One Billion Drops of Happiness (11 page)

Oh what tosh, the other side sung back, Henry doesn’t love you, he is of strong constitution! Do what you must do while you can; in six months he will flee and you will not be able to safeguard your own interests.

Xandria felt her legs move towards the door. If she hurried she could get to Henry’s office before he went home. They did not communicate half as often as she wished, but he was well aware that Amethyst and Doric had left for a holiday. She had omitted the part about them never returning. She personally didn’t think they’d get that far. Maybe after a few weeks in space they’d come to realize their mistake, phone her and beg her to meet them at the space port. So far they had not called her, but it had only been a day.

Moments later, thanks to the lightning speed of the pod car she had just hailed, she was walking into the imposing headquarters of Excelsior Incorporated. She was inwardly grateful for her family posterity as the guards waved her through to Henry’s office without even requesting her fingerprint identification. They must have found out about the mutual love injection. There was nothing these guards missed. Henry was evidently out. She quickly scanned the room and felt momentarily disheartened that he did not have a floating mirage of her anywhere.

But back to business, she told herself grimly. At the far end of his office, a dark mirage hung in the air somberly as if it were sleeping. She waved her hand through it and was relieved when it sprung back to life without needing a password. The guards would be skinned alive if he knew of their lax security. Over the period of the next few minutes, Xandria’s hand remained glued to her Suppressitor as she navigated his computer. Her heart knocked in her chest, hyper aware of even the slightest sound approaching from outside. If he caught her…she didn’t want to imagine. It would certainly be the end of her promotion hopes. She had recently heard that there was a job vacancy in an extremely high powered role for the government. It involved monitoring the national database against external attack. Oh the irony, she thought.

Luckily with the amount of business that Excelsior Incorporated shared with the government, there was a link on Henry’s computer directly to the government system. With a spurt of relief, Xandria located her mother’s name on the never-ending database and went to remove the outstanding Suppressitor course appointment. Before she okayed it, her hand froze. Wouldn’t it be better if she just changed the date? Less insolent? Change it by only a year or so. Give her mother time to recuperate. Maybe it would benefit her to do the course after all. But she doesn’t have a Suppressitor, a voice whispered in her head. Ah. Well we better hope everybody votes for Ophelium then, she decided finally, approving her selection and shutting down the mirage.

As she tiptoed out the office, she impulsively tapped her arm. A mirage bloomed immediately in front of her. After scrolling shortly, she selected a name from the resultant list.

‘Space Exploration Committee,’ confirmed a standard voice, as the enormous silver logo flourished obligingly in front of her. It was eye-wateringly bright.

‘Put me through to the Reinhardt capsule please.’ She clipped authoritatively.

‘Very well.’

There was a momentary lapse and then:

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me.’ She said. ‘Before you say anything, I wanted to let you know I just risked my neck to change your name on the system. So you can rest easy now.’ She was still feeling iciness towards them that her Suppressitor could not quell. The longer she stayed on the phone, the more likely she might lose control. ‘Enjoy your trip.’

‘Xandria it’s you!’ a voice exclaimed, ‘don’t you want to know how beautiful it is up here?’

‘One day Henry and I shall go, no doubt.’ She tapped her arm to signify the end of the call. The mirage faded.

In the elevator to the lobby, it took Xandria several more clicks to feel balanced again. This sudden malfunctioning of Suppressitors was flummoxing her in the moments before the calm took over, before she could no longer recall what she had just felt. Never in her lifetime had something like this happened. New America had never hiccupped once in all the time she could remember. The smooth running country she knew was slowly changing. If her Suppressitor stopped working entirely in this moment she would be feeling very, very afraid.

* * *

Bathsheba Ermez was busy picking her nose when two important looking government personnel entered her office. It took a moment for her to register that these were definitely not prisoners who had by some magic woken up from their trance.

‘Oh, hello, good morning…’ she said flustered, hoping that she had not done anything wrong.

‘Ms Ermez,’ the one on the right said. ‘We have come to offer you a promotion.’

‘What?’

