Dopamine

“Nutri-patches were the first big step towards true productivity,” I beam at the three others in the room, plastering

on a smile that I’ve been practicing for months. 

“Nutri-patches were a revolutionary new technology that, as we all know, was able to provide a full-grown adult

with all the nutrients and calories that they could need for two weeks straight in a small circular adhesive. As companies began to incorporate them into daily work life, labor force rating rose rapidly.” 

I keep my cheeks upturned as I gesture towards my presentation, a flurry of graphs and charts appearing. My

stomach groans quietly as I continue to explain the statistics used to calculate each graph. Nutri-patches had a way of making sure you never felt hungry but never felt full either. I’ve done this so many times that my brain is on autopilot. I just focus on keeping my posture up and squinting my eyes ever so slightly to feign enthusiasm and let my mouth do the talking. 

“As shown above, Amazon saw some of the biggest changes to their ratings, skyrocketing from just 72 points to 89, the highest at the time.”

I look around to see approving nods and feel slightly more confident. This meeting’s essential. Mia didn’t tell me

that, but I could tell that these investors were our last chance. There weren’t too many interested people after the incident, and I knew that no other sales representative had been successful. 

“Youvee™ lights were another revolutionary step to transforming productivity. No longer did we need to spend

countless hours every week lying in bed, using sleep as a way to recharge our energy, but rather, we could remain constantly energized with a simple light fixture!” 

I proudly point up at the lights in our small conference room, being careful not to stare directly into any of the

bulbs. I talk through each graph being careful to highlight the most promising statistics and predictions while skimming over the rest. I’m coming up on the end now, and I prepare myself for the most difficult part of the presentation. 

“Now, we have seen the rises in ratings that have resulted from technological inventions that take care of human

needs, and today, I am here to present the next big thing, something that will revolutionize the way we view efficiency: the Joy-patch! A patch made to fulfill a need far more important than food or energy, happiness. It has been proven that raising levels of dopamine can increase produc–” 

I haven’t even finished my sentence yet, and all three investors are raising their hands. I know the question they

have. It’s the same one as everyone else, the same question that has lost us every investor thus far, but I’m prepared for it today.

“Considering the leaked reports of Joy-patch causing permanent adverse effects to test users, disabling their

natural ability to produce joy, why should we take the risk and support something that has no evidence of success?” It’s the man in the brown suit that speaks first. His voice is deep, a confident type of deep that almost makes me back out of my plan. The other two give nods of agreement, and I steady my breath before answering. 

“Well, I guess now’s the perfect time to reveal it, Joy-patch’s newest trial has actually been successful.” I pull up a

graph of Joy-patch’s recent ratings. It has surged upwards in the past few weeks for reasons unknown to me, most likely a couple of fudged numbers from the reporting office, but the investors don’t have to know that. “Many people have been wondering how we achieved record-high numbers this past month, and it is all because of Joy-patch. We decided, after the slight miscalculation of our previous trial, that we would only test on consenting employees.” I turn around and lift the corner of my shirt, showing a small patch I had stuck on right before this meeting. It’s an old Nutri-patch, one that I had cut up and reassembled to look different, but they couldn’t tell. They were investors, not scientists, and none of them had ever set foot in a lab before. 

There was a moment of silence. They hadn’t predicted this response. After a whistleblower in the company had

released all the documents regarding our company’s knowledge of failing products being continually tested on people, everyone had been waiting for Joy-patch to go bankrupt. We had gained enough international notoriety from the incident that we still raked in investors from countries like China and Bangladesh that were chasing after rankings. But notoriety could only get a company like ours so far, and I had seen the bankruptcy forms sitting on Mia’s desk. This time, it’s the woman who responds first. 

“Well, if this technology is working, why have you not published the study?” Her question prompts the other two

to jump in. 

“Yeah, why have we not seen any patents filed yet?” 

“What about the report just released last week that said nothing about this?” “Have you looked at the long-term

effects of this new patch?” 

“How did you develop this technology all of a sudden?” 

“What chemical is the Joy-patch using?” 

I knew these questions would come, but they still take me by surprise, and for the first time in my career as a sales

representative, I lose my aura of confidence and trip over my words. 

“So-sorry, I’m not permitted nor qualified to answer all of these questions, but I, umm, assure you that you will

receive answers as soon as you join our team,” I squeak out. 

They’re annoyed by that answer, but their annoyance is overshadowed by an eagerness that they might be the first

investors in the next big thing. They’re chatting with each other now, and I take the opportunity to slip out of the room. Heart pounding, I begin down the stairs.

One step 

What did I do? 

Two steps 

Why did I do it? 

Three steps 

There’s no way it worked, right? Right? 

Four steps 

No one would be dumb enough to invest their money without concrete evidence.

Five steps 

What am I going to tell Mia? 

“Oh Mia, heyyy.” I look up to see Mia standing directly in front of me. She looks worried, and it takes me a second

to realize why. The meeting. The meeting had been the last chance for her to save her company. I would consider Mia a friend, a good friend even. I was one of the first people she hired, and she had trusted me with the secret information about the failed trials. 

