The Drug, "E"

To feel the world around us, to shape our emotions, to smile and experience a sense of happiness—those were some of the reasons we began taking the drug commonly known as “E.” We could only ever imagine what it was like to feel something more than the mechanical emptiness we were all born with. Without the drug, we’d simply exist. Without it, we wouldn’t have a purpose for existing. Emotions were everything, and yet they were sparked from the idea of nothingness—created to fill in the void. The void of what, we’d often ask ourselves.

We were told that every human would be born with the same purpose in life: to have a lack of authentic emotions, a lack of empathy, and a lack of care. It was easier to keep track of the peasants and the lessers if each of us felt the same as the other. It was easier to control us that way—and, at the time, it was kept secret from us.

Our siLens, a contact lens designed to act as a computer operating system specifically for applications, allowed “E” to be sold in a virtual marketplace. That made it easily accessible at any given time to anybody that needed a good fix. However, we were given rations so that people couldn’t overdose. Of course, with restrictions came outlaws, lawbreakers, outsiders—and especially criminals—inherently causing far more crime than should’ve ever been allowed.

Occasionally, the siLens would malfunction from extremely high levels of “E” coursing through the body. If the siLens were to short-circuit, there’d be a possible chain reaction that could affect the health of the defected human, leaving them essentially brain-dead and incapacitated. When that happened, they would appear.

We witnessed the incident as it happened in real time, several meters from us—and yet, we couldn’t stop the authorities from taking them away once all was said and done. A malfunctioning cog in the machine no longer served its masters and their purposes. Therefore, they were discarded and replaced with another more suited for the task. It was as if nothing had ever happened. A human would die in this world, and then a doppelgänger would replace them. The doppelgänger, however, would only look like the original once the age of maturity had been reached. In that exact moment, the doppelgänger would act as though he was always there. Although we knew the truth, we simply went along with it. It was of no concern to us, given that we hadn’t taken the care tablet beforehand. We could not experience care for such a matter. We simply went along with it.

We accessed the siLens by a sequence of blinks, followed by pure thought that’d been manifested into energy. We scrolled through the Marketplace, through the different emotions, until we found the one labeled e-C3: Emotion: Care, strength level three. All emotion tablets came in various strengths so that weaker models wouldn’t overdose.

A small piece of paper materialized over my tongue as reality itself shifted in nature. I could see the doppelgänger for who he was—but also for who he wasn’t. I could see the trees in the forest beyond the domed city, beyond my home. I could see the street in front of me, and the neighbor’s house. I saw things as clear as day for the first time. It was like that every time.

Emotions allowed me to experience what made life worth living. It was difficult to feel that way without them. Although I knew what I was feeling was temporary, it consumed me nonetheless. I wanted more. I needed to feel more.

The laughter tablet would be a nice addition, I thought.

I scrolled through the siLens menu all the way down to a tablet labeled e-La1: Emotion: Laughter, strength level one. As my thoughts confirmed the purchase, 122,000 pc’s were removed from my parcel credit account, and a radioactive-yellow tablet materialized on my tongue. I couldn’t help but laugh at the fact that I cared so much about everything—when only minutes before, I had the mindset of a robot.

The euphoric serenity of the world around me glowed with bright, mixed colors. The emotions I felt manifested into a sort of colored energy that took hold of my entire body. I opened the siLens and selected one of the fear tablets, as I wished to feel what it was like to experience the fear of all that’d been happening to me. You might wonder why anyone would wish to experience fear—but it would be for the same reason a person would go skydiving or zip-lining, activities I was told people in the early twenty-first century loved to experience.

It was a time much more complicated in social structure and far less complicated in technological structure—though I couldn’t decide which would be better for humanity overall. We are social animals, yet machines all the same. From that, we’re to choose one of two paths: give up all technological advances and focus mainly on humanity’s social structure, or abdicate our social freedoms in order to achieve a utopian society where all the world’s problems are solved indefinitely.

