“Sure,” Tank said, “and maybe it’s destined to be a classic, but…” He shrugged. Len’s shoulders slumped. “What worries me most is that you seem apolitical.”
“Is that bad? I thought everyone hated politicians.”
Tank looked him in the eyes again, but like magnets of the same pole, Len’s gaze deflected down to Tank’s shirt.
“That’s a common misperception among my clients. Everybody hates the other guy’s politicians, and hating any politician is very political.”
“So, um, can you help me?”
“Of course!” Tank boomed with a smile as big as his voice. “Your profile is a classic fixer-upper. I have a starter package that will make you look a lot more human, more three-dimensional.”
In Len’s mind’s eye, the “Followers: 17” on his profile page sprouted two zeros at the end, and he dared to lift his gaze to Tank’s mouth. “How would that work?”
Tank swiveled his computer halfway around, and Len fell toward the screen as if it were an electric womb. It displayed his own profile page and activity.
“You see these gaps here?” Tank pointed at a few posts and retweets that were next to each other. “The dates, I mean. You have gaps in here of up to three days. That loses you followers. That loses you clout. It makes it seem like you’re not really interested, Len. If you’re not interested, if you’re not out there saying something, people lose interest in you.”
Tank pulled up a second profile, one in which the activity was more uniform. “I created this profile for demonstration purposes.”
Len whistled in appreciation at the profile’s statistics: fifteen thousand followers.
Tank grinned. “Not bad for someone who doesn’t exist, right?”
“You must spend a lot of time keeping it up to date.”
Tank’s grin grew larger. “I haven’t logged on to this profile in half a year. That’s exactly what I can do for you: the whole thing is automated.”
Len scrutinized the profile to find the holes, tells, or slip-ups. Consistently left, pro nonbinary sexualities, active for the conservation of cultural and historical landmarks, and a series of song-likes that were mostly mainstream with a smattering of garage-band-looking groups he had never heard of. “You don’t do that?” he demanded, pointing at the screen.
Tank waggled his head. “It’s all in the algorithm, friend, and the starter package is very reasonably priced.”