The Happiest Place on Earth

Felicitous D. Abernathy was not happy, which was strange considering he lived in the happiest place on Earth. His grandparents had purchased the intergenerational stay at Happy Valley Amusement Park nearly one hundred fifty years ago. His parents, and then he, had been born into generational happiness. Felicitous knew he had more privilege than the billions living outside Happy Valley's walls. Yet he could not ignore the feeling that something was wrong.

When Felicitous was 6 years old, he sat at the dinner table with his parents. Their robot wheeled smoothly into the room, carrying three plates and a pitcher of water in its four arms. It slid a plate of spaghetti in front of his mother and then wheeled around the table to serve his father a steak. The robot stopped next to Felicitous and placed a plate of hotdogs on the table. Upon looking at the hotdogs, he suddenly lost his appetite.

“Mother, I don’t think I want hotdogs anymore,” he said. “Can I have something different?”

“Of course, dear,” his mother replied, her voice tinged with indulgence. "Just ask the bot. It will get you whatever you want.” The house bot, sensing the shift in Felicitous' mood, rolled over on its large flexible wheels and beeped.

“I want something I’ve never had before,” he told the bot. “I’m tired of eating the same thing every day.”

“You had pizza yesterday,” his father pointed out. “And you had grilled cheese the day before that.”

Felicitous wasn’t sure how his father remembered such a thing. “I know, but I want something new.” The bot stood and waited. The request was more complex than it could handle. Felicitous wanted to dropkick the hotdogs across the room but didn’t want the robot to have to clean it up.

His parents looked at each other and pretended to frown. “Have you had Indian food?” his mother asked. “You might like some chicken tikka masala. It can be a little spicy, but it’s delicious.”

“I’ve had that,” Felicitous said. “You’re right. It is very good.”

“What about a burrito?” his father suggested. “It’s similar to a taco, and you love those.”

“I don’t want something similar. I want something totally new,” Felicitous whined.

“I think you’re having a not-so-good day,” his mother said. “Maybe after you eat your dinner, you should go and play with the puppies at the petting zoo before bed.”

“Maybe,” Felicitous shrugged. “I always play with the puppies.”

“Then you can ride one of the rollercoasters,” his father suggested. “That always makes you feel better.”

“I don’t want to ride a rollercoaster,” Felicitous said. “I’ve done that 1,000 times.”

“I think you need to go to bed,” his mother said. “You’ll feel better after you’ve gotten some rest.”

Felicitous plopped down in his armchair that overlooked the water park. The water in the wave pool shimmered in the setting sun. Happy people lay on sunchairs scattered between large umbrellas. Tall palm trees grew out of tidy flower beds. Happy children eating ice cream sat on benches with their parents. Beyond the water park, the enormous wall stood with its tall laser turrets and patrolling drones. Felicitous squinted, trying to see what lay beyond the wall, but all he saw was a bright blue sky and fluffy white clouds.

Felicitous’ mother walked into his room. “Are you still trying to see what’s out there?” she asked.

“Yes,” he admitted. “I can’t see anything. Can we go out and see?”

“No, it’s not allowed,” his mother told him. “Outside is where the sadness is.”

“But I feel like something is missing,” he told her.

“When your grandparents settled here, they told us how terrible the outside was,” his mother told him. “We’re lucky that we were born here. We took in a few new citizens when I was young, but they brought sadness in with them, so we stopped letting people come in.”

“But don’t you wonder what’s outside?” he asked. “Is it as bad as they say?”

“We should visit grandma and grandpa in the retirement village tomorrow,” his mother said. “They will tell you how it was.”

Felicitous sighed. His grandparents like to play boring old people's games and eat weird old people's ice cream. “Maybe we can see them next week,” he suggested.

When Felicitous was nine, he asked his teacher what was outside the park's gates.

“Beyond the gates of the park is sadness,” his teacher explained. “The people out there aren’t as lucky as we are.”

“But how do you know?” Felicitous asked.

“We see the news beamed in through the airwaves,” she said. “It’s awful. There’s war and suffering. It isn’t pleasant to talk about.”

“What if I want to go out there?” he asked.

“Why would you want to?” his teacher countered. “Outside is where the sadness is.” She said the last part in the sing-songy way teachers do when they want someone to remember something.

“So I’m not allowed to go out?” Felicitous asked. “Are we in prison?”

“Well, of course, you can go out!” his teacher said. “This isn’t a prison. But if you go out, you can never come back!”

“Why?”