In one scenario, humanity will starve itself completely due to the lack of expansion, and will slowly die out on Earth—never reaching the stars. A social utopia is a temporary solution to an inevitable outcome. However, if we’re to enter the age of space exploration, it’s imperative that we contribute to society by sacrificing some—or a few—of our social freedoms within human society.

At least, that’s what I thought, initially. Taking “E” had changed that. Emotions had changed that. I could see everything for what it was for the first time in my life.

One would think I’d taken the drug before. Truthfully, however, it was my first time experiencing the effects of “E.” As a robot, it never really occurred to me that it would feel as though each tablet had been made specifically for me. I couldn’t help but open the menu again to select another tablet, but before I could, the siLens projected a black box with text inside it in front of the menu.

“Warning: The subject has reached their emotional limitations.”
A mechanical voice whirred through the caverns of my eardrums as though I had headphones blasting on high.
“Please reverse course or we will notify the authorities immediately—”

I closed out of the box, allowing my temptation to get to me. Since experiencing the first drug, I wasn’t able to snap out of the “craving phase,” where all I cared about was another fix of “E.”

Happiness, sadness, anger, joy, depression, excitement, hatred, and love. These were a few of the tablets I’d taken after closing the message—somewhat to spite the warning. I didn’t care, though. I wanted to feel everything all at once. There was a problem, however. I ignored the warning, and now the authorities would be called. That didn’t matter. I just wanted to feel things—anything and everything. I feared the authorities, yet I loved them for doing their job—and I hated them, too. As I took nearly every tablet on the public marketplace, I wasn’t aware of the underlying danger of mixing tablets: it creates the only tablet not sold on the public marketplace—insanity.

“Warning: We are notifying the authorities.”
Another mechanical voice chimed in as a second black box appeared in front of the siLens menu. I closed it immediately. With as much as I’d felt within that single moment, I knew I’d never wish to return to my former self—the shell of a human that I once was. Within Societopia, that was considered unacceptable.

Immediately after the transmission ended, authorities arrived. Because I’d taken so much “E” in a public community, my situation had been placed as top priority on the board—a public menu that acts as a bulletin board for the public as well as the authorities. And even sometimes, bounty hunters may be attracted to the ad, which is presented by a “mental advertisement,” or better known as an “m-ad.”

“Subject 62-426, alternative name ‘Banks’—is under special recall for the act of exceeding the government-issued tablet limitation of three. They are diagnosed as unsafe within the confines of human society and are therefore required to return to the factory for special reeducation training.”

“No! You can’t do this!” I argued with more emotion than I’d ever felt before. “I am a human being!”

“Precisely,” said the authorities. “It is imperative that they come with us in order to prevent further potential harm to other citizens.”

“But I’ve done nothing wrong!”
“That is irrelevant. They will come with us to prevent further potential harm to other humans. Resistance will be met with force.”

For the first time in my life, I had the chance to feel some resemblance to that of a human from thousands of years ago. It’d been a time where humans were born with emotions—where they didn’t have to be administered through small paper tablets that only worked temporarily, and for a short period of time.

I realized in that moment that with emotion came humanity, and with humanity the world was brighter. I didn’t care what the authorities were planning on doing to me, or where they’d be taking me. I was overjoyed by the fact that I was able to feel what it was like to be a human at least once before I died. However, it was a short-lived experience—as would it have always been. Though, I wouldn’t let them take me without attempting to fight back.

As quickly as my muscles had tensed, they immediately relaxed. But before I could attempt any sort of escape, the authorities injected a slim, elongated syringe into my right ear and sucked all the emotions out of us. We went from robot to human, and then human back to robot. Whichever one began our journey, we’d never know with certainty.

“Now you will come with us,” said the authorities.
“Understood,” we replied. “We will go.”

The authorities, cloaked in some sort of invisibility device, were impossible to depict. They were just there—or at least their voices were. We followed them anyway, somehow knowing exactly where they were taking us.