It all started when Luna showed Rocco a video: a craftsman assembling dry twigs into the figure of the Monkey King, Sun Wukong. Each branch formed the armor, the hair, the magic staff. From a distance, it looked like Sun Wukong was about to leap off the screen.
Rocco watched, went silent for exactly three seconds, then declared: “Pretty ordinary. You just pick up some twigs and tie them together.”
Luna narrowed her eyes. “Can you do it?” — “Of course. I'll make an even better one. Mine will even have six-pack abs.” Luna looked at Rocco's round belly. “Do you even know what a six-pack looks like?” — “I do. Six pieces of fried chicken.”
Ten minutes later, the two stood in the yard before a heap of dry branches. Get Go wandered past: “What are you two up to?” — “Rocco says he'll make the Monkey King out of twigs.” Get Go looked at Rocco: “Him?” — “What? Don't believe in genius?” — “I do. But geniuses usually don't hold the scissors backwards.” Rocco quietly turned the scissors around. “That's an advanced technique.”
Luna picked her branches carefully: a curved one for an arm, small ones for the hair. Before long, a little monkey holding a staff appeared. Get Go nodded: “Nice.” Rocco smirked and held up his masterpiece: a bundle of twigs tied into a round blob, with two tiny legs sticking out underneath.
Luna stared for a long moment. “Is that… a spider?” — “No.” — “A crab?” — “No!” — “A broom that had an accident?” — “THIS IS THE MONKEY KING!” Get Go tilted his head: “So where's the magic staff?” Rocco pointed at a branch stuck through the belly: “Right here!” — “Why is the staff growing out of its stomach?” — “Upgraded edition. No need to hold the staff anymore.” Get Go nodded: “Convenient. Though it'll have trouble fitting through doors.”
Rocco lost his cool. He looked at Luna's work. He looked at his own. Then he looked at his phone. “HA! It's the age of AI — who still does things by hand!” He snapped a photo of his pile of twigs and typed: “Turn this into a majestic, awe-inspiring, cinematic Monkey King, 8K.”
A few seconds later, the screen showed a gorgeous Sun Wukong, golden armor blazing among the clouds. “SEE?! MY MONKEY KING!” Luna looked at the screen, then at the pile of twigs: “But that's an AI image.” — “So what? Art must embrace technology!” Get Go asked: “And what if you lose your internet connection?” Rocco froze. “...Then the Monkey King returns to Flower-Fruit Mountain.”
At that very moment, a gust of wind blew through. Luna's piece stood firm. Rocco's heap of twigs rolled all over the yard. “MONKEY KING! DON'T GO!” Rocco chased after it. Tripped. Tumbled. Dove headfirst into the pile of branches.
When he stood up, a few twigs were caught on his head like a crown, one branch lay across his shoulder, and a long one clung to his back. Luna looked. Get Go looked. Both went silent. Then Get Go raised his phone. Click!
“What did you take?” — Get Go showed him the photo: Rocco standing amid the branches, face flushed red, holding a stick exactly like a magic staff. Luna burst out laughing: “You finally made the Monkey King!” — “Really?!” — “Yes. Just one small difference.” — “What difference?”
People make the Monkey King out of twigs. You made twigs out of the Monkey King.
Get Go
Rocco blinked. “Huh?” Luna laughed so hard she had to sit down.
That afternoon, Get Go posted the photo online: “The Monkey King wreaks havoc… on a woodpile.” The likes shot up. “HA HA! I TOLD YOU I HAD TALENT!” — “Yes, a talent for accidents.”
Rocco changed his profile picture. Just then, a comment appeared: “Hey, how much for that costume?” Rocco froze. He turned to Get Go: “Hey… want to go gather twigs again tomorrow?” — “What for?” — “To launch a high-fashion startup.”
Get Go looked at the woodpile. Looked at Rocco. Then quietly put his phone away. “Let me block that comment first.” Luna looked up at the sky. “Oh Monkey King… save me.”
People look at twigs and see art. Rocco looks at twigs and sees a business opportunity. Get Go just sees another day of gathering firewood.
