One or two 500mg tablets at a time, up to four times in 24 hours. Safe to take during pregnancy and while breastfeeding. Now in a syrup or powder for children and infants.
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The baby is crying, again. Time to be happy: paint on a smile, follow the shrill of moaning gums, dab dummy twice into the powder mix and feed. Those eyes have never shined so bright. Get some rest, you have to be up in four hours to be happy.
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‘Kyle, please just sit down. I can’t talk to you yet. It is nothing to worry about, it will be okay – trust me. We just need to sit down – Kyle, sit. Thank you. Here, it is time. Be happy. Have two. Kyle, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, but I didn’t want to upset you – I don’t think we should see each other anymore. You make me feel trapped. Goodbye, Kyle, don’t forget to smile’.
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The low winter sun waned in the grey sky. The dark clouds gathered and a shadow cast o’er the cemetery danced gently. They, slowly, lowered the coffin into the ground. Tears pricked at their eyes. The rope passed carefully through their shaking hands. They couldn’t keep it in, not a second longer. Just one snorted and the whole family burst out, roared out, spat out laughing. Thud.
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‘Fuck the pills, man. You don’t need them – it is a con. People were happy before them, people’ll be happy after. I haven’t taken them for five months, now, man, and look at me, I’m all good, man. They wake up, swallow up to four pills a day and the upshot? A pick me up isn’t good enough to get up in the morning. If you want a real high, you have to try this, man, a deluxe synthetic liquid. Yeah, man, just pull up your sleeve and tie this around your arm – tighter – there you go, man, now this won’t hurt, it just looks sharp. Hold still’.
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‘She had a smile on her face, loved every second of it’.
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It is like a thousand voices screaming at once inside your head, except they’re not in your head and they’re not screaming. The swirling swollen noise is in front of you, a crowd of talking, ticking people. They’re loud and beaming and bewildering. Eager on every word. It is impossible to tell what they’re thinking, how can you trust a smile?
I’m getting nervous; focus. Chin up, smile, talk clearly – eyes open, chin up – remember the light on you looking down makes you look bald. Your left side is your good side, so right foot back. Does she have a camera? That flash is obnoxious, I’d better stand on the opposite side to her. Okay, I’m ready – be happy.
What a fantastic crowd, this is my moment to shine, my opportunity to be heard. Look at them all looking at me, listening to me, me showing off my good side in front of the camera, I think she just smiled at me. I think she likes me.
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one pill, two pills,
three pills, four
only four in a day,
but what if I need more?
cheeks are burning
and feeling warm
or insides burning,
a thunderstorm
black tears
on the bathroom floor
one pill, two pills,
three pills, four
five pills, six pills,
seven pills, more
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I hate it when the alarm rings.
No good things come of an alarm, I’ve made sure of it. I’d rather count the minutes tick by when roasting a chicken than setting the oven timer. Retinal reminders are on silent.
Car alarm. You got to get up and move or lose your car.
Fire alarm. You got to get up and move or burn to death.
Alarm clock. You got to get up and move or get arrested.
After I woke up, I picked up and updated the e-paper. Today’s headline reads: New Be Happy public reminder, an alarm will sound twice daily.
‘It is more important than ever, kids, to be happy. The suicide epidemic plagues our nation and it leaves nothing to doubt, the greatest threat we all face is ourselves. How much can you really trust yourself when you aren’t happy? Twice a day on the alarm, stay alive and be happy’.
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25% off happiness this Friday.
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‘She’s gone’, he grinned.
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‘Can you believe it? I read today in the news, not our – the e-paper at the office; can you believe it? So, basically, right, are you listening? Focus. I’m only going to say this once, focus. Picture this: you go to the cinema, a film plays, a tragedy, people are crying to your left and to your right. You’re crying, weeping. Sobbing! Can you imagine? People went to the cinema, paid money for a ticket, to be miserable. How sad. We’re so lucky to be alive now, its nice to think things got so much better so quickly, too. How lucky’.
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Day 4. My hands are pale and shaking. I need to keep drinking water because my mouth and throat are always dry. Today, I have really started to notice the negative effects of life without happiness. There have been longs stretches of time where I felt completely empty, there was no joy at all. It is difficult to explain, it is like being in water so long, it becomes natural. You step out and you want to jump back in – any sane man would, I’m obviously not. So, I, metaphorically, stand, out of the water, cold and alone and shivering, desperate to plummet beneath the surface.
The alarm just rang and a pang of guilt shuddered through me. Another two pills to add to the collection. We are at 18 now and I can really feel it. I really, desperately, want to be happy. I could swallow all of them right now if we weren’t only allowed four a day. After the experiment is over, I’ll need to hand over my excess happiness: too risky otherwise.
Hold on, there is a knock at the door. Looks like a van outside.
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Don’t worry, be happy – twice a day.
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Life is great. We are happy every day. Everyone is kind, smiling and generous to one another. I feel a real sense of community and respect for our culture when the alarm sounds and we all act together to make our world, our life and each other’s lives happier. It fills my heart with joy.
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The alarm rang, but there are no pills in the dispenser. I hit the override button, but still nothing. I tried to call through to the help desk, but the line was engaged.
By the time I arrived at the corner shop, the shelves were barren and all the happiness was gone. The streets were empty. Doors were locked. Blinds closed. I felt the need to run and hide away, so I did. I ran back to my house, I closed the door and locked it. I shut the blinds and fell into my sofa.
I still feel happy. This is fine, everything will be fine. It must be a fault with the neighbourhood’s system, if we all just sit in and wait alone, we’ll be fine.
Alone, it isn’t safe to be alone, not without happiness. Okay, I’m getting ahead of myself there, it would be crazy to think happiness just disappears in an instant, I’ve been happy for nearly my whole life. There is nothing to worry about, I’m sure it is like a vaccine, my body knows what it is doing to fight off misery. Besides, I know myself, I know I would never, could never feel sad and be another number of the epidemic.
No, not me, it would never happen to me.
