Once upon a time there was a man with a million friends. His name was Kenneth
Spruance. Kenneth was a friend to all he met, greeting high and low alike 
with courtesy and an unflappable sense of goodwill to fellow man, hale-
fellow-well-met, et cetera. Compared to other men Kenneth was not the 
smartest, nor the best looking, and he possessed no great degree of class or 
sophistication. He was, however, the friendliest.

Like most people, Kenneth was oppressed by capitalism and forced to spend 
much of his time working in what was known colloquially as a "job." Kenneth 
was a social media coordinator at a company downtown. When Kenneth took the 
train to and from work each day he was compelled by common courtesy and a 
strange inner restlessness to walk up and down the cars and exchange 
greetings with each person in turn, who of course he was friends with.

Even if they weren't friends, the rare stranger -- for example, Jesse 
Jackson -- would no doubt observe Kenneth's unswerving approach and thereby 
develop some reasonable expectation that he, too, would soon be initiated 
into Kenneth's ever-expanding social circle. If not, Kenneth was happy to 
proselytize. He would share a genial remark about the weather, or complain 
about current traffic conditions to soften Jesse up. If Kenneth sensed 
weakness he might try a companionable gesture. Then Kenneth would seek out 
Jesse Jackson's gaze and hold it like a viper rising from a snake charmer's 
basket as he whipped out his super-smartphone and with blistering speed 
struck the "FRIEND" button beside Jesse's name on SocialProfilez.com. Only 
then would Kenneth continue on his way.

Many mornings, as the train pulled out of his station downtown, one would 
find Kenneth still aboard and heedlessly working the crowded cars as they 
sped toward the next stop, ever farther from his workplace. His boss, Sarah 
Elizabeth Flinders Jeffries Jones (let's call her "Flinders" for 
convenience), drafted several passive aggressive memos about this tendency 
to lateness over the years, but every time she would print off the memo only 
to crumple it dramatically and throw it in her executive waste paper basket, 
because face it -- Kenneth was too friendly for that. And he had invited her 
to his birthday party. She felt a familiar stirring down below.

Normally Kenneth didn't celebrate his birthday, because he had been raised 
to believe that it was impolite to exclude friends from an invitation, and 
he could never accommodate a million friends at his admittedly large one-
bedroom (basement) apartment. But this year Kenneth was turning 27 or 28 and 
he felt this was an important milestone, plus the 2016 Olympics had recently 
finished up and all those stadiums were just sitting around gathering dust 
and bullet holes. Kenneth found that he could rent a stadium for an 
afternoon for approximately $75.00 USD, so he created an Event on 
SocialProfilez.com and invited his million friends. He soon received a 
number of supportive messages and comments from his friends, and everyone 
indicated they would be attending his birthday party. Kenneth was over the 
moon.

On the big day, Kenneth stood at center field of the stadium, near the punch 
bowl, which was set on a folding table. He was surrounded by his million 
closest friends, filling all the seats and even spilling onto the field, but 
two people had a special place at the festivities – Jesse Jackson, because 
he was Kenneth's newest friend, and Flinders, because she was his boss, and 
Kenneth knew which side his bread was buttered on. Kenneth remarked on the 
fine weather to Flinders, and complained to Jesse about the horrid traffic 
caused in large part by his birthday party. Then he gave their elbows a 
companionable squeeze and excused himself to climb the steps of the nearby 
podium, where he walked toward the waiting microphone.  

Kenneth planned to make a short speech before playing the host and 
circulating to say hi to everyone. He looked fondly out across the sea of 
shining faces, and then down toward those dear friends closest at hand -- 
Jesse and Flinders. The murmur of the crowd quieted as they saw him 
preparing to speak, and Kenneth noted a rising crescendo of super-smartphone 
camera flashbulbs going off as he cleared his throat. He paused as the 
flashbulbs continued to multiply, dazzling his eyes -- something was wrong! 
Kenneth's social media sense was tingling like crazy, and suddenly his super-
smartphone began heating up like a hot brick in his back pocket. Juggling 
the phone, Kenneth saw that his birthday party's Event page on 
SocialProfilez.com was a blur of updates, as an avalanche of photos, 
comments, and emoticons were posted all at once. The phone started smoking 
and Kenneth dropped it with a cry as blue lightning arced at the same 
instant from all the myriad super-smartphones around the stadium, coalescing 
in a flickering vortex of social energy above Kenneth's head.

<<IT'S A SINGULARITY!>> he tried to shout to Jesse and Flinders, who were 
frozen in an attitude of shock nearby, but no-one could hear him above the 
stupendous electrical discharge. Kenneth knew he had to stop the chain 
reaction, but the strange lights only increased the rate at which everyone 
was socially mediating. The lightning increased lockstep as Kenneth 
staggered toward the edge of the podium, and he vaguely felt himself being 
lifted and then slammed down the stairs by a titanic explosion.

Afterward, for a moment, there was nothing. Then there was Flinders coughing 
her guts out and Jesse Jackson exclaiming, "Oh my lord!" There was also 
something in the tenor of the crowd noise that was changed, and unsettling. 
Kenneth groaned and rolled his battered body over before cracking open an 
eyelid. He found himself still at the center of a stadium with his two 
dearest friends, but the other 999,998 friends were nowhere to be seen. The 
stadium walls that rose up around them were composed not of ferroconcrete 
but of stone colonnades, and the seats were filled with short people in 
togas. Kenneth heard a shocked cry arise from the crowd at their sudden 
appearance, but the words were not English or Brazilian, but Roman! They had 
been transported by the social media singularity back to the Roman 
Coliseum!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Kenneth spun in impotent circles, gasping against the weight of cruel fate 
as he took in the armoured gladiators and fearsome wild animals that were 
close at hand. The crowd was now chanting something that could only be Roman 
for <<Kill them immediately!>> Kenneth caught Jesse Jackson's eye and shared 
a moment of bitter defeat just before a massive armoured figure stepped 
forward and crushed Mr. Jackson's head with a spiked mace. From the other 
side, a starving and deranged tiger leapt at Sarah Elizabeth Flinders 
Jeffries Jones and tore her left arm off at the elbow. Her shrieking brought 
two more tigers and a quick end, before the cats began fighting over their 
kill. Rebuffed, one of the big cats turned toward Kenneth and began to stalk 
him with terrifying langour.

<<Weather... Traffic...>> Kenneth panted as the animal closed in, and the 
Roman chanting grew more insistent. In the end, with the tiger's cold eyes 
filling his vision, Kenneth Spruance shed a single tear, for he knew that he 
had sinned.

THE END.SAUCE00The Man With A Million Friends     Hennifer            Lazarus             20150412                                   