The Future of Feelings

Content Warning: mature themes and adult language

Emotions - real, true emotions – are a thing of the past. Everything's synthetic now; all our feelings managed, monitored, and controlled by the government. It's better this way, they tell us, more efficient. Just wake up, drink up, and go about your day. A perfectly blended cocktail of synthetic emotions at breakfast and everything is just fine. All the right feelings at the right time with no pesky side effects to get in the way.

See, because that's the thing about real emotions – they have side effects. And side effects interfere with basic human functions. We can't have that, not in a world that runs on human efficiency and demands total focus.

But some of us... well, some of us break the rules. There are some of us who want to feel real feelings, some of us who can't stand the government controlling every aspect of our lives, and some of us who just want to be free.

With that kind of demand comes supply, and suppliers. Drug dealers line the slums; instead of dealing the classics (like weed and coke) they deal emotions. Someone, somehow, managed to bottle real emotions, side effects and all, and for the right price, you can feel anything you want.

Something like that, you'd think the government would want to crack down on, wage an all-out war against the dealers and their wares, just like in the old days. But they don't. Why? Side effects. For too long, people have been living on synthetic emotions, feeling carefully controlled feelings in perfect balance and harmony without anything extra. People can't handle real emotions anymore, can't handle the side effects. They buy some Happy from a dealer thinking "what's the worst that can happen" only to experience the side effect of sadness when they come down. A dose of Sadness comes with the occasional side effect of depression. Anger usually comes with violence or guilt. All these side effects, all these real feelings, overwhelm people and they end up in the hospital or the asylum, which works in the government's favor. These people serve as an example, a warning, to people looking to buy feelings off the street; and it works, for the most part, deterring the slightly curious from venturing too far from their gilded city streets and their precious cocktail of perfect emotions.

There are some, however, who are more than curious, who need that freedom and are willing to risk the unpleasant come down from their feelings high. Those are the ones who do it just to spite the government, to fight back; the ones who long for the freedom to be real and feel something real; the ones who have been doing it so much and for so long, that it's almost natural anymore; the ones who create the demand allowing the supply to continue existing.

And then there's me. A pretty little princess from the tallest tower of the golden elite, who's money has been able to buy the most exquisitely crafted synthetic emotional cocktail you could almost believe the feelings were real. A young lady of privilege and excess, wanting for nothing because she has everything, mother and father doting on her endlessly and giving her no restrictions, limitations, or boundaries. Yet, here I am, walking the slums, as dressed down as I can possibly be but still sticking out like a sore thumb simply because the quality of my clothes marks a stark contrast to the ragged appearance of the slums.

That's right roll your eyes at what you consider to be my typical rich girl rebellion. The dealers do; they all smirk as I walk by, thinking me an easy target, an easy sell, planning to sell me on the weakest drug possible at the highest price. They've seen my type before, a common occurrence, us rich kids looking to "feel" something just to get back at our parents or to fit in with the crowd before pathetically crawling back to our safe little penthouses, suffering through a rapid detox and swearing off the stuff for good. A guaranteed one-and-done scenario, which is why the dealers jack up the price; got to get the most out of this one shot as they can, because they'll never see us again.

But I'm not your typical rich girl, and I'm not here for the "experience" or a quick good time. I've been waiting for this moment for a very, very long time. I've done research, I have prepared in ways you couldn't begin to imagine, and I am here with a very finite purpose that has nothing to do with privileged rebellion.

I stroll past the front-end dealers, registering their wide eyes and shocked faces as I continue deeper into the slums. I breeze past low-level booths with brightly colored bottles designed to catch the eye of first timers and trick them into thinking it's intense, high quality stuff. I make my way into the deepest, darkest part of the slums where the hardcore dealers lie in wait for the serious buyers. Now, they aren't just shocked, they're downright distrustful. What's this pretty little princess doing all the way down here? How did she even know where to go?

I finally slow my stride and start looking around at their wares, looking for something specific, knowing I'll probably have to ask for it. They don't even try to upsell me on anything, knowing that if I'm this far in the slums I must have something particular in mind.

Finally, I wander over to a booth. The dealer glares down at me, his face a mix of annoyance and curiosity. I keep my own face calm and unperturbed, but inside my gut is filled with butterflies.

"Well, what do you want, honey?"

"I –" I hesitate, having to swallow past the sudden nervous lump in my throat. "I want the strongest one you have."

"I got plenty of strong ones, dearie. You wanna be super happy? Extra sad? You gonna have to be a bit more specific."

"No. I'm not talking about just one feeling. I want the strongest feeling. I want... all the feelings."

The dealer raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing across his dry lips. He leans over the booth counter, propping himself on his elbows, and tilts his head at me.

"Now, what's a good little rich girl like you want with somethin' like that?"

"Nevermind why I want it," I shrug trying to play it off as no big deal. "I just do, okay."

He chuckles lightly, his shoulders shifting up and down in a ragged rhythm. "You sure you want it? A'ight, I can see you do." He pushes off the counter with both hands and points down the street. "I ain't got none of that stuff here. None of us do. You gonna wanna go on down that way to the very end of the slums. Ain't no other booths down there after a stretch, but jus' keep on goin'. There's one booth down there that'll have what you wantin', at the very end. You'll know it when you see it."

