"Fuck yeah!" Zac yelled as he wrote the word 'Story' on the whiteboard and circled it. "How's it gonna start?"

I smiled to myself. "Right here, in this room, having this conversation with you, at the very beginning of it all."

"But this is the end of the story..."

"Oh," I chuckled. "Is it? Or is it like Bo Burnham sang..."

You can tell them anything if
You just make it funny, make it rhyme
And if they still don't understand you
Then you run it one more time

Make Happy Bo Burnham

I grabbed my laptop, opened a fresh document, and began typing.

"Zac!" I yelled as I burst through the door. "Zac! I've figured it out! This is huge!"

"That's what she said," Zac quipped as he emerged from the study and sat on my bed, where I was already pacing around the room.

Zac snickered. "That's what she said."

"Indeed. Everyone secretly loves a well-executed, irreverent dirty joke — and you're the master of them. I'm placing you and your filthy mind in charge of comedic relief."

"Luckily, our friendship can best be described as an eight-year-long succession of punchlines. Your memories should contain plenty of source material."

"Ah," I sighed. "I knew there was a reason I met you all those years ago. I've actually given you a very important job, Zachary. This weapon needs to reek of irreverence, or the attack will fail."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, this is information warfare. We're crafting a cognitive dissonance bomb. That's how you slip past cognitive bias — you use a pattern interrupt; a diversion. If everyone expects serious ideas to come from serious people and be presented in serious, boring ways, then we have to do the exact opposite of that. We have to present a serious idea in a ridiculous way — a way that is simultaneously palatable to the general population, yet loaded with thought-provoking truth. If readers can't immediately put me in a neat little box, I can disorient them long enough to slip past their cognitive defenses and plant a counterintuitive idea in their mind."

"So, what do we need to include in the story?"

"Humor. Sex. Personal anecdotes. Adventure. Tears. Romance. Dreams. Failures. Insecurities. Friendships. Emotions. Alcohol. Swearing. Wisdom. Philosophy. The core essence of humanity. Basically, anything that traditionally should not be included alongside a serious scientific paper."

"This is going to be so stupid," Zac said.

"Stupid?" I grinned. "Hardly. To do a dull thing with style — now that's what I call art! This whole plan is a long-shot, but I'll laugh so hard if it actually works. It would be the world's funniest joke."

"A shit-stirring Banksy-esque masterpiece," Zac said.

"Well, this algorithm does have a great sense of humor."

Zac leaped onto the bed. "I can see the headlines now: Uneducated Young Australian Woman Deductively Overthrows Scientific Establishment From Her Bedroom, Accompanied By Filthy Ginger Sidekick."

"Like I said — it would be the world's funniest joke." I continued typing.

I rolled my eyes. "Ugh. You're such a man-child. I'm sure you'll make some woman very happy one day with what I can only assume is an adequately sized package."

"Hey!" Zac cried. "I'm not adequately sized!"

"Oh, sorry. Are you smaller?"

Zac pounced on me and tried to pry the laptop from my hands. I shut its lid and hugged it to my chest as he attempted to put me in a headlock.

"Also," I laughed, "I need to dumb you down a bit."

"Why?"

"Because you're too intelligent and knowledgeable in real life. You're going to play a supporting role, and I need you to ask basic questions that prop up my own character arc and plotline."

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean, basic questions?"

"Exactly like that," I replied.

"Like what?"

"I need you to ask, 'Why?' 'What do you mean, basic questions?' 'Like what?' etcetera. I can't spend a whole book having a conversation with myself now, can I? People will think I'm mad! We can't have that. Sick minds terrify society. No one will take the crazy girl seriously.

But don't worry — I'll try not to do a hack job on your complex multi-dimensional personality. You'll be a simple man with simple interests, but I'll retain your core eccentric essence and wit. It will be a magnificent illusion."

Zac scowled.

"Oh, come on," I coaxed. "You said you'd march to the ends of the Earth for me. The ends of the fucking Earth, Zac!"

"Fine," he begrudged.

"Great!" I released the laptop, jumped off my bed, and bolted towards the bedroom door.

"Where are you going?" Zac asked.

"To run a hot bath and sharpen my sword. I've got a kill zone to construct and a story to write. This is going to be an intellectual carnage."

I opened the door just as a small object hit me in the back.

"Hey Nikki," Zac said as I picked up the yellow rubber ducky from the floor. "Give 'em hell."

***

A few days later, Zac packed up his didgeridoo and boarded a flight back to Colombia. I came home to find a message scrawled across the corner of my whiteboard.

Nikki,
You're a bloody champion! You continue to inspire & amuse me, and I'm so excited to see how you change the world. See you soon! xox Zac