One Billion Drops of Happiness Page 5

  According to very reliable sources, the story did not end in tragedy, as has often been dispelled to the masses. Fliss and his belle left the city after an impromptu dismissal from the high-flying government job. Under strict conditions he was given meagre work in a small town on the other side of the country, with cast iron arrangements to have the love potion administered to both parties as soon as possible. The government had no time for indulging sentimentality. Underperformance at work was forbidden. We have provided an injection; if you are of weak disposition and do not use it prophylactically, then you are essentially as reliable as a fault line between two tectonic plates.

  Henry and Xandria watched each other with expressionless faces. The penny was finally dropping.

  ‘So we selectively weaken ourselves to stay focused. Set ourselves back one step in order to take ten steps forward. And by doing this, we will protect our interests. Especially now the Suppressitors have started to malfunction. Right?’ Xandria mused slowly.

  ‘Correct,’ Henry confirmed, almost coming to life. ‘Prophylaxis. I don’t want to have my disposition tested and run the risk of losing everything. Fliss was the most functional human being I’d ever known. Obviously we all are, but Fliss could have lived without his Suppressitor and you’d never know. Until they find a cure to this curse, we’re all at risk. It’s the sanest idea in the world then, to shield ourselves from the full brunt….’

  ‘…using the love injection.’ Xandria finished.

  ‘Precisely.’ Henry almost smiled, a human cue signaling understanding.

  ‘Agreed then.’ Xandria said, thinking of her ambition to ascend further than Fliss up the government career ladder. She was convinced she was not at risk of any of this petty nonsense, but her grandfather used to tell her how in his time diseases struck even the most powerful of people at inopportune moments. It was best to be sure. Besides, Henry was not the worst person to be lumbered with. They’d just have to become accustomed to feeling artificial warmth for each other in the name of business.

  ‘Good,’ nodded Henry, leaning back in his chair. ‘I preferred to talk through this thing with a meal. It makes a nice break from taking those nutrition tablets three times a day.’

  As if on cue, the food arrived.

  * * *

  On a busy city street, two women met quite by chance. It had been several decades since they had last seen each other.

  “Good grief,” said Amethyst, leaning in to take a closer look. “It’s you.”

  “Amethyst,” the other woman said, stepping back slightly, looking rather displeased.

  “Come on Ernesta,” Amethyst said. “Give an old friend a metaphorical hug! Like we used to in the olden days.”

  “Amethyst,” Ernesta Wan warned; looking around to see if anybody could see them. This was a faintly embarrassing acquaintance to own up to.

  “Well, you’ve certainly changed a lot,” Amethyst commented, looking her old friend up and down. “Do you remember those days when we used to play tennis every day after school?

  ‘Vaguely.’ Wan dismissed. ‘Sport was such a waste of precious time. So unproductive. I’m glad they outlawed it.’

  ‘Aw come on…that’s not what you used to say back then.’ Amethyst continued, oblivious to her old friend’s reluctance to reminisce. ‘What happened to you besides work? You disappeared off the radar after you ran off with Reginald Excelsior, that dirty dog.’

  Wan bristled, turning a funny shade of raspberry before relenting and reaching for her Suppressitor. Citizens were not supposed to make one another feel uncomfortable like this, she thought bitterly. It went against the entire fabric of New America. She had rarely felt shame in clicking before now, but these days she was having to do it an awful lot more.

  ‘That was over almost as soon as it had begun.” Wan said shortly.

  ‘But you have to admit,’ Amethyst probed, ‘that in the backdrop of today, it’s a pretty amusing thing to be able to say that you once did. I remember my mother was endlessly tickled; he was a bit of a cad shall we say, but then again, I’m sure you remember, eh?’

  ‘I don’t recall a great deal from the past.’ Wan said uncomfortably.

  ‘Oh Ernesta,’ said Amethyst. ‘How can you not remember? We used to have a blast, staying out all night, getting into all sorts of trouble. Don’t you miss those glory days?’

