Chapter 5: The Digital Menagerie

Chapter 5: The Digital Menagerie

The low, persistent hum of his server rack was the only sound in Art’s living room. It was nearly 2 a.m. The last lines of code for the fintech audit had been committed an hour ago, a thankless, soul-sucking task that had paid for his minimalist Swedish furniture but offered zero in the way of genuine satisfaction. His mind, still buzzing with caffeine and leftover adrenaline, craved a more creative outlet. It craved chaos.

He opened his laptop, the familiar green and yellow of the Tractor Supply Co. website blooming in the darkness like a toxic flower. A week had passed since his last incursion, a week since he had set the stage for Jedidiah's checkout humiliation. He’d expected some kind of response. A frantic password reset attempt, perhaps. A change in the account’s email address. Anything.

But there had been nothing. Just a profound, unnerving silence from Tennessee.

The lack of a reaction was, in its own way, more exciting than a direct counter-attack. It meant Jedidiah was completely mystified. Art pictured the poor man talking to the customer service agent, Brenda. He imagined the exact moment the word ‘gorilla’ was introduced into the conversation. The glorious, sputtering confusion. The sheer impossibility of it all. Jedidiah wasn’t fighting back because he didn't know who or what to fight. He was a man trying to punch a ghost.

This realization filled Art with a giddy sense of power. He was an invisible god in this tiny, poorly designed digital universe. And his congregation was bored. Nigel, he decided, was getting lonely. It was time to expand the family.

Feeling bold, he logged into Jedidiah’s account. The points total was still a paltry 488. He navigated straight to the ‘Purchase History’, his sacred text. He scrolled past the recent acquisitions—the fence insulators, the tow chain—and looked deeper, seeking inspiration in the mundane relics of Jed’s life. He needed to tailor the new arrivals, to weave them into the existing narrative of Jedidiah’s purchases. Randomness was for amateurs. This was bespoke psychological warfare.

His eyes landed on a transaction from two months prior. 1 x 5lb Spool, Welding Rods. Heat. Fire. Metal. An idea sparked, brilliant and deranged.

He clicked back to the ‘Pet Profile’ tab and selected ‘Add a New Pet’.

Pet’s Name: Bartholomew. It sounded grand, ancient, and utterly ridiculous.

Pet Type: The dropdown menu was a list of boring possibilities. He once again chose the ‘Other’ field and typed, with reverence, Fire-Breathing Newt.

Pet’s Weight: He entered 8 ounces. The contrast with Nigel’s bulk was essential for comedic balance.

Special Dietary Needs / Notes: This was the canvas. He let his imagination run wild. Bartholomew has a sensitive stomach and a tendency to sneeze sparks when agitated. Enclosure must be lined with non-flammable materials. He requires a steady diet of sulfur-rich crickets and has recently developed a fondness for the taste of melted plastic. KEEP AWAY FROM CURTAINS. Linked to recent purchase of welding rods for necessary enclosure repairs after a… misunderstanding.

Art had to physically stifle a laugh, pressing the heel of his hand against his mouth. The image of Jedidiah trying to explain a fire-breathing newt to a bewildered store manager was almost too much to bear. To complete the picture, he went to the voucher page. He scanned the list, his eyes lighting up when he found the perfect item. Voucher: One (1) 40lb Bag of All-Purpose Gravel - 150 points. It was meant for driveways or garden paths. For Bartholomew, it would be non-flammable bedding. He redeemed it instantly.

The points total dropped to 338.

He was on a roll. The silence from Tennessee was no longer unnerving; it was an invitation. He scrolled through the purchase history again. Another entry caught his eye, this one from the deep winter months. 3 x 50lb Bag, Rock Salt. Cold. Ice. A creature of a different temperament was needed to balance Bartholomew’s fiery personality. Something lethargic. Something… fluffy.

He clicked ‘Add a New Pet’.

Pet’s Name: Esmeralda. It sounded gentle, poetic, and deeply tragic.

Pet Type: Narcoleptic Alpaca.

Pet’s Weight: 155 lbs.

Special Dietary Needs / Notes: He leaned in close to the screen, the blue light reflecting in his glasses as he typed the masterpiece of clinical nonsense. Esmeralda suffers from sudden onset narcolepsy, often triggered by loud noises or complex carbohydrates. She has a rare salt deficiency related to her condition and requires a salt lick at all times (ref: rock salt purchase, 11/27). Please approach with caution, as she is prone to collapsing without warning. DO NOT OPERATE HEAVY MACHINERY IN HER VICINITY.

He read it back, tears of silent laughter streaming down his cheeks. He was creating an entire ecosystem of fictional, high-maintenance beasts, all living within the confines of a loyalty account for a farm supply store. It was the most brilliantly stupid thing he had ever done.

Of course, Esmeralda had needs. He returned to the voucher page, his heart singing. There it was, a seasonal item still lingering on the list. Voucher: One (1) Heated 16-Gallon Water Bucket - 300 points. Perfect for an alpaca with a delicate constitution who needed to stay hydrated through her long, sudden naps.

He clicked redeem.

The points total now stood at a pathetic 38.

Art leaned back in his chair, the laptop bathing him in its glow. He took a moment to admire his creation. The pet profile for [email protected] now read like the passenger manifest for a mythological ark.

• Buster, the Dog. (The control group; the anchor to reality.)
• Nigel, the 666lb pregnant Gorilla.
• Bartholomew, the 8oz fire-breathing Newt.
• Esmeralda, the 155lb narcoleptic Alpaca.

He had built a surreal narrative, a digital menagerie with complex, interlocking needs directly tied to Jedidiah’s own life. The cat treats for Nigel’s morning sickness, the gravel for Bartholomew’s fiery sneezes, the heated bucket for Esmeralda’s fainting spells. It wasn’t just a prank anymore. It was a world.

He imagined the next phone call to Brenda at customer service. He imagined her trying to explain, with a straight face, why Mr. Stone’s account was now functionally bankrupt but rich in vouchers for gravel and heated buckets. He pictured Jedidiah’s weathered face, the deep lines of confusion, the slow, dawning horror that his life had been invaded by creatures he could neither see nor comprehend.

The maniacal giggle he’d been suppressing finally broke free, a sharp, unhinged sound in the quiet of his flat. He was no longer just Art Pendelton, IT consultant. He was the zookeeper of a madman’s dream, the unseen hand guiding this farmer from Tennessee on a bizarre, spiraling journey into the digital abyss. And the zoo, he thought with a final, wicked grin, was still open for new acquisitions.