‘We have noticed the commitment and loyalty to your work,’ said the one on the left. ‘The government of New America does not let good deeds go amiss. We think you will be an ideal candidate for a job above ground. We currently have an opening for a clerk in headquarters.’

‘Oh my,’ Bathsheba said, her body willing her to feel surprised but her brand new Suppressitor fighting stubbornly against the current. ‘This is very out of the blue. Thank you so very much.’

‘Your reaction encourages us,’ said the one on the right. ‘In these turbulent times it is vital that our staff have their emotions in check. Last week we withdrew a job offer immediately after the employee became, shall we say, overexcited at the prospect.’

‘Emotions fade away,’ said Bathsheba sounding knowledgeable. ‘As an immigrant I can reliably say that it is much better without them. If you got a promotion at work in the Old World you would be happy for a few days. After that you’d go back to being normal, having forgotten the entire commotion. But in those happy moments, and the ones afterwards where you’ve stopped to dwell on it, you’ve wasted valuable time. Why waste time on a transient emotion when you can put it towards something indefinite? Like momentum. Progress of our country…’ She finished trotting out her patriotic monologue and took a deep breath.

The two personnel glanced at each other. A look of agreement passed between them.

‘Actually Ms. Ermez, we have a better job in mind for you. You have exactly the attitude the country needs in these troubled times. Your Suppressitor is new?’

‘Yes,’ she said, recognizing that this situation was quite unexpected.

‘Good. Your new job will be at headquarters and pay you considerably more than you already earn. You are better than a clerk. We think you will be well equipped to monitor our database against external attack. If you’d like to come this way…’

Bathsheba Ermez did so gratefully, not taking a second look behind her at the lolling corpses in purgatory.

* * *

‘Mr. DuPont.’ Henry said expectantly. Before his eyes a mirage popped up. A face was visible but its background was shrouded in deliberate murky fog. ‘I see that it’s tit for tat with the mirages, though I cannot imagine what you could possibly want to hide.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Excelsior,’ came the reply, which next to Henry’s voice, seemed rich with feeling.

Henry motioned to a nearby subordinate that now the technicalities were sorted, he could proceed to exit the room and kindly stop eavesdropping.

Zachary DuPont had an instantly amiable face; even from a split second glance at his profile it would be strikingly obvious that he was not of New America. He wore the expression of every emotion of humankind at once. The residue of laughter sat around his eyes, pain mingled in with his furrowed brow. Frustration could be read in the undulations of his dark hair. Meanwhile Henry’s face was impenetrable. Even if pain and fear could travel across the Atlantic and find a way into his body, it would be unable to find even one pore with a sympathetic opening.

‘Let’s cut to the chase, Excelsior.’ Zachary said. ‘You know full well that the world is appalled at what you’re doing. But I’m not here to berate you. I think you rather expected me to, but let’s not waste time.’

‘A shame,’ said Henry. ‘I do enjoy our verbal sparring. You get so het up. I should record it for educational purposes.’

‘I am a well-spirited human with feelings and emotions,’ said Zachary. ‘I’m living life as was intended in the beginning.’

‘Intended by whom exactly?’

‘We could sit and discuss the ontological argument, or I could get to the point and free your time for planning how to erase human faces,’ DuPont said.

‘Continue.’ Henry nodded. He was the only respected member of New American bureaucracy that Zachary DuPont agreed to talk to. Okadigbo was out of the question; too prone to hysteria lately, plus he didn’t really know what he was talking about. Henry did not mind taking these calls; he knew that channels of communication between the Old and New World were best left open, if only purely to acknowledge the wild accusations flying back and forth.

‘Okay, firstly. This happy gas you’re proposing…’

‘Ophelium, DuPont. Saying the name won’t infect you.’

‘This gas. Is it going to drift across the world? Have you any controls in place that will limit it to your land?’

‘I could pretend,’ said Henry, ‘but no. We don’t know if it will drift. We haven’t tried it.’

‘What!’ Zachary exclaimed, ‘how can you purport to have this ready when you haven’t even tested it! Do you know how serious this is?’

‘Well, we will gladly test it tomorrow on a land that is fertile, abundant with crops ripened by the sun, flushed with edifices from before the dawn of time… Sound familiar?’

