Infiltrating Harmony

Infiltrating Harmony Part 3

Among my family and friends, there have always been jokes about how I have no regard what-so-ever for my health and safety. I felt that I was demonstrating this as I walked down through the maze of underground tunnels beneath Boston, towards The Bounty Officers' HQ, with a hangover and an apparent death wish.

That morning, I had waited until Genie had shot up her daily dose of HARMONY, and then had explained to her the situation. While HARMONY does block out all feelings of violence and anger, it does not block out the feeling of disappointment or sadness. That was made clear that morning.

Genie expressed feelings of worry and dread, saying things like, "What if you never return?," and "What about us trying for children?" I guess she was worried that the terrorists would kill me. Or at the very least, she was worried they'd cut off my dick.

If I was being honest with myself, it felt nice for her to express these worries with me, and to see her like that. That sounds absolutely terrible, but I can explain.

Ever since HARMONY was introduced, it has become almost impossible to have a real conversation with people. Arguments are a part of a healthy relationship, and it's impossible to have a fight when one of the participants physically are incapable of doing so. Ever since HARMONY has been introduced, I haven't had a real, genuine, passion-filled conversation with my wife, and sometimes I miss it. The conversation we had that morning was most likely the closest we will ever come to having one ever again.

After she expressed her concerns, Genie went back to eating her waffles. As I walked towards the door, there was no resistance, no "I love you." Nothing. I only turned back once, in order to kiss her on the forehead. She didn't even try to reciprocate the emotions that I was feeling towards her.

And that's precisely why I despise HARMONY. It turns people into robots, giant globs of passionless mold. The only difference between humans and vocations in this day-and-age was that we were lazier. It disgusted me.

Finally, I reached the sphere that people of my profession called headquarters. The three leaders were still sitting in their seats, as if they had never left.

"Do you guys just live here?" I asked as I slid into the flat bottom of the sphere.

"No, we just woke up early this morning," answered Officer Burton. "We knew you would come... You're a good officer Mr. Chapman."

"Thanks," I said. Making my way towards the other side of the table, where a seat was waiting for me, I glanced quickly at where I had left the vocation the night before. It was gone, of course. I knew it would be.

"Did you have a good night's rest, Mr. Chapman?" Officer Anderson asked.

"Not really," I replied. "I have a hangover and my ribs still sound like gravel when I bend over. But other than that, everything's all good in the hood."

"Great!" Officer Anderson exclaimed, obviously not catching my sarcasm. Anderson was like that. He was a funny guy.

Officer Wright pointed to the chair that occupied the only open side of the metal table. "Please, take a seat. We have a lot to discuss."

I walked over to the seat, and sat down. It was comfortable, and suddenly I saw why the leaders spent so much time here. I could've sat there forever, staring at the damp, bland walls. For some reason, it was almost hypnotizing, but it could have been the fact that it was six a.m. and my head felt like a bell in a tower that had just been smacked with a hammer.

Professionally, I made finger guns and pretended to shoot them at my bosses. "Shoot."

"Let's start with what your job is going to be," said Officer Wright.