In 2013, I would have never thought it’d be like this—I never asked for people to camp outside my house. I didn’t know I’d have to “hide my cover” just to go out and buy eggs. I never wanted to be this famous.
See, I guess I did want recognition though. That part is obvious, right. Otherwise, why make everything so public? I knew it had never been attempted, let alone successfully executed. Everybody was in shock, it’s no wonder things took off the way they did.
I don’t blame them…
The medium is solely responsible for this. Before, you could get by with certain stuff. Today, obscure publicity is almost inevitable.
My uncle warned me about my ways when I was younger. He appreciated my talent; he knew one day it would change my life:
“Keep that up kid, the world might just be yours.”
My uncle died when I was 9 years old. Unexpectedly.
He and I had a unique relationship. My folks used to drop me off at the bottom of his extended gravel driveway. His house had lots of land; plenty of green, enclosed by one of those long black fence. He lived alone. He needed the extra space. His house was quaint yet open and full of artistry—games, models, drawings. Out back, the entire left side of the barn was chock-full of weird apparatuses. My uncle shared everything with me. He had this fruitful energy about life; unlikely I’ll ever find it again. He was so calm and giving, I wish I’d known why sooner.
His death broke me.
But… he got me to think the way I do now. He made me challenge human nature; he encouraged me to ask questions and, most of all, take risks. Although inconsequential, he’s the reason I’m famous now.
When I predicted the entire outcome, start to finish, down to the last microscopic detail, people swore I was possessed. I was surprised myself, to be honest.
“Those odds are impossible. No way anyone’s guessing that right.”
But when I was right, people freaked out. Friends called, family dropped by, the entire world found out within a couple days.
News outlets and media were calling for interviews right away. When I wouldn’t agree to talk, they became hostile. They made stuff up and reported to the public I was keeping a “low-profile.” It was completely counter-intuitive. That’s when social media caught wind and everything changed.
I was put on a pedestal; unlike anything I ever imagined.
All my life, up to this point, I thought life was about reaching the mountain top and feeling that glory — to overlook the ordinary, inspire, be involved, and matter.
It’s all an illusion.
First, they said I had genius-level IQ. People championed me for my “God given ability.” My relaxed demeanor about the prediction gave the impression I was made for that one moment. The act was well-respected and, given the magnitude, people exaggerated my character.
I became a meme — a fictional smart freak who could solve all trivial issues. I was associated with taking irrational shortcuts to reach a conclusion. I was mocked. I got lumped in with things I never intended to be tied to.
On the other end, people claimed I was a fraud; that I had secret information and cheated my way to the conclusion. Some theorists on the fringe proposed I was an alien. One outlet painted me as an un-sourced mole, a scam, fooling people to believe a falsehood.
None of that fucking matters.
Now, everyone is waiting outside my door, demanding my address. I can’t believe it’s come to this. Like my uncle, I just need space.
I never wanted to be this famous.
P.s. This is fiction, I think.