text: Janus pinched the pill between two fingers. There was nothing striking about its appearance, it looked like your standard oblong. One half blood red, the other half a sharp white. Janus was a little surprised not to see a warning label for something so allegedly life-changing. Ingest it once and your world would never be the same, you could never go back to living the way you did before. Supposedly it was a crime to even offer Euphorium to anyone who couldn’t afford a lifetime supply. The pull of the drug was so powerful that knowing what it felt like and not being able to take it was tantamount to torture. The salesman, Maurice, was watching his evaluation of the pill with interest. “You can feel free to take one now, if you like. It’s a mild dose, the effects wear off in an hour. We have relaxation rooms if you’d like to settle in with the effects, then you can come back and review the rest of our collection.” Troy had already set his pill down. He gave Janus a wary look, before turning back to Maurice. “And how many of your customers choose a drug other than Euphorium once they’ve sampled it?” Maurice smiled. “It hasn’t happened yet. It’s our bestseller for a reason. The effects are said to be magnificent. It dials the brain’s pleasure centers up to their limits. Eternal bliss, within your grasp.” “Have you ever sampled your own product?” Janus asked. Maurice shook his head regretfully. “No, it wouldn’t be wise to start yet. I’m fifteen years away from retirement still. But once I do make it, it’ll be Euphorium all the way.” “I’ve seen the pictures.” Troy commented dryly. “Rows of bodies resting in hospital beds, their faces smiling masks, completely disengaged from reality. Living off IVs like coma patients. It’s hard to believe that could be paradise.” “Reality is created by the mind, paradise can be whatever the brain experiences.” Maurice replied smoothly. “If you have any concerns about the long nap, some of our clientele start off by switching off the drug at weekly or monthly intervals, taking the occasional breather to check in on the status of the outside world before deciding if they want to continue. But eventually, everyone seems to decide there’s no reason to walk away from heaven.” “Walk me through how it works again.” Troy interrupted. Janus groaned inwardly. He could tell from Troy's tone that his friend had already made up his mind. He was taking this time just to prove his point. Maurice launched into his spiel. “True to its name, Euphorium delivers pure ecstasy to the brain, filling it with a serene joy. There’s really no way to understand it without experiencing it. I could show you some poetry written by some of our users...” “But won’t the brain eventually become de-sensitized to the stimuli?” Janus interrupted. “Shouldn’t the effect get duller over time?” Maurice smiled. “We very delicately suppress the tolerance response in the brain to take you off of the hedonic treadmill. Your first moment with Euphorium will be as good as your last.” “My last moment is part of what concerns me.” Troy was tapping his finger on the counter. “If you’re no longer engaging with the world, how does that affect your life expectancy?” “All our evidence shows that Euphorium is actually healthier for the brain than non-assisted living.” Maurice replied. “You can expect to add ten years to your life, and if any complications do arise, you’ll have access to the best doctors in the world.” “What if we go broke, and you have to cut the drug off?” Troy asked. “Impossible. If you sign over your assets for the long nap, we’ll continue investing them on your behalf. In the unlikely event that your capital should evaporate, you’ll still be guaranteed a lifetime supply of Euphorium. Our company assumes all the risk.” “And what if your company goes bankrupt?” Janus asked. “Spoken like a businessman.” Maurice gave Janus an appreciative look. “I don’t normally do this, but I can share with you our entire business plan if you’re interested. We’re insured for a global financial meltdown, and we have enough assets on hand to continue operating for a hundred years with no additional revenue.” “It just doesn’t seem sustainable.” Janus shook his head. “If the entire population would rather live in a mentally altered state, someone still has to do the work to keep the world running. What do you do when everyone is under your care?” “Supply and demand, my friends.” Maurice said. “Our fees have been rising every year. As the supply of available labor shrinks, the price to live on Euphorium rises as a result. You’re lucky to be able to get in now. Not everyone gets to retire in their thirties.” Troy sat back and crossed his arms. “All the more reason not to throw it all away. How do you know if being on Euphorium is really a better way to live, or if the drug just makes you think it is?” “I’d argue those two are the same thing.” Maurice said. “What’s ‘better’ or ‘worse’ is entirely a function of the mind. What we know for sure is that no one ever wants to go back. All of our clients say it’s the most amazing thing they’ve ever experienced. Heaven on earth.” “Or you’ve manufactured the perfect addictive drug.” Janus spoke the words he guessed Troy was thinking. “A drug that makes you never want to stop taking it.” Maurice’s smile began to strain. “All forms of pleasure are inherently addictive. Euphorium