Dopamine

Chapter 1

I shiver as the shower door slides open, and I'm hit with the freezing air that fills the rest of the bathroom. Reluctantly, I step out of my comfortably humid world of steam and on to the heated tiles of my bathroom floor. I shuffle over to the mirror, taking a moment to appreciate the weird, sad mop my hair has become, plastered to my skull by water. Then I brace myself a little as I reach for one of the small silver buttons at the side of the mirror. Warm air blasts me for all sides and after a few seconds, my sad mop of hair has turned into a crazy dark brown bush. I run my hand through it a few times, calming it slightly. Most days that would be enough, but today I grab a comb and some hair gel. After a minute, I drop the comb back into its tray and it slides back into the wall. It's not perfect, but it's probably the best I'm ever going to manage.

My feet sink into the fluffy carpet as I walk out of the bathroom. There's a freshly pressed three-piece suit laid out on my bed. The material feels stiff. I really don't envy the people who dress like this every day. It's perfectly fitted though, and once I have it on it feels much more comfortable than I expected. When I catch a glance of myself in the mirror, I look surprisingly professional. I could be a fancy CEO for a Fortune 500 company. God, that would be horrible. I smooth out my shirt and stroll down the steps into the kitchen.

When I get to the table the usual breakfast assortments are strangely overwhelming. I just feel too high off anticipation to want to eat. As I grab a plate of eggs and a blueberry muffin, I'm relieved to see everything else disappear. I force down a few bites. Today is too important to face it on an empty stomach.

I leave my mostly full plate on the table and grab my bag from beside the door as it swings open. I'm almost caught off guard by the brand-new car, parked neatly in the drive. It was a pre-promotion gift from my parents. I told them they were getting a little ahead of themselves but apparently, they're just so confident in my "unmatched brilliance" that there was no way I wouldn't get the job. I'm pretty sure that's just their way of telling me their bosses put in a good word. The doors slide open when I'm halfway to the car. It's sleek and clean, the newest model, not officially released until next week.

I climb into the front seat, the engine hums to life and it pulls out of my driveway.

I watch the building blur together as the car speeds up. This is a longer trip than I'd usually take, my office is barely 5 minutes away during rush hour, but this drive is at least 20 minutes. It's a good thing too, I need all the extra time I can get, I'm still trying to get everything through my head. If everything goes smoothly my entire life is going to completely change.

I applied for a promotion a few months ago, and the first serious position opened up last week. I guess I've been preparing for something like this for years, but actually having it all in front of me, about it happen. It's just so much more overwhelming.

If I don't screw this up, I'll be the second person I know in a position this important. My closest friend, Sam, studied political sciences and spent his free time "working" as a very minor political commentator. He caught all of us off guard when he was swooped up for his little podcast for an extremely prestigious government job. Sam was never the most subtle person and was affectionately known, among friends, as our revolutionary. He's actually always been extremely opposed to all violence, but he was definitely always a bit radical. None of us know what he does now, but we all know it's important. We aren't even allowed to really contract him anymore; we have to write him letters if we want to tell him anything, and everything he writes back is insanely regulated to protect him and everything he's working on.

There is a chance that, if I get this job, I'll get to see him again. Everything would probably still have to be weird and overly regulated. We'd definitely never be allowed to talk about work again, but this job is regulated and funded by our cities government, and I would be moved to a government protected, and much nicer, apartment so we could actually end up being neighbors. I don't really know how all that stuff is organized, but it's not out of the question. Maybe there's even a chance we'll end up working on some projects together.