When the Fame War reached its peak, just as in any overlong and tiresome conflict, a super weapon was sought. Many ideas were tried and tested by both sides, the Defaming Ray could only effect a small group for a short time and the Death of Art Launcher did nothing but misfire. As the body count climbed ever higher and higher, the need and desperation for a solution welled up as if ready to burst.
Just as the war was looking to be never ending, in a bunker deep beneath the Swiss Alps, the Slow Gun came into existence. The Slow Gun, though no bigger than a microphone, was a weapon so devastating that its single use would put an end to the Fame War once and for all.
The first, and only, time the Slow Gun was used was on a young Michael Neil Smith. Smith had grown up in a small and unremarkable town in New Hampshire and worked in a small and unremarkable office living a small and unremarkable life. He was an Ordinary Man, not a Real Star or a True Artist, he was a complete neutral who had never given the War a second thought.
The Slow Gun’s effect took hold long before the shot had even been fired. The victim was announced in an international lottery with much fanfare and a worldwide audience of billions holding on with bated breath for the ultimate reveal.
The silence that followed the announcement of Smith’s name, though leaden, was barely measurable. It was swiftly shattered by the clamoring for interviews and questions from the True Artists who asked “Why him?” and the Real Stars who asked “Why not me?”
But answers did not come, interviews were not granted, and Smith was immediately hidden away from view until the sentence could be carried out. Suddenly the world’s most famous man was someone nobody knew anything about, an enigma absolute.
Speculation was rife with every pundit and newsmaker giving their baseless predictions about Smith’s life, never realising that this was in no way the important part of his story. Soon it was revealed that this guess making could end and, on a rainy afternoon in early June, Smith was lead out in front of the world the weapons effect was explained to him. The Slow Gun would flash and the projectile would fly towards him with an imperceptible and unsteady speed. Once fired, the bullet would follow him all the days of his life getting closer each day, sometimes felling as though it could strike him down at any second, sometimes not moving at all. The only certainty is that one day, Michael Neil Smith would die.
Smith was asked if he understood and agreed to the method and he responded “Yes.” He was then brought before the Slow Gun, the crowd of thousands invited to witness the event in person, and the billions around the globe watching on billions of screens, and the trigger was pulled and the bullet began its journey. The world gave a collective sigh of relief; surely this was the end of the Fame War.
Smith was the most sought after Man to ever live and during his time in hiding, he had been well trained. He was witty and charming and knew how to work any audience, regardless of culture, size or demographic, which made an instant hit on the Talk Circuits. He told his life story time and again, carving every bland detail into a grand and exciting tale with expertise. And everywhere he went, the bullet followed him.
Some years later, after every minuscule aspect of Michael Neil Smith had been raked over with a fine tooth comb and nothing big or remarkable had been found, people began to question again. “So why him?” and “So why not me?” and eventually the old patterns of the Fame War began to resurface. With most of the world believing the Slow Gun to have failed, Smith returned to his small and unremarkable life and his small and unremarkable job. But still, every day, wherever he went, the bullet followed him.
Years passed and no one payed much attention to the life of Michael Neil Smith. He was happy, he settled down with a family and tried to put the bullet out of his mind. As he had been told on that fateful day long ago, some days were easier than others but ultimately he knew there was nothing he could do to change the situation and no way of knowing when it would come.
And then, one day, as he played with his young grandson in the garden of the family home he had lived in for most of his life, Michael Neil Smith was touched, ever so lightly by the bullet that had followed him for every day for forty years. And with that slightest of touches, Michael Neil Smith died.
When the news of his death broke, the world reeled in shock. The Real Stars and the True Artists finally realised the true weapon behind the Slow Gun: perspective. They finally saw that the most famous man the world had ever seen was someone who came from nothing to great acclaim by pure chance, just as many of them had. But even this man’s fame had waned and they had died forgotten by the world that had loved them. The Fame War was over, Michael Neil Smith had won.
