Paid for Content

When the last syllable of the last word of the last sentence of the last paragraph had been written, Lemarco Nettleton smiled. At six foot four inches he was often mistaken for a basketball player, though he never picked up a ball. His oval face could be recognized combined with his designer frames and lenses. He had light brown locks and wheat colored eyes. His skin looked like cacao.

“This is going to work,” he remarked with a glint in his eye and a bit of grit in his teeth. He had published dozens of stories on an online platform that paid for content. Though the particular entity had not gained as much attention as other webpages, it still offered considerable advantages to creators. He sent the story in and waited for it to go live. The green button highlighting the fact they received it made him jubilant. His eyes widened and he gritted even more.

“Your story has been published!” the page declared. His heart nestled down from his throat and he could feel a distinct ease.

He heard footsteps. The door opened. In walked Valiant Bender. Smaller in height at five foot eleven, he still carried himself as if he were taller. He had light brown skin with one green eye and one gray eye. A beard covered most of his square face. He looked at the screen. “It’s live. Now, I’ve gotta get to work.”

“Man, don’t think that just because I’m doing this just this one time that we’ll be doing this forever,” Nettleton admonished.

“Relax, relax,” Bender reassured. “I’ve got this.”

He took out his phone and copied and pasted Nettleton’s story. This story had already garnered eleven hundred reads. The administrators of the site already voted it Best Story after Nettleton submitted it for a Competition.

“You should wait,” Nettleton suggested.

“For what? They’ll never know the difference.”

“It’s gaining reads….” Nettleton reminded Bender.

“That’s great, they still won’t know who copied the story until just the right time.”

In a few weeks, the story, “The Science of Originality” had garnered close to three hundred thousand reads and won the top prize in the Competition.

“Alright, now you can copy and submit it,” Nettleton relented.

With the story closing in on half a million reads which equated to close to thirty thousand dollars, Bender used a nondescript account and finished the deal and shook hands with Nettleton.

He sent a message to the site about the story being plagiarized. They found that the story had indeed been copied. The young men rejoiced. They then found each other in court.

With Nettleton as the plaintiff, he breathed easily. Bender put on a face of contrition.

“So you boys know this isn’t such a rare case?” Judge Carter Jean asked.

“What’s that, your honor?” Nettleton asked.

“Two friends wanting to outdo the other in writing a story. I’ve seen this before.”

The two men gave sighs as if boulders had been removed from their chests.

“I’m going tell you what, Mr. Bender. You’re going to have to fork over the money in earnings that this story has generated and pay in perpetuity....”

“Your honor….” Nettleton protested.

The judge shot him an “am I not helping you out, son?” look.

“As I was saying, in perpetuity as the site continues to earn for Mr. Nettleton. Judgement in favor of the plaintiff.” Judge Jean banged the gavel.

Outside as they retrieved their smartphones, they shot out of the doors, shouting at each other.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen like it did!” Nettleton argued.

“I was just supposed to pay my lawyer and you a fraction of what the story earned. Now, I’ll be paying you for the rest of my life!” Bender muffled his voice through clenched teeth.

“What we can do is, I’ll take the cash from the story and just recycle it into our business we had planned,” Nettleton countered.

“What business? Who’s going to trust me? I know I was supposed to take the short end of the stick but now I'll need to plant a tree for you!” Bender exclaimed this time. Some women in the lobby looked up at them, then down at their phones.

“I’ll give all the money I earned from the Competition which made me $20,000. You can invest in crypto—”

“Whoa, whoa. No crypto,” Bender shot back.

“It’s the only way.”

“Jesus….” Bender shook his head.

“Alright. If you make good use of the blockchain, we can share this money like we promised.” They shook hands. Before they exited the courthouse grounds, Nettleton tried to login to his account. He found a message from the publishing site. The note read: “Suspicious and/or fraudulent activity found on this account. Please refer to the administrator.”

“What? Why do you look like that, like ice was just poured down your back?” Bender asked with a touch of fear himself.

“There is no story. The money’s gone. We’re both out of it.”

“No. There’s something, anything we can do,” Bender petitioned.

“There’s nothing. If we are going to do anything it's to go back and tell the judge about our whole intricate plot to defraud the site.”

“They don’t even know.”

“While we were walking out, I texted the cops. It just hit me that everything we had planned was wrong and that we should pay for it.”

“Okay, you stay here and pay for it. I’m getting out of here!” Bender shrieked. He began to break away from Nettleton. He walked briskly and then began running. His all white shirt and pants in the spring air made him look like a flash in the day. This, of course, alarmed the people of the courthouse.

Nettleton just remained frozen, a statue with brown dress shoes, skinny slacks and an azure button up and gold polyester tie. His powers as a writer eluded him now. He could not concoct a narrative to release him from the punishment that would soon visit him. He stretched out his hands and prepared to be handcuffed.

A police vehicle rolled up right outside the courtroom in New Castle County, Delaware. The cop wrapped the cold steel of justice around his wrists. Bender tripped and fell mid-flight. He smudged his white attire and black sneakers. An officer picked him up and placed in the back of the squad car. As the cruiser rolled away, the officer in the passenger seat scrolled through the writing site.

“You’ve got to read this article. I know you’re trying to break into writing I know you’ve been taking classes at First State Community College between shifts,” Officer Jedding goaded.

“Alright alright,” Officer Mohr replied, his hand on the wheel.

“It’s this great piece on originality in writing.”

Bender’s ears piqued. Jedding continued. “Yeah, it doesn’t have as many reads but what are reads when it comes to a great story?”