  ‘Amethyst, those days were nothing compared to what we have now. I’m not the same person I used to be. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Don’t you miss it even a little bit? Being so free?’

  Amethyst began to feel a little disappointed that her former best friend was acting so reticent about their shared youth. Over the years she had often wondered what had happened to Ernesta; people only tended to gossip about world events or subjects which directly pertained to the country. Word of mouth regarding other citizens had become extinct decades ago. It was small-minded and backwards to focus on an individual; only the population as a whole made a worthy subject.

  ‘Freedom was toxic, Amethyst.’ Wan said, trying to find a way out of the conversation. Amethyst appeared totally unaware. ‘We made foolish choices. Anyway, I must go now.’ She started to walk away.

  Amethyst watched her in sudden desperation. She had so many unresolved questions, so many fragments from the past spiraling around in her head.

  ‘Wait,’ she called. Wan looked over her shoulder, her hair billowing down her back. Amethyst had to shout now. ‘Just tell me one thing, one thing only…’

  ‘What?’

  Amethyst thought quickly. She took a deep breath.

  ‘When was the last time you danced, I mean truly danced like you were at one with the Earth?’

  ‘Never.’ Wan called back, expressionless. ‘Music is dead now. Live in the real world, Amethyst.’

  Amethyst was left standing alone in the street. Citizens passed her by from all angles and directions. She felt empty.

  Even if she had changed, Ernesta Wan was still the only person on the planet who could remind her of those crazy, heady days of youth, those days she now missed so sorely, those joyous days when they would laugh and feel infinite, both so sure that the world would continue to spin on like this forever, and that nothing could ever possibly change.

  How she was wrong.

  Never mind.

  She plucked up a little courage and set off along the street again, humming a little tune under her breath that only she could hear.

  SIX

  The boardroom was heaving with the most important people in New America. Today was the day when Henry and Reginald would unveil Ophelium to the powers that mattered.

  ‘Ladies and gentleman, quiet please,’ Henry boomed confidently, scanning the room. He caught Xandria’s eye and nodded. She regarded him silently. Reginald paced the front of the room; his Suppressitor was not easing his anxiety. Olivier Okadigbo fiddled nervously with his own as if it were illegal contraband soon to be confiscated.

  ‘Excelsior Incorporated is delighted to present its latest entrepreneurial endeavour:, Ophelium.’ A collective murmur ricocheted around the room. ‘I’ll give it to you quite simply. What is Ophelium? Well, it is a liquid we have developed over the last five years. It contains the properties of serenity; it gives the same level of calm we can obtain from a Suppressitor –’

  ‘When they’re working of course…’ Reginald chimed jovially. Henry shot him an impatient look.

  ‘When ingested, Ophelium works infallibly. We have tested it on tens of thousands of willing subjects all of whom, without fail, reported a universal effect of tranquility. A perfect state of cool control. Throughout the process they were stripped of their Supressitors, naturally. We presented the test subjects with hundreds of scenarios which would invariably induce excessive emotion. The form of intense emotion that a Suppresitor would have to work terribly hard in order to equilibrate.’

  ‘The type of emotion that the recent spate of glitches are increasingly unable to resolve,’ Reginald suppl
ied.

  ‘Yes. And guess what? Ophelium was able to maintain a cool state of mind. In other words, the subjects were unaffected.’

  A few clicks echoed around the room as various bigwigs found themselves overwhelmed by this new revelation.

  ‘We found that the effects of Ophelium lasted as long as it remained in the human system. It’s half-life is second to none. Unfortunately, being in a liquid form, we could not prevent it from being, well, erm, secreted.’

  ‘Our next enterprise, maybe!’ Reginald joked. He had not felt so cheerful for months.

