Happiness Crisis

Golden Force: The Source (Chapter 1)

Sofia’s head was encased in an iron helmet. She fought the cold, unyielding metal that was crushing her face. Each breath bounced back at her as the sharp, acrid taste of iron invaded her mouth and panic suffocated her. Desperate for air, she thrashed wildly against the bedsheets, tore herself free and tumbled from her bed. She stood in front of the mirror in her dark bedroom. Only a contour of a silhouette was visible. Despite its tightness, the iron helmet pressing against her head felt oddly light. Sofia, desperate for air, burst out of her apartment, and stumbled onto the street. Outside the Vienna streets were replaced by a world choked in ash. The ground underneath was soft, lifeless dust. Sofia looked around. Charred skeletons of trees and their bare branches clawed at her, burned by some unknown inferno. The stench of fire filled her nostrils as she sprinted without destination. Suddenly, her foot caught on something, sending her crashing to the ground as her head, encased in iron, hit the jagged black earth. A piercing, relentless alarm from her smartphone shattered the nightmare, dragging her to the reality of the early waking world.

Sofia sat up gasping. Her silky brown hair was wet from sweat and plastered to her face and neck. With shaking fingers, she touched up to her scalp, feeling for metal, but found only damp skin. The relief made her dizzy. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, waiting for her breathing to slow as the dim streetlight cut harsh lines across the polished wooden floor of her apartment on the corner of Wipplingerstrasse and Färbergasse in the Vienna 1st district. She walked over to the large window overlooking the cobbled street below. Outside, just like every day, people were starting to line up in front of the pharmacy across the street. Soon the line, which seemingly doubled daily, would stretch for blocks. Most people had their eyes glued to their smartphones, leaning against the cold stone wall of the beautiful Viennese building, and shuffling on their feet as they waited. Sofia saw their breath rising visibly in the cold air. Just above them, a bright digital display of a massive advertising billboard cast an eerie glow. “A NEW ERA OF HAPPINESS.” Sofia read the ad’s bold and vague statement aloud with a tone of sarcasm. Soon … very soon, I will be able to help you all, she thought and stepped away from the window. She needed coffee.

With the scene outside still fixed in her mind, Sofia walked into the kitchen and headed straight for the coffee machine. She switched it on and, leaning on the kitchen counter, studied her daily schedule on her phone, waiting for the espresso machine to heat up. It was her daily morning ritual, even on weekends; for Dr. Sofia Bulsara, weekends didn’t exist. She worked every day. As the head scientist at SAND Labs and psychiatrist by profession, Sofia had dedicated her life to understanding the nature and biology of the human psyche, and methods to heal it without medication or artificial alteration. People were drowning in depression and the opioids were taking over the world. She poured herself a strong double espresso, and as a true caffeine junkie, inhaled its rich aroma before taking a slow sip. She turned back to her phone, and scrolled through a stream of global news updates. A polished blond anchor, smiling too broadly, narrated the morning headlines: “Global serotonin levels at record lows—what does this mean for our future?” The screen then cut to a man in his early forties, with pink hair, a confident smile and exuding effortless charisma. The broad smile of George Sand, the CEO of SAND Labs, filled the frame.

“Mr. Sand,” the anchorwoman addressed him, “we are in the middle of the most severe happiness crisis in human history. Meanwhile, SAND Labs’ third-quarter results show a persistent decline in profits and that is, according to the industry experts, due to absence of any significant innovation over the last eighteen months. It seems SAND Labs is failing to deliver the promised happiness to both its customers and shareholders.” The journalist leaned slightly forward to George Sand in expectation of his reply.

“Well, Joan, the world is in for a surprise!” George Sand replied calmly. “I’d rather say that humanity is about to experience a major breakthrough as SAND Labs is about to revolutionize mental health. Our brilliant scientist and mastermind, Dr. Sofia Bulsara, will unveil the antidote to humanity’s happiness crisis at The Innovation Conference in Paris tomorrow.”

“Currently happiness is a luxury. Another drug on the market, Mr. Sand?” the anchor challenged.

“Happiness should not be a luxury,” George continued uninhibited. “We’ve evolved over the past year. SAND Labs is now a well-being company. For the past year and a half we’ve been investing in emotional health centers, global retreat resorts, and top-tier experts. Our Happiness Campus in Vienna is the largest and most modern of its kind. SAND Labs is the future of emotional health.” George looked directly into the camera and said, “As the founder of SAND Labs, it is my personal mission to bring you happiness. I promise, you will be happy.”

The segment ended with sweeping visuals of the SAND Happiness Campus, other SAND clinics and wellness centers around the world, and resorts in stunning locations, where people practiced yoga and meditated in high-tech rooms with sleek-looking gear. Sofia’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup. The Paris Innovation Conference was just a day away, and the thought of presenting her life’s work made her nervous. Sofia’s invention offered a radical alternative: a way to heal depression naturally, by activating the pineal gland’s innate chemistry and freeing people from dependence on pharmaceuticals. With his dramatic marketing campaign, George Sand had unfortunately turned it into a spectacle before the launch and without Sofia’s consent.

On her way to the shower, Sofia walked past the window and looked at the billboard again. A NEW ERA OF HAPPINESS. Below the headline, an image showed a figure standing in a beam of radiant light, arms outstretched, as if ascending to some higher plane of existence. There were no details, just the logo of SAND Labs, and the promise of transcendence. The image, in Sofia’s opinion, ironically alluded to something out of reach by being vague, and undeniably provocative—just like George’s strategy.

“Pathetic,” Sofia swore out loud. She hated that George Sand fed the media with exaggerated, highly unserious claims. It’s not about happiness; it’s about emotional balance, she thought. A text from Noah Singer, her assistant, appeared on her phone screen: Lab is ready. You should see the final updates before Paris. You have a mass of urgent media requests for interviews. Noah had obviously pulled another all-nighter. The phone display showed a call from an unknown number. She declined it and watched more calls flood her screen in quick succession.

Sofia checked her watch, and calculated whether to pack for Paris now or in the afternoon. Out of eagerness to get to the lab as soon as possible, she opted against packing and headed for the shower. The hot water stung her shoulders red, but she welcomed the distraction from the growing circus outside her control. Her work wasn’t meant to be salvation wrapped in marketing gold. It was science, pure and methodical, designed to restore what pharmaceuticals had stolen from humanity. What if George was right? What if people needed the spectacle, the promise of salvation? she thought and pressed her forehead against the tile. She stepped out of the shower, wrapped her head in a towel and wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror with her hand. As she watched her blurred expression in the mirror, she couldn’t help but wonder if her refusal to play messiah was principle or fear. She remembered her nightmare.

Sofia brewed her second double espresso of the morning. The ritual was as essential as breathing. Recently, when her espresso machine had died overnight, she’d arrived at the lab disheveled, hair still wet, laptop forgotten on her kitchen counter. She remembered Noah’s expression. “I’ve finally confirmed my theory,” he’d said and shook his head, leaning against her office doorframe. “You’re not actually human. You’re just a sophisticated algorithm that runs on double espresso.” Sofia laughed and got dressed.

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Golden Force: The Source (Chapter 2)

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Welcome to the world of Golden Force. I’ll be back with more next Thursday. If you’d like to keep reading, I’m inviting you to get your copy on goldenforceworld.com.