Under the Same Sky

The Day Civility Cracked

I've seen the future, and it's disturbingly polite.

As I stepped into the mandatory Harmony Enhancement pod, I wondered how many demerits I'd accrue if I screamed.

The world had transformed into a meticulously manicured garden of politeness. Every interaction was a delicate ballet of carefully chosen words and perfectly timed gestures. Disagreements were extinct, replaced by anodyne phrases like "I respectfully disagree." Even silence had become a form of polite affirmation.

It began innocently enough. A surge in empathy training, coupled with a desire for harmonious communities, birthed a society obsessed with civility. What started as a noble pursuit of kindness mutated into a monstrous demand for perfection.

Beneath the veneer of politeness, a chasm of suppressed emotions yawned. People walked on eggshells, terrified of causing offense. Joy was tempered with caution, anger was buried alive, and sorrow was masked with a stiff upper lip. The fear of social ostracism had become a potent force, shaping lives into predictable, inoffensive molds.

I, an anomaly in this sterile landscape, yearned for the raw authenticity of the past. A simple argument, a heartfelt outburst—these were foreign concepts in my world. I longed for the freedom to be fully myself, without the constant burden of consideration. But to deviate from the norm was to risk isolation, to become a pariah in a society where conformity was king.

The disturbing truth was that politeness had become a prison, trapping us in a gilded cage of our own creation.

The pod hummed to life, its soothing voice a stark contrast to my inner turmoil. "Welcome, citizen. Today's session will focus on smile optimization and conflict avoidance." I forced my face into the expected pleasant expression, feeling the strain in my cheeks. As the pod's sensors scanned my facial muscles, I wondered how long I could maintain this charade. The thought of screaming, of releasing all the pent-up frustration, was becoming more tempting by the second.

My hands clenched.

Damn it.

The pod's sensors immediately detected the micro-aggression. "Citizen, we've noticed increased tension in your extremities. Please remember, physical manifestations of negative emotions are counterproductive to societal harmony. Take a deep breath and think calming thoughts."

I unclenched my fists, but the rage continued to simmer. Years of repressed feelings bubbled dangerously close to the surface. The pod's soothing voice droned on, listing the benefits of perpetual pleasantness, but I was no longer listening.

In that moment, a plan began to form. A reckless, possibly suicidal plan, but one that promised a brief taste of freedom. I knew the consequences would be severe - social isolation, loss of employment, maybe even "re-education" - but the prospect of one genuine moment seemed worth any price.

I took a deep breath, not to calm myself as the pod suggested, but to prepare. My muscles tensed, ready for action. The automated door would open in exactly 47 seconds, releasing me back into the carefully curated world of forced smiles and hollow pleasantries.

But not this time.

This time, I would...

Scream.

The moment the pod door hissed open, I unleashed a primal howl. It was raw, guttural, and gloriously impolite. The sound tore through the sterile air of the Harmony Center, shattering the carefully maintained silence.

Alarms blared. Shocked faces turned towards me, a mix of horror and something else—was it envy?

"Citizen, cease this disruptive behavior immediately," a robotic voice commanded, but I was beyond caring.

I continued to scream as I ran through the corridors, my voice growing hoarse but my spirit soaring. For the first time in years, I felt alive.

Security drones swarmed, their politeness protocols clashing with containment imperatives. "Please, citizen, if you'd be so kind as to stop resisting..."

But my act of defiance had sparked something. From the crowd of onlookers, another scream joined mine. Then another. And another.

As the drones closed in, I caught a glimpse of my reflection in a polished wall. My face was contorted, tears streaming, mouth wide—and I was smiling. A real smile.

In that moment, I knew. The future might be polite, but humanity's wild heart still beat beneath the surface, waiting for a chance to break free.