cigarettes?”
“It’s a free country Taylor. She can do what she wants.”
“She has crazy eyes.”
“She just needs something to remind her she has people she can talk to, you know?”
*
Dylan Mayhew receives enough conservative dark money that planning the attack digitally would have attracted the attention of the FBI, who attach cell-pinging spyware to private aircraft at Bowman Field. As far as Maddie, Justin, and Taylor were concerned, it was a spontaneous crime.
Spontaneity doesn’t exist for the Machine, only probability.
*
Maddie’s favorite hipster bar, a former freight shipping port done up with oak paneling like a sailor’s tavern, closed earlier this year, so when Justin and Taylor try to get her out of the house, they can’t bribe her with millennial-coded boardgames and craft cherry cola. They end up at a dusky arcade bar because Google Maps mentioned pinball.
*
The subliminal messaging scare of the Satanic Panic served to prevent the idea of emergent effectiveness from reaching the mainstream.
The machine is a gambler, hedging bets against bets. It usually wins.
*
Mayhew has only been in Louisville for an hour when he checks into his hotel. He has fifteen minutes to prepare for the show, which requires putting on his sponsored Nike gym shorts, Busch Light tank top, a gold chain with an American flag pendant, and of course his All Lives Matter baseball cap. He hates politics. His real passion is retro gaming.
*
While the KFC Yum! Center can seat over 20,000 guests, its smaller wings allow for gatherings as intimate as 600, meaning that booking the venue makes Lonestar Ranger’s audience seem much bigger.
College aged “clipsters” ensure the Hootenanny goes viral, highlighting the hat when posting from hate accounts, and bot teams respond, giving the impression a vehement fan base defends Mayhew.
The show only lasts an hour.
*
Three drunken rounds of Monopoly-branded pinball in, as they’re fighting over the last few cheese curds, a fat soft-spoken stranger in gym shorts and a tank-top steps in, struggling against the wind to keep the door from slamming. Taylor notices him first, but Justin actually says “Is that?”
*
In Skibidi Dab those who’ve encountered The Things Behind the Screen often turn to substances to cope with their new reality. They develop strange intuition, able to locate the agents of The Things Behind the Screen.
Taylor frantically googles if you can vape DMT.
*
Maddie saunters up to the neon bar, eyes big and bladder full of bourbon and peach schnapps and bats her eyes cartoonishly. “Oh my God, are you that rapper guy? I love you! You’re hilarious.”
*
“We’re caught up in something big man.”
“What?”
*
Maddie plies Mayhew with gamer inspired cocktails and he tells her he’s never “made it” with a groupie, and Maddie’s head bobs frantically, while Justin and Taylor watch from the pinball machine.
“I want to barf.”
“We’re witnessing covert warfare.”
*
Maddie promises to sell Mayhew some disposable vapes after they hook-up and introduces him to her friends. Justin smiles awkwardly. Taylor glares at Mayhew. They all leave together.
*
Maddie makes Justin and Taylor ride in the back so Mayhew and continue flirting with her and admits he’s always been curious about “transgender girls.” Taylor tamps down his dread, Maddie fantasizes about becoming trans Alieen Wuornos, and Justin rolls his eyes. Taylor keeps playing with something in his pocket.
Maddie says she wants to smoke a little first, in the basement.
*
The basement is cool, its ceiling unfinished, covered in spiderwebs. Maddie fumbles with her purse and whips out at compact handgun, flags the other three, and puts the barrel between Mayhew’s eyes.
“Maddie?” Justin squeals. “What the fuck?”
“Don’t worry. It’s on credit my next paycheck will cover it.”
“Why are you pointing that at him?”
Maddie’s shaking but not enough to miss.
“Ma’am if I’ve done anything to make you uncomfortable I deeply—”
“We can’t pay our rent,” said Maddie. “Give me your phone.”
Trembling, Mayhew reaches into his pocket. He drops it when he tries to hand the phone to her. Maddie leaves it on the ground. Taylor snaps open an iridescent folding karambit. “We’re on to you,” he growls. Maddie ignores him.
“Justin honey tie the DJ up please.”
“Did you two plan this?”
“Justin, we need rent money. He’s a hostage.”
“If he’s lucky,” said Taylor.
“Shut up Taylor.” She sighed. “Now, Justin!”
Justin scurries out of sight.
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