“Have we taken over? Have we conquered the internet?” Greg asked, drool oozing from his lips.

“We only posted the video like ten seconds ago,” said Gary.

They had dropped in at the domicile of Bushman Bob—a hermetic Barrier local with a penchant for doomsday prepping. Was he surprised by the existence of fishmen? A little, but Bushman Bob had always had his suspicions. He was suspicious of the entire canning industry, which he suspected of covering up food. Provision-wise, Bushman Bob preferred dried goods, which he kept in mounds around the house. As Bushman Bob always said, “If it’s dried, it’s got nothing to hide!”—although some of his dried dates were definitely hiding the occasional cockroach.

The one and only reason they were at Bushman Bob’s was to leech his internet. He had the fastest connection on the island, which he needed to devour the web’s most interesting (and least verifiable) theories.

Bushman Bob gazed intently, “Dried lettuce?” he inquired, thrusting a withered and crusty leaf before Gary’s startled eyes. “You know they wash regular lettuce in fluoride-infested water. I won’t touch the stuff! No sir! Dehydrated lettuce is the food of the future.”

“In that case, we’ll probably skip it… just for now!” Gary laughed.

“Your loss,” said Bushman Bob, crunching down a leaf.

“How long does it take? To go viral?” Gideon asked. His plot-hole-inspired film knowledge had given birth to what he considered a masterpiece—the Citizen Kane of Pranks. And if enough people saw it… surely, the world would be theirs for the taking.

“You don’t just post one video and go viral,” Gary exclaimed. He knew the slog, the hustle, the reality of the game. He’d made at least a hundred videos across seven years, and every single one of them had played to crickets. “It takes blood, and sweat, and tears, and pain. You grind, and then grind, and then grind, and then…”

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

BING! The notification cut him off in mid-flow. There was another—another! BING! BA-BING! BING! BING! The alerts came thick and fast, stacking up so quickly that the screen stuttered in response.

“Wait…what?” said Gary, blinking as he rapidly refreshed the page.

“Check your notifications—your notifications!” offered Bob.

Ten comments already. Then—twenty. Then more!

Gary refreshed, refreshed again.

The likes were shooting skyward. 220! 1,009!

“It’s happening, my bros. It’s actually happening! At last.”

“You’re gonna jinx it!”

“Don’t jinx it!”

“Did I jinx it?” Gary asked.

But there was no jinxing this success story—No stopping this runaway train! The numbers were piling up. The comments rolling in. An avalanche of attention all for Gary (and the fishmen). Their adrenaline collectively spiking as the analytics went through the roof.

There were high fives, and cheers—a chorus of primal screams. Greg even taught Gary how to maximise the damage to your vocal chords, which he did in a zealous frenzy.

They screamed the comments at each other, reading frantically from the screen.

“Wild!”

“Unbelievable!”

“What the hell did I just watch?!”

“Bringing spectacle to the Prank-sphere. The best thing since Mr Beast!”

“What even is this? And how? HOW?!?

“The CGI budget on this prank video must have been WILD. WILD I SAY!”

“Steven Spielberg presents… a really intense prank.”

“Who made this? And how? The special effects are insane!”

“Check the weird cameraman at 21 seconds trying to get in on the action.”

“And the Oscar for best prank goes to…”

“This is soooo fake. Blatant and badly done green screen! ☹”

“They look like real fishmen. I’m wondering if they are?”

“I’m dead. literally dead.”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAA.”

“Masterful FX work here by Wetter Workshops!”

For Gideon, there was one comment—one comment to rule them all.

“This is without a doubt,” he read, “the Citizen Kane of Pranks!”

“I knew it!” declared Gideon. “I told you!” he cried.

When the celebrations finally died down, it was Gorbachev who spoke. “Gary, I’m just wondering. What exactly is CGI?”