The next day Manuel showed up at my place. He looked awful, like the party the night before had involved drinking paint stripper – the colour had been ripped from his face and replaced with age. His eyes were hollow and he was sweating as he stared at me. 'Eli,' he said 'How was your run?'

'Good. I'd ask how the party was, but it looks like you had a rough morning.'

Manuel nodded slowly, 'In more ways than one man. In more ways than one. Speaking of parties you didn't go to one last night. Did you?'

I rolled my shoulders back, 'Nah, like I said, early night.'

Manuel didn't even nod this time he just reached into his jacket and pulled out an orange pill bottle.

'I may be stupid man, I may not know how to write, but I do know how to count. I know how fast each of my customers get through their pills.'

He raised his eyebrows, 'There's only three of you who could have had this pill bottle and the other two were at the same party as me.'

'It's not mine.'

'Okay,' Manuel said, 'Then show me yours.'

I stuck my hands in my pockets, 'Why?'

'So I can believe you Eli,' he was clenching his teeth, 'Just show me your pills.'

I took a deep breath, 'I can't.'

'Why not?'

'Because I took them all. I can show you my empty containers.

Manuel nodded very very slowly, 'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Yeah,' he shrugged, 'Whoever owned these pills, they're in some deep shit,' his eyes narrowed, 'The way they're headed, they're going to wish they never lied to their friends.'

I eyeballed him, 'Are we friends Manuel? Are we really friends? Or am I just a way for you to afford your lifestyle?'

Manuel spat, 'Doesn't matter.'

'Doesn't it?'

'Yeah,' he laughed, 'because either way you still need more pills.'

I swallowed, he was right, 'I'd looked in the mirror that morning and I looked worse than Manuel. I had a thumping headache and cold sweats running down my back. I needed the pills. I needed relief. I swallowed some air and tried to stop myself from getting on my knees and begging. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle of purple pills, 'I think it's time to move on to the big boys Eli.'

'The big boys?'

'Yeah. More powerful. Longer lasting,' He was smiling but his voice was cold, 'They just work better.'

'How much?'

He pulled out a second bottle and held them together, '100,000. Each.'

'EACH!? I'll have nothing left for food, housing, I can barely afford to live here.'

'Bullshit,' he said, ‘I know how many reads you're getting – I know you're saving for 10 million.'

Manuel winked and shook the pill bottle, 'Consider these things an investment.'

I tried to swallow but my throat was too dry, my ears were ringing I felt my willpower evaporating. I knew I wouldn't be able to stand to stand up to him much longer.

'Manuel, just give me an orange bottle.'

'No,' he said, 'You don't deserve the orange bottle, Eli, you take the purple or you take nothing,' He clicked his teeth, 'Your choice.'

There was silence between us for a minute, he didn't lower his gaze.

'Okay.' I murmured, 'I'll take the pills.'

He reached out to give them to me, then paused in the middle, 'On one condition.'

'Condition?!' I said, ‘At 100,000 reads I should be the one making the conditions.'

Manuel just winked, 'They're worth it man, they're more than worth it. My condition is that you come to a party with me tonight.'

I shook my head. I was going to spend the night learning how to make wheat paste.

Manuel withdrew his hand, put the pills halfway into his jacket, ‘You don't get to negotiate man. You want the pills, you come out with me tonight.'

I shook my head, 'You piece of shit. I'll come.'

Manuel threw the pill bottles to me, 'See? That's the Eli. I used to know. I’ll see you at six.'

****

‘Alex. How many reads...’

‘Yes?’

‘Would I have to accumulate...’

‘Mhmm...’

‘To buy an atom bomb?’

‘Mr Hill. You cannot buy an atom bomb.’

‘Okay, I can’t buy it right now, but hypothetically?’

‘More than you’d ever earn.’

‘How about a small one. The size of say... a tie? How many reads would I need for that?’

‘Mr Hill. We’re getting off-topic.’

‘Yeah, well, I didn’t like the other topic.’

‘The topic of my trip to Hawaii?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Which was 100 percent paid for by you?’

‘Precisely.’

Alex grinned, ‘I thought you might like to know which glass-bottom boats I spent your money on.’

‘You thought wrong.’

He slid a finger down his floral tie, ‘Why an atom bomb?’

I shrugged, ‘Some guy called Georppy was suggesting it in the comments. I dunno. It’d kind of be fun to go out with a bang.’

Alex nodded slowly, then he picked up his pen, ‘Look Mr Hill, I don't have much to talk with you about. You’re pushing out chapters like a machine. Despite all the odds you’re actually starting to catch up to the chicken. You’ve single-handedly allowed me to afford two overseas holidays in one year, you’re having fun, Manuel tells me you’re a...’ he peered down at his notepad, ‘...psycho on the dance floor.’

I smiled, but it felt forced, ‘He would know.’

‘Be careful Mr Hill, you’re almost turning into the perfect author.’

‘Oh god... next time I’ll tell you your ties looks like rhino boogers.’

‘There’s just one thing Mr Hill,’ he held up a folded yellow form, ‘you know what this is?’

I shook my head, in my hands I cradled the purple pills. My head was thumping and my heart was racing, but so far I had resisted taking them. I’d gone so far as to open the pill bottle and stare into it... but it was like staring into an abyss. I knew the moment I took one of those purple beauties I’d be swept into a black pit of no return. I knew in my heart that I’d never get out of the purple pills. It’s weird but the longer I stared at those pills the more I got the feeling that they were staring back at me...

