What a foreign sound. Soft, pitiful, sniffles in a world that has long since dedicated itself to the path of laughs and bright smiles. How long has it been since the concept of sadness, or anger, were last legally allowed to be displayed? Centuries now, surely. Negative emotions were useless things to the government, only getting in the way of a human’s ability to be productive in their work environments, after all.

So, what was the best way to handle the citizen’s declining mental health and frequent outbursts of protest at poor working conditions? Why, a small pill of course. Taken every morning, and mandated by law, the miracle medicine was handcrafted to subdue a person’s ability to feel anything but joy… not that it always worked, unfortunately.

But add in a hefty dose of painting those who displayed negativity as the downfall of a safe society, and suddenly anyone who dared let a frown grace their face was being turned over to law enforcement for obligatory "classes" on keeping a positive mindset. And those who just didn’t seem to be affected by the miracle medicine, or the lessons? Well, they’d quietly disappear. "Moved away" was the official explanation provided each time.

Yet, despite the careful moderation of the joy filled community where the sun always shined, there was still that sound. It was easy to hear, tucked away within the forested garden next to the old library, even though the offender seemed to be trying to muffle his sobs. According to the rulebook each citizen had on their person at all times: crying is strictly prohibited, and must be reported to law enforcement immediately.

It was the right thing to do, was it not? It was to keep others safe. It was the law.