One Billion Drops of Happiness (10 page)

‘Sure, you think that you’re all living for a higher purpose. You think that life is about the future, progressing further than any planet has ever progressed. But who will be there to feel impressed? You’re living for a future that none of you have any emotion for. You can live for a hundred and fifty years but what happens when it’s done? You’ll all be removed without a trace of your existence. Nobody to remember you fondly. Nobody will speak of you again for you won’t have touched any lives. You’re all the same. I admit, I was just like you for a while too. I tried the experiment and it failed.

‘And at the end of everything, you’ll all be gone, but will you have ever truly lived? I don’t want to be a robot anymore, Xandria. I want to live how I used to live, how your grandfather used to live. I want to be surrounded by warmth and laughter, make love, cry real tears. I don’t want to be here if they turn on this Ophelium gas. If I stay here there will never be an escape, I’ll never be able to wean myself off. This is our only chance.’ She took a deep breath before continuing.

‘Your grandfather was the most intelligent man I ever knew. Even after his retirement his inventions did not end. He made some pills. It took him a long time because he was becoming very old, but at the start of this year he finally perfected them. We made a pact, him, Doric and I. We were going to involve you, but he was taken away before he had the chance to tell you. For the reasons I’ve just explained, we decided it was time to go back to the real life, the Old World, whatever you want to call it. He knew it wouldn’t be easy to just rip off our Suppressitors and fly back into a lifestyle which would eat us alive, therefore he prepared some pills that would gradually wean us off the effects of the Suppressitor.

‘We all took them off together and traded them for an inert replica he had made. For the first few days our pills were the same strength as a Suppressitor. It was remarkable that Dad had secretly created something that was better than Voss’ brainchild. We never had to click, it was incredible. We almost had second thoughts, so effective was this medication. But how long such pills would be this effective we did not know. We were his guinea pigs at the same time. See, you will never have heard of a guinea pig – your precious country took away all the animals!

‘As days passed, our pills became subtly weaker. Soon we were feeling real emotions which we had to hide in public. We preferred to spend our spare time at home where we could be free to express ourselves properly. It was the most liberating experience. You may have noticed when your grandfather was taken to the slaughter-house, he wasn’t wearing his Suppressitor. An oversight on my part. They believed me when I told them it fell off in the struggle. Little did they know. It was the most difficult period of my life, having to deal with the ceaseless grief I had not felt since my mother left home. I could barely hide it, no wonder they sent me for that refresher course. I was a mess. But at the same time, it felt meaningful. I was grieving because someone close to me had gone away. That’s what humans do. And I knew he would be proud that I was feeling like this.

‘Eventually we finished the bottle of pills. The last few were basically inert. It was extremely tough for Doric and I to walk around with this immense secret that we could finally feel again! Sure, we’ve consigned ourselves to living disease free until we’re ancient, but at least we will sense, savour and suffer.

‘Now, the final part of your grandfather’s plan was to go on a space tour, to experience the final vestige of New American civilization before giving it all up. He was still a curious man at heart, seeing space had always been his dream for years. He wanted us to be reminded of the natural beauty that lay within our reach, and at the same time we would be isolated and free to spend some of our last few moments together. He knew his time was coming soon; he wanted to get out and pass peacefully in Norway, the place he was born and the place where he was happiest.

‘He wanted us all to go. You, me, Doric. We would land at the space port and catch a jet straight to Norway. He had already prepared the papers. I know it’s very difficult to travel abroad, but the Norwegian government had already approved it. Like every other country in the world, they won’t let you in unless you have a heritage and a darn good reason. Well, we were lucky on that count. He explained he wanted to live there permanently, to reject his former country and return to his birth place. He even mentioned finding your grandmother again, if she was still alive.

‘Our own government here did not mind one bit. They would never suspect that anybody could ever want to leave this glorious country. When you’re dosed up on a Suppressitor, your natural free will goes out of the window. They believed his statement that he wanted us to return to fetch a member of the family. Another person? Great! The stronger the workforce, the better. Just don’t go revealing our secrets – oh wait, we can’t, we’re not told the secrets to begin with.

