Concrete Bliss (A Constrained Writing Entry)

Another glorious day. The warm rays of morning sun filtered through the windows onto the kitchen table. Bliss sat heavy in the warmed air.

He strode into the room. The wide smile splitting his face was a permanent feature, his dilated pupils beamed with familiar joy. Yet another good day to be alive. Birds chirped outside the window, a chorus of gladness echoing around the sun-washed house.

Hot coffee brewed in a pot, having switched itself on when he got out of bed. The rich scent hung in the air like a welcome invitation. The kitchen anticipated his every need, this morning that was fried egg with fresh bread. A small hot plate spat and fizzled as the translucent white cloud with yellow sun took form on the heated iron. He had got a new recipe expansion last week, but he was never adventurous for breakfast. He, like all citizens, knew the key to contentment was sustainability.

Rob loved his life. He worked in construction, pouring concrete. There was a great deal of satisfaction in watching the thick, slow moving sludge even out a surface, fill in a hole. The scraping of the screed was the zen garden of his concrete paradise. He didn’t get to do it himself, he supervised, but watching the flat slick left by the rubber blade from his blissed up cushion, was soothing beyond expression. The arm swung out across the rippling wet concrete, forming a small lip before it as it slid over the surface of the shining stone lake. Smooth perfection in its wake.

He wasn’t alone in his contentment. Everyone loved their jobs, overseeing the machines that ran this world. It was debatable how much overseeing they needed, but as their operators sprawled out, doped up, grinning as their machines whirred away, it seemed like a good fit.

Thursday 28th June. Another day, another floor to lay. The warmth of the sun shifted through the morning air as he stood outside, watching the reliable autocab appear down his street. The soft smell of baked stone mingled with the chemical tang of the city as the brush of induced rapture danced over his face. The autocab pulled up at the curb expectantly. Everything ran on time, like clockwork, with the fleshy misshapes taken out of the machine and promoted to happy passengers. The yellow glow of a summer morning drifted down his garden path, basking the pebbled ground in its happy haze as he stepped into the self-driving car.

He sat in the tiny cab, the large padded seats embraced his sinking form, the dosed air flowing freely in the enclosed space, topping him up ready for the walk to his work cabin. His head swam in the kiss of delight as he slipped into the haze of satisfaction.

It didn’t take long for the shuttle to deliver him to his destination. The ever advancing construction site represented the limits of the smartcity, the front line, pushing into the dead world that surrounded it. Reclaiming the arid earth, concreting over the dead cracks.

Rob got out, the sun still beamed down her happy rays over a morning that was, as always, going by the manual. The machines had lined up ready for him, he was putting down a new road today. Roads were particularly satisfying to work on, smooth rivers flowing to set in stone.

The cab was at the other end of the proposed street, the bare earth lay exposed in the trench. Drawn, shriveled bodies filled the ditch, lined up like toy soldiers. Men, women, children, their bodies dried by the beating sun, their ashen cheeks sunken, the furrows of laughter tinged black with the shifting dust. Their skin took an olive tinge, baked dry by the sun. Their lips contracted, curling back as they had dried out, twisting their dehydrated faces into a macabre smile, baring bright white teeth in the summer sun. Their empty sightless eyes, edging in the crinkled memory of smiles, stared up at his passing shadow as Rob wandered past, wrapped in his soft shawl of drugged fueled bliss. He floated a little with each step.

There were less than usual in there today; desiccated bio-filler.

The dosed air of the work cabin wrapped him in warm euphoric arms as he sat back, watching the slow advance of concrete flow over the dried up bodies with a sense of satisfaction.

In a world where there is only one emotion, happiness, there would be no driving force of pain and loss. Life is taken for granted, happiness is a given. There is nothing to work for, nothing to lose. Death is meaningless, because life never meant anything to begin with. People are always happy, so they don't care the same about death. The more I envisioned it, this world where the only emotion is happiness, feels dead.

This is my entry to @svashta 's Constrained Writing Contest - I would seriously recommend this contest to anyone who hasn't tried it. It is a great way to improve your writing skills. The challenge this round, write a story set in a world with only one emotion.

Photo Credit by pixabay user strecosa who has over 3500 great photos in the public domain!