Histoire: Living the Dream (Vivre le Rêve)
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Grace and Tom had recently bought a house together. Both in their early twenties, they didn’t have a lot of money. The house was small, and quite cold. But they were happy snuggling together with a big blanket on their lumpy sofa.
“Oh my god!” squealed Grace one evening, jumping to her feet with her phone in her hand.
“What is is, sweetheart?” said Tom, rising to her side, concerned.
Raj Raichand, the social media influencer billionaire, had announced a surprise gift. The first hundred people who had commented on his latest photo had won an eighty-day round-the-world tour on his luxury yacht, all expenses paid for two people. By pure chance, Grace had been the eighty-ninth person to comment – out of seventy-thousand.
They jumped into each others’ arms and kissed. They’d never been so lucky in their lives. Grace hadn’t even been following Raichand’s account. The photo had been suggested to her by the algorithm. It showed Mr Raichand beaming ecstatically, holding a cocktail and a beautiful woman in each arm. Grace had commented: ‘Living the dream!’
Just a week later, Grace and Tom were greeted on the gigantic yacht with glasses of the finest champagne. They met the other winners, the staff, and the film crew who would document their trip, but the billionaire himself was nowhere to be seen.
That evening they were served a ten-course seafood banquet, with caviar, oysters, scallops, lobsters and crabs. Grace fell about laughing when Tom, unfamiliar with such fine food, tried to eat an oyster’s shell.
They toured the enchanting islands of the Mediterranean and the vibrant coasts of Africa and India. They drank fresh coconut juice and experienced luscious exotic flavours while passing by Malaysia and Indonesia. Crossing the Panama Canal, they arrived in the Caribbean and sunbathed in a palm tree paradise.
On the last night of the cruise, they finally caught sight of Mr Raichand himself. He was standing on his own, staring out to sea. They approached him.
“We can’t thank you enough,” said Grace.
“This has been such a generous gift,” said Tom.
Mr Raichand didn’t respond. He didn’t turn his head, nor even move at all.
“Let’s leave him alone,” Grace whispered. They both returned to the farewell party.
After eighty incredible days, Grace and Tom found themselves once again in their little living room, in their small and cold house, on their lumpy sofa. The memory of the sandy beaches and shimmering ocean was still vivid, but it was fading. They spent the evening watching all the videos that the film crew had made.
Over the next few days, a strange mood descended over them. Their jobs had never been exciting, but now they were a monotonous torture. The walls of their house seemed even closer than before they’d left. They cooked their favourite meal to cheer themselves up, but it seemed to have no taste at all.
They sat at opposite ends of their sofa, scrolling fervently through social media. Their big blanket lay in a heap on the floor.
“We shouldn’t just follow Raichand,” said Tom, without looking up. “Other influencers might do prizes as well. They’re bound to, since he did it.”
“Good idea,” said Grace. “Make sure you click to receive notifications too. We’ve got to be the first to comment on every post.”