‘So that’s where we are today. Still planning to go on the spacetrip, still intending to board the jet to Norway upon our return. And yes, the government permission is still on the computer. I know this is a lot to take in right now, but I am pleading for you to come with us. We love you, Xandria, and life without you would just not be the same.’

The room could have been a vortex. There was absolutely no sound. Xandria was shell shocked. Throughout the speech she had clicked several times, quite unable to believe what she was hearing. Finally her Suppressitor won over.

‘I will never follow you anywhere outside this fine nation,’ she said, her voice completely controlled. ‘And I will never forgive your treachery. I will stay here with Henry, for he is the most important thing in my life bar my work. After you have gone, I will barely notice if I never see your faces again.’

And she exited the room.

Over the next few weeks, Suppressitor glitches started cropping up in ordinary folk all over the country. It was a pandemic; it accompanied an atmosphere of increasing dread that at any moment, it could happen to you too. If you stood for a fixed amount of time at a city landmark, it would be impossible not to see somebody flying off the handle while their frantic hands wrestled higgledy-piggledy with the unresponsive granite around their neck. All around them, people swiftly turned and walked the other way as if they had suddenly remembered they had to be somewhere. In crowded, indoor areas the citizens spotted hysteria and systematically siphoned for the exits like dirty water competing for the plughole.

Often no sooner than it had started it would cease. These were still early days after all; it takes a lot of boiling before the lid finally blows off the pot. People remarked at how they didn’t realise the extent to which Voss must have secretly updated the programming on the Suppressitors. To them, the day that they had bought theirs was the last time they imagined that it had anything to do with anyone else except themselves.

The citizens of New America grew more isolated from one another than they had ever been. A real fear that the glitches were potentially infectious enveloped the communities. Distrust was rife. People began subtly asking after their neighbours to check if they had tipped off the scales recently. This was a change from the previous reigning doctrine of not caring for each others’ business. Either everything is private or nobody has secrets. Regardless, we do not have the energy to care.

Behind the closed doors of people’s homes, the country appeared either undecided about Ophelium or apathetically in favour. The matter was seldom discussed with others. It seemed that to slip out of subduement and mention the topical issue could create a contentious bone that in turn may trigger a fresh spate of glitches.

Effie Brigham, a twenty eight year old female fresh out of education, lived with her mother in a one hundred and ninety floor tower block on the outskirts of the city. It was a diminutive apartment; the architects had designed the building so that it housed the maximum number of people whose homes sat flat on top of one other. They soared so high that the clouds had no option but to squeeze their way apologetically around the windows.

‘I’m not sure which side I believe in,’ she prattled carelessly one night, her mother obediently unwrapping a nutrition pill instead of dinner. They could not afford to dine out more than once a month. ‘I mean, won’t the world be a better place if everyone is happy?’

Her mother did not respond at first, she was staring emptily out of the window at nothing in particular. Her daughter had recently followed her into the fibre trade. Rather than masterminding the materials, like many citizens initially thought when she told them about her job, she was involved in selling them for the best price in a trade booth in town. Approach the booth, pick out your favoured mirage and hey presto, it would be delivered to the booth pronto. She was surplus to her job; she had not wished for her daughter to follow in her footsteps, but even in 2014, the poverty cycle had not relaxed its grip on the world. Nobody was poor per se anymore as survival was guaranteed, but without spare cash it was a drabber life than others lived. Everyone must be employed, was the government mantra. Idle hands are not progressive hands. We will make work for you to do.

‘Ophelium gas will not make you happy.’ Her mother remarked. ‘What is happiness? Can you see it? Can you measure it?’

‘Oh I don’t know,’ her daughter replied with big eyes. ‘I imagine it’s like a sprig. A sprig of happiness. Wouldn’t that be nice?’

