Glock sunk into his cot like every other evening. He looked at the placard mounted above him and thought, if I’d only been born with better self-knowledge, then I might have understood what they meant by, “Frenetically Intelligent…” I might have even tried to refute them. But, then again, I’d have probably been a doctor or writer even.

In any case, his skill-set gave him all the information he needed and none of the facility of human understanding to really get other people.

Unlike other people, he had a photographic memory, so that once he read something, it was etched permanently into his brain, like the letters on that placard. For this reason, he knew that the imbecility of society was because he lived during a time when the general population had evolved past the ‘need’ to remember things for longer than a day, but had totally lost access to the technologies that made this evolutionary misstep possible—all, of course, except for the elite-of-the-elite. This rendered most people pretty much as useful as goldfish.

But even during so dismal a chapter in human history, these bipedal, talking goldfish yet found ways to exploit and cajole each other. Some even found ways to earn an income.

Carnivals were in fashion. Bearded women, little-people, giants, flashing lights and fried funnel-cakes all were prime money-making stimuli at the time. Crafty imbeciles made a good living, while those less crafty of them spent government allowances on cheap thrills.

Oh—God! Is that all I am, a cheap thrill? echoed in Glock’s thoughts as his mind turned like a merry-go-round behind closed eyelids.

Then, in relief, he remembered those eyes. Those were not the beady, black eyes of a goldfish, but had light! That beautiful creature cast those eyes on his, then to the banner with Frenetically Intelligent Researcher Employable for His Overpowering Sapience of the Encyclopedia printed in red and gold letters, and then to the goldfish man who looked up, expectantly at him. She listened as Glock recounted word-for-word the encyclopedia entry for “Black Thursday,” per the request, as the man blinked slowly, mouth agape, hoping he would slip.

Even if she was one of them, he thought, his mind drifting off to sleep, what would she want with an enthroned circus freak who earned his meager sats recounting encyclopedia entries to goldfish-people?

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