“I also know your mother is embarrassed by you, Benicio. That she pretends like you don’t exist. And your father, he died ashamed of who you were turning out to be. What would he think of whatyou’ve become? He killed himself because you were a little bitch. He’s probably looking down upon you right now, more ashamed than ever. Even more ashamed than he was when your mother took Pepita away. And you just let her do it. What a little man you are. What a little bitch. It’s no wonder Lady Diva left you.”
“Fuck you!” Droog shrieked. “Don’t mention my father. Don’t mention him ever again! Fuck you, terrorist. I’m going to find out who you are, and I am going tofuckingkill you.”
“Nine million,” Roger said in my ear.
“All these new subscribers,” I said. “They’re not laughing with you, Benicio. They’re laughingatyou.”
I put my hand over the microphone. “Roger, can you generate a new image of Droog’s ex-girlfriend sitting on the goat guy’s lap? Like a recent one?”
Droog was shouting now, but it sounded like he was screaming at some of his followers. “No. Fuck you! Shasta! Pepita had alopecia and needed a better vet! I did not fuck my Chihuahua. Fuck you!…I loved her. I was going to marry her…. No, not my dog, you fucking idiot. Isabella.”
“Generative AI images featuring humans are illegal,” Roger said. He paused. “But yes. I should warn you, Oliver, it does not appear that this Goat Sects streamer has ever signed up to playOperation Bounce House. Your efforts may cause direct harm to an innocent party.”
“I don’t care.”
“Very well. I just wanted you to be aware,” Roger said.
Droog continued to scream. “Who is this? Who is this really? I’m going to fucking kill you. I have a gun. I’m going to come to your home and put a bullet in your fucking head. I don’t care where you live. You’ve gone too far. You’re going to talk about my dad? He didn’t kill himself. Fuck you. I’m going to fucking rip your head off.”
“Put Pepita in the picture, too. And a wedding ring on Lady Diva. I want you to post it in the feed when I say go.”
“The feed is moving too quickly for the image to have an impact.Give me thirty seconds so I can clone multiple accounts and have them join the feed. Then I will begin posting from multiple feeds. I will post a series of images until he disconnects.”
“Give them usernames that imply they’re fans of this Goat Sects guy.”
“Very well, Oliver. I am ready.”
“Okay. Start posting now.”
I pulled my hand off the microphone. Droog was still screaming. He sounded like he was crying.
“Hey, Droog,” I said. “One last thing.”
“What? What is it?”
“I fuck the goats so you don’t have to…and I still fuck Lady Diva, too.”
The Rhythm Mafia Tapes. Scene twenty-two.
We are in a room surrounded by what appears to be multiple brass tanks and pipes. In the background, an unidentified elderly woman is checking a gauge. This appears to be some sort of alcohol distillery. In the foreground, a pair of large muscular men with sandy hair are sitting on a bench. The men are twins. The one on the left is Axel Serrano and on the right is Tito Serrano, both twenty-four years old.
The camera zooms in on the brother on the right, Tito, who looks down as he realizes he’s being examined by the camera’s eye.
Rosita (off camera):Your brother doesn’t talk much.
Axel (off camera):He talks. Sometimes. But only to our grandmother or me. And only when we’re alone. You know this, Rosita.
Rosita:I do. I’m sorry, guys. This is just for the documentary so the people watching will know, too.
Axel:People don’t need to know that much about him. It’s none of their business.
Tito grunts and makes a hand gesture at his brother.
Axel:You sure?
Tito repeats the gesture. He keeps his head down.
Axel:All right. He says it’s fine. Ask away.