has no chemical withdrawal markers. It’s simply a better way to live.” Maurice reached into a cupboard. “Anxiety around self-modification is perfectly understandable. The ego excels at self-defense, often to its detriment. A man who’s angry at the world would often rather stay mad than give up that identity and lose a part of himself. Luckily, we have a pill for that.” Maurice set a pair of purple oblong pills on the table. “Modicum. It disengages the ego to allow you to be more open to change. It’s like being born again, you’ll look back on your life with a fresh set of eyes, able to see your own experiences and possibilities as objectively as you would a stranger.” “A pill that makes you want to take your other pill.” Troy could hardly have seemed more repulsed if the salesman had told them the pill was stuffed with elephant dung. “Is there a pill that makes you want to take Modicum?” Maurice tried to re-assure them. “It’s nothing as sinister as that. Mental processing is simply prone to getting stuck in ruts. A person who’s used to feeling angry all the time lets that anger become a part of what they perceive to be their core identity, and they’re naturally afraid to give it up. Modicum reduces that defensiveness, and lets the user evaluate objectively whether they’d be happier if their personality was different. Some of our clients take Modicum even without an eye to evaluating other treatment options, saying it broadens their perspective, making them more open to change.” “Wouldn’t it always lead to the same conclusion?” Janus flicked one of the purple pills and set it spinning. “It sounds like Euophorium is an attractor state for the mind. If you no longer feel the need to preserve your old identity, what could be better than bliss, and taking Euphorium?” Maurice scooped both sets of pills off the counter. “From my point of view, nothing. But it’s worth noting that not all of our clients end up choosing Euphorium. We have a wealth of other options. However you want your brain to work, we can arrange it.” Maurice set a new pill on the table, a dull grey oblong pill. “Victorium. Quite popular with our results-driven individuals. It amplifies the brain’s reward mechanism for success. Every triumph is that much more sweet, every minor victory feels that much better. It's simply allowing your brain to celebrate how amazing you are. Even simply solving a crossword or finishing a Sudoku feels like the crowning achievement of a lifetime with Victorium.” “Which would presumably make you less effective at accomplishing any given task.” Troy didn’t seem to think the pill deserved a first glance. “And leave you out of touch with everyone who wasn’t as impressed by your mediocre success.” “All true.” Maurice acknowledged gamely. “You have to consider though, that being effective stops being a concern once you’ve made enough money to live as you please forever. And if you’re interested in the respect of your peers, we have a product that can deliver that sensation...” “So long as you’re fine living in a delusion.” Janus finished the salesman’s sentence for him. “That just sounds like a lesser form of Euphorium, cheating your brain into thinking it’s happier than nature thinks it should be.” “In which case why not try the real thing?” Maurice offered up the question, despite the looks on their faces suggesting he was gaining little traction. “Once you’ve transcended the need to fight for survival, there’s no reason to keep your brain from being as happy as it can be. Some philosophers claim ascending to a state of pure pleasure and joy is the natural evolution for the species. Once you break your evolutionary shackles compelling you to survive and reproduce, there’s nothing left to do but ascend to a care-free existence where you can engage in unbridled hedonism.” “So all the time we spent working up until now was pointless?” Troy asked. Maurice shook his head. “Not at all. But you’ve worked hard enough and added enough value to society that you’ve earned your way into paradise.” “What else have you got?” Janus jumped in before Troy could resume arguing. This was clearly getting them nowhere. Maurice slid open another drawer. “Some of our clients prefer to maintain an active social life, rather than leaving behind the connections they’ve made up until now. We have a number of enhancements you might consider.” Two pink pills slid onto the counter. “Empathium. This treatment super-charges the mirror neurons in your brain. If you’ve ever felt bored at a party or unable to relate to someone, this is the cure for all of that. Your brain will become more empathetic than you would have thought possible, our clients say they can instantly understand how someone is feeling, relate to them as intensely as a parent to a newborn, and have an intuitive sense for how to make them happy. We have reports of withdrawn, awkward individuals turning into the life of the party. It supercharges your social awareness, making you more exciting and more excitable. We can flip you from an introvert to an extrovert, or dial up your extraversion even higher.” “And what if you’re fine not being the life of the party?” Janus asked. “What if you don’t want to care about the things you don’t currently care about?” “We keep returning to the paradox of identity, there really is no answer.” Maurice smiled. “There’s nothing wrong with