One Billion Drops of Happiness Read Free Page B

serum could be concocted in a laboratory. Therefore it made sense that Reginald Excelsior was not actually Henry’s father. He had been his mother’s life partner until the love draught they shared needed a booster and she had suddenly acquired cold feet. He had not seen her since and for split seconds had felt distraught until the urgent batterings of his Suppressitor took effect. However, as he had grown a business affiliation with Henry over the years, setting up the multi-billion enterprise firm Excelsior Incorporated, it made sense for the two to stick together. And for many years, they had done just that.
    ‘I tell you, son. Call it my hundred-year-old paranoia, but ever since the fool took off I swear these things have lost their pizzazz.’ Reginald inspected his Suppressitor with great suspicion as though it had been swiped in the night and replaced with a shoddy placebo. ‘How’s yours working?’
    ‘Fine,’ said Henry shortly. He had been born into the world after the dawn of these devices and had consequently never suffered the same pangs of withdrawal as his elders. He shared the same innate calmness as the rest of his generation. Nursed by a Suppressitor since being a newborn, it had almost injected a pandemic aloofness across the country.
    Reginald was one hundred and three years old, so had been born during the first flushes of the former century. He had experienced decades of life hindered by his own primitive emotions. They had made him lose control; they had dominated him, taunted him. Activating his Suppressitor was less of a habit but more as an act of insecurity. He could remember the surges of excess emotion from the Old World and hid from their ominous shadow in fear of their return. He had wholeheartedly embraced the Inauguration of New America in 2080 with its modern new gadgets and ideals. Too right, emotions got in the way of life. They impeded the progress of civilisation. They had caused wars, hysteria and general disarray. If you had feelings you’d certainly fritter your potential to feeding them, as in an old leaky engine or a parasite and its encumbered host.
    Cool logic was the modern objective in life. Factory machines churned out a phenomenal output every day. These magnificent objects had never been burdened by emotion, they were never distracted. Think of everything humans could achieve if they were the same! And then there would never be hurt, or sadness, or masses of people taking umbrage at the world. Equally there would never be ebullient joy, but everybody knew that whatever goes up must come down, and with a tremendous fall-out to boot.
    ‘I never really knew much about old Zeb,’ Reginald continued, helping himself to a chair. ‘He was a bit peculiar I gathered. Wrote pangrams in his spare time. But a brilliant mind, oh yes. The trouble is, who is going to replace him? I’m pretty sure he’s not coming back, I spoke to Ernesta. She’s pretty ashen by the whole thing. Ironically I think her Suppressitor is starting to go a bit haywire.’
    Henry had resumed his explicit attention upon the astral sphere. Dusty clouds were shifting around bobbing planets from distant solar systems, leaving spindly gossamer trails in their wake.
    ‘What we have here is the perfect opportunity.’ He enunciated slowly and quietly as if these words marked a milestone.
    Reginald snapped out of his garrulity.
    ‘That liquid we were working on, Ophelium…’ Henry started.
    ‘…happiness in a jar?’ Reginald interjected, suddenly beaming, before remembering to click.
    Their latest project was without a streak of doubt their finest. After innovating a string of helpful but not earth-shattering products for New American households which had done exceedingly well on the market, Henry had decided it was time they focus on something that would provide them with a legacy. By now the company had more than enough money to splash; it was time they put their good name to use.
    Upon hearing of