Flavio Cruz

Happy Ville

I find myself in a state of perpetual happiness in this idyllic town. It's hard to pinpoint when this blissful existence began, as it feels like it has been this way for an eternity. When I awaken each morning, a wave of wonder washes over me, and I am reminded that life is truly marvelous. I anticipate that the coming day will surpass even the previous one. It seems fitting, then, that our city bears the name Happy Ville. It couldn't be more apt.

Sitting at the kitchen table, I marvel at the sumptuous breakfast spread before me. Across from me sits Lykke, my extraordinary wife. Not only is she breathtakingly beautiful, but she possesses an array of talents: fluent in multiple languages, a singing sensation, and, oh my, a master in the culinary arts!

At times, I almost yearn for a minor hiccup or challenge to break the monotony. Just a tiny bump to keep things interesting. But, truth be told, such thoughts are nonsense. Each passing day surpasses the previous one, a continuous upward spiral of contentment.

I must admit, however, that something peculiar occurred not long ago. Everything plunged into darkness briefly, and I experienced a momentary loss of consciousness. Yet, there were no lingering consequences. It happened once more last month, but the event was even shorter than before. I remain utterly unconcerned. My friend Steve may disagree, offering his explanations and concerns, but he's always on edge, worrying about everything. The rest of my friends share my nonchalance.

Just last week, I mistakenly called my wife Elsker. How peculiar, as I can't recall ever being married to another woman. I braced myself for an argument or at least a scuffle. But no, she came over, kissed me, and remarked how adorable I was when I playfully changed names like that.

Elsker, she explained, means love, while Lykke signifies happiness in Danish. She grinned mischievously and quipped, "Isn't that splendid?" Although I didn't fully grasp her meaning, her attitude made me exceedingly content.

I made plans with Steve to have lunch at the new restaurant on Main Street. To my delight, it surpassed all expectations. Words fail me when it comes to describing the marvels that unfold in this place. Yet, Steve persists in attempting to worry me. He began with the "blackout" incident, claiming it was an attempted break-in. I couldn't help but burst into laughter. He promptly called me an idiot, clarifying that it wasn't the type of intrusion I had envisioned. He proceeded to explain that everything we see, feel, hear, and experience is entirely artificial, a product of advanced technology and an invented reality. True life exists elsewhere. He even boasted about periodically returning to this "real" reality. Can you fathom it? According to him, our bodies lie in an immense facility, sustaining us in a vegetative state while feeding us. He grew irritated when I inquired why I hadn't experienced this alternate reality like him. However, he elucidated the reason. Our contracts with "Afterlife," the company responsible for our virtual lives, differed. He said my contract stipulated that I would only be brought back to consciousness every two years. Yet, he continued, he had been returning far more frequently than that due to a clause requiring his revival whenever the system faced peril. And that's precisely what's happening now. There are individuals so repulsed by our seemingly paradisiacal existence - heaven on earth, as "Afterlife's" slogan suggests - that they've hired a band of hackers to dismantle the virtual reality system. Of course, I know they'll never succeed, but their attempts can become bothersome.

Though I initially found it hard to believe, Steve reassured me that he knew I would never accept such a notion. I was on the permanent system, meaning I had no scheduled visits. He concluded that the only way that could change is if the system catastrophically failed, an event that will never come to pass.

I must confess, it's the strangest story I've ever heard! A part of me is mildly perturbed. But truthfully, I believe it is another facet of our perfect existence here. A touch of fear, a hint of worry, to remind us of our unparalleled privilege!

Steve has some amusing tales to tell now that I reflect on it! He is some guy! He could be a storyteller!

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All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Flavio Cruz.
Published on e-Stories.org on 06/15/2023.

 
 

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