From his Rome office, Zachary blinked in fury.

‘People could die for goodness sake!’

‘…but our people won’t,’ said Henry. ‘A shame you didn’t invent inoculations.’

‘What about…what about the long term effects on the human body,’ Zachary spluttered. ‘Did you consider that?’

‘The long term effects of Suppressitors seem to be fine.’ Henry said unfazed.

‘They’ve not even been around a hundred years! Your folk could be dying out in the next century.’

Henry stared. Zachary continued.

‘Fine, well will this endanger animals? I know you’re not big on anything with more legs than you, but this matter is of utter importance to many people.’

Henry shifted. ‘Animals are quite frankly, the least of our worries.’

‘That’s all? That’s ALL?’ Zachary bellowed in disbelief, his temples beginning to bead with sweat. ‘What kind of callous country are you?!’

‘A progressive country,’ Henry replied. ‘A country that is being brought down by its nosy neighbours.’

‘What do you want from us?’ Zachary pleaded suddenly, changing tack. ‘You know we will absolutely not let this happen, yet you seem completely unwilling to compromise. Give me some sort of a clue! This could spell the end of civilisation as we know it!’

‘Civilisation as you know it. And we want world domination.’ Henry said arrogantly. ‘You can either accept our ways or become a byproduct of our expansion.’

‘Excelsior, this is getting crazy. The world is in chaos. If you and I can’t pick out some sort of middle ground, I’m afraid…’

‘Afraid what?’ Henry returned smoothly.

‘Afraid we will have to consider war!’ Zachary finished, looking extremely harrowed. War was almost an obsolete concept in these days; the world was rather out of practise.

‘Now, now. Let’s not use words we shall regret,’ Henry said.

‘No, this time I mean it Excelsior!’ Zachary growled, ‘you’ve been antagonising us for decades, and foolishly we have sat on the sidelines. Well, the time has come. Back off or the rest of world will come down on you.’

‘I have to think of my own country’s interests first,’ Henry countered nonplussed. ‘We need Ophelium, it’s non -negotiable. If my country votes in favour of it, that’s when you can line up your tanks, or whatever it is you use these days. But until then you can tell your world to decide whether they’re with us or against us. And here’s a clue: there’s only one right answer.’

‘You will be feeling the planet’s wrath very soon,’ Zachary said, his head bobbing out of view. ‘I hope you use this time to think very carefully.’

‘Oh I will.’ Henry said beginning to stand. ‘I will be envisaging your pleasant demeanour when our Ophelium gas infiltrates your lungs…goodbye; don’t cry too much.’

Bathsheba Ermez felt an all-consuming glow of contentment. Sitting in front of the extremely official looking mirage – one she thought she would never have the authority to see – she set to work ploughing through the latest amendments.

It was obvious that her predecessor had not been paying attention. For years the computer had been trusted to monitor itself, but for a number of reasons, the most prevailing being that jobs had to be created and that a human also monitoring the database was not such a bad idea, this task was now overseen by Bathsheba.

Her coworkers had ogled her curiously the first day she arrived at the office. The immigrant who had been promoted straight from the jail. It was almost unheard of. She had to be good. She took it all in her stride; her fresh Suppressitor was working like a dream. Her focus was second to none. She barely noticed when occasionally, various colleagues had a hissy fit and stomped out of the office, feverishly clutching their necks.

Absorbed in her work, she scrolled down the reams of names called to government attention. There were millions. She couldn’t possibly look through all these. Then she spotted a tab labeled ‘Amendments.’ Ah. This must be it. Selecting the tab, a much shorter list of around a thousand names popped up.

She had learnt in her enrolment that amendments were forbidden to everyone but a small minority. If the government made an appointment for you, you could be sure that they had thoroughly researched your schedule and plonked it on the one day when you were hoping to finish those odd jobs. Leisure and weekends did not really exist anymore. What was the use when the capacity to enjoy them had been diluted?

Most of the amendments were made by executives much higher up than her. There were always strong reasons for this. Ultimately it was up to her to decide if the motive was for the greater good of the country or not.