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Sasha Rygotina went to Instagram and opened her profile. A million. The long-awaited million. Who are all these people? Fans? Haters? Watching? Two million pairs of eyes look at her every day. They watch her like a lab rat, what she eats, how she sleeps, where she walks, who she's friends with. When the rating of statistics starts to fall and views are reduced, she gives them food content, in fact, she is watching them, their reaction, they are rats behind glass, and from time to time she throws them a piece of meat in the form of a hype.
She liked this fashionable English word, she didn't even bother and translated it in a Google translator: hype. It's about her. A simple girl from the village, without manners, education and culture. She came to the district town, got a job as a waitress at the Golden Chest pub. After sleeping with a fat and bald client, Sasha bought herself the very first iPhone, the first sign of a successful girl. And by downloading the Instagram app, she discovered a new, beautiful, glamorous, rich world of chicks who ate lobsters on yachts, drank Veuve Clicquot champagne against the backdrop of European attractions and ordered coffee at Starbucks near Trump Tower.
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– My sunbeams, my people of Nature and Goodness, my Universe, are you ready to realize your essence? Are you ready to become a part of Mother Nature?
– Yes, we are ready, – Dinara shouted and stroked her huge belly, – we are ready and happy.
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