Chat, My Friend is a Literal God. What Do I Do?

“Does Buttons actually do anything?” had been a recurring question on the internet. The kid abandoning the Rippcoin adventure because Goggles wouldn’t make the Enerjelly only reinforced the skepticism.

The child was a front. A mouthpiece.

Of course, that theory was often countered by “But she’s three thousand years old!” and “She magicked the clone!”

And the heaviest-hitting argument of them all: “Didn’t you watch the interview? She conceptualized Goggles into existence.”

All of which could easily be brushed aside with “That’s what she says.”

And lately, an even bigger question had started to gain traction. “Had the Scottish girl actually died in the first place?”

Rippa found this question deeply unsettling. It insinuated that Goggles was holding a poor child captive.

Naturally, Rippa’s community was upset that their resident gigachad was being slandered like this, and that their beloved Buttolls was being reduced to a victim with no agency.

“I am flattered. People give me too much credit,” Goggles remarked.

“Maybe I should explain the cosmic octopus thing?” Rippa suggested.

Both Buttons and Goggles rejected the idea immediately. “No! It’s too embarrassing!”

That left Rippa in a predicament. Angry people were barging into her chat, demanding answers. Within Rippa’s community, Buttons and Goggles were a poisonous topic for now, which was understandable. After all, the kid had wiped out trillions of dollars.

“Hey, I didn’t do anything! Not my fault people sold off their stuff!” Buttons would deny her responsibility.

To be fair, Buttons really hadn’t done anything. Rippa had to give in to that. All this little brat had done was just float an idea. It was the rest of the world that had run with it and brought chaos upon themselves. ‘Literal influencer.’ Rippa chuckled to herself.

And there was more to chuckle at. The Rippcoin disaster had thrown a wrench in the cogwheels of the tribal narrative machine.

Those who had hated Buttons now suddenly found themselves having to celebrate the kid for dealing a major blow to capitalism. This was a bitter pill to swallow, and so they looked for ways to wrap it with something sweet. Building on the assumption that those mostly affected by the event were rich people and mega corporations, therefore straight white males, they eventually came up with the brilliant commentary, “LMAO, the racist kid shot friendly fire LOL.”

Rippa was getting tired of this racist label, but, having dealt with these people for years, she could see where they were coming from. After all, Buttons was Rippa’s friend. They therefore needed the child to be a Nazi.

Much to Rippa’s dismay, Goggles being an extremely powerful white man reinforced the “Buttons is just a mouthpiece held captive” speculation. Because, from their perspective, which Rippa knew all too well, such traits of Goggles automatically made him evil. That, however, made Buttons innocent, and clashed with the “kid is a racist” narrative, so the haters were, for now, juggling their options, trying to figure out how to deal with the contradiction.

As for the people on the other side of the spectrum, their love for the based kid had already been experiencing ups and downs even before the Rippcoin gutpunch.

The brawl at the taco truck had initially placed Buttons up there in the based department. Being Rippa’s friend gave a bonus point because that spited their enemies.

But then… running her mouth in Congress? OK, that was cute, but still quite disrespectful to the elected leaders of the “greatest country in the world.”

And also… claiming to have met Jesus? “You are crossing the line, kid.”

But by shutting down the “Free Palestine!” and the “Solve world hunger!” activists, Buttons had earned back some brownie points, which she then immediately tossed out the window by declaring war against the US Dollar. Now, that was absolutely unacceptable, no matter how cute and based the kid was.

With the “Goggles is the real power” narrative gaining traction, the anger turned to the omnipotent butler. He was accused of being a bad influence on the innocent child. A corruption. Some also argued that his interests did not align with the country’s.

Thereafter, much to Rippa’s bafflement, big infighting broke out regarding whether Goggles was in league with the Jews.

‘Why does everything end up going there?’ Rippa had to wonder.

In general, though, many people from all corners of society were quite mad. Some started demanding that Buttons and Goggles be arrested. Some demanded deportation. ‘Deport from where? And to where?’ Rippa face-palmed.

Arrest, deportation, lawsuits, and whatever. All faced the same big wall immediately. Was Buttons a person subject to laws?

“Are you?” asked Rippa in private.

“Hmm, I think I’m not,” Buttons thought aloud, “by virtue of me being a non-human superior entity.”

“Bruh…”

“But your laws already do talk about me, as far as I know.”

