Freewrite: Injection of Joy - "Call the Smileys"

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It happened in the coffee shop.

I was working on my second cup, scrolling through the news when my phone buzzed. It was a text from my mother. "Honey, I wanted to let you know your dog died today. 😃Father will bury him by the tree, you can put up a memorial when you come home from school. 😃Love, Mom. 😀😘😃 "

I texted back "Thanks mom, thank dad for me - I'll see you this weekend. 😄"

I put my head down on the table, for a moment and thought of Charlie, my dog. He was a good dog. He had slept at the foot of my bed since I was a kid. When I went away to college, my mother said he sat by the door for a week. A sob escaped my lips, and my eyes started to water.

A young woman in a cashmere sweater looked at me with alarm. "It's all right," I said through clenched teeth - "I just found out my dog died, I'm fine."

She did not look reassured.

When I was a kid the World Health Organization declared sadness an epidemic and developed a vaccination for it. The United Nations held a short debate and passed a resolution declaring the vaccination mandatory. Unhappiness had been outlawed. Within just a few years virtually the entire world had been vaccinated. There had been some resistance and terrorism, some had chosen permanent exile to zones of sorrow. Public displays of anger or sadness were considered aberrations. I have a faded memory of my mother crying once and turning away from me with an apology.

The woman in the cashmere sweater turned to the cashier behind the counter and said firmly "Call the Smileys."

I put my head down on the table and wept in earnest, any pretense of self-control gone.

Within minutes, I heard the distinctive jingle of a van from the Ministry of Joy - "the Smileys." Two officers wearing the distinctive yellow masks of the Smileys confidently stepped through the door and assessed the scene. "Be happy citizens," boomed out the larger of the two.

As his partner took in my tears and unholstered his Happy-Gun, I managed to get out "Wait, my dog died. Shouldn't I be sad?".

The officer gave me a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and smoothy placed his Happy-Gun against my neck, injecting me with undiluted joy. Technically a mixture of oxytocin and a cocktail of research chemicals. Within moments I forgot what sadness was. I smiled from ear to ear, a commendable display of tooth and gum and heartily thanked the officers.

"Just doing our duty citizen, be happy and be well!" The officer took my contact number and address - the Ministry of Joy would follow up with me as a formality, just to make sure I had been properly adjusted, and if needed to administer a vaccine booster.

The officers waved goodbye to the diners in the coffee shop, and the happy chimes of their van soon faded into the distance. The girl in the cashmere sweater winked at me - I noticed how pretty she was, and I smiled back. What a lovely day!