Fourth Floor

[The following is an entry in the joy journal of Optimist #104. At the time of writing, #104 was housed on the fourth floor of Happiness.]

 

Please, if someone ever reads this, tell my mother I love her.

I've been thinking about her. She stopped talking to me before I came here, but I forgive her, I just want her. I feel like a child but I want my mommy. I need someone loving to hold me and tell me it'll be okay.

It has been over a month since I've been allowed to write. My found my journal was gone one night. A lemon must have stolen it while I was working. Lucy said I could write on toilet paper but I didn't have a pen. They took everything from me.

I think the reason they took it away is because they were angry at me. I told my real name to a lemon. (Debbie. Debbie is my real name.) I would not have made such a huge mistake but the lemon was actually so sweet. Her name was Laura. She had a thick German accent and I didn't understand her half the time. But I really liked her. She sneaked me extra bits of food on the third floor. She made me feel like maybe I was getting better, connecting with new people, approaching Happiness.

But then she disappeared. I still don't know where she is.

I'm worried that I got her in trouble. Lucy keeps telling me it's fine, but I just don't know.

I don't know much of anything anymore.

Sorry, this must sound so disjointed. It's been a long time here on the 4th floor. It is easily the toughest floor so far. We are supposed to focus on greed. What are we greedy for? What has our greed cost us?

Was it greed that made me want to be friends with Laura?

At least they returned my journal.

I am nervous to write too much about what I'm experiencing. I know they read the joy journals. Lucy says they use them as recruitment materials for new members. I don't know what other people are writing, but if you're seeing this - Stay away.

My entire life has been taken over by these people. I am not myself anymore. I have to whisper my name in my sleep to keep me from forgetting it. #104, no, Debbie.

Want to know what I did today? I moved cement blocks from one side of the room to the other. And when that was done, I did it again. And again. No purpose. No progress. I just lugged these blocks back and forth in the name of Happiness.

Another optimist on the floor has a large stone disc around her neck. She cannot sleep, she can barely stand. The lemons force her to do chores but she looks like her neck will snap at any minute. If I'm being honest, I am scared of her. She moans like a dying animal. Lucy told me she was an art dealer before coming here. She sold crap for millions.

Now she cries as her skin sloughs off due to the rough edges of the stone.

Maybe more disturbing than her is my realization that one of the lemons has begun watching me. I don't know what he's called, but he's got a scraggly beard that creeps me out. He sits in the same corner, near the pile of teeth extracted during Therapy, and stares at me. Am I in trouble? He doesn't watch anyone else. I never see him move. Is he even alive?

It is hard to tell who is alive and who has passed out from exhaustion. A male optimist, who wore a weighted suit over his scrubs, just collapsed the other day. I am sick to write that the rest of us just kept going. Back and forth. If we stopped, even for a breath, we'd be called greedy. Greedy for wanting a break, a drink, or a bed.

I am ashamed to admit this, but I stepped over his body to get more cement blocks. I am so used to people passing out. The floor was littered with failure. I didn't think anything of it. I've been on this damn floor for weeks... months? There is no way to keep time in here.

He laid on the floor all day and night. It wasn't until the next morning that Lucy told a lemon he was dead.

Who have I become? Someone who steps over dead bodies to finish a pointless task?

I hate myself.

I have never felt less happy in my life.

 

[Optimist #104 is showing excellent signs of de-integration and dissociation. Her results have much improved since the unfortunate incident with Agent Giggles. She has been cleared to move on to the fifth floor. I cannot express how excited I am to see how she fares within the black cloud.

One area of note - we are unaware of the Agent #104 is referring to in her joy journal. We have not assigned anyone to watch her specifically. We also do not have an Agent that matches her limited description. An investigation will be announced to see if someone has infiltrated Happiness. If this is the case, #104 may be in grave danger.

If she is simply seeing things, a removal of the eyes is the only option. We refuse to lose such a promising subject to that ever-annoying presence that is madness.]