I turn my head to stare down the street, but everything is lost in shadows a few yards from where I stand. I mumble a distracted "Thanks" and start walking. As I head deeper into the slums, the booths become more spread out until they disappear altogether. The street gets darker and, despite it being mid-morning, the street lights offer the only illumination. I'm scared and chilled, mostly chilled... I should have worn a warmer jacket. Thoughts of turning back and just going home briefly cross my mind, but I brush them away, determined to get what I came for.

After twenty minutes, I see the end of the street – and a wall? A fucking wall! You've got to be kidding me! There's no booth down here. Son of a bitch! I throw my hands up in disgust, glaring at the street light that begins to flicker overhead. When I look back at the end of the street, my jaw drops in disbelief. There, right up against that stupid wall, is a little booth; a little booth that was absolutely not there before.

I practically run at the booth, convinced it's just an illusion, afraid it will disappear the minute I look away. I am mere feet away when a small form steps in front of the booth out of the shadows and I stumble to a stop inches from collision.

The form turns out to be a short, stocky old woman with overly tanned skin and silver hair. Despite appearances of age, her eyes are bright and youthful, her smile sweet and kind. This woman couldn't possible have what I'm looking for, could she? How is it even possible that's she's even a dealer?

"Well, well, well." Her voice is soft and young sounding. "Another one, I see."

"Excuse me?"

"Oh nothing, my dear. Come, let's see what I can do for you." She motions me closer to the booth as she walks around to stand behind the counter.

"What did you mean 'another one'?"

"Oh now, don't worry your pretty little head about that darling. Just an old lady mumbling about too many thoughts in her head. Now tell me, what would you like to buy?"

"I'm looking for the strongest feelings drug," I whisper, feeling unsure of myself for the first time since I started this mission of mine.

"Of course you are, my dear. But, are you sure you really want it?"

"Yes. I'm absolutely sure. I want to feel it all, I want to be free, I – I want to know."

"This is not a drug to take lightly. The side effects are mighty powerful. If you can't handle it, there's no saving you. No hospital or asylum will be waiting for you when you come down. You either survive... or you die."

"I know," I reply, my voice barely audible. I do know, I've done my research; but, it's a bit daunting hearing her say it out loud.

"Mmhmm." The old lady nods, a knowing look in her eyes as she contemplates me. "Okay, darling. I'll give it to you." She pulls out from under the counter a small corked vial, about three inches long and filled with an iridescent liquid that shimmers between colors.

I step closer to the counter, my eyes drawn to the vial completely mesmerized by the swirling, dancing lights and colors. She gestures at me with the vial and I reach out to take it from her. The glass is smooth and cool beneath my fingers, the liquid creating prisms of color across my palm.

"How much?" I ask, reaching for my wallet.

"No charge." That snaps me out of my reverie as I rip my gaze from the vial to her face.

"What do you mean?"

She chuckles. "Here's the deal, darling. I haven't had anyone take that drug and live to tell about it. And there's really only been a tiny handful of people who have come looking. Them, I charged. But you... I got a feeling about you. I think you'll be the first one to make it through. When you do, I want you to come back to me and tell me about it. Tell me the story of what it was like to feel, to really feel and to feel it all, again. You do that, and it will be payment enough. Can you do that for me, girly?"

I didn't know what to say. I just stared at her in total shock and numb disbelief. The rarest drug on the market, the most expensive, and the most dangerous, and she wanted nothing for it? Well, not money anyway. Just for me to come back and tell her how the high was. It seemed to good to be true. But, then again, people always die from this drug anyway so, what did I have to lose?

"Okay. Okay, yeah, I can do that."

"Promise?"

"Yeah," I laugh a little at the childlike request. "Yeah, I promise."

"All right then. Good luck to you my dear, and I'll see you again soon."

I wave my fingers at her as I turn and head back up the street, back to the light of day and the upfront dealers. As I step under the street light that seems to flicker at the weirdest times, I turn to look back at the strange old lady and her secret booth only to find nothing there but the wall. I can't even begin to process this craziness, so I just turn around and keep walking. I move with a sense of urgency, completely oblivious to the dealers and buyers that I pass on my way out of the slums, the vial clenched protectively in my hand buried deep in my pocket.

I head into the main city and to my favorite park filled with white birch and weeping willows. I traipse through the thicket to the very back of the park where the oldest willow stands, it's branches a heavy curtain caressing the ground. I push through to find the hidden bench nestled in the secluded space and sit. Finally, I pull out the vial, once again mesmerized by it's appearance.

This is it. This is finally it. I'm going to really do this. For so long, I've felt only one emotion at a time and even then, I've only experienced the barest handful of emotions. Not even real emotions, just chemistry. But now, now I'm going to feel everything. I'm going to feel all of the emotions the way they were meant to be felt, the way humans used to be before science wiped out our natural ways. It's going to be real and raw. I'm going to have "all the feels" as they used to say in those old internet posts the history classes talk about.

I gently pull the stopper from the vial, letting it fall to the grass ignored. The aroma coming from the vial is indescribable but unbelievably wonderful. My jaw tingles in anticipation, my heart pulses in my ears, my stomach flutters. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and bring the vial to my lips. I hesitate only for a moment before tipping the contents into my mouth in one smooth motion. My taste buds burst in ecstasy as the cool liquid dances across my tongue, the flavors as incredible as the scent. I savor it for a few seconds longer before finally letting the magical liquid slide down my throat. The affect is instant. Ready or not, I start feeling and it all starts with the one emotion that rules all emotions...

Love.