“What? You are written in laws?”

“Yes.” Buttons nodded. “Do a CTRL+F and search for terms like ‘act of god’ or ‘force of nature.’” The kid grinned mischievously.

“Bruh, that’s cheating.”

The question regarding Buttons’ personhood evolved into a debate about transgenderism and the ethics of abortion.

‘Wait, what?’ Rippa had to do a double take on this one.

One side argued Buttons’ personhood should be assigned to the brainworm, a term Papapin had coined and that had by now been widely accepted by the public. The other side argued for the brainworm plus the replica body as a package, because the worm’s presented identity was entirely based on the original Scottish girl.

This debate regarding whether to view the pilot and the body as one package or to separate them spread and became a fierce battle between the pro- and anti-trans crowds, which eventually spilled over to the topic of the ethics of abortion because “when is personhood assigned?”

The abortion-rights side argued that personhood emerged with bodily development, to which the pro-trans faction vehemently objected.

The whole thing, however, circled back to “Wait, did the girl actually die? Is the body really a replica?” Because… wasn’t Goggles supposed to be an evil villain who had kidnapped a poor child and brainwashed her? And, more importantly, why were they even arguing about Buttons, when it was established that Goggles was the bad guy? But at this point, everything was muddled and too heated, and nobody had a clue where to even start.

And the vast majority of society, including Rippa and her family, sat back with bags of popcorn and wondered, “Are we even in a position to decide whether Buttons is a person or not?”

“Isn’t this exactly what Buttons asked us not to do?” Dad pointed out.

Mom and Rippa nodded in agreement.

One thing was clear. Humanity had a big problem. The kid god fit nowhere, but broke everything by doing absolutely nothing.

***

Whereas Buttons broke narratives and frameworks, Goggles broke systems. By excelling at them.

Distinguished ladies and gentlemen of the UK’s Home Office scratched their heads.

Chaldea Security Ltd.

It was a small one-man gig, or rather, a one-girl operation. Owned by a Scottish private trust company named Girladriel Trust PTC. Its sole employee and the registered director, one Violet S. Pendrake, 19, female. The name Violet itself raised some eyebrows, because many had assumed Miss Pendrake’s first name would be Artoria. For now, they set it aside.

By examining the paperwork, they learned that Girladriel had sprung up the subsidiary Ltd. around the same time as the infamous taco truck brawl that had gone viral in America. The limited company then immediately started receiving regular payments from its parent company for providing private security services. The timing suspiciously coincided with Miss Pendrake’s credit card’s date of issue, which in turn coincided with her bank account opening.

She had been receiving a salary ever since, from which the monthly credit card bill was paid, and the rest… was sent to an offshore investment account in the UAE, leaving just about the right amount to cover the eventual, and accruing, tax due and other inevitable costs. That piece of information was forwarded to the Foreign Office, which got in contact with the UAE but did not promise anything.

Girladriel was another mystery the Home Office would have to look into. The private trust had been operating for a little over a hundred years, which raised many eyebrows at the Home Office. It needed an entirely separate team to investigate.

But overall, looking at the transaction history and the dates, it seemed as if the whole Chaldea Security business had sprung up for the sole purpose of issuing Miss Pendrake a credit card and giving her a legit means to pay the bills. That made no sense.

Since it made no sense, the Home Office had been sitting on it. Up until a few days ago, it had not been a top-priority issue. They had only been doing just enough to satisfy and remain cordial with their American friends. But now, Downing Street was suddenly breathing down their necks. “Get me a name and an address. Or a phone number, at least!” was the order.

And Goggles was watching all this with a faint smile that showed a bit of sympathy.

Bright men and women were entering a labyrinth, embarking on a paper-trail adventure that would, if ever completed, result in a flowchart the size of a football field.

He wished them good luck. After some thought, he filed for a legal name change for one of the many private trust companies in his web of money and assets. ‘UFNDME Holdings. Yes, that would be an excellent reward.’ He nodded to himself with a small smile.

As for Chaldea Security… Goggles wondered what their faces would be when they learned that they were right. He had indeed spawned the company, including all required documents and licenses, just to give Miss Pendrake a well-paying job needed for the AMEX card.

All that… for some curries.

To be honest, he had been rather disappointed when Rippa had taken up the bill at the Indian restaurant, but oh well, the card had seen plenty of use since then, so it had not been a waste after all.