Wrrrrrrrrrrr…

The nebulizer hums quietly as the mask is hastily strapped to my face.

Inhale.

Exhale.

The mist fills my lungs.

Inhale.

Exhale.

My airways begin to open up again.

Inhale.

Exhale.

I let out a sigh of relief. I rub my eyes, quite exhausted from the events of the last 5 or so minutes.

“Patient 693 is stabilised. Breathing is steady once again, and vitals are going back to normal. Paging Advocate #35 to the Inoculation Wing to proceed with treatment.”

The advocates leave the room with haste, their lab coats trailing behind them. I stare at the ceiling, fidgeting with the ribbed plastic tube of the nebulizer. The ceiling tiles are ever so slightly less boring as the others- a black plain grid pattern with yellow filler between the cracks. My gaze shifts to the crown moulding outlining the ceiling, which is metallic, allowing me to catch a glimpse of my reflection in it.

…

Click.

“Ah, 693… I’m overjoyed that you’re alright.” Chimes the same advocate as earlier. Her posture is overtly straight whilst she cocks her head to the side. “I thought you were getting something to eat.”

“Well I was, but then I realized that this place is a fucking cult!” I retort.

The advocate pauses and her smile falters ever so slightly, though she quickly recovers and places a hand on my shoulder. Her grip is firm and cold, while her demeanour remains professional.

“The Ministry has your best interests at heart, 693.” She asserts, her suddenly harsh words sending a shiver down my back and causing my stomach to churn. 

“No the hell you aren’t-! What are you doing to these people-?!”

“We would never do anything to cause harm to a patient… So long as they do not cause harm to us. We are simply here to cleanse the aches and pains of daily life and replace that void with joy.” The advocate explains with a smile.

Bullshit.

“That being said…” She continues, grabbing a small tray, “…It is time to begin the first step of your treatment.”

“What?! No! You’re insane-!” I protest, ripping the nebulizer’s mask off my face and throwing it to the floor. I’m quick to leap off the bed and clench my fists, preparing to defend myself despite my previous lack of energy.

“Oh dear… I understand that you’re afraid, 693. There may be… a tinge of discomfort, but only for a moment. It’s all necessary in the path to becoming joyful. ”

She picks up a syringe from the tray, jabbing it into a vial and pulling liquid from it with clinical ease. The barrel of the syringe begins to emit a luminous glow as it fills with an unknown yellow substance. When she sets the vial back on the tray, I briefly catch a glimpse of the label:

SW01-JOY SERUM

What the hell is that… ?

“…There’s no need to fight, dear. I’d really prefer not to restrain you. So please… Do not resist.” She begins approaching me in a slow and cautious manner, as if she wishes to not look intimidating while holding up a syringe filled with god-knows-what.

With every step she takes, I take my own steps away from her until I’m backed into the wall. The cold metallic feeling on my back tells me that I’m cornered. I lift my fists up in defence and throw a punch in her direction, though she swiftly interjects by grabbing my wrist and pinning it against the wall with her free hand.

“Hands off, you crazy bitch–!” I retaliate, attempting to push her back with my left hand- though she is once again quick to latch her hand around both my wrists, exposing my left shoulder.

“Shhh…”  

She jabs the syringe into my upper arm, a burning sensation coursing through my veins and a chill running down my spine. When she removes the needle from my muscle, her grip on my wrists loosens and the room starts to spin. My body feels weak and my knees buckle beneath me, though the advocate keeps me off the floor by grabbing me by the waist for stability. Kill me now.

“Take it easy, 693. There’s no need to panic…” She assures in a sing-songy tone, ushering me back to bed, “You’ll be feeling nothing but joy in no time, as your new life in a happier society begins now.”

The advocate gently cleans off the injection site with a cotton pad, holding pressure until the bleeding stops. She stands up, turning towards the door before looking in my direction one last time.

“I’ll be back in about ten minutes to check up on you. Sit tight and allow yourself to open your heart to joy.”

Click.

.

.

.

The room continues to spin for a few minutes, a feeling of nausea creeping up on me. I groan and rub my arm in pain, wincing slightly at the burning sensation that lingers. It feels like my veins are pulsing.

Bloody hell… That crazy bitch pinned me to the wall and jabbed me with a needle, there is no way that’s legal–

My fingertips begin to feel numb and tingly, that burning feeling in my veins increasing. Pain shoots down my arm from my shoulder in waves, each getting more intense than the previous.

What the hell…?

