The compilations ended in a crescendo of money shots and sieg heils. Felix removed his headset and earbuds, then pulled the power strip out of the electrical socket and watched all of the screens take on an immediate void-like quality. And the strangest thing happened - his watch chimed and told him he’d gained 50 Joy Points. More than he got from his five-hour marathon of competitive first-person shooters, podcasts, drum and bass, WWII Nazi hype edits, and porn compilations combined.
It was then when he heard the stealthy whir of the slow torque of a power drill penetrating his drywall. He stood over it and watched the drill bit slowly eke through, leaving a fine white dust on his snap-tile “wood” floor. He stood quiet and waited, knowing what was going to happen next as a plumber’s probe-camera slowly wormed its way out of the small hole. He watched the camera arc towards his computer desk and stop, studying, curiously. Then he banged on the drywall in rapid succession.
“Aiden! What are you doing, buddy?!”
He heard a shout from the other apartment at the same time as the camera probe retreated back into it’s cavern.
Felix began laughing. His watch pinged again. He knew Aiden was up against the wall with a stethoscope.
“Ah man, I’m sorry Felix. Fuck, dude.” Aiden said, his voice slightly muted by the thin walls between them.
“What’s up? You need some points?” Felix said, then sat on his floor with his back to the wall.
“I’m 100 behind, man. I’m scared.”
“You should be. I would be. You could barely blow a soap bubble with how much you vape.”
“I get seasick too.”
“I don’t know if that happens on airboats.”
“You have any points?”
“Come over, I’ll sync our watches.”
Not meeting your Joy Quota meant spending a month in the Everglades hunting pythons with blow darts alongside the other Sad Ones, a pejorative term for those who did not meet their Joy Quota. Firearms were withheld from Sad Ones after a revolt in 2034, in which four National Guardsmen were killed and two were taken hostage by airboat to the Miccosukee Reservation. These Sad Ones had hoped the Miccosukee would sympathize with their plight, but the Miccosukee tribal leaders cut a deal with the People’s Republic of Confederate States for two floating casinos in the Gulf of the PRCS by handing over the fugitives.
Subsequently, these Sad fugitives were sent to Aztecia, a territory of the PRCS that consisted of the former nations stretching from Guatemala to Panama. They spent the remainder of their lives harvesting chacruna, a popular export of the PRCS. Chacruna was refined and synthesized into an analog of DMT called Mother’s Nectar, a popular supplement in the Free State of Silicon Valley. Harvesting chacruna was more favorable than what happened to the leader of the gang, who was fed, initially alive, to the Miami Zoo’s 16-foot albino and yellow-spotted Burmese python, Banana, as a public show of force.
Two years ago any fantasy of a valorous escape from the Python Hunt was strangled to death and swallowed whole. If Felix couldn’t muster the courage for that, there’s no way Aiden could.
“Thanks, dude. I can’t live in the swamp and eat python meat for even a day.”
“Someone’s gotta do it, but not me. I’m over my quota this month. I was going to use them for the Pizza and Slurpee deal at that new two-storey 7-Eleven.”
“I saw the new promotion FDJE put out. I’m just lucky to stay a free man, thanks to you.”
“The Florida Department of Joy and Elation.” Felix said, ironically.
“All those people who migrated here after the Great Split thought it was such a wonderful idea. Bureaucratically mandated joy, like Bhutan. But they forgot we used to be America. Most of them are probably rotting gator-shit by now.” Aiden said, then paused, his eyes fixed on Felix’s.
“Don’t worry, all my devices are in the bedroom.”
Then they both paused and wondered. What about our watches? What about anything electronically powered?
“We’re fine,” Felix said, breaking the tension.
“You want a beer?”
“A beer would bring joy.”
Everything was permitted. Everything was free. Nazism, Communism, Jihadism, snuff films, child pornography. If it brought you Joy. If it fed the quota, then it was permitted. But you never criticized the quota.
They sat and talked for a while and drone-dashed another 12-pack. It had been weeks since they’d hung out in person, despite living only feet apart. Slowly, points began racking up.
“I tried this stuff one time, I thought it was Mother’s Nectar. I got ripped off, but it was amazing.” Felix said.
“What was it?”
“It took me a while to research it. Something called Mexican Dream herb, I can’t pronounce it, and it tasted like shit.”
“So it worked like Nectar?”
“No. Well, I haven’t tried Nectar, but I don’t think it’s like Nectar. It made me dream, like really crazy, lucid dreaming is what it’s called.”
“I’m surprised those Silicon Valley geeks feel anything from Nectar. They take it with their morning matcha and creatine.”
“I don’t know. Anyways, I had this really wild dream that I was Mario and I was in a Call of Duty Zombies world and I had to save Princess Zelda from this evil scientist guy.”
“Sweet.”
“So I reached her and saved her and we had sex, like real sex, not even like anal or DP or anything, just penis in vagina, not even doggystyle or reverse cowgirl, just missionary. Like I could smell her hair, dude.”
“Sounds boring.”
“It wasn’t at all. I’m telling you. She was like fully real, man. When I woke up I had 1000 Points.”
“1000!?” Aiden almost jumped off the couch.
“1000. But that’s not even the best part man, that’s like not even the best part at all.”
“Dude, that’s so many points. Give me some right now, I want it right now.”
“Dude, listen to me. It’s like for the first time since, fuck I don’t know when, I felt, like fuck, like a person. I felt like I loved this girl.”
“Princess Zelda.”
“Yeah, whatever, Zelda, but I don’t know man. I know it wasn’t real, but I felt like I loved her and I couldn’t stop thinking about it all day, still even. I haven’t felt that feeling of, what? Satisfaction? Relief? Since I was a kid maybe, since way before the Split. It wasn’t even the sex, but, like the closeness? Safety?” Felix stood up and swung his arm in expression.
“Like dude, what the fuck!”
“It’s not even that it was a drug, it’s like I unlocked something that’s been kept from me. I felt like I found freedom!”
“Felix! Keep it down man, they’re going to hear you, dude!”
Then, as Aiden sat on the couch and Felix had his arms held wide open, - Christ-like - his beer in his right hand, a team of SWAT agents burst through his front door and tased him, causing him to convulse in a tense seizure-like spasm on the floor.
“I have points! I have points!” Aiden yelled. And they tased him too.
Two days later they sat next to each other on an airboat, cruising across the Everglades. Each with ear muffs, a blowgun in their hand and barcodes on their foreheads. Felix watched the still, mirror like water showing a perfect reflection of the sky before being aggrived by their wake, then he dove in.