The Code of Happiness by David J. Margolis

his afflicted mind, one confused with concepts of
happiness.
     
    His bed fails to provide safety. It's cold and
lonely. There's expired Nightguard to help him sleep and he takes
it even though it's the middle of the day. It's the middle of the
night when he awakes and tries to fill in the gaps. Blaze and Ray.
They're related somehow, different yet the same. He drifts off to
sleep again and when he awakes is refreshed with lingering doubts.
He's not ready to speak to Ray and not sure he wants to return to
work, but he's a strangely loyal creature—and work pays.
     
    *****
     
    The weeks slip by unnoticed as Jamie and the team
analyze data and search for patterns in the codes, the unifying
moment of joy. It mixes monotony with thrill. Blaze has inspired
them with the worthy goal of finding happiness for all. Better
products mean less waste for Jamie. Even his parents would
appreciate such sentiments. Beanoe finally opens up on a night out.
He was manager at the Jolly Taxpayer when Blaze walked in one day
and loved what he did. When the place burnt down they decided to
build condos, and Blaze offered him a job. Beanoe's in flow. Must
be the onset of Christmas, Jamie thinks, the reaching out for
friends, camaraderie, and a good time. Beanoe wants to be real,
heart real. He tells Jamie he proposed in a cab just like the one
they're in now, glass roof, twinkling lights. They both gaze at the
artificial splendor. Did it work? Of course it did. The Beanoe way,
endless champagne and strawberries. It was perfect. Beanoe's
genuinely surprised—he's still married.
     
    Darkness lurches on the corners, the homeless. “The
poor wretches,” says Beanoe, “you and I will never be like that.”
Jamie lets the condescension slide. He's a good man, Beanoe, or at
least trying to be. At the casino Beanoe wins big and Jamie loses
it all. Beanoe's generosity extends to throwing Jamie a few chips
his way and buying the 'champers and straws.'
    “It's like tying the knot again,” jokes Beanoe.
    If he's on a mission to get Jamie wasted and to outdo
him, he's succeeded. Jamie's dependent on him now, barely able to
stand on two feet. A rigorous slap on the shoulders and Jamie
projectile vomits over the bar. It amuses Beanoe, if no one else,
and leaves Jamie's shamed and apologetic to the two workers in blue
overalls who are quicker to the task of clean up than he is to
finding a seat. He wants to thank them but Beanoe's pulled him
away.
    “Know your limits,” he says. “Lucky for you not only
is it Friday but you get to see what your work can do.” He whispers
into Jamie's ear, “The best way for you to help these puke cleaners
is to find the code.”
     
    *****
     
    He's into overtime mode, the informality of
department xH allowing hair and stubble to grow. There's an
addiction to creating and running programs to find the code. The
interior world of searching blocks the outside and its malcontent.
In reality it does the same to the discontent inside. It's all
brain so Jamie needs the heart and chooses it when he orders a
latte. A smile. A wink. The human touch. They've updated the
program so you can choose your barista now.
     
     
    “Grace, I don't understand.”
    “Overtime and productivity bonuses.”
    “Have doubled my wage?”
    “Unpronounceable employees are well regarded.”
    “It's weird.”
    “Most people wouldn't question. They'd just
take.”
     
     
    He takes delivery of a new white sofa and bed. He's
trying to ape the comfort of the pod. Home had never been the same
since his dalliance with Ray and Po. Home had never been home. It
was always a transitory space, never putting roots down. Each space
he'd lived in accumulated objects, junk or otherwise. He ignored
them as they overtook rooms. It was the easiest thing to do. Now he
was aware of how he lived; the relationship of objects to a room,
tidiness could be an expression of his soul if he wanted, a room at
home the extension of his true being.
     
    *****
     
    “I like