I am not sick. They say I am, but I am not sick. I don't have a cold or the flu, so why do they persist in telling me that I am sick. They keep me tied in white robes and locked in a room. Why? I am not contagious. I am harmless. I am never angry, never aggressive.
I wouldn't harm anyone or anything, yet still they keep me locked in this cell. And still, they keep me from the wonderful world beyond this terrible, horrible place, but it's fine. I have never been angry, never lost my control. I have never been disappointed or ungrateful. I have never been anything but happy. And that won't change, no matter what happens. I will stay happy and that is that.
They will see it, I'm sure, that I am fine. I am okay, nothing is wrong with me; not a fiber out of place. To each, his own I suppose. If they don't believe me, they will. Eventually. When I dream, there are no perversions or horrors beyond my subconscious. There is only sun and light. Only smiles and laughs. My dreams are a place where all can be free to be happy. To escape the sobbing and the desperation. There is no love, and there is no darkness. Only happiness and the light to provide it.
I am not sick. I repeat this over and over again. I explain it is only my nature to be happy. The orderlies frown and the woman watching me through the door cries, but I don't care. If they aren't happy, then I will be happy for them. I will be happy for the world, all of my "comrades" and all of my peers. If they don't smile, then at the least I will.
The doctor tries to ask me questions, but all I answer is the question, "Why are you frowning? Why do you frown, why are you so sad?"
He continues with his interrogation.
"Smile for me," I ask.
As I continuously ask him to smile, he just shakes his head. That's fine, though, I can make him smile. I untie the robe without notice and a piece of metal in hand. I incapacitate him and take the metal in hand and carve a smile into his flesh. He struggles as I finish, but I somehow make it look like he is smiling.
The guards come for me and I don't give a fight. They throw me down and continuously kick me. I am given some type of sedation medication and fall off into a deep sleep.
I awake hours later locked in place on a chair with a metal helmet on my head. They see that I am awake and conversant among themselves. They speak about how much juice they should push me through.
I feel the pain surge through my spine. They ask me to cry. I smile and laugh. The pain feels worse this time. They ask me to cry once again. I laugh louder and smile. I say, "There is no reason to cry. I feel good, I feel happy. I feel like the world is fine."
The pain is even worse now, my eyes are beginning to get heavier. They say that I am too far gone to save. That's fine. That's great, because I'm happy. They give one last go at the switch, and I feel pain for the last time. I'm happy. I smile...