//------------------------------//
// The Happy-Ending Machine 
// Story: The Happy-Ending Machine 
// by Acologic 
//------------------------------//

‘How’s the family?’ Bluegum asked Moon as they started on their drinks.

‘Jewel’s had her first day at school. What?’ added Moon as Bluegum grinned and shook his head. 

‘I still can’t believe you’re married,’ said the latter.

‘Are you thinking about it?’ asked Moon.

‘What, marriage? Hell, no!’ Bluegum raised his hooves, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Who wants kids?’

‘I do,’ said Bristle. ‘Eventually.’

‘Well, have fun when you do,’ said Bluegum. ‘You’ll have to break your back working.’

Moon nodded. ‘That’s a fact.’

‘Kids,’ said Wildshine, puffing out his cheeks. ‘Kids are exhausting.’

‘You don’t know how exhausting,’ said Moon grimly. ‘I’m telling you, don’t become a father.’

‘What, you regret it?’ said Bristle.

‘No, but sometimes it feels like –’ Moon sighed. ‘It has its upsides, and you get peace and quiet once they’re in bed.’ He smiled as he said the last words.

‘You know you could have had that all the time,’ Bluegum told him.

Moon shrugged. ‘What’s done is done, my friend.’

Rows of semi-cubicles linked to a generator, the primary feature of each of which was a torso-sized hole.

‘Well,’ said Bluegum after a pause, ‘I’m never going to have a family.’ 

‘Oh, yeah, what, you’re just going to piss around watching sport and getting high until you’re thirty?’ Wildshine aimed at him.

‘Nope,’ said Bluegum, grinning. ‘I’ve just put in my application.’

‘For what?’ asked Bristle.

‘The HEM.’

Moon laughed. ‘Of course you have. Of course. Well, congratulations,’ he said, slapping Bluegum playfully. 

‘What’s the waiting list like?’ asked Wildshine.

‘It’s pretty long,’ said Bluegum, ‘but they’ll probably get me on there in a year-and-a-half or so.’ 

‘Are you going to be a fatty or a skinny?’ asked Moon.

‘I’m going to try to be a skinny, obviously!’ said Bluegum. ‘I want it to last!’

Wildshine grimaced. ‘It’s a bit grim, that, though.’

‘What?’ said Bluegum.

‘Well, you know, how they drag your body out of the hole once you’re done.’

‘Yeah, when you say it like that,’ said Moon, ‘but it’s not like you didn’t like it!’

‘That’s the whole bloody point,’ said Bluegum. ‘Who cares how it looks?’

First, customers received a sedative through which to endure pleasantly the placement deep into their brains of a series of electrodes. Then they were installed.

‘I care,’ said Bristle quietly. 

Bluegum smirked. ‘Of course you care, you little Ali-Con.’

Bristle raised his hooves. ‘I am what I am.’

‘You probably think I’m “selling my soul” or something,’ muttered Bluegum, adjusting his posture so as better to face Bristle.

‘Yeah,’ said Bristle, looking right at him. ‘That’s exactly what I think, but you don’t care, so –’ 

‘No, not really,’ said Bluegum. ‘It isn’t any of your business. I’m allowed to do what I want.’ 

Bristle did not move. ‘And so am I.’ 

‘Oooo!’ said Moon mockingly. Wildshine covered his laugh. 

Bristle’s eyes narrowed. He worked his mouth. ‘You can be such a bucking dick sometimes, you know that?’ 

‘Aw,’ said Bluegum, ‘is the little conservative angry?’

Wildshine had recovered. ‘Come on,’ he said to Bluegum. ‘Don’t be a dick.’

‘Sorry,’ said Bluegum.

‘Yeah, but Blue has a point, though,’ interjected Moon. ‘You get preachy these days.’

‘Preachy,’ snorted Bristle. 

‘Yeah. You’ve got to let ponies do their own thing.’

‘Oh,’ said Bristle scornfully, ‘I’m sorry for thinking there’s something wrong with an emaciated bloody dead pony getting dragged out of a hole where they’ve been standing without moving for days.’ 

‘Oh, please!’ said Bluegum, rolling his eyes. ‘You’re so worked up about how it looks. The point is all those ponies wanted to be there, and they had the time of their lives being there!’

Operators responded to alerts for water or food, though these were few and far between. 