I lift my left arm to my face, my hand now twitching uncontrollably. The room spins with more severity, the tiled pattern of the ceiling blurring into one clusterfuck of dark blacks, greys and washed out yellow.

Something’s not right.

.

.

.

Click.

“Alright 693, how are you feeling?” The Advocate chimes, her demeanour unphased by the events of ten minutes prior.

I shoot her a glare, and I open my mouth in an attempt to speak up, my breath hitching. I’m unable to get a word of retaliation out.

Not again— say something, dammit-!

“Are you experiencing any joy?” She tilts her head. “…Euphoria?” Her expression now shows a hint of confusion, the corners of her smile twitching slightly.

“No.” I huff.

“How strange… Did Dr. Kelman’s team make an error? They never miscalculate… You shouldn’t require more of a dosage than this for your weight.” She puts a finger to her chin in thought and checks my patient file. “…Maybe you’re just stubborn.”

“Maybe your rubbish just doesn’t work-! Ever consider that pushing fucking glowy chemicals into people might be harmful?!”

The advocate lifts the sleeve of my gown, inspecting my arm. The injection site is bruised and swollen with irritation. I can’t feel my arm from the elbow down, but I still shudder and bite my tongue when she pokes my arm with her cold latex gloves, muttering curses under my breath. 

“Stop that, it hurts-! What the hell is even in that shit? I can barely feel my arm, lady!”

The advocate ignores my questioning and talks into a small device. “Dr. Holden, I have a patient who has responded poorly to the Joy Serum.”

A masculine voice responds through the device, though I can’t quite make out what he’s saying. The Advocate nods in response to his words.

“…Very well then, doctor. I will administer a second dosage and report back with the results.”

A second dose? Have they gone completely mad?!

“Please sit up and lean forward a bit, we’re going to give this another attempt.”

“Piss off, this whole place is dodgy as hell! I’m not going to listen to you, you bloody lunatic–!”

“Sit. Up. Patient.” She interrupts, her tone harsh and clinical. I flinch and sit up, the fear of potential consequences barreling through my mind. I catch a brief glimpse of the new syringe she’s holding, before feeling her cold gloves grip my head and push it forward. 

“Do not move. You will make this worse for yourself.”

The cold alcohol wipe against the back of my neck makes my muscles tense, causing me to dig my nails into my thighs. I let out a shaky exhale as I brace myself for whatever lies ahead of me.

There’s silence…

…A brief pinch…

…And a stinging sensation.

“There we go… That’s good. Hopefully an extra dosage does you well…” The advocate says as she takes the needle out from the back of my neck, once again holding a cotton pad to soak up any blood. She then takes a few steps back, watching the clock and monitoring me.

I lay back down, the twitching in my hand still present. The pain finally dies down a little, though that tingly feeling remains. 

At least that’s one thing that’s improved.

Much to my dismay, it doesn’t take long for the effects of the second dose to hit. The burning sensation makes a rerun through my veins, now making its way through both my arm and spine. I cry out in pain, gripping the back of my neck, my nails digging into my skin once more. The burning is so severe it feels like my blood is boiling from the inside and burning through my veins.

“Woah, woah-! What’s the matter, 693-?”

“GET IT OUT! IT BURNS-!” 

I double over in pain, my hands twitching more severely as sweat makes its way down my face. I can practically hear my heart pounding in my head, which throbs in agonising waves. It’s as if I just got the worst migraine of my life and my entire body is trying to fight it. 

“YOU- YOU FUCKING PYSCHO!” I jump out of bed and lunge forward at the advocate in desperation.

Thud.

She leaps back with haste, a panicked smile on her face as she shouts into her small device to call for backup. I writhe in pain on the floor, feeling something wet trickle down my back. I look down at my trembling hands, finally noticing the blood on my nails as I frantically grip the bottom of her lab coat, tugging on it with urgency.

“GH- WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO ME?!”

“I need fellow Advocates to room four of the Inoculation Wing; I have an aggressive and combative patient on my hands!”

Almost immediately, 2 more advocates rush into the room, pulling me off the floor and slamming me into the bed. They are quick to restrain my wrists to the siderails of the hospital bed, not caring to be at all gentle with it. I try to break free from the restraints, my chest heaving as my hands twitch and my body thrashes violently, squirming and contorting in an erratic manner.

“MAKE IT STOP, MAKE IT STOP!!!” I scream.

“Dr. Holden! Please come quickly, we require your expertise–” The advocate yells into the small device, her voice shaky. “I’m afraid the patient may have a severe allergy to the serum!”