Regret

by Jaleta Clegg

wanderlust, curiosity, and pure strength that existed, distilled from thousands of years of human life. He wondered if it would be enough.

  Few watched the ceremony, family of the crew, mostly. They stared, their faces dull, placid with blank happiness. Over the generations, the Emoticator leached strong emotions. From all the settled planets of the galaxy, only twenty-four had enough courage to even step inside the Emoticator, to think of planning more exploration.

  Regret filled Kento’s soul, a temporary condition. The Emoticator would take care of it, later, as he slept aboard the ship. He thought it odd that anyone would even think of further exploration, that anyone in these days could conceive of building a ship to explore the Andromeda Galaxy, to want to travel to the unknown. It was a miracle that he, Kento Ashandari, stood on the launch platform, helmet under his arm.

  “He will not wake. I am afraid we can do nothing more for him.”

  The voice intruded, drowning the politician’s launch speech. Kento shifted uneasily. The politician droned on, unaware of the odd voice now overriding his paean to bravery.

  “He does not wish to wake. His mind is incompatible with the Emoticator. He will only retreat farther into his fantasies. It is kinder this way.”

  Kento frowned, wondering what the voice meant.

  Pain ripped through his head. The politician’s mouth moved, but the speakers crackled with static. The scene fractured, reality ripped through the vision of exploration. Kento saw whiteness, walls, ceiling, soft light. His eyes closed as his body expired, rejected by the Emoticator.

  Ambition was detrimental to the stable happiness of society. Those like Kento, who dreamed of exploration and change, must perish. For the good of all.

  The Emoticator’s decision echoed through the halls of the sanatorium.

  Fast forward five thousand years...

  The dank basement room reeked of mildew and rat, but it was safe from the Enforcers’ ever vigilant prowling. Levi Johnz watched the crowd gathering. Small, a pitiful few, they represented the beginning of a new age for humankind.

  Levi raised his hands for silence. “Thank you for coming. I recognize your danger in attending.”

  The crowd murmured; feet shuffled. He waited until they settled.

  “Why have you brought us here? We have heard rumors.”

  “To show you the truth, my friends.” Levi swept the hair off his neck, displaying a ragged scar at the base of his skull. “My port is removed. I no longer answer to the Emoticator.”

  “But that is dangerous!” The woman’s voice squeaked.

  “Yes!” Levi dropped his hair. His eyes blazed as he faced the crowd. “Several have died in the attempt. Others have been taken by the Enforcers. But think of what this means! I feel, as I have never felt before. Anger, joy, pity, sorrow, regret - every emotion that humans were meant to experience. I am alive!”

  “We breathe, we live. We cannot handle the depth of the emotions. That is why we have the Emoticator, to keep us safe.”

  “To keep you sleeping and pacified. You are not truly alive, not while the machine steals your souls.” Levi dropped his voice to a whisper. “Come with me, have your ports removed. Learn what it is to be truly, completely human. Experience what our ancestors felt. Laugh, cry, scream, and live!” He clenched his fists.

  He read fear in their eyes, saw their hesitation.

  “Follow me, my friends, to a new future. Become what we were destined to be. I am your prophet, your Moses, to lead you from bondage to freedom. You were not born as a slave to the Emoticator. That was implanted after birth. Men are not meant to be blind, deaf, dumb. Numbed to every nuance of emotion. Come with me. Be free.”

  A young man stirred, stepping forward. “Take my port.” He dropped to his knees, baring his neck.

  “Will it hurt?” The woman twisted hands nervously.

  “It will hurt,” Levi assured them. “Pain will bring you alive!”

  The crowd pushed forward, eager to feel pain.

  Levi smiled, raising his hands in blessing. Prophet and leader of a revolution, He would bring them from darkness of stifled emotion to the light of full experience.

  Fast forward ten thousand years...

  Wine dark surf rolled onto purple sand, colored by strange organisms native to the planet. Earth and its blue-green oceans were far distant, in time and space.

  “You must go.” She spoke a statement of fact, nothing more.

  “We must go, soon, my love.” He watched her face, calm and still as a statue.

  She watched the distant horizon while the sea breeze tangled in her hair, face distant, remote, untouched by any but the faintest of emotions. He loved her anyway, her beauty, her intelligence, her quick touch. He had to convince her. He wanted her by his side. Always.

  She smiled, a tiny curve of soft lips. “Why do you fight so, Talian? We have evolved beyond base emotion. Why do you follow a dead prophet and his misguided assumptions?”

  “Because this is not what we were meant to be. The Emoticator has robbed us, of our future, of our present, of our past. It eats our souls, Suraia. We have become so much less, cold and heartless and uncaring. We have become machines.” Passion threaded his voice, throbbed in his heart.

  “And is that so terrible?” She spoke without sarcasm, without rancor, her voice remote. “We have no hunger, no abuse, no pain, no grief. We are happy.”

  He shook his head. “We are no more capable of being happy than we are of being angry. The Emoticator has taken the ability from us. Come with me, Suraia. Please.”

  “To your new secret world?”

  “Where the Emoticator cannot touch us. We will feel as we were meant to feel, every emotion humans were once capable of feeling.” He reached for her hand.

  She withdrew it beyond his reach, merely a movement of her arm. “And is it so bad? There is no more crime, no more hate.”

  “No more ambition. No more love. No more dreams.”

  “You have chosen to break the law and remove your Emoticator access.” She took a step away, her bare feet soundless on the purple sands. “I am truly sorry for you, Talian. You are so blind.”

  He lowered his hand. She would not see, she could not see. She was incapable of feeling anything but vague satisfaction, fed to her by the constant access port.

  “You are the blind one, Suraia.” Tears stung his eyes.

  She frowned, a tiny wrinkle between her brows. She touched a single tear as it flowed over his cheek. He wanted to grasp her hand, hold her to him, kiss her, wake in her the passion stirring in his soul. The Emoticator stole even that lone hope. He backed away, his heart forever out of her reach.

  The quiet hum of an Enforcer siren intruded on the whisperings of surf. He had to run, now, before they could find him. They could not know of this last effort to break free. They could not know of the secret world where emotion reigned. He ran from the beach, into the cultured forest.

  Suraia turned her hand palm up. A single drop of liquid clung to her fingertip. A tear. She closed her hand around the precious drop as the Enforcers rushed past, radiating harmony and dull happiness.

  She felt a single pang of regret. The Emoticator gently wiped it from her soul.