‘And that’s what you’re looking for, is it?’ Bristle shot at him. ‘The time of your life?’

Bluegum held up his hooves. ‘Bucking sue me!’

‘Calm down a bit, lads. It’s not that serious,’ said Wildshine.

‘No, it is,’ said Bristle firmly. ‘It is serious, and I’m fed up of sitting here with you guys and pretending I don’t care about this shit.’

‘You get triggered way too easily,’ said Bluegum. ‘All I said is I’m going to the HEM – me, not you, so why should that matter to you?’

‘Because it’s –’ said Bristle, spluttering for the right words, ‘bloody sick, that’s why.’ 

Moon frowned disbelievingly. ‘Is it?’

‘Yes!’ said Bristle. ‘You’re just, all of you, just standing and getting sucked off, basically. It’s a pleasure party, and that’s it. You haven’t achieved anything. You haven’t done anything. You aren’t helping anypony, or making something, or trying or putting in any sort of effort at all. You’re just putting pleasure above everything and all in the universe, and you think that’s OK.’

‘What gave you the right to decide what I should and shouldn’t be doing?’ scoffed Bluegum. ‘Who cares if I’m getting sucked off, as you put it? It’s my right, and I want to do it, so I’m going to.’ 

‘And you don’t see anything wrong with that at all, do you,’ continued Bristle. ‘That’s how sad this is. You’re just happy to sit like a little sheep and get your brain pumped up with whatever the heck they do, and you’re happy.’

Bluegum shrugged as though it were obvious. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’

‘Because you’re just existing,’ said Bristle.

The floor was tiled and tilted so that urine and excrement trickled into a shallow trough. Cleaners arrived twice a day to expunge these. 

‘That’s not really an argument,’ said Moon. ‘Blue’s point is why is it wrong?’

‘I see what Bristle’s getting at, though,’ said Wildshine. ‘He means that it seems a bit fruitless. You’re not doing anything. You’re not achieving anything.’

‘Yes, you are,’ said Bluegum firmly. ‘You’re achieving maximum pleasure. You’re in bliss, and that’s been the goal of every living thing since the dawn of time – Utopia.’

‘Also,’ continued Moon to Bristle, ‘how do you know what the point of anything is? You’re speaking like there’s a good and a bad nailed down.’

‘You don’t think there is?’

‘Not really,’ said Moon. ‘If you’re having fun and you aren’t harming others, that’s about it. Pain and pleasure, really. If you’re having pleasure and everypony’s OK, great – more power to you.’

‘I don’t think it’s nailed down, but I think it’s more than just pain equals bad, pleasure equals the goal of everything,’ said Bristle quickly. ‘You’re doing it in such a shallow way, thinking that all the wisdom that’s come before, all the struggles of our ancestors for purpose and meaning and achievement, is just – nothing.’ 

‘Bullshit, I never said it was nothing,’ said Bluegum. ‘It’s everything. What they were doing all those things for was what? Pleasure!’ 

‘Oh, “pleasure”!’ sneered Bristle. ‘Not happiness. Not fulfilment!’ 

‘What the buck are those two things other than just a fancier way of saying the same damn thing?’ snapped Bluegum. ‘They wanted to feel good!’

‘They wanted more than just feeling good, you –!’ Bristle floundered. ‘What about art and creativity?’ he said. ‘There’s a lifetime of struggle and effort and self-control in creating a masterpiece! That’s more than just pleasure!’

‘Is it, heck!’ said Bluegum. ‘It’s the same thing. They’re all doing it to feel good. If they got to do it their way, I get to do it my way, and everypony agrees with me, anyway! You’re just one of those weirdos that get so bent out of shape about the slightest tiny change from an illusionary past of who knows what.’ 

‘Hey, it’s getting out of hoof now,’ said Wildshine. ‘Calm it down.’ 

‘And besides,’ said Bluegum, ignoring him, ‘I’ve got all the evidence I need. Everypony who goes to the HEM stays, and they love it so much that they literally stop eating and drinking to stay inside. That’s just another way of saying that every single pony who ever tried it would rather die quickly in bliss than live slowly in mundanity. Every single pony who’s tried it! Where’s your evidence?’

When a pony died, an operator would remove the carcass. ‘Fatties’ died of thirst. ‘Skinnies’ died of starvation. 

