Fiction: The Happy Pill Pharmacy

**hyper_chondriac** · 24th June 2005 7:11pm

[image=left] http://www.alternativenation.net/gallery/files/1/pill.jpg[/image]The Happy Pill Pharmacy: dispel your demons.
Self-diagnosis now: “I’ve been feeling a little down.” Straight away, recommended intake increased. And later, you can trip out on a dazed, blank happiness that’s not your own, and leaves you lost inside yourself. Overdose, why not? Even better than that hollow rush—unconsciousness. When you run out, go back any time, through the frosted glass doors that glimmer as you begin to shake. Step into the bleached abyss where a smiling face, powdered and disinfected, apologises for your wait and hands you yet another little stapled green bag. She signs, you sign. She smiles, you smile. You turn and leave, passing—uncaring—the queue of others like you, an eternal line of transparent ghost people, clutching your pact with the devil to your heart. You take a couple of pills, pause, calmed, feeling your aching soul being consumed once more, until the pain is gone. There’s a grotty concrete bench in front of you, and you sit down. Your pupils dilate, your smile widens. You no longer shiver, and no longer notice anyone around you. You can’t see them—a world addicted to the Happy Pill Pharmacy, and everyone controlled, lifeless, identical.