“Because outside is where the sadness is,” she sang again. “And you might bring the sadness back to the rest of us.”

“How do you know?” Felicitous continued. “Have you ever been out there? Do you know anyone who has?”

His teacher raised her hand. “What do we do when we’re feeling sad?” she asked the rest of the class.

“Serotonin dance time!” his classmates jumped out of their seats and raised their arms. The teacher pressed play on her radio, and a happy pop tune blared out. She and the rest of Felicitous’ classmates began wiggling and jumping and waving their arms around. Felicitous joined them, and soon, he laughed with them.

When he was fourteen, Felicitous sat on the rollercoaster as it edged toward the top of the highest hill. It was his favorite place in the park because he could see beyond the high walls that blocked out the bigger world. Sunny, his girlfriend of six months, sat next to him.

“Are you looking beyond the walls again?” she asked him with a tolerant smile. “Why do you worry so much about what is out there?”

“Aren’t you curious?” Felicitous asked. “There’s so much out there, there. And we’ve never seen any of it. Like, what’s that.” He pointed at a column of smoke in the distance.

“It’s probably a riot or a forest fire,” Sunny waved her hand vaguely. “The robots will take care of it if it gets too close to the park.”

“I guess,” Felicitous said as he looked around. But what if there are beautiful things out there?”

“What could be better than the happiest place on Earth?” she asked. “After this, let's play some games.”

“I don’t feel like it,” Felicitous crossed his arms across his chest. “We always win, and we always get the prize.”

“Of course, we always win,” Sunny gave him a weird look. “Do you want to get some cotton candy instead?”

“I want to go out there!” he said, pointing to the vista in the distance. Rows of houses and buildings were visible to one side, and trees and forest to the other.

“No, Feli, don’t say that!” Sunny grabbed onto his arm. “You can’t go out there!”

“I can go, but I can’t come back,” he reminded her. “They let people go. It’s a choice, not a prison.”

“Maybe,” she said as the rollercoaster crested the peak of the hill. “But if you go, you’ll never see the people you love again. So it might as well be forbidden.” The rollercoaster went over the edge, and they zoomed down the hill, wind rushing through their hair. Some people shrieked, but it was performative. Felicitous’ stomach did a flip as it always did. For a brief moment in the rushing speed, his heart floated up like it was trying to escape his chest.

As he climbed out of the rollercoaster’s metal car, the fun little flip in his stomach had turned into a deep ache in his chest. For a moment, he thought that he might be sick. The ache gnawed at his insides, and as he felt it, it moved up to his neck and chin and then down to his heart. He took a deep breath and tried to breathe it out, but the sensation returned. It felt like a cross between a gaping empty hole right in his sternum and a rubber band pulled so tight it might break.

Sunny led Felicitous to the cotton candy stand, where a robot served them a fluffy pink sugar cloud. Sandy ripped off pieces of her candy and fed them to Felicitous bite by bite. He ate each piece with a smile, and as they melted on his tongue, he felt his hopes melting bite by bite.

Ten years later, Felicitous played with the edge of the white tablecloth as Sunny talked. She had been patient with his quirks, she told him. She had been open-minded about his ideas about the outside world. She had met his negativity with kindness and his pessimism with sympathy.

“But I cannot stay with you if you insist on going outside the walls,” she told him. “What you want to do is insane. We know that they are miserable out there. Why would you want to join them? What will you even do out there? How will you live?”

“I don’t know,” Felicitous admitted. “But I think I need to try. Something is missing in me, and I need to know what out there is really like.”

“If you’re not happy, you go take a yoga class, or better yet, get a massage,” Sunny said. “You don’t throw your life, family, and entire existence away on a whim.”

“It’s not a whim,” Felicitous said. “I’ve always felt this way.”

“Then you’re on your own,” Sunny said. “I’m happy here, and if you were smart, you would be too. You’re not going to be any happier out there. You know that for a fact. You will be miserable and hungry, and you may starve. No one out there cares about you, and no one out there will help you.” She stared at him as he fidgeted in his seat.

“I know this,” he said. “But I think I have to go see what else is out there.

“Then we are breaking up, and I’m going to go out with Bliss,” she said as she crossed her arms across her chest. “He has been wanting to date me for years.”

“Bliss is an idiot,” Felicitous said. “He still gets lost in the fun house.”

“Bliss is the opposite of an idiot,” Sunny shot back, but she wrinkled her nose with the lie.

“This table doesn’t look very happy,” a man with a violin walked up to them. “Would you like me to play you a nice...”

