The Second Sphere

When I first got to the moon, they said all I needed was Love; that to be without that drive would put me into a heavy depression, maybe even put my life in danger. Love was the enhancement. Moment I stepped off that transport, my mentor, Roderick Stevens, put the drive in my hand and told me to start dosing. Roderick was a big believer in an easy transition.

It wasn’t easy to adjust to lunar surroundings, after all. Just dealing with the constructed world was overwhelming. Imagine always having walls around you; a ceiling over your head. Imagine never being able to go outside; no way to breathe in the fresh air; no way to drive off for a nice little weekend getaway.

Love was supposed to ease the transition. Provide some relief and make you feel like there was hope in this new world. Love made you feel ecstatic about being human, put you in touch with the collective energy of the universe. At the time I got to the moon, Love was the only enhancement on the market.

For my first six months, I got a nice free supply of credits. Roderick would come around to my place. We’d talk about whatever was hot news of the day, and when he’d leave, he’d shake my hand, pat me on the shoulder, and slip about twenty credits on to my drive. Those six months were great. I felt great.

But then after six months of being there, TSG announced a whoops. Yes, a whoops. Whoops, the Governors of the moon and Mars said, that Love you’re taking? Well, it’s actually kind of addictive. And worse, it has some extraordinary side effects that could impact the longevity of your Transfer.

The rush to develop new types of enhancements ensued. The Three Spheres Government and various corporations knew that perpetual life on the outer spheres required constant programmed medication. They created various types of programmed enhancements to suit the idiosyncrasies of the people, from subtle anxiety prevention to those that brought a little more pleasure, like the kinds served at an enhancement bar.

Love was banned. Rubbed out. No longer could new arrivals to the moon or Mars get free drives. So those who came after me knew little of the beauty of free Love. But the Love didn’t die. Like most drugs suddenly made illegal, it went underground.

And that’s where I found it again. Took all of about three weeks to track it down. How’d the dealers get it? Wasn’t for me to speculate. All I knew was that it was there whenever I wanted it. There hadn’t been a day in the last 50 years that I hadn’t done some. Did it affect my performance on the job? Was it the driving force in my life? Did I think about it nearly all the time? Did it drain nearly all of my salary? I could have answered “perhaps” to all of these questions.

But the answers to those questions didn’t matter. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t stop.