Brighter™

I can faintly hear the ringing of a bell from the bus. I’m late. I stumble, my feet nearly forgetting the rhythm of the familiar route up to the school. This is not where I am supposed to be at 9:07 AM on 10/23/52. But I do not panic. Panic is one of those frivolous emotions that leave when you have a Brighter™. There is nothing to panic about, because panic is inefficient.

~

There is no one looking at me as I step through the doorway of my classroom. They are all looking at their computer screens, because that is where the work is. The room buzzes with the hum of fluorescent lights, and the air smells clean and empty. Optimal. I sit down at my desk. I am ready to Generate. And so I do. I write five pages of my essay, then take a short walk so I remain productive. Then I write 5 more pages, my cold hands methodically clicking the smooth plastic of my keyboard. Hours pass. My mind does not wander. I am Focused. The essay I am writing is one of a time where students did not Generate but wrote inane things about “philosophy” and “love”. There was no truth, mere bickering and destructive misunderstanding. They were addicted to this misunderstanding, writing unproven statements like it was necessary, like they needed it. But they did not. What they needed was to Generate. What they needed was Brighter™.

~

I exit the school building at 3:30. I board the bus home. I walk through the door. I have more work to do. There are people in my house, but we do not need to speak. I have higher priorities. I take some food from my refrigerator and put it into a bowl, which I put into my microwave. I take my laptop and sit at the counter. I then type three more pages, stopping briefly to take my food out of the microwave. More about this history. The time is now 9:32. It is time to go to sleep. I walk upstairs to my bedroom, shower, and go to bed. My brain is ready to sleep.

~

I wake up with a start, covered in cold sweat. I never wake up at night. What’s happening? It’s probably nothing.

~

I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock going off, the shrill ringing of metal clanging on plastic. I hug my blanket, trying in vain to pause the time until school starts, to remain in my half asleep state forever. Huh. That's odd. I need school because it is where I Generate. I heave my body up out of bed and begin my familiar routine. Brushing my teeth, I notice something: I have a purple toothbrush! I like purple. I take the brush out of my mouth and look at it. I feel the bumps on it, the rubber shifting under my fingers. What am I doing?!? This is not Productive. This is ridiculous. I put my toothbrush back into my mouth and continue to brush my teeth. Once I am done with that, I get my shoes on. Have the laces always been so beautiful, so textured, so… interesting? I suppose so. I get up and turn around to walk out the door, grabbing the cold, smooth metal of the doorknob hastily. I don’t want to miss my bus. I check my watch and- shit. My heart begins to beat quickly. I start running down the sidewalk, almost a full sprint to the bus stop, the clomping of my shoes against the concrete scaring my neighbors. I run as fast as I can, and I just barely make it to the bus stop before- nothing? All the other people waiting look confused, their befuddled expressions boring holes in my head. Nobody should be running, we all planned our commute, no? And the bus isn’t here for another five minutes… what happened? I didn’t panic, that’s impossible, we do not do that anymore. I sit on the ground and wait, taking some dirt and letting it sift through my fingers. This part of town is so beautiful. This dirt- no - this soil is so beautiful. The screech of the stopping bus and the whoosh of the doors opening turn my eyes upwards and put my legs into motion. I stride onto the bus, and take my seat in a completely different spot than yesterday. This seat has a window. As the bus picks up and begins to take me to school, I notice a tree flowering. This tree has never flowered before, at least I don’t think so. It’s beautiful, the rough dark brown bark in perfect contrast with the smooth green and pink of the leaves and flowers. The bus is fast, however, and it leaves this tree behind almost as quickly as I notice it. But then I spot a cloud, and the sun rising over it, lighting up the sky in oranges and blues. The cotton-candy clouds being eaten up by the sun. Wait. What am I doing? Shouldn’t I be working? Where is my motivation? I’m behind now. Ding- and that's the bus ride over. I shuffle off, groaning at the thought of more work.

~

I stride into the classroom, self-satisfied for not being late today. I sit down, slide my laptop out of my bag, and tear it open. I am excited to Generate. It’s the same as yesterday, more history about the silly, emotion-obsessed humans of the past. I am Generating when I notice a speck of dust in the corner of my screen. And then I notice the lights’ buzzing and how the bright white illuminates my classmate’s face. Somewhat circular with sunken cheeks and dark circles under their eyes. A freckle on their right eyelid. I am not Generating. This is wrong. And yet… …they are beautiful. What have I been Generating for?

~

“Lucy?” I look away from my classmate to see an adult tapping on my desk. I gulp. I have read of Instructors, but never encountered one. “Yes?” I ask. “I’d like to talk to you in the other room, please.” What is this? I can feel my heart thumping in my chest. I get up from my desk and he leads me to another room, a darker one. I walk in and he closes the door behind me. This room is only illuminated by a single orange lamp, and the walls are made of an ambiguous black material. We sit down in hard, uncomfortable plastic chairs. “Brush the dust off before you sit, this room hasn’t been used in a while.” “Why am I here?” I query, my dry mouth struggling to spit out the words. “The program noticed that you made a mistake.” He spoke flatly, with the confidence of someone who knows that they are being perfectly efficient. “You wrote something about this spike in the cases of anxiety among humans in the 2010s. You called it aggressive. Now, this is not like you, or for that matter, like anyone. You do not Generate so you can talk about how data feels. You Generate because that is what is worth your time. And it is what makes you worth others’ time.” “I~” and then I realize. I did not take my Brighter™ last night. That explains it. That explains my observation of everything instead of Generation. That explains the bus ride, the gazing at my fellow student’s face… everything. “I didn’t have my Brighter™ last night” I exclaim, startling the Instructor. “Well then,” he says, “that explains this incident. Protocol states that you should go home and take it as soon as possible. Many who forget to take it one day report odd side effects.” And so I leave this room, pack up, and walk out.

~

Waiting for the bus, I see a bird sitting on a tree branch. Its feathers are a brilliant blue, lit up in the sun. It’s happy, and it spreads this feeling to me. I am happy. The bus turns the corner, and I must leave, regretfully leaving the bird behind as well. I think about trying to jump up and catch it, so I could keep its happiness and beauty for myself, but… it would never be happy with me. It needs to be free. And anyways, it would only distract me from Generating. I board the bus and leave.

~

I arrive at my stop and hop off. I walk back to my home, allowing myself to durdle a little on the way to take in the air and the trees. It might be a while until I really see them again.

~

When I arrive, I set my bag down and trudge over to the medicine cabinet. No one is home. I take a single Brighter™ pill out of the bottle and set it on my palm. It shines in the light. I bring my palm up to my mouth, tilt my head back, and

Gulp.