Dose of Joy
As I queue for my daily dose of my brief momentary moment of joy, I cannot help but feel that the mere thought of carrying on with this utter misery of an existence is not worth it. My fingers as if grown an intelligence entirely by themselves leading to a very rebellious free will, drum on my arms. They count down every second in which I’m not drugged on the pill. The very pill which grants me 5 blissful seconds of chemically induced joy by my ever darling employers. After, the dose takes control, leaving my body a shell in which my consciousness is controlled and morphed to what they envision will be the most productive for them. In which setting they deem the most useful for that particular work shift. At least I’d be in control of my own life in death. No. Even in death they’ll find a way to control me. My feelings. My body. My dreams. They’ll find some weakness, some bargaining tools. No morals. They have no morals. No line.
I sit in the plastic seat surrounded by unnatural sterile white walls. They give me an innocent plastic cup. Inside sits an innocent looking small pill. Around me, my colleagues lift the innocent cup and swallow the innocent looking pill. Each hand lifts and each pair of eyes close in unison as if directed by some omnipotent being. Their minds are now in a different plane. Their bodies abandoned, forgotten, ditched, left to rot in this hell as their minds are given the fleeting chance to escape. Their faces appear serene. Not happy nor unhappy. A sea of calm. They appear undead. Not a corpse yet not alive. They awake. They gasp for air as if they’ve just been dropped from a paradise into a war zone. The person in front of me bangs on the table rattling the innocent looking pill. Reminding me of its existence like someone shaking a carrot in front of a pig. I grip the unremarkable looking grey pill and swallow it, immediately feeling my mind drift away from this world.
Roars of waves awaken me. My eyes adjust from the repulsive neon lights previously to the now blanket of night. The moon paints impromptu streaks of light illuminating the sea and turning it into a metallic pool. Shoes have abandoned my feet and in replacement sand sifts through my toes. It feels like a silent but ever present companion as it reaches every part of me and slowly covers me, reassuring me of its presence in this idealistic land. The waves dimmers to a gentle whisper as they reach the shore comforting me with its soft voice. Is this what happiness feels like? Or is this false illusion purely feigning the motion of euphoria?
I lie back into the sand’s embrace. It feels as if its soft grains are there pinching me to reassure me that I am here. Not back there. While it may not last, this moment is the only time my mind is truly free. This hallucinogenic vision is the only escape I have from the suffocating world. But is it truly an escape if the creators of this hell are the ones who provided it? The gentle currents of the sea are slowly moving up my body, coming to me as if desperate to reveal an exciting secret. The sand begins to circle in the water as the current envelopes me into its embrace, lifting my body in the process as if celebrating a long lost treasured friend. I am free.
I feel a tug. Something is grabbing me. Pulling me. It scratches and claws desperate to bring me into its depth. No longer I float. I’m sinking. The weight which was trying to keep me here is now being used against me. Against itself. I beat my legs desperate to stay in this natural paradise however the claws of below are sinking into my legs. I’m under. Water fills my lungs. I can’t breathe. A threatening darkness covers my eyes.
I wake gasping for air. Luminous lights blind me. My eyes scorched from the quick contrast of composed night to artificial white are now dotted with black spots. My body heaves with a sigh as my mind wanders back to the natural paradise. My time is fleeting before their drug gains their complete control of me and morphs me into what they deem fit for the day. My last free moments should be spent in that place, not here. I close my eyes and imagine the sand between my toes, the battle cry of the wave and sweet welcoming from the current. My body heaves with an idyllic sigh. My last moment of peace in a place where peace is not permitted.
I feel cold hands violating my space. I feel something change within my mind as if a switch has been flipped. Their rough grip forces my eyes open. Goodbye.
My eyes are welcomingly greeted by a warm glow of light from the ceiling. My mind cannot draw a similar comparison to its neon lumosity other than that of heavenly light. The light draws attention to the clean crisp walls creating a fresh atmosphere preparing everyone for their great productive day of work for our loving gracious bosses who pay us a very fair minimum wage. I turn towards my friendly joyous colleagues as I begin to walk to my desk and see they are smiling. A wide smile in which you can see every single tooth. It mirrors everyone else we walk past, mirroring me, each one brimming with utter joy to start their fulfilling day of work. How lucky we are to work in such a positive environment where everyone is happy to start their 9-9 job. Of typing. And organising. And typing. And organising. And typing. And organising. With no contact with families and no room for friends so we can have 100% focus on our work. We have such intelligent management.
“Charlie! So glad to see you! Are you excited for today?” My colleague greets me, her teeth a glimmering white as if posing for a toothpaste advert.
“Of course why wouldn’t I be. There’s truly no place I’d rather be!” I utter without a single piece of irony or sarcasm.
Hi! Thank you for reading! I'd really appreciate any feedback on how to improve and whether you enjoyed the story. Thank you!
-faith winifred johnson
