The Social Pyramid's Goldfish

Maya's phone buzzed with another pyramid scheme text from Jason—the third one this week. "Just recruit three people under you, and they recruit three people, and suddenly you're making six figures!" The pyramid emoji pyramid at the end of his message felt like a personal attack.

She dragged herself through the school hallway, feeling like a zombie after three consecutive nights of binge-watching apocalyptic dramas until 3 AM. The irony wasn't lost on her—she was literally becoming the undead she obsessed over.

"Hey, Maya!" Jason appeared at her locker, eyes manic. "You haven't responded to my texts! This opportunity is blowing up!"

"Jason," she deadpanned. "It's literally a pyramid scheme. That's the definition."

"It's NETWORK MARKETING," he insisted, as if volume equaled legitimacy. "My cousin's already made like, two thousand dollars."

Her phone died mid-argument, courtesy of the frayed charging cable she'd been meaning to replace for months. Perfect.

At home, Floppa, her goldfish, floated in his bowl with that eternal goldfish expression—mouth opening and closing, bubbles rising, absolutely zero thoughts happening behind those bug eyes. Sometimes Maya envied him. No AP Calculus, no college applications, no Jason trying to recruit her into a pyramid scheme.

"You're living the dream, Floppa," she whispered, dropping a flake of food into his bowl. "No drama, no hype beasts, no one trying to sell you protein powder."

Her mom called from downstairs. "Maya! The cable guy is here to finally fix our internet!"

She trudged down, zombie-like, and watched as the technician spent twenty minutes examining wires.

"Yeah, your cable's been chewed through," he said, holding up the severed wire. "Probably mice. Or rats."

Maya stared at it. "Chewed through?"

"Happens all the time." He shrugged. "They're determined little guys."

Determined. Like Jason with his pyramid scheme. Like her, still trying to maintain her 4.2 GPA while functioning on four hours of sleep and caffeine. Like Floppa, endlessly circling his little glass pyramid scheme of a home.

"You know what," Maya said, suddenly energized. "Can you make the internet faster? I need to research something."

"Sure can."

She pulled out her notebook and started writing: "The Social Pyramid Survival Guide." Step one: Identify the zombies (including yourself). Step two: Protect your energy like it's gold. Step three: Never trust anyone who texts you at midnight about "opportunities."

Floppa would be proud.