Buy Happiness Here

Brave New World and the grisly reality of sci-fi’s quest to automate emotions 

by Sian Bradley | Illustration by Samuel Hindman

In New London, life floats along in idyllic balance. Inhabitants don’t experience sadness, anger or fear. Whenever an intense, undesirable emotion pulls at the corner of consciousness they pop a gramme or two of Soma, a ‘euphoric, narcotic, pleasantly hallucinant’ drug developed under the rule of his Fordship. Soma is the perfect drug. It doesn’t cause hangovers, comedowns or side-effects. Under Soma, there is a perpetually blue sky of warmth and laughter. It’s the hallmark of the New World Order, where propaganda slogans (“A gramme is better than a damn!”) indoctrinate everyone into a sleepy stupor where the answer to any personal difficulty is not self-reflection or scrutiny of power but fantasy escape. 

Soma is an integral part of the velvet-gloved utopia of Aldous Huxley’s 1932 novel Brave New World. Order is maintained not through tyranny and violence, but through childhood conditioning, eugenics, and constant consumerism. Almost 100 years later, invasive advertisements selling the dream of escaping a ghastly unequal reality eerily reflects Huxley’s vision. The World State’s mantra of “Everybody’s happy now” has jumped off the pages and into the hands of the technological elite of Silicon Valley.

We’ve even got our own attempts at soma. Microdosing psychedelics, once the premise of counterculture hippies, is now a socially accepted “productivity hack” for the career elite, and “mind-enhancing” drugs called Nootropics are a slick, shareholder-backed update to the humble multivitamin. 

Microdosing psychedelics, once the premise of counterculture hippies, is now a socially accepted “productivity hack” for the career elite.

Companies such as San Francisco-based Hvmn form one part of the rapidly growing nootropics industry. Hvmn offers “a system of four nootropic blends designed to provide energy & focus, improve memory, protect your brain and body, and improve sleep quality.” For a “short-term cognitive boost,” there’s “Sprint,” which contains caffeine, theanine, and ginseng root extract. A monthly subscription of Sprint will cost you $22.46, while access to all four costs $98.96. 

The possibility that mental distress can be eradicated with a subscription box is a tantalizing prospect for profit-driven companies, who have tapped into a market of burnt-out workers desperate for an answer to their burgeoning health woes. While self-improvement addicts chase the latest in nootropics and microdosing, their goal is not the spiritual fulfillment of the hippie psychonauts of yesterday, but productivity and career success. Even mindfulness, an ancient method of grounding and breathwork, is packaged as a way to clear your mind so you can return to work. 

From a corporate perspective, it’s unsurprising that companies are hoping to “crack” the problem of stress, anxiety, and low mood. In England alone, the economic costs of mental illness have been estimated at £105.2 billion a year. The irony is that nobody can rest under capitalism—certainly not when the modern propaganda of advertising has convinced us that we need more; to be more, do more, see more, achieve more. Always more.

The possibility that mental distress can be eradicated with a subscription box is a tantalizing prospect for profit-driven companies.

But what happens if desire morphs into complacency, of being content with convenience? These are the very questions that Huxley poses in Brave New World. We see it play out in the turmoil of Bernard Marx, an alpha psychologist outcast who resists taking a soma holiday. He longs to experience grief, affliction even. Then there’s his friend Helmholtz, a Lecturer at the College of Emotional Engineering, who grows frustrated with the superficiality of his work and longs to write something more meaningful. Through the confusion of these characters, we are forced to consider the complex hypocrisy of humanity; we long for comfort and happiness, but in a superficial world without sadness, love and change, happiness can feel empty. 

This contradiction is explored in the Brave New World TV series, developed by David Wiener for NBC. The premise of the series follows that of the book, and centres on Benard Marx (played by Harry Lloyd)  Lenina Crowne (Jessica Brown Findlay) and John the Savage (Alden Ehrenreich) finding their feet in this futuristic Utopia. Unlike the book, the series introduces a secondary story following John and his Mum on the Savage Plains, and introduces an omniprescent AI system called Indra which connects everyone in a Cloud-like system. 

Conflict takes center stage in this white-washed adaptation for the American screen, through a plot that betrays the sinister underpinning of Huxley’s world; humans don’t question their place in the World State, they are conditioned to live in ignorant bliss. This sickly-sweet series erroneously makes Huxley’s characters far too human, filled with outbursts of spite and anger. Too quickly their conditioning unravels to reveal the worries and fears synonymous with modern Western life. Then there’s Soma, which has been distilled down to the equivalent of a Xanax (perhaps a more sobering reflection of the USA’s prescription drug epidemic).

Recent futurism novels such as The Seep also toy with the idea of realities where the wellness industry has morphed into its final, most grisly form. In The Seep, aliens invade America and infect the water supply with the titular Seep, a Soma-like substance which fills the users with unrelenting love and joy. Trina, the protagonist, initially welcomes this haze. Then when she loses her wife, she falls into inexplicable grief. She actively avoids The Seep, choosing to wallow in her pain. Again, the motivation here is not entirely of self-flagellation—it’s rooted in a desire to feel the true extent of one’s emotions, however uncomfortable they may be. And Trina, just like Huxley’s John the Savage, fights to reclaim her right to experience the full unfiltered messiness of humanity.

This sickly-sweet series erroneously makes Huxley’s characters far too human, filled with outbursts of spite and anger.

It’s foolish to dismiss dystopian depictions of automated emotions as outlandish warnings of a distant unreality. While popular culture focuses on Orwellian images of a boot grinding into a human face, we are ignoring the subtler ways in which those in power are maintaining the status quo. Non-binary, unpredictable emotions are the enemy of this control. Unhappy workers aren’t cost-effective.

This is explored in Bubble, a deliciously stylised short-film by Vicente Manzano. The film’s protagonist works as a Phone Therapist for the eZONE, a utopian neighborhood that has everything needed to live a comfortable life. To deal with the woes of depressed people and the monotony of her life, she consumes packaged emotions: Empathy Chocolate, Joy Tablets, and Soothe Juice. Only when she steps outside of her physical bubble is she free‚—a tongue-in-cheek reference to the dangers of residing in the virtual spaces in which we seek comfort. 

Beyond sci-fi’s slick consumerist bubbles, a broken mental health system leans on medication to address complex issues. Unlike the cool glamour of microdosing and nootropics, antidepressants are shrouded in shame. Users are unfairly seen as lazy consumers looking for a quick fix.

Unfortunately, life is not a glossy utopia. Antidepressants are riddled with side-effects and push many into lethargic numbness. For myself and the millions of others who live with chronic mental illness, sci-fi’s promise of a magic pill is intriguing. But it’s fiction. 

While we scoff at futures where you can buy emotions online, we secretly hope for its realization.

Can you blame us for craving happiness in a bottle? We are products of the exhausting consumerism which surrounds us, distorted reflections of Huxley’s subdued workers. Those of us who are granted access to the luxuries of modern life feel dejected and unfulfilled despite the promise of unrelenting convenience. And while this twinkling fantasy of automated emotions remains out of grasp, that won’t stop profit-hungry startups from reaching towards the glint on the horizon.

After all, true happiness isn’t good for the economy—but the sale of it is. 

---