Welcome to a dystopian future—this is where the story begins.
Danicka whispered a frustrated curse to the dim morning light. The throbbing in her temples was relentless, an unwelcome guest lodging itself deep in her skull. She opened her eyes, squinting against the glaring assault of the room. Another migraine—nothing new there. But the hollow void between thoughts was unfamiliar, disturbing in its quiet, oppressive weight. She wiped the sleep from her eyes, then twisted her body slowly to the edge of the bed, as if her bones had forgotten how to move. Slippers on. One at a time. Her limbs felt heavier than usual, as though each step required more effort than it ever had before.
She shuffled to the bathroom, eyes fixed on the worn mirror as she turned the faucet on. Cold water splashed her face, the brief shock not quite enough to banish the fog clinging to her mind. The moment her gaze lifted to meet her reflection, she froze. Above her head, a bright, hovering sign blinked in cold, clinical letters: Low Battery, 5%.
She blinked twice, then rubbed her eyes as if trying to wipe the hallucination away. But it stayed. It was real. Or was it? Was she still dreaming? The absurdity of it made her heart race. 5%? That’s bad, right? she thought to herself, trying to stay calm. Her hand fumbled for her phone, unlocking it with a shaky swipe.
The familiar ringing sound filled the air, echoing off the walls for a fleeting second before Betz’s voice broke through, loud and warm. “BABY!” Betz’s smile practically leapt through the screen. “Do you see this?” Danicka asked urgently, her finger pointing to the sign above her head.
“See what?” Betz squinted, leaning back to look from a different angle. “Dani, are you okay? You look… stressed.”
The pounding in her skull intensified, making it hard to focus on Betz’s words. “It says ‘Low Battery, 5%’—you really don’t see it?”
Betz frowned, her eyes narrowing in concern. “Did you forget to take your meds today? Dani, you’re scaring me.”
Danicka felt the irritation bubble up, but she bit it back. She didn’t have time for this conversation again. A sigh escaped her, more from exhaustion than frustration. “I’ll call you back, Betz. Love you.” She hung up before Betz could protest, grabbed her jacket from the back of the couch, and bolted for the door.
Her steps were frantic, each one as if driven by an urgent need she couldn’t name. Why didn’t anyone else see the sign? Was she the only one cursed with this odd, digital blight above her head? The rhythmic pulse in her temples clouded everything else, the world muffled behind the drumming.
Before she knew it, her feet had carried her to the glass-and-steel facade of HAPPY INC., the corporate giant that had wormed its way into the heart of humanity. “Uniting Humanity, One Happiness at a Time,” she mocked silently as she pushed through the doors, the familiar hum of empty promises filling the air.
A line of people stood in front of the reception desk, faces drawn with stress that mirrored her own. She pressed the bell, but before her finger could make contact, the screen behind the desk flickered to life. A smiley AI representative appeared, almost too cheerful for this kind of morning.
“Hello, Danicka! Welcome to HAPPY INC., where we’re uniting humanity, one happiness at a time!” The AI’s gaze flickered unnervingly, eyes not quite tracking in a way that could be called human. “My, you look stressed,” it noted, scanning her body for visible signs of distress. “Ah, your meter has appeared. Please step to the right, and someone will be with you shortly.”
Danicka, dazed, complied without thinking. She followed the AI’s mechanical instructions, joining the others in a quiet line of waiting souls. It felt like an eternity before a woman in a powder blue dress, sleek and efficient, appeared at the door. “Danicka McCauly,” she called flatly, her voice as robotic as her posture.
Finally, Danicka rose, raising her hand, though the motion felt foreign, like she was sleepwalking. “Yes, come with me,” the woman said, leading her down sterile white hallways, their footsteps echoing in the silence.
The room she was led into was stark, cold. She sat on the medical bed, the artificial brightness of the walls making her feel even more disoriented. No window, no time. She pulled out her phone, only to find it dead—no signal, no clock. Panic bubbled up her throat. Before she could grasp for control, the door opened, and a man entered, his warm smile so painfully human that it startled her.
“Hello, Danicka. I’m Dr. Huxley. I imagine you have a lot of questions,” he said, his voice soft, inviting, as he closed the door behind him. He sat in the chair opposite her, setting down a clipboard, his gaze steady, reassuring.
At least he looked human, she thought.
“It seems your happiness meter is nearing expiration,” he continued, his tone almost casual.
Danicka blinked. Happiness meter? What the hell is he talking about?
“You see, five years ago, you came to us at HAPPY INC. to solve a problem,” Dr. Huxley explained. “That solution was metered. Happiness doesn’t last forever, but I promise you we’re working on it.” He chuckled, as though it was all a joke. “Betz? Your partner? We created her. She was part of your contract. But every contract has an expiration date. To keep our solutions as authentic as possible, we allow human experiences, including… human illness. Betz has cancer, Danicka. She doesn’t know yet, but she will. Soon. I’m so sorry.”
His hand reached out, but Danicka pulled hers away instinctively, heart racing. She stared at him, the world spinning around her. What the hell?
“Don’t worry, we’ll make sure the process is painless for her,” he added, though his words did nothing to calm the storm inside her.
Dr. Huxley’s expression softened, but it didn’t matter. His words hung in the air like lead. He stood, sliding gloves on, offering a smile that was more robotic than sincere. “Close your eyes, Danicka. In fifteen minutes, everything will feel happy again.”
The world outside her mind dissolved into a blur, her pulse a steady thrum beneath her skin.