“NO!” they shouted at him. The man raised his eyebrows and walked away.

Felicitous walked home alone. The stars in the night sky shone down on him, and he tried to imagine what they would be like on the other side of the wall. Would they look the same, or would they be unrecognizable?

His mother was watching a movie on the couch when he entered their suite.

“How was your dinner?” she asked, not looking away from the screen. His father snored lightly on the couch next to her.

“Sunny and I broke up,” Felicitous told her.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Do you need a hug, or would you like to do some gratitude journaling?”

“No, thank you, Mother,” he said. “I think I’m just going to go to bed.”

“Felicitous?” his mother stood and walked over to him. “We love you very much.” She wrapped her thin but muscular arms around him and squeezed tightly.

“I love you too, Mom,” he hugged her back.

Felicitous went into his room and sat in his armchair. He called the robot. It wheeled in and stood in the middle of his room, waiting for direction.

“Robot, get me 24 protein bars, 24 beef sticks, and six large water bottles.” Felicitous pulled a backpack out of his closet. He went into the hallway, found a messenger bag in the hall closet, and brought it back to his room. He started packing clothes, particularly socks and underwear. He packed an extra pair of sneakers. He packed sunscreen, bug spray, hats, and sunglasses. He found medicine and a first-aid kit. He found a large knife. He gathered towels, and blankets, and a large pillow. He realized that less than half of it would fit into his two bags. He pared it down and then pared it down again. He worried he was missing some vital item that would mean the difference between life and death and realized he undoubtedly was.

With the house bot’s help, Felicitous finished packing. He and the robot stood looking at the bags as they sat neatly on his bed.

“Well, that’s done,” he said aloud. The robot beeped in agreement. Felicitous tried the bags on. They were heavy, but he could walk easily. He walked around his room while the robot watched. He then took off the bags and set them in the corner of the room. The bright sun shone through the wall of windows.

“Window, dim light 60 percent,” he said. The windows tinted at his command. Felicitous laughed at himself and flopped on his bed.

The bags sat in the corner for several weeks. Felicitous walked past them on the way to breakfast and when he returned for his afternoon nap. Just packing them had driven a stake of fear into his heart.

One day, Felicitous was eating lunch at the dining room table and reading a book when his father walked in. His father, in his tennis clothes, set his racket in the corner. He grinned his wide, toothy smile at Felicitous, who grinned back. 

“How are you doing today, son?” his father asked.

“Happy as always,” Felicitous said back. It was an auto-response, and Felicitous realized it when the words came out of his mouth. His father droned on about his game against his friend, but Felicitous tuned him out. He wondered why he couldn’t be happy with a tennis match with his best friend. The gnawing feeling back in his chest returned, stronger than ever. It was the opposite of the rollercoaster feeling. His heart shrank in on itself, crushed so small that it was about to implode in his chest like a black hole that sucked in everything good around him.

“What do you think?” his father asked.

“I think it’s time,” Felicitous said.

His parents refused to come to the gate to see Felicitous off. They had tried to talk him out of it for days, but Felicitous would not change his mind. As he walked up to the gate, a few curious citizens came to see him off, but no one Felicitous knew. He worried they would be an angry mob, but most seemed impressed or confused. The bags weighed heavy on his back as he stood in the shadow of the enormous wall. The gate was already open, a small hole in the hulking expanse. As he walked up to the gate, a familiar beep sounded. The gravel crunched as the house robot’s wheels rolled over it.

“Did Mom and Dad send you to say goodbye?” he asked. The robot rolled over to his feet. It looked smaller outside of their suite. Its square body and knobby head came up to his hip. Felicitous patted its head awkwardly, then turned and walked toward the gate. The robot followed him as he walked. He stopped, and the bot stopped and looked up at him.

“Is that robot going with him?” someone asked.

“Is that allowed?” another person asked.

“You need to go back,” Felicitous told the robot. “I don’t know who told you to come with me, but you can’t come. It’s too dangerous for a robot. Go home.” Felicitous didn’t know if it was too dangerous, but it sounded good. The robot stared at him. Felicitous walked toward the gate, and again, the robot followed. They passed the gate and entered the tunnel through the enormous wall.

“Do you actually want to come with me?” Felicitous asked the robot as it rolled up next to him. The robot beeped excitedly and looked toward the end of the tunnel. It pointed with its little metal arm at the outside.

“Well, I guess we’re in this together then,” Felicitous said as they approached the light.