‘Mr Hill?’

I looked up, I was still talking with Alex... or rather, he was talking with me.

‘Mr Hill. You can get away with a lot of things in The Village. But this...’ he shook the yellow form, ‘this is a death sentence.’

‘What does it say?’

‘It says you may have been trying to cause anarchy.’

‘Pfff... and what’s the punishment for that? Two days eating rice crackers?’

Alex was silent. His eyes had this wet, pitying look to them.

‘What? Alex. What’s the punishment?’

He slowly folded the yellow form, ‘There is no official punishment.’

‘Good.’

‘Not good. Eli. You don’t know how serious this is... listen... ask about...’ he picked up his laptop and took it with him into a tiny meeting room. His breath was all shaky and I was staring at this mole on the underside of his chin.

‘Alex! Why are you freaking out? There’s no punishment. I can smell your sweat from here.’

‘Eli. There’s no official punishment. I-I can’t believe I’m doing this. I could get fired for this... Eli. You wanna know the way you’re headed if they can prove it was you... ask someone about Kate Wilder.’

‘Kate Wild?’

‘Kate Wilder!!’ He scream-whispered. His voice was so high pitched I nearly burst an eardrum, ‘Now I’m gonna hang up – but please Eli please just stay away from that shit.’

‘Alex... did you just say shit?’

‘ELI!?! You listen...’ He looked up, fear in his eyes, someone else stepped into the little meeting room he was hiding in.

‘Oh hey...’ he said, wiping a hand through his hair, ‘No, I was just-’

The call ended. I was left looking at my pale, hollow-eyed face in the dark screen. I turned away from the screen and replaced that view with something much more beautiful. It was purple, shiny, god... I swear I could see flowers and meadows and flying ponies in those pills.

There was a knock on my door. I pushed the pill bottles into my pockets. Slumped my way over to the door.

‘Woah, Eli. You look like shit.’

‘Thanks Manuel. Thanks a lot man.’ The mosquito of a human was standing on my front doorstep looking all puffed-up and proud in a suit.

‘You take a pill yet?’

I rolled my eyes, ‘Yeah... big high... big comedown, they’re duds man.’

He shook his head, ‘No... no... maybe your tolerance is high... I don’t sell duds.’

I shrugged, ‘Whatever.’

‘Honestly... usually you’re good for two days after taking your first one.’ He shrugged, ‘Anyway... party time!’

I groaned, I was wearing a silk suit but it felt like thorns, ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

The wind in my hair was a wet slap in the face. The music at the party was too loud, the people were too rowdy, and the drinks were too warm, at least that's what I told myself.

Trouble was I knew none of those things were true I knew that just a few weeks ago I would have been one of those bright bubbly things getting down on the dance floor. I would've been slapping the back of a satire writer as he told me his latest joke, or clapping for the sci-fi author who'd just come up with a new theory as to why time doesn't really exist. Instead, I was in a corner blatantly trying to ignore all the other authors who would come to talk to me, who were trying to share a little patch of the spotlight I'd won for myself through my rivalry with Lazy Cultivator.

It seemed that me trying to avoid people was only having the opposite effect. I saw authors around the place whispering to each other and sneaking glances at me. I tried to avoid their eyes.

Then from across the room I saw a woman in a 1960s style British outfit, sophisticated, glam, with a purpose in her stride, she moved through the party dodging conversations and offers of a drink with tactfulness but without missing a step. Then she was standing in front of me, arms folded. 'Eli the Hill?' she said

'Formerly,' I put down the beer I was nursing and gripped the still-untested bottle of pills in my pocket, 'I'm now just Eli the Depressed, or perhaps Eli the Swamp. Are swamps depressed? I think they are...'

The woman rolled her eyes, 'She wants to see you.'

'Who?'

The woman gave a double roll this time, 'Who do you think? Lazy Cultivator. She wants to see you. Now.'

I rubbed my nose, 'But do I want to see her?'

The retro woman grabbed my hand, 'You don't really have a choice.'

I felt myself being pulled through the party and decided perhaps my reputation was worth a little more than I thought. I pulled my hand out of her hand and then linked arms with her, 'Come on, let's have some class.'

And so we walked through that party, then into the next house over. This party was smaller, more restrained. And there she was, like the centre of the universe or a black hole, hacking away at her laptop like it had personally offended her.

'He's here,' said the posh woman I'd walked with, Lazy Cultivator looked up. 'Good.' She waved her hand and her entourage moved from the seats around her. We were alone, surrounded by a circle of high powered speakers blasting music at anyone trying to eavesdrop. Whatever was going to be said – Lazy Cultivator didn’t want anyone hearing it. She gestured to a plush leather chair opposite her.

‘Eli the Hill. It’s good to see you.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, although I’m sorry I didn’t bring my boxing gloves.’

I laughed, it felt good, for a moment I let go of the pill bottle I’d been clutching, she pulled a purple bottle of her own from her jacket, flicked the lid off and popped two pills under her tongue. She held out the bottle to me and raised an eyebrow.

I shook my head, she shrugged, replaced the lid and put it back in her jacket.

‘You know why you’re here?’ She said.

‘Banter?’

‘Oh... if only it was that interesting...’ she picked up a glass of champagne and sipped, ‘Officially I’m here to taunt you into giving up this resistance