  ‘Very well.’ Henry took over. ‘So we pondered the shortcomings of such a liquid until we thought, ‘what if we made it into a gas?’ In that way, if continuously inhaled, the effects of Ophelium would last permanently. It couldn’t be simpler; breathing is the very mechanism of life. There’d be no need to click a Suppressitor in times of turmoil because the gas would continuously suffuse man with serenity. It would signal an end to reliance on these man-made devices, an end to consciously wearing our emotional amour around our necks. We can singlehandedly resolve the problem of unreliable Suppressitors and simultaneously overwrite the legacy of Zebediah Voss, that crooked deserter we shall speak no more about. This is the last vestige that modern medicine could not conquer, and we, Excelsior Incorporated, are offering it to New America in the very near future.’

  The room was agog.

  ‘Mr. Excelsior, are you sure?’ Oscar Patel piped up. He was the Chief Executive Officer of the most profitable pharmaceutical company in New America.

  ‘The tests are conclusive. We really won’t need our Suppressitors anymore.’

  Ernesta Wan shot up in the air as if she had been burnt. Today her hair hung in two long sheets either side of her head. ‘But what will this mean for my company, Mr. Excelsior? Our profits have plummeted in the past two weeks as it is…’

  Henry looked to Reginald in a rare moment of hesitation.

  ‘Certainly we had thought of that,’ Reginald bustled in swiftly, ‘you would be very welcome to liquidate your assets and transfer your expertise to assist with Ophelium. It will be the biggest project in the history of the world.’ Almost as an afterthought he added perversely, ‘In fact, you will be very, very welcome.’

  Wan nodded with pursed lips, completely ignoring Reginald’s most inappropriate allusion to the past. On the one hand her company was the most valuable thing she had to her name, but on the other it was true, even her Suppressitor had been malfunctioning lately. She could remember when she first got it, she barely needed to click to top up the effects; it had been so innately in-tune with her emotions. These days she was clicking several times a day and it was beginning to wear her thin.

  ‘And how do you propose this ‘happy gas’ will be distributed?’ Okadigbo contributed, feeling it was time to provide input. He was aware that it would look bad if his name did not appear much on the minutes of the meeting. Today he was wearing garments of the richest deep purple, magnifying the gold of his Suppressitor, ensuring that one simply could not miss it.

  Henry turned to him. ‘I’m glad you asked this question. This brings us onto the next topic. Our scientists have thought this through meticulously and have come up with the following.’ He switched a button on the table and the wall behind him illuminated with a three dimensional image with arrows swirling all around.

  ‘Turbines. This turbine behind me is the prototype for the several hundred of its kind that shall be distributed throughout the country. It works by Ophelium and it scatters Ophelium. We will use liquid Ophelium to power the motors, providing an output of kinetic energy. This energy will in turn transform Ophelium liquid into absolutely odourless Ophelium gas. The turbine will release the Ophelium in gentle, timely wafts across many hundred miles. You won’t even be aware you’re breathing it. We will place enough turbines over the country so that they will all overlap in terms of the area they supply. Therefore if one happens to malfunction, the others shall compensate without causing any adverse effect at all. As I’ve said, we’ve thought this through scrupulously.’

  ‘This is magnificent,’ Edgar Ptolemy croaked. He was the one hundred and thirty year old President of the Space Exploration Committee. ‘But is this Ophelium a renewable source? Will it ever run out?’

  ‘No.’ Henry replied firmly. ‘Ophelium is made of entirely renewable ingredients. It is by no means a finite source. We can’t disclose exactly what it is made of for patenting reasons, but we can expect to use it for hundreds of years to come, or before they finally discover a vaccine.’

  ‘Oh they won’t do that,’ said Patel. ‘Believe me; they’ve tried for years and years. There is something intangible in the workings of the human body which will reject any permanent suppression of emotions. We can use a Suppressitor, we can take pills every day, we can breathe in the fumes of some powerful gas, but it is as if the body wants to retain the option of going back to the old days. There will never be a permanent one-off solution to this problem.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Henry agreed. ‘Which is why we must press ahead soon.’

