The Centre for the Rehabilitation of Natural Human Emotions for the state of New York is conducting a statewide inquisition in which every consumer is to bring forth their own description of "Joy" before and/or after the release of the Solution JOY to their Psychologist. Whether it be a memory, person, or essence is entirely up to the consumer. This is so that us here at the Centre can better understand the joyous mental state that is brought forth by the consumer and not the Solution. A Census for those that comply will be kept.
For his first prescribed dosage of the Joy Solution, his grip on the inhaler loose and uncaring, Will was--disappointed. Or, not disappointed, but rather a combination of disappointed and confused and a hundred other shades of emotions. He wasn't entirely certain what he had expected--a sudden, epiphanic realisation that everything was right in the world, an overwhelming joyousness?--but the solution was much more subtle than that. For a fleeting second, Will almost understood what his parents meant by 'happy', and what they felt when they were saying the word, around bright, wide smiles. That didn't last. Only Empathy could make it last. But that artificial happiness didn't fade, it couldn't fade, even if Will thought about everything he hated or didn't understand about the world.
It stayed, quietly thrumming beneath the surface of his skin; the feeling had nowhere to settle, but it was everywhere. There were different reasons for being happy, but this--this aimless, dizzying feeling--wasn't a means to an end. Feelings usually involved reading others' emotions, or engaging with them; Joy felt like a shortcut around that. It didn't solve any of Will's problems, and he was aware of that, but the grating happiness was unaffected by that knowledge. It didn't feel real. It didn't feel real, because it wasn't real. It was annoying, when Will really, deeply considered it. Clearly his psychologist hadn't prescribed the right dosage, or the Joy was defective--or he was broken. Although the Joy inhalation had made him feel better, that was a technicality, because, underneath that, Will didn't like it. The thrumming on his skin was starting to itch. Well, he thought sardonically, at least there's no chance of me getting addicted. Apathetic, maybe--but not addicted.
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