Read the previous chapter here:
The old man bowed his head in prayer. The Church needed more followers—and not just Church followers, but like real, actual TikTok followers. His own daughter would be lost to Kanye if he didn’t act soon—and the Church’s first post really didn’t go over so well. Apparently, people didn’t take too kindly to twelve old men dancing in white suits. Which, honestly, was kind of shocking.
Still, one properly placed influencer could sway public opinion more than any religion ever could, the old man knew. After all, it was a pair of influencer twins that spawned a thousand celibacies, it was a mommy blogger that inspired a generation a-line dress wearers, and it was a perfectly coiffed MLM Instagrammer that showed the world how easy it was to parent a dozen children—and that couldn’t be underestimated.
If The Totally True Church That Must Not Be Called Mormon And Is Not To Be Confused With The Church Made Fun Of In That Broadway Play wanted to regain their influence, then the old man knew what he had to do. He would have to take his seat in the metaverse and win the battle for influence—and his daughter’s respect—once and for all!
His vision thus determined, the old man tried to download Fortnite but to no avail. All he had were Apple devices and he couldn’t even get in! Not wanting to wake his family, he snuck down the stairs to his daughter Ashleeeeeeeee’s bedroom and located her Switch. Pretty soon, she would be drinking the Mountain Dew, he thought. Pretty soon, the whole world would be.
And his stock would soar…
Scott wandered around chapter three—people were smashing rocks with baseball bats and shooting llama piñatas to smithereens—was this really the Fortnite everyone had told him about? What was more, he appeared to be standing in the snow, which was all too unsettling. Scott lived in the snow IRL, he really didn’t need to do it in the metaverse too.
As Scott made his way toward the Sanctuary, a small village came into view. People were hawking their wares, most of them repping EVs or shilling NFTs. Larry David was walking around saying all of it was stupid. Coinbase was bouncing a QR code around like it was Atari and everyone was losing their shit about it. Meta tried to join in the fun with some avatars straight out of Chuck E. Cheese, but everyone was like WTF??!!
As he walked by, still dressed like Jesus and wearing his signature pink wig, a hush came over the crowd—it was Scott Paul, they whispered, the one the prophecy told would save the metaverse. The crowds pushed in: startup founders wanted his funding, venture capitalists were desperate for his advice, and the government wanted his help against the darkweb. There were even rumors that those who touched his robe would be cured of Covid.
It was strange, Scott realized: what he hadn’t been able to achieve as a tech founder or even as a millionaire, he was now able to achieve with a pink wig and a YouTube Channel. He may as well have skipped the startup thing altogether and gone straight to being an influencer—or at least given a Ted Talk. He only hoped he would make it out of Fortnite alive so he could tell his daughters to skip school and do the more sensible thing and become influencers, the credible kind with a blue checkmark next to their names.
Just as he pondered this Utopian future, he caught sight of a giant statue that, he hated to admit, kind of looked like The Rock.
Just then, the boulder cracked, The Foundation was unlocked, and a new player entered the arena.
“ARE YOU READY TO RUUUUUUUUUMBLE” he heard the old man say.
The old man made the first blow, or rather, he tried, but he hadn’t so much as blown up a llama yet and he had no weapons. Scott Paul took advantage of a nearby supply drop and launched an explosive.
The old man appeared to stagger, but he chugged some Metaverse Mountain Dew and regained his strength. Right when he was about to jump on a chest…
PAUSE.
They froze, each of them wondering who would have the power to cease their very movements. They turned their gaze toward the sky.
“God,” they asked?