By Alina Povelikin

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In high school, relaxation is a crime. Guilt regarding an upcoming homework assignment or exam often overshadows true happiness. Yet, as the anonymous narrator soon discovers, a dystopian ‘Happiness Mandate’ is not the answer either.

It’s 5:01 am. We’re late. Again.

I’d rather be asleep right now. We all would.

Instead, we’re forced to put on our widest smiles, as master Enzo inspects.

Using the palka, a small blue prodding stick, he feels around the mouth of a stranger ahead. Enzo nods and the man is free to go. Soon, it is my turn. My heart is beating quickly now. My palms are sweaty. I put on my best smile.

Enzo grimaces.

Have I done something wrong? 

No one quite knows what happens to those who are banished. They say they are sent to the far side of the mountains, where it rains nearly every day. Rain is forbidden here- It would create too sad of an atmosphere. At least, that’s what Enzo says.

He lifts his pointer finger, indicating that I’ve received one strike.

But I don’t cry, of course. I smile… and walk away.

These are the morning government-administered tests. The next ones are conducted at 1:00 pm. That gives me about 8 hours to reflect on my actions.

I head to the east cabins- ours is 1027A. The door creaks open and Georgia greets me kindly. Although, I cannot tell if her kindness is sincere anymore. There are about 12 of us assigned to a cabin. Socialization is the key to happiness, says Enzo. From now until 1, we are instructed to stay in our cabins, with the curtains lifted halfway. We are to engage in happy activities, like hand games, drawing, or laughing. At 10 AM sharp, Enzo walks the perimeters, peaking through every cabin window.

 Enzo is the name of every government official here. If we had to keep track of all of their names, we would become overwhelmed- and overwhelmed is not happy. Thus, we are only required to learn the names of our 11 fellow bunkmates and Enzo, our government.

I shuffle through the wooden cabinet beside my nightstand, latching onto the corner of a dusted photograph and peering at the figure in it through my peripheral vision. Georgia’s eyes dart quickly in my direction and I imagine her mouth curling into a sly smile. I carefully brush the dust off of the image and place it in my lap, bending my knees upwards to prevent any of my bunkmates from catching a glance. I trace my fingers around the expression of the woman in the picture. My fingers keep trailing upwards, following the young woman’s lifted cheeks, elevated dimples, and curved smile lines. She looks happy… so why am I not? We are the same person afterall, yet I do not recognize this alien. Is it not ironic that Enzo’s mandate has done nothing but rob me of true happiness? I chuckle instinctively. I’ve learned to replace crying with laughter. 

Suddenly, Enzo startles me with a loud banging at the door. I shove the photograph back into its designated cubby and lay down on the bed cautiously, placing my palms on either side of my stomach, tightening my eyelids shut, and forcing my mouth upwards like the strange woman in the photo. The sound of Enzo’s combat boots against our concrete flooring reverbates through the enclosed area. “Where is she…” he mutters to himself again and again, getting louder with each consecutive statement. Suddenly, he crescendoes into a booming “WHERE IS SHE?” and I can feel my eyelids flinch slightly. I hope no one saw that. 

I decide it is best to pretend i’ve fallen asleep. Then, I feel my bedframe shake violently as the booming footsteps approach me. Enzo’s knuckly fingers grip my shoulders and, defenseless, I allow him to pull my limp body upwards and pry my eyelids open. “WHERE IS SHE?” he screams, exhaling a gust of crushed garlic breath into my lungs. I remain unphased. Finally, Enzo calls ‘her’ by name. “Georgia.” I want to furrow my brows, but instead I smile and shrug my shoulders. Enzo grabs me by the waist and escorts me to the town square, where I steal glances at the blank stares of my fellow citizens. Their expressions read as though someone paused a movie eons before its climax. Soon, I find myself inside one of the testing tents again. Enzo pulls up a chair and shoves me into a seated position. He glares into my eyes and pulls out a palka from his back pocket. He motions for me to lift my chin, turning the stick horizontally and pressing it menacingly against my neck. Then, he glances around and shuts the black curtain framing the tent’s entrance. Enzo whispers again, “where is she?” At last, I respond “I do not know,” bowing my head apologetically. He shakes his head, announcing “You have failed the second test.”

As punishment now looms over me, a wave of defiance seeps into my skin and I remember the young woman in the photo. The black curtain falls to the floor, practically in slow-motion, and my vision becomes shrouded in darkness. As I stare into Enzo’s soulless eyes, I embrace the uncertainty ahead, for true happiness lies in acceptance. 

Process

Last year, I read Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale and was immediately drawn to explore my own dystopia. Additionally, I watched several videos from a Masterclass ‘worldbuilding’ course that recommended first selecting an ‘Element X’ for the story to revolve around. In my case, this element was the government’s ‘Happiness Mandate.’ I began by writing short declarative statements, almost fragments of sentences, from the perspective of the narrator. Through this style, I hoped to portray how the government had forced its people into near silence. I rotated between writing the story physically (on paper) and online depending on what resources were available to me whenever inspiration sparked.

Ultimately, I left the few lines I had written alone over the summer with no intention of continuing. However, as the opportunity to submit to the GWN Anthology drew closer this year, I remembered how compelling it had been developing the beginning of this piece. Thus, I read it to my pair mentee and finished the composition after a series of collaborative pair sessions.