The Button

During his morning routine of coffee and eggs, Sam heard a knock on his door. He noticed a combination of excitement and anxiety as he pulled on the brass knob, not knowing who to expect on the other side. These feelings subsided when he saw a stranger in a blue pinstripe suit standing on his porch. Sam assumed he was about to be sold something. He nearly gagged at the social side-stepping he’d have to perform in order to get out of the awkward experience inevitably on its way. What was worse: the man in the suit had a worriless smile on his face, had already positioned his hand in the doorjamb so Sam couldn’t shut the door without crushing his fingers.

“No, please. I’m sorry—” Sam said, weakly, before being interrupted.

“Sam,” said the man who was uneasily cheery, like he was beyond faking it. “I’m glad I caught you before you left, because I have an opportunity you should hear about before you start your day.”

“I’m not interested, sorry.”

He slowly inched the door closed, hoping the man in the blue suit would move his hand.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what it is? Or perhaps how I know your name?”

“I’d really rather not be included in your list of buyers, or whatever. So if you could take me off it I’d really—”

The man slapped his palm on the wood. He spoke matter-of-factly, “Normally I wouldn’t be so candid, but it’s a miserable world out there, and I come bearing happiness.”

He swiftly clipped something onto Sam’s ear and revealed what looked like an explosive detonator button in his hand. Sam nearly panicked, but couldn’t process what was going on before the man pressed the button.

Suddenly, Sam felt as though he was 10 years old and just heard school was canceled for a snow-day. Pure euphoria moved through him, tingling in the skin of his forehead. He opened his mouth in a smiling awe.

The feeling wore off. Sam’s mouth moved from a smile to a shape of shock. The man in the blue suit kept the same worriless grin on his face when Sam asked, “Are you the devil?”

The man scoffed, “You sound like my ex-wife.”

“What on earth was that!?”

“Don’t you recognize happiness when you feel it? Now, if you’ll take this button from me— I’ll be on my way.”

“Wh— that wasn’t natural. I . . . I can’t take this!”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sam. All it did was induce some deep-brain stimulation in your nucleus accumbens for a moment of joy. It’s science! Now, if you’re that standoffish, leave it home today and see how good it looks when you get back from another Tuesday.”

At that, the man handed the happiness button to Sam and walked away.

“Wait!” Sam said. “When I press it . . . does someone . . . die?”

The man looked back, for the first time he wasn’t smiling. “Don’t be ridiculous. Goodbye Sam.”

The smile reappeared on his face. Sam noticed he was wearing an ear-clip identical to the one he put on Sam’s.

After closing his door Sam looked at the device in his hand. It felt unnatural, strangely heavy. Before he could think twice, he pressed. He inhaled sharply and smiled as goodness overtook him. He felt like he’d jumped in a clear swimming pool on the first day of summer.

The feeling passed in seconds. Once again the button felt heavy. Frantically, he unclipped the piece from his ear and threw everything onto his table. He grabbed his work bag and left the house in a hurry, before he could be tempted to bring the strange invention with him.

Sam rounded a corner and saw the long stretch of road between him and his work, about two and a half miles. By the end of the walk he felt like he’d taken one of many steps towards a productive day and decided to keep it up by stopping in his favorite coffee shop.

“Cider, yeah?”

Jackson, the barista, was on a first name basis with Sam. He didn’t know much else about Jackson, but appreciated being recognized. They might have continued to exchange small greetings, but Sam was in a strange mood given the morning.

“Do you drink hot cider too, or stick to the coffee?”

Jackson looked up with slightly wider eyes, perhaps surprised at the conversation. “I change it up, depending on the day. Some days you just need that extra boost, don’t you? I mean, apparently you don’t— unless you just buy coffee somewhere else.”

Sam chuckled. “No.”

“I wouldn’t mind, we charge too much here anyway,” Jackson handed over the cider. “How’s today going so far?”

Sam took a small and contemplative sip. “Well . . . really weird, actually. You?”

“I don’t wanna be that guy, but pretty great. I got my MCAT scores back today and I— well I’m pretty damn jazzed.”

Sam congratulated him, “You wanna be a doctor? What kind?”

“Family med,” he responded. Apparently Sam’s lack of knowledge was evident, because he elaborated. “From birth, to death, medicine for lifespan, I feel like the world needs more of that nowadays. Everyone else fights to get into Derm.”

A rush of customers queued up to the counter. Sam congratulated his new friend once more before he returned to work. He’d already started to plan their next conversation and the next sip of cider tasted a little better than the last. Some laughter from the back of the coffee shop escalated to a point that it sounded ridiculous. It sounded like a small comedy show on, with two people as the audience. Sam turned around and felt his stomach drop. A young blonde woman rested her hand on the shoulder of a blue suit.

The mysterious man from Sam’s doorstep stood laughing in the coffee shop. He and the blonde woman had identical clips on their ears and took turns having fits of laughter.

“Hey,” Sam strode towards them. “Hey!”

The man was on the tail end of a laughing fit. He gave a pleasant smile, “Sam! Hello, sorry, excuse me. When you press the button a few times in a row you tend to get the giggles.”

“Who are you?” Sam demanded.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he responded, still chuckling with his hand out. “I never introduced myself— Cassius.”

Sam didn’t return the handshake. “What do you think you’re doing— going around giving these things to people? Who do you work for? What’s in this for you?”

“You’re wonderfully curious, Sam,” Cassius said, smiling in deep appreciation. “Most of the people I’ve visited today haven’t asked nearly as many questions as you. However, I’m not allowed to say too much at this point. It’s just the trial period, you see.”