  ‘We trust you implicitly,’ beamed Okadigbo. ‘After all, in this very modern day and age there are so many fields of expertise. We cannot possibly know even the elementary basics of a handful of them because they are so mind-bogglingly complex. That is why we, as New America, are proud to trust in the extensive knowledge of those more capable.’

  There were a few in the room who privately wondered which field exactly Okadigbo would put his name to. But for once, he was right about one thing; the common thread that bound together New America was the endeavor for advancement and future brilliance. It was counterproductive for a person to have knowledge of more than one field of technicality. Being a jack of all trades but a master of none was as much use as a pet that refused to return affection.

  ‘And how much of this Ophelium will be needed?’ Wan enquired. ‘I can switch my workforce to production of the liquid….’

  ‘Well, we figured it out,’ Henry replied, ‘and once a year exactly, every turbine will require the grand total of one billion drops of Ophelium.’

  ‘One billion drops…’ came the collective murmur.

  ‘No more, no less.’ Henry confirmed.

  ‘You seem to have it under control,’ Okadigbo resumed, pleased at the progress. ‘When can we expect to have this in place?’

  ‘We can’t just spring this on people!’ spluttered Sophia Magnet, Chief Executive Officer of the Vapour industry. ‘We can’t just expect them to agree to go cold turkey on their Suppressitors. Some people have never known life without them on their neck!’

  ‘Which is why we’ll ease them in.’ Reginald soothed. ‘I’ve tried it myself in the gaseous form; it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. Total calm. My work output that day was phenomenal, no interruptions, nothing! But ultimately we’ll all have to have trust in our intellectual superiors. The first day we switch on the turbines people can be allowed to have their Suppressitors at hand, that is, if they’ve not completely conked out by that time. After that, we can destroy them all forever. Destroy the evidence that we ever needed such devices. Oh how we’ll laugh in a few years time!’

  ‘These turbines will surely be very expensive,’ postulated Ptolemy, ‘how long will they take to build?’

  ‘They won’t take long at all,’ Henry explained. ‘With the diligent workforce of New America and our extremely advanced building materials, they can be up in no time at all. Say, a few months tops. But of course we will need to pay for them. We will negotiate some sort of tax which everybody can contribute towards. It should cover the outgoings.’

  ‘But, ladies and gentlemen,’ Reginald continued, ‘in light of the dizzying costs of building and considering that there may be some public backlash from those particularly fond of their Suppressitors, we will have to put New America to a vote. We are a democratic, forward thinking civilization after all. And if the majority of people are in favour of the refo
rm, we shall go ahead and change the landscape of the country forever. No more clicking, no more emotions. Pure uninhibited plain-sailing. Merely felicity in a billion drops.’

  ‘A billion drops.’ Henry repeated. The meeting was over.

  * * *

  ‘Good morning, people of New America!’ Okadigbo boomed across the nation. He appeared in millions of mirages in front of every person in the country, no matter what they had been doing. The President could not be blocked from cell phone access.

  ‘I come before you on this fine day to inform you of a wonderful invention that will vastly improve the economy and change this glorious civilisation forever…’

  The sound of tumultuous applause erupted into the background of his speech. Okadgibo liked to add that effect; it was a sure-fire crowd pleaser. It was easy to delight the people these days; the entire nation had come around to the ideology of living as futuristically as possible, shunning the attachment to former times in favour of progress for the current era. Possibly the use of Suppressitors meant that people gave him less resistance; he had been accused of brainwashing but quite simply he simply believed that the old adage of ‘live and let live’ had made a creeping comeback.

  It had not always been this way. As the new society was officially inaugurated in 2080, millions of people worldwide had watched horrified. To a certain extent, the rest of the world had been developing at an equal pace to the former America in terms of technology. Telephones had universally come on leaps and bounds. The internet was widely used to help create a three dimensional virtual image of the person conversing and teleport it to the receiving end. Cell phones were literally that, a small cell embedded into the body wherever you so desired. Most people had it in their forearm. It was only required to transmit signal, otherwise the mirage did the rest of the work.