introversion or extraversion, we’re simply offering the choice. Some of our clients take Empathium on as-needed basis, for large social events and corporate functions. Some even report the curious experience of not knowing which version of themselves is superior. When on Empathium, they’re fully convinced that they are a creature of superior social awareness, and their previous self is dull and uninteresting. Off Empathium, they experience a similar disdain for their previous self that was using the drug, as an easily distracted social butterfly.” “Then who’s right?” Janus asked. “Neither. Both.” Maurice said. “One version finds social engagement the most fascinating thing in the world. Another regards it as far less interesting than leading a rich inner life. Both are simply a question of what the brain prefers. And it’s perfectly consistent to toggle between two sets of preferences.” “Surely there’s a right answer though. One has to have a greater survival value...” Janus felt like he was grasping at straws. “It’s entirely possible that the greatest survival value comes from adapting your values to your situation.” Maurice said. “Empathium may be perfect for the saleswoman needing to close a big client, but being off the drug might be better when she’s filling out expense reports or doing her own accounting. She would simply get used to switching between multiple versions of herself, each of whom finds whatever she’s currently doing to be the most fulfilling thing in the world, allowing her to put her entire focus into it.” “That’s mildly terrifying.” Troy muttered. “If modifying your values and preferences is as easy as you say, why does no one ever leave Euphorium?” “Well, some people do settle on a mode of functioning as being superior.” Maurice said. “Even if their values are different, if our hypothetical saleswoman remembered being substantially happier on or off the drug, she could eventually settle on staying that way. Euphorium is simply the global optimum for brain states. Although...” Maurice lowered his voice to a whisper. “I shouldn’t be saying this at all, but we’re working on a version with chemical inhibitors to long-term memory formation. You’d be able to experience Euphorium, and leave yourself a message describing how you felt at the time. You might even be able to sample it, and return to normal functioning without the same sense of loss.” Janus blinked in disbelief. “Are people really going to pay for a pleasant experience they don’t get to remember?” “What’s more important, the memory or the experience?” Maurice asked. “You could consider it a chance to hear from the version of yourself who has experienced the other side.” “I’m not taking Euphorium, memories or no memories.” Troy said firmly, then glanced at Janus who also nodded his head. “What are your other options?” Maurice slid two orange pills onto the counter. “Imaginarium. What Empathium is for relating to other people, Imaginarium is for being immersed in the world of ideas. Are either of you avid readers?” “Haven’t had the time.” Janus said. It was partly a lie, which Maurice’s knowing look suggested he understood. “Been awhile since you’ve been able to lose yourself in a good book?” Maurice pointed at the orange pill. “Imaginarium can change that for you. It enhances your brain’s creative faculty. You’ll find yourself abile to visualize alternate realities in vivid detail, feel other worlds come alive in your head physically, emotionally. Depending upon how strong we prepare the dose and the strength of the stimuli, you might feel like you are literally immersed in another world when reading a book, or engage in a video game as if you were actually living the life of the protagonist, your brain filling the gaps with smells and sounds. You can allow a piece of music to directly translate your emotional state, letting you feel love, joy, or serenity. With each mental journey under your complete control. It’s the Euphorium you can steer...” “But what would the point be?” Troy interrupted. “None of it’s real.” Janus couldn’t help but agree. Neither of them had kept up with TV, movies, or any of the endless entertainment distractions that were available. Janus couldn’t say why, but each option felt too much like a drug to him already, another way to dull the passage of time and enter a false reality that left you craving your next fix. “It provides the brain with enjoyment, stimulation.” Maurice faltered. “Immersing yourself in another world is also a way to study new ideas, gain new perspective. Watching a film on the Titanic for example...” “If I want to study the Titanic, I’ll study the Titanic, I don’t need some drug so I can lie to myself and feel like I’m there.” Troy shook his head. “I take a certain amount of pride that I don’t spend time zoning out in front of a screen, accomplishing nothing. I’m not sure why taking a pill to start doing that will make my life better.” “The mental journeys you take don’t have to be fake.” Maurice said, looking back and forth between both of them hoping to catch a sympathetic eye. “You can re-live old memories as if they were happening to you for the first time.” “I’ve never been one to dwell on the past.” Troy gave a knowing look to Janus. “I can understand you might say that now, but if it changing that about yourself would make you happier...” Maurice’s voice trailed