Her mother continued to stare out of the window. She felt something these days but she wasn’t sure what. A certain bleakness, a discomfort perhaps. Whenever she became aware of it, her Suppressitor would nudge her with a flood of amnesia until she forgot what she had been thinking about.

* * *

‘So this is it.’ Amethyst stood by the elevator looking intensely awkward. She had not enjoyed quarrelling with her daughter and regretted it intensely.

Today she was dressed unusually somberly. She had contemplated taking her outlandish patterned outfit - the one with the royal blue and white stripes – an item of high fashion from the precious era before the idea of fashion had become frivolous and irrelevant. Oh the profligacy! But she stuck to a neutral olive colour from top to toe. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself at the space port.

She hoped that the computer wouldn’t flag her up as a citizen who had an outstanding Suppressitor refresher course scheduled for when she was in orbit. It was dubious anyway; the tickets had been so expensive that her mind had nearly fractured. The authorities would definitely overlook the error seeing as their profit margin was extremely high, and very few people had gone on the whole solar system tour. The more that satisfied customers returned singing its praises, eulogising the astonishing sight of the neighbouring planets, the more people would dig a little bit deeper into their pockets for a chance to be one of the intrepid space tourists. It made anybody look like the model, modern citizen of the twenty second century.

And the more progressive someone seemed, the higher the chance of promotion in their respective career. After all, everybody had seen President Okadigbo’s meteoric rise to success. It was well known that he had worked as an attendant in the space port before he was promoted to the government.

Doric drew up alongside her looking apologetic. His lanky frame filled the doorway, it was any wonder he’d be able to stretch his limbs fully in the confines of a spacebus.

Xandria regarded them both frostily. It was all she could do at the moment; she was still in a mixture of disbelief and rage that they had deceived her so easily. She eyed the granite placebos around their necks, half tempted to tip them off to the authorities. They would never be allowed to travel if it was known they had no Suppressitor. Think about the other people on board, it was positively dangerous for them if something went wrong. Ninety years old, you would think they would know better. Sadly they had done away with scanning Suppressitors at the space port in a last minute bid to gauge their strength. There was nothing they could give as a booster anymore now that Zebediah Voss had scarpered.

‘Well. I trust that you shall fly safely.’ Xandria remarked stiffly.

‘We’ll be back in a couple of months.’ Amethyst stated formally. ‘And then we’ll talk.’

‘Fine.’ Xandria snapped, substituting ‘talk’ for ‘go to Norway’ in her mind. She did not believe a word they said anymore.

There was silence. ‘Er…right. Well goodbye then.’ Doric took Amethyst’s lead and stepped hesitantly into the elevator.

‘Goodbye.’ Xandria said. And the doors purred shut.

* * *

At work the following day, Xandria fell into a quandary. Now her family had more or less fled – and there was no better word for it – the only Reinhardt left to answer to their debacle was her. If anybody scrutinized the computer too strongly, it would be blindingly obvious that she was consciously shirking a government appointment. This was not just frowned upon, it was virtually forbidden. She still could not believe her mother’s sheer cheek and indifference. Flouting the rules so willingly. Or the fact that they’d been using pills. But she did not want to think about that. It made her feel uneasy and she didn’t want to provoke her Suppressitor.

The trouble was, if they found out that her mother did not have an impeccable record, scrutiny would invariably avert to Xandria. And she was so close to getting that promotion. What could she do? Could she change it? No. That was too obvious. They would know instantly who had done it if they decided to check. It was highly unlikely owing to the millions and millions of citizens on the database, but just in case, the repercussions were unimaginable. Human interference with the computer was a serious offence unless carried out by someone extremely high in authority. Her gaze fell upon a three dimensional mirage of Henry floating above her desk. Ah. Could she?

No, no, no, one side of her brain reasoned, that will never do. Henry is a wonderful man, and anything that jeopardises him jeopardises his love for you.