Sam shook his head, “This isn’t good. These things are dangerous. You’re making a mistake giving them to people.”

“I disagree,” Cassius said.

“I don’t care!” Sam was getting frustrated at the never-ending smile on Cassius’ face.

“I disagree because science has merely taken our understanding of happiness and brought it to fruition.”

“This isn’t real happiness,” Sam argued. The blonde woman melted comfortably into an armchair nearby. “This— this is an illusion.”

“Now, I think that’s pushing it,” Cassius replied. He lifted Sam’s cup out of his hand. “The device feels good when you use it, like having a nice cup of coffee from this lovely shop is a small treat to brighten your day. Just like reading an enjoyable short-story feels good when you can spare the time in a difficult day. Now, what can be wrong with that?”

Sam snatched his cup back.

“This is cider,” he affirmed. “And none of that is the same as what you’re selling— or giving— or whatever it is you’re doing. That button it’s, it’s not natural. It’s too easy.”

“Only a bit more convenient than a tasty cider,” Cassius smiled. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go on to my next stop. I hope you have a great day, Sam. And if you don’t, I’m glad that your device will be at home waiting for you. Unwinding will be just a button press away, maybe a few presses for a good laugh!”

When Cassius left, Sam felt a headache emerge in his forehead and extend to the rest of his skull. He wondered how he would be able to focus at his desk after the unnatural morning he’d had so far. The stress seemed to reach into the past and pluck out old worries that held no relevance to the day.

He rushed out the door and into work, ignoring any and all commotion in and out of his head. He prepared to face the monotony of a day and the day didn’t disappoint. The hours at his desk dragged. He cracked his knuckles over his keyboard and tried to envision the exact amount of profits accumulated over the next few hours. This, however, did not help motivate him like he thought it would. He pictured dollar signs eating away at the face of his watch.

He looked up and saw someone walk by his office. To his surprise, he knew her. It was the blonde woman who was laughing with Cassius. Her name was Leah, she worked there.

“Excuse me, miss,” he called.

She turned to him with a worriless smile and said, “Do you need some paper?”

“That man you met at the coffee shop today,” Sam started, noticing the clip still attached to her ear. “What did he say to you, to make you take that thing from him?”

Leah’s eyes widened, “Cassius? I didn’t meet him today. I’ve known him for months. He was just checking in with me today.”

“Months . . .”

“He must have given you your own button today,” she said. “Don’t worry I was nervous at first too. But I’m in such a better place than I was when I first met Cassius.”

“How can you be sure?”

“Well, I was clinically depressed. I hadn’t left my house weeks when he found me. And I was thinking of killing myself,” she said. The unchanged smile grew eerie. “I like to think the button saved my life. Now, I’m happy.”

Leah gave a friendly wave before walking away, leaving Sam at his desk to contemplate a rising anxiety in his chest.

He wondered: was it possible that Cassius came to see him for the same reason he went to Leah? Was there something wrong with him that he didn’t have the insight to notice? Was he not happy enough? These thoughts stayed as he stepped out of work and onto the dark street. He looked down the path that lay ahead to home and decided he was in no mood to walk. Sam rode the bus with his head down. He made mental notes of the moments to pinpoint happiness, trying to remember how far apart from each other they occurred. By the time he stepped into his house Sam felt happiness was a distant dream: something fading away day by day ever since he was a kid jumping in pools in the summer and praying for school to be canceled in the winter.

The button was on his kitchen table where he left it.

Sam picked up the clip, attaching it to his ear in the way he’d seen everyone else wearing it. He hesitated, and then overcame hesitation.

His mouth lifted into a smile. All fear he’d been hanging onto was released. He no longer had trouble remembering the happiness in his life. It felt like the first day wearing his watch, or boots. It felt like completing his walk to work and rewarding himself with a cider. It felt like getting to know Jackson beyond a first name basis. Sam laughed. He thought about the events of the day, the happy ones. It seemed the moment would never pass. Obviously, it did, but it could be reignited.

As Sam reached out to press the button again a noise from outside the house stopped him. He might not have noticed had he been as happy as a moment ago, but now it was strikingly obvious. Someone was walking down the street, laughing at the top of their lungs.

The laughs were jagged, like they were being pushed out of lungs. Sam opened his door to investigate and recognized the blue pinstripe suit under a streetlight. It was tattered and dirty, like Cassius had gotten into a fight.

“Hey!” Sam called, running out to Cassius. When he reached him, Cassius turned around suddenly. He hadn’t stopped his maniacal laughter.

When he looked in Cassius’s eyes, chills went up Sam’s spine. His pupils were large, hollow and his face was puffed up. As Cassius continued to cackle and snort he reached out and grabbed Sam’s shoulder, as if he wanted to bring him in on the joke. Terrified, Sam pushed the hand off his shoulder and recoiled. Cassius didn’t stop laughing. He raised his other hand and revealed what was in his grasp.

Cassius’ button was held down by a thick layer of duct tape. His hand shook with the chuckling convulsions through his body.

Sam instinctively tried to reach out and fix the button. It seemed Cassius might be in pain, but he pulled back fiercely and grabbed Sam by the shirt again.

He hollered in joy, straight into Sam’s eyes.

Sam pushed Cassius away and ran to his house. Cassius fell on the pavement and made no attempt to get up.

Sam grabbed his own device from the kitchen table and threw it in the trash. He sat in his kitchen, staring at the metallic trash cylinder, still hearing the sounds of laughter outside.

Artwork by Christina Parrish (Instagram @chrystsa)