off. “If the point is to be happier, why not just take Euphorium?” Troy threw his hands up in the air. “You have a pill that gives you emotional highs based on how other people feel. A pill that gives you a rush from losing yourself in imaginary worlds. They all just seem like gateway drugs to Euphorium, one step closer to disengaging from reality to feel better about yourself. How is that not a worse way to live?” “There is no definition of better or worse that exists outside the mind.” Maurice seemed on the verge of snapping. “If you’re not willing to try Modicum to broaden your perspective, I don’t know what I can tell you. It’s clear you’re locked into a neurophobic mindset, unwilling to step outside the cage you’ve built for your own mind. If you’re not interested in being happy, then there’s nothing I can do for you.” Troy was already standing up to leave. “I don’t know if I want to be happy, but I can definitely say I don’t want this.” Janus stood up, a little more reluctantly. Maurice tossed them both a packet with a brochure. “In case either of you come to your senses. A sampler pack. Only one more we haven’t discussed. Medium. A low-intensity mix of Empathium and Imaginarium. You can read about it on your own time.” Maurice was already shuffling them towards the door. Janus waited until they had left the building before speaking to Troy. “You’re just giving him a hard time, right? To get them to come back and engineer something bespoke for us?” Troy shook his head. “Sorry if I made it worse for you in there. But I’m not going back. This isn’t for me.” “But...” Janus struggled to find the words. “You’ve made more than enough money to retire. What are you going to do with yourself?” “Go back to work.” Troy said dryly. “Why?” “Because I don’t want to just turn into a worse version of myself.” Troy’s eyes were clear and focused as he stared back at Janus. “I like what we do, I feel like our work matters in a way nothing in there does. It keeps the world going. Even if I don’t need to do it anymore, I’d rather have a job and something to live for than spend the rest of my life feeling useless. Or turn myself into a vegetable, taking a pill so I don’t feel useless, taking a pill so I don’t feel guilty about taking the first pill, and eventually just taking the pill to become a mindlessly happy drone.” “I thought this was the whole point though.” Janus felt like he’d been cheated somehow, although he couldn’t articulate why. “Isn’t retirement all we were looking forward to for all these years?” “If it was, then we were wrong. You can go back in and be happy, if you want.” Troy gave one last look at the packet Maurice had handed him, then tossed it into the trash. “I’d rather be me.” \ Janus lay in his bed that night, staring at the packet. Euphorium. Modicum. Victorium. Empathium. Imaginarium. Medium. Six pills. Each of which would make him into a different person. A person who would presumably like who they were, with no desire to ever change back. It would be like stepping into a teleporter, having every atom in your body disintegrated and recreated at the other end. The original you would be gone forever, with a clone standing in your place. It would be like getting a complete brain transplant, under the logic that your new self would be happier than your old one. He would be letting his identity die. So someone else could live a better life. He should just throw the whole set of pills away. Janus lifted the packet to toss it into the trash, before changing his mind at the last second. He opened it up once more to look at its contents. Maurice’s point about the saleswoman switching between two states until she found the one that made her happier had left an impression on him. If he genuinely would be happier with a medically induced personality change, he’d never know unless he tried. And if he had the option to switch back, he could at least make the choice with his eyes open. Janus swallowed the saliva in his throat. Was he really considering this? He took a moment to examine each of the pills. Euphorium terrified him. It seemed like a mental dead end, a gilded cage for the mind. Modicum seemed like the next logical step if he was going down this road... but that also seemed like it would be making the choice for him, committing to detaching himself from his identity and letting a stranger take over. Victorium, Empathium, Imaginarium... Janus’s fingers finally settled on the small red pill. Medium. It seemed like the mildest, safest treatment they had. If he was going to try any of the pills, it might as well be this one. A few new sensations, maybe. Nothing irreversible. Janus gulped down the pill in a single swallow, setting the other pills on his bedside table. He gave it a few seconds. He didn’t feel that different yet. How long before the pills were supposed to take effect? Janus flipped open the pamphlet that came with the packet. Janus suddenly cried out in pain as a burning sensation filled the back of his head. His brain felt like it was on fire, surging and firing in unexpected ways. A swirl of emotions coursed through him. Anger, surprise, fear, each experienced more intensely than he had felt them in years. Janus bit his lip and tried to hold on. He must have gotten a bad dose. The drug’s effects couldn’t last for that long, he just had to weather the storm. Janus