‘Who says they’re loving it?’ Bristle fired back. ‘Who says they aren’t hating it? That it’s an addiction so strong that they can’t even snap out of it to eat!’

‘Fair point,’ said Wildshine. ‘You don’t know. Maybe he’s right. Maybe everypony hates it.’ 

Bluegum rolled his eyes and grimaced. ‘You don’t really think that, though, do you? I remember you saying you were interested in the HEM once.’

‘Yeah, I don’t,’ admitted Wildshine, ‘but the point is that you have to acknowledge the possibility.’ 

‘What possibility? Sure, it’s possible, but he’s not said it because it’s possible. He’s said it because he wants a point to argue.’ 

‘Bottom line is,’ said Moon, ‘that everypony who’s ever reported on it loves it. And it’s just an upscale of the hoof-held versions we’re all using daily, anyway.’ 

‘I don’t use anything that messes with my head,’ said Bristle flatly. 

‘What a load of shite!’ said Bluegum, pointing at Bristle’s coffee. 

‘What I don’t get,’ began Wildshine, ‘is why the Co doesn’t tone it down a bit. If they made it so that ponies could use the HEM and get the effect – but not so strong that they stop wanting to live in this world. That way, it’s a long-term enjoyment of the thing rather than just a few days or a few weeks.’ 

‘Yeah, but you’re forgetting that they wouldn’t get as much cash that way,’ said Bluegum. 

‘No, they would,’ said Moon. ‘You’re trading all your stuff, right?’

Bluegum nodded. ‘Yeah.’

‘But see if they made it more long-term and adjusted the contract,’ said Moon. ‘Instead of you giving up everything you own to use the machine, you could give up a big chunk of what you make – ah, wait, no, because your work rate would go right down.’ 

‘Because you do get addicted,’ said Wildshine. 

‘Yes!’ said Bristle. ‘Absolutely addicted. It’s actually – it’s just sick.’

Corpses were turned into fertiliser or compressed into jewellery. Sometimes customers joked about which of them would make the better diamond. 

‘Oh, shut up,’ said Bluegum. ‘Who cares? I’m allowed to get addicted. I don’t care. I’ve signed the papers, and I’m on the list.’ 

‘And you’ll never see us again,’ said Bristle.

‘So? That’s obviously not a concern for every other pony who uses it.’

‘Are you telling me, then,’ said Bristle, switching to Moon, ‘that you’d happily ditch your family, your kids, just to get plugged into the HEM? Clearly, you wouldn’t, because you’re still raising them! That’s admirable!’

Moon shook his head. ‘Don’t praise me too quickly, because I’ve thought about waiting till they get old enough to make the decision. Then I’m going to ask whether we all want to go to the HEM as a family.’ 

‘But why?’ said Bristle desperately. ‘What have you done? Who have you helped?’ 

Moon shrugged. ‘It’s like Blue said. It’s like going to Utopia. That’s the happiest we’ll ever be, probably.’ 

‘Then why not go now?’

Moon shrugged again. ‘I like the idea of doing it as a family.’

‘Doesn’t that show you there’s more than pleasure?’ continued Bristle, staring at him. ‘Isn’t that feeling different? Wholesome? Like wanting to stick together? Not just physical. Isn’t that more?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Moon. ‘I haven’t tried the HEM to compare.’ 

‘I’d say I’d take time off it to write to you and tell you all how it feels, but that’s just me bullshitting.’ Bluegum grinned. ‘You know what you need, Bristle, is to try it. That’ll fix you.’ 

‘I’m never going to that thing,’ said Bristle softly. ‘Never.’ 

Wildshine nodded. ‘Fair enough. I’m a bit unsure about it as well.’

‘Thank you!’ said Bristle.

‘Oh, for –’ Bluegum threw up his hooves. ‘Don’t you start on this Ali-Con shite now too.’ 

‘You both have good points,’ said Wildshine. ‘I’m not into taking sides.’ 

‘Well, screw it all,’ said Bluegum. ‘You’re an idiot, Bristle, but I do like you.’

Bristle was shaking his head. ‘You’re such a –’ He muttered under his breath. ‘Anyway,’ he said, sighing.

‘Come on,’ grunted Moon. ‘Let’s go up and order already. I'm starving.’

The Co, officially F.F. Bros. & Luster, Inc., advertised the HEM: ‘Trade your life for a better one.’