To the billions of people tuning in worldwide, the footage coming out of Storm Valley is almost impossible to believe. A 250-foot-tall, 19-year-old girl, dispatching an entire battalion of soldiers like they were ants. A giant robot, the military's best and last line of defense, obliterated just as easily in almost cartoonishly humiliating fashion. One of the largest cities in Northern California reduced to rubble. And now that same teenage girl, standing over the wreckage of all her thoroughly defeated opponents, seems to be getting ready to make a speech.
"'Sup world," says Lily, grinning. "Name's Lily. Goddess Lily."
Down in Lily's ass, you can't help shuddering. The tone she's using right now is the exact same one she used to use when shaking down kids for lunch money in school—amused, almost subdued, but with a clear edge of power and authority. You've always found her confidence a little unsettling, but seeing her assert it on a global scale is something else entirely.
"So, in case you haven't caught on yet, here's the deal. I'm your new boss." She pauses, looking around the wreckage of downtown Storm Valley and then back up to the helicopters. "I don't think anyone around here needs to hear that twice... but if you're watching this on the East Coast, or somewhere in China, or whatever, don't think this isn't a 'you problem.' 'Cause it is. Sooner or later, I'm gonna do this to your city, too." Gesturing around her to the ruins of your hometown, she does a big wink for the cameras. "Why? Because I can."
Remembering that you grabbed your phone before leaving the house this morning, you dig it out of your pocket to see if you can get a signal. Miraculously, you manage to get back onto Twitter, where the conversation is shockingly divided. Most of the people on your feeds have no interest in treating Lily as their new goddess—but a very loud and growing minority of posters seem to be very, very into it.
"The thing about me," Lily continues, "is that I do what I want, when I want. So if I feel like stepping on someone, or sitting on someone, or farting on someone, or eating someone, I'm gonna do it. And now, there's nothing any of you can do to stop me. So... if you want to have any chance of getting on my good side, remember. It's 'Goddess Lily.'" She pauses. "Got it?"
Noticing a sudden influx of contextless "yes" posts on your Twitter feed, you swallow hard.
"Good," says Lily, grinning. "Now, your goddess has some demands. First, some food. Lots of it. Maybe, like... ten bean and cheese burritos. But, like, my size. Two pizzas, extra cheese, some beer, maybe some weed." Nudging the remains of the mech at her feet, she shrugs. "Problem is, this whole town got pretty good and fucked up by all those dumbass army guys and their robot. So if you're in California right now, and you don't want your town to end up like this... chop chop. I really don't think you guys wanna find out what happens when I get hangry."
On Twitter, Lily's supporters have already started harassing the residents of surrounding cities and towns into complying with their new goddess's demands. You knew that your high school bully becoming a giant invulnerable monster represented a big problem for the world—but you never expected she'd get so much help from your fellow normal-sized humans.
"Second," says Lily, stepping over to the wreckage of Storm Valley Stadium and settling herself into the bleachers. "I want a throne, right here. Not some rinkydink ceremonial shit, either. I'm talking about something I can relax on. Made of gold. Oh, and some new clothes. Something fit for a goddess. I'm thinking a bikini... also made of gold."
Many of the users on your feeds are quick to point out that there's not enough gold on Earth to make a throne and a two-piece bikini big enough for Lily—though they're quickly drowned out by her growing online army of sycophants.
"Third, some servants. Guys to bring me food. Worship me. Rub my feet." She looks down at her bare toes, wiggling them in the sun, and smiles. "Can't exactly guarantee your safety, but... your sacrifices won't go unnoticed."
This, much to your dismay, proves her most popular request yet. In seconds, your Twitter feed is so packed with posts from supporters offering themselves up that you start having trouble scrolling.
"Oh!" says Lily, grinning. "And one more thing. I almost forgot. I want you to bring me…"