Followers

A short story

Paris stared at Paulo in disbelief. It was rare to meet anyone in person these days, especially anyone from the top one percent of follpoppers (follower popularity leaders).

Paulo was a veteran in his mid-twenties. He would soon be phased out but he was still at the top of his game, fighting until the end. He stared at Paris like an angry dog from one of those outdated memes.

‘Did you hear me, little girl? My herd will boycott all your sponsors.’

Paris had never thought it would go this far. She had only started a harmless flame war with Paulo to boost her popularity and had never thought he would take it so seriously. Flame wars were good for everybody’s pop scores. Everyone knew that. What was his problem? She would have been thoroughly indignant if she hadn’t been so scared.

A boycott instigated by Paulo would mean an end to her pop earnings and her rankings would never recover. Half of her career was already behind her. She was eighteen; too old to start over from scratch.

The corners of her eyes began to sting and she felt pressure building behind her brow. If she knew how to cry, she would have burst into tears. Sobbing wasn’t part of her brand, though. Instead, she began to stammer a response to Paulo, drawing her hands into her lap, trying to control the trembling.