“Hi…” she replies hesitantly. I can see her eyes searching my facial expressions and body language, trying to get

any information that she can.

“The meeting went great,” I grit my teeth together, forcing a smile that I usually reserve for investor meetings. I

take a second, weighing the pros and cons of telling her what I had done, but by the time I’ve made a decision, she knows that something is up. 

“Well, I may have told them that we have a working prototype of a Joy-patch.” “You did WHAT?!” 

“Well, I knew that this was our last chance and I really want this company to succeed and I do believe that we will

eventually develop a Joy-patch and I just didn’t want to disappoint you and the investors were really interested–” I ramble on, trying to justify my actions. Mia looks down, expressionless. I’ve never been able to read her as she can read me, and her stoic glance tells me nothing. 

“Go back to your desk,” she’s never sounded so serious. 

I continue down the stairs, trying to shake off the encounter. 

Six steps 

Why is she so mad? I might have saved us from bankruptcy. 

Seven steps 

Well, I probably shouldn’t have made false claims. It’s going to be hard to cover up this mess. 

Eight steps

It was a last-ditch effort. She’ll come around and understand. 

Nine steps 

Maybe we can develop a working patch this week. Just maybe. 

Ten steps 

We’ll figure this out. We always do. 

There’s no way anyone has heard about what happened yet, but the walk through the halls still feels like one of

shame. Everyone I make eye contact with seems to be judging me for my choices. I finally make it back to my desk and sit down, staring at the pre-downloaded screen saver on my computer:  Joy-patch, The Most Important Human Need. 

It’s a couple of hours before Mia returns to my desk, and I’m changing my Nutri-patch when she does. I breathe a

sigh of relief as she approaches. She looks happy, happier than the last time I saw her at least. It’s clear that she has been busy for the past few hours, most likely trying to sort out the mess I had created. 

“I’m so sorry–” I start. 

She cuts me off, “Don’t worry, I’ve got the situation covered.” Her voice is calming and reassuring, smooth as

butter, and unlike her usual peppy tone.“I’m going to need you to do something for me though,” she continues. “Lab 368 is waiting for you.” 

My stomach drops, and I try to grab Mia’s hand as she turns away, but she’s gone too fast. The thing is, I didn’t lie

about everything in my presentation. After we were exposed for unethical testing, we did begin testing “consenting” employees, except we had all been forced to consent. Random people were selected every week to be a part of a new group of trial participants. I hadn’t been worried because I knew that Joy-patch couldn’t afford to lose a sales representative, and I was one of the best. But after today’s performance, I was no longer a valuable asset. I was disposable. Every employee that had been sent to lab 368 had been given two weeks of paid leave but never returned. 

I know that there is no way out of this. I had seen countless people refuse to go or try to run away, and the horrors

that occurred to them were even worse than what could lay in the lab. I took a look at my desk, acknowledging that it would most likely be the last time I would see it. The chair that had been perfectly molded to my body to maximize ergonomics and the Youvee™ light directly above my head that had turned my hair grey. 

I got up and trudged up the same stairs I had come down earlier, asking myself the same questions. 

One step 

Why did I do this?

Two steps 

Why is she so mad? 

Three steps 

I knew the answer to that one. I had hurt her brand, her reputation, and betrayed her.

Four steps 

But this, what she was doing to me, was a larger betrayal. 

Five steps 

She was my friend, maybe my only friend after I had left home to work here.

Six steps 

What were they going to do without me? Even if they managed to find new investors, there was no way that they

would be able to convince them to join. 

Seven steps 

Without me. Would people even notice that I was gone? I rarely talked to the other sales representatives. 

Eight steps 

Surely rumors would spread about me. People will learn about what I did, how I screwed them all over.

Nine steps 

It doesn’t matter now. 

Ten steps 

Wow, I am really starting to hate these stairs. 

I stand in front of the door leading to Lab 368. The keypad flashes, waiting for my fingerprint to authorize entry. I

place my right thumb on the sensor, and the smooth cold surface snaps me out of my trance. As the door slides open, I step inside the sanitation chamber, desperately trying to reassure myself. 

I am exaggerating. The patch has gone through hundreds of recent advancements. In fact, it probably works at

this point. I heard someone from the research and development team say that they were close to a breakthrough. Maybe I’ll be the first person to receive a successful Joy-patch. 

The sanitation system stops spraying me, and I step out into the main lab. It looks even more bare and depressing

than I had imagined. The walls are a bright white, and there is nothing in the room except for a couple of chairs and two large tables, not even a Youvee™ light. There is no one there to assist me, just a patch, wrapped up in blue sterile packaging. I pick it up, examine it, and chuckle to myself. This looks almost identical to the fake one I had fashioned for my presentation. I take one last look around the room, staring into each corner in the ceiling where a camera is surely hidden. I stick the patch on, three fingers below the sternum like we’ve been taught to do for the past decade, and I feel it instantly. 

Dopamine.