act two is also a mess

nothing after this is true – real-time hyperfiction is #dtf

*** it began with a short story, written in may 2026 ***

Here’s the pivot. Act Two: Tang-Terrific.

Tang Terrific enters the story as our narrator is looking for a new cat food for the copilots, Sid and Hunter. TT as he came to be known, was swimming and demuring behind some rocks in the shitty tank in Petco. He needed to be rescued. I could see that. He reminded me of the Tang in Finding Nemo, the one with the scar on his face and fascination with bubbles. I think that was his name, Bubbles. Anyway, this isn’t Bubbles. At the moment I’m calling him Tom. Tom Terrific!

It wouldn’t have occured to me that I needed a fish tank in my life, until my son pointed it out. “I like fish tanks. It could be a nice father son project.” He was trying to butter me up while dealing chrystal meth from the spare bedroom of my house. The music room had become a locked door room. Fuck.

I’m in Petco, thinking about my son, about a silly story and now play I began, when Tom spotted me, taking his picture.

“Who’s that for? Who’s that for? Who’z are you? Who’z am I? Is there more? Is there more? What else is bothering you? Can I help? Do you need anything?” It was like a rambling hipster trying to convince me only he could help me. But wait… WHY WAS I HEARING THE FISH?

Turns out, it was a sign of my mental splintering when Mosquitotito began talking to me in the hot tub. I might have been a toasty from the night’s activities, but the morning was dawning and I was in my tiny tub, 104 degrees. Perfect. Except for the mosquito. One mosquito.

At first, when the communication barriers were falling, I could only receive. I didn’t know yet how to broadcast on the spiritual network (that will come later) or the animal network. All living things are communicating. Something had happened. A severe mental break as a result of the financial trauma and stress? Loss of a loved one? Losing my best friend to cancer? Right in front of me?

“Pal, listen,” Tom said. “This place is killing me. The lighting. They leave them on all night. It’s always daytime here. No rest. You’ve got to do me a favor. Pal, seriously. I could use your help.”

I mean, my entire life began to unfold at that point. TT was a bust. I had gone over the edge. For years, I’d been telling my kids, “If I were any happier, I’d rapture.”

I am still here in physical form, so I’ve not gone to heaven. And also, I have not completed my digital human transformation into a Digi-Soul™, I’m still a human, on the planet dying of data center pollution and billionaire indifference.

“Okay, you got me.” It was Tom again. “We really had a good one there, Sebastian!* You really scared me! Really. Really. Really.”

I’m standing in the middle of a Petco about a mile from my house and the marbles are cascading out of me and bouncing away on the buffed and dull grey concrete floors.

“Shit!”

“What? What? What do you need? How can I help? I’ve got friends. Resources. What? What? WHAT!”

I froze. Staring into the hazy hot asphalt outside the plate glass windows, I thought of the death scene from Blade Runner, the snake lady, crashing in slo-mo through the windows, snow-falling, bullets from his gun making quick work of the retirement. Images flashed before my eyes even as I could still see the Petco and Tom swimming, and apparently now, talking to me, from his sad corporate pet store tank.

“The view, dude. The view here is terrible. They never never ever never ever turn off the neon lights overhead. I never get sleep. And the air pump is running at 10% capacity. I’m not only sad and starving, I’m not getting enough oxygen. I have minutes. Maybe an hour at the most. You’ve got to do something. Ple Ple Please.”

It was more like a whisper in my head. I could tell he was playing me. Too dramatic. I liked that. I said aloud, “Okay, buddy, I hear you.”

“Thank. Fucking. God.”

“Whoa!”

“Can you get me out of her, bro! I’m dying. I won’t make another night here. I’m fading. Look at me. Look at my stripes. You see how they’re shimmery. I’m fading. Becoming a ghost.”

*Digi-Soul™ – a new AI process of taking all your human-generated data and simulating your soul. It is believed by the Rocket Billionaires that this science is the next step toward immortality. Immorality doesn’t come into play, when you have over a billion dollars, apparently.
*Sebastian! – homage to blade runner and pris.

return to the index

ADDED CONTEXT: turns out it’s not Bubbles from Nemo it is Gil we’re after. And Gil is not an angel fish or a tang. Gil is a Morish Idol. Well, that’s not going to rhyme well at all. Tom Terrific the Tang with a Twist.

We stand incorrect!