closed his eyes and willed the torrent raging within him to stop. When he opened his eyes again, Janus saw a sight he hadn’t seen in ages. He was in Troy’s old apartment, years ago. He could barely remember how long it had been, it felt like another lifetime. Janus blinked again, and he was back in his bedroom. The image of the apartment had seemed completely real to him. If he looked for it, he could still see it in the back of his mind. “You have to see this.” It was Troy’s voice, as audible as if he were in the room. In a panic, Janus reached for his phone on the bedside table, almost knocking it to the ground before grabbing it and dialing the number on the pamphlet. The scene of Troy’s old apartment was beginning to cement itself in his vision. Maurice answered in a bored tone. “Hello?” “I think something’s wrong with the pill I took.” Janus spoke as quickly as he could. “You have to help me. My brain feels like it’s on fire.” “Neural readjustment can be an intense process the first few times, I assure you it’s nothing to worry about.” Maurice began to perk up. “Which one of our products did you try?” “Medium. Listen, I’m hallucinating.” “Hmm. That’s rare for new users, although there can sometimes be some side effects if you have anything else in your system. This was all mentioned in the waiver you signed this morning. Experiencing emotions you haven’t felt in a while can awaken associated memories, and the recall grows more intense as your brain’s imaginative faculties expand. It’ll all pass soon enough. If you examine the pamphlet...” Janus let his phone slip onto the floor and collapsed back into his bed. The scene playing out in front of him was already too vivid to ignore. Troy was standing in front of him with a grin on his face. “This is going to change our lives.” Troy was smiling, his long hair had been cut short, the shortest Janus had ever seen. His guitar was resting underneath a pile of books. It looked like it hadn’t been touched in weeks. That was odd. Troy never went a day without playing his guitar. “What is it?” Janus heard himself say the words with a curiosity he sincerely felt. He remembered this conversation on some level. But he hadn’t thought about it in years. There had been no need. “It’s a new drug.” Troy was shaking a pill bottle in front of him. “They call it Optimum. It enhances everything you do. Makes you smarter, more effective, more focused. I taught myself Mandarin in a week. Learned quantitative finance yesterday. We could rule the world with this stuff.” “So why isn’t anyone else?” Janus mouthed the words in bed as he heard himself say them. Troy shook his head. “It’s years away from clinical trials. Rumor has it, some of the big names in Wall Street are already using it. The world will turn into a rat race once this stuff goes public, but we can get in early. Get to the top of the heap before anyone else.” Troy seemed overcharged and amped up, his mind working so fast the words could barely keep up. “I got my hands on a supplier. The best part is, this batch is non-addictive. It changes your brain chemistry each time you use it until eventually, the pill has no effect. After a month, you’re just on Optimum all the time, even without the drug.” “What else does it change?” Janus’s gaze turned to the unused guitar. Troy grimaced. “Some minor stuff. It dials down empathy, imagination, anything that’s not strictly achievement oriented. Music is much worse. I can’t even watch TV anymore. Anything that doesn’t help you get ahead simply gets filtered out as noise.” “So you’re far more efficient, but less happy. Only dialed into reality.” Janus said dryly. “It sounds like the opposite of that drug Euphorium.” “Yeah, but the effects are reversible.” Troy pointed to another bottle on the wall. “They already have the cure for it.” “Have you taken it yet?” Janus studied him curiously. Troy shook his head. “I will. But only when I’ve made enough money to retire. I’ll stay in the game for as long as it takes, then get out.” “And be a soulless monster in between.” Troy looked a little guilty he glanced at the guitar lying idle, then shrugged. “It’s not so bad. It makes it so you enjoy solving even the most repetitive problems. Your brain trains itself to do whatever it takes to succeed.” “As much as you enjoyed writing music? Going to festivals?” “No.” Troy shook his head. “But I’m not going to have the time for that until I retire anyway. Would you rather spend 40 years working shit jobs and hating your life, or spend 10 years, loving your job until the moment you leave it, then get out? If we get in on this early, we could retire in our thirties. Our twenties, even.” “I don’t know...” Troy had already handed him a pill. A white and red generic. “You should at least try it.” Troy’s voice sounded sincere. “If you hate how it feels, it’s easy to go back. Ask yourself who you want to be ten years from now. You could be rich, and able to live however you want, or you could be dirt poor, with nothing to show for it.” With more than a handful of misgivings, Janus swallowed the pill. It burned down his throat, filling his head with a white-hot fire. Seconds later, the vision had been wiped clean. He was back in his apartment, lying alone in his bed. His eyes felt like they must be bloodshot. Moisture was dripping out of them, the words he had wanted to say left unspoken.