Chapter 1: The Calm Before The Storm
The control room was quiet, a rare and fragile thing. Joy stood at the main console, her golden light casting soft, dancing reflections on the polished surfaces. She watched the viewcreen, where Riley’s hands were nervously straightening the duvet cover for the third time. The room smelled of the lavender candle she’d lit an hour ago, under Joy’s insistence, to mask the sharper scent of new paint and lingering takeout.
“Okay,” Joy whispered to herself, wringing her shimmering hands. “This is good. This is planned. This is a good thing.”
On the bed in the viewcreen, Jordan smiled, a little lopsided. “You okay?”
Riley nodded, a quick, bird-like motion. “Yeah. Just… making sure the bed’s made.”
“It looks great,” he said, and his voice was warm. It was a good voice. Joy clung to that.
A thunderclap of purple light erupted to Joy’s left. Fear slammed a binder onto an auxiliary console, pages fluttering. “It looks great? What does that mean? Is that a pre-approved seduction line? Reference check: his dating history shows a propensity for ambiguous compliments prior to transactional intimacy!”
“Will you shut your hole?” Anger growled from a leaning position against the wall. He didn’t look at the screen. He was examining his own clenched fist, a dull red pulse throbbing in time with his temple. “The kid’s nervous. He’s trying to be nice. It’s not a conspiracy.”
“But the condom!” Fear squeaked, his long fingers flying over a holographic keyboard. A 3D model of a condom package spun in the air, zooming in on the microscopic print. “Expiry date is within three months! Material fatigue probability increases by eighteen percent! And that’s assuming proper storage! Did we ask about storage? We did not!”
“We bought it yesterday,” Joy said, her voice tight. “From a reputable pharmacy.”
“A pharmacy?” Fear’s eyes widened further, if that were possible. “Do you know how many people handle those boxes? Temperature fluctuations during transport? I’m pulling up the logistics chain now—”
“That’s it.” Anger pushed off the wall. “I’m pulling the emergency brake. This is agony. It’s like watching two baby deer try to assemble IKEA furniture. He just leaned in for a kiss and bumped her nose. Her nose!”
On the screen, Riley and Jordan were laughing softly, their foreheads touching. It was a sweet, genuine sound that made Joy’s light brighten momentarily.
“The laughter is good,” a soft, blue voice offered from the corner. Sadness sat with her knees drawn to her chest, tracing the pattern on the floor. “It releases tension. But it also masks vulnerability. She might laugh now and feel very quiet later. That’s allowed.”
Joy shot her a grateful look. Sadness had a point. Not every moment of this needed to be radiant; some could be soft and blue, and that would be part of it, too.
Behind them, at a smaller console, Disgust was leaning forward, her bright green form focused. “Okay, okay, listen. The bra is off. This is critical. Posture check: shoulders back, not hunched. He’s looking at her. His expression is… acceptable. Admiring. No visible signs of comparison to unrealistic media standards. Good. We’re mitigating the body-consciousness spiral. For now.”
A new figure paced a trench into the floor behind the main chairs. Anxiety, a wiry, orange spike of energy, was muttering, her words a rapid-fire stream. “Consent was verbally affirmed at 9:47 PM. Continuous non-verbal cues are currently positive. Environment is secure—door is locked, phone is on silent, not just vibrate. We have water on the nightstand. We have a plan for after. We have a plan if we need to stop. Do we have a code word? We should have a code word. ‘Pineapple.’ Too silly? ‘Pineapple’ could work.”
Under a desk, a faint, peach-colored glow pulsed in time with a soft groan. Embarrassment had her face buried in her knees. “He just saw the hole in my sock. The hole. The one I meant to darn. Why is the universe so cruel?”
At a side monitor, Envy scrolled through a Instagram story, her chartreuse eyes narrowed. Jordan’s ex was at a rooftop bar, laughing. “She has highlights,” Envy muttered. “Her hair looks good. Why don’t we have highlights? Is this a factor? It feels like a factor.”
From the deepest, plushest chair, a long, languorous sigh unfurled. Ennui, a grey, stretched-out figure, didn’t even glance at the viewcreen. “Are we not done yet? It’s the same sequence as every teen movie, just with worse lighting and more anxiety. It’s profoundly tedious.”
Joy ignored them all. She focused on the screen, on Riley’s face. She saw the trust there, the want, the flicker of trepidation. She leaned forward and gently pushed a dial on the console marked “Sensation.” The room in the viewcreen seemed to soften at the edges; the feel of Jordan’s hands on Riley’s skin became the only point of focus.
“See?” Joy whispered. “It’s just feeling. It’s just warmth.”
Then Fear shrieked.
“Slide fourteen! Slide FOURTEEN!” A horrific image of a fire alarm, strobe light blazing, filled a large auxiliary screen. “The building’s last drill was eight months ago! Statistical probability of a false alarm tonight is low but non-zero! The auditory shock could cause trauma! The sudden light—”
Anger snatched a nearby mug—it was labeled “#1 Emotion”—and hurled it at the fire alarm image. It passed through the hologram and shattered against the far wall. “NOBODY CARES! Let them have the damn thing! If the alarm goes off, they’ll stop! It’s fine!”
“It’s not fine! Interruption at a crucial moment could lead to performance anxiety, which could—”
“You are literally causing the performance anxiety you’re worried about!” Anger roared, his form blazing.
On the screen, Riley flinched slightly at a sudden, sharp noise from the apartment next door. Jordan paused. “You sure?”
Joy’s light flickered. This was her operation. Her milestone. She had dreamed of this, carefully, for so long—a moment of real connection, safe and wanted. It was slipping into jagged pieces.
She turned, her light flaring brightly enough to make them all wince. “Enough.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the chaos. “All of you. Be quiet.”
She pointed at Fear. “The condom is fine. We are not reviewing logistics.” She looked at Anger. “The fumbling is human. It’s endearing. Stop counting his mistakes.” Her gaze swept to Anxiety. “Pineapple is a fine safe word. Now stop pacing. You’re making me dizzy.” Finally, she looked at the viewcreen, at Riley’s questioning eyes.
“This is her life,” Joy said, her voice dropping, filled with a ferocious protectiveness. “This is her choice. She is right here, in it. We are just… guests. So we are going to be quiet. We are going to let her feel it. All of it. The good parts, the awkward parts, the scary parts. We’re not running this. She is.”
A hush fell. Real, this time.
In the quiet, they could hear Riley’s voice, a little breathless. “I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”
Jordan let out a long breath, a smile touching his eyes. “Okay. Okay, we go slow.”
Joy watched, her light steadying into a soft, diffuse glow. She saw Riley’s hand come up to touch Jordan’s cheek. She saw the moment Riley’s shoulders finally relaxed, sinking into the mattress, into the moment.
Sadness, from her corner, let a single, crystalline tear roll down her cheek. It wasn’t a sad one. It was just full.
Disgust gave a firm, approving nod. “Vulnerability. Authentic. It’s working.”
Even Fear was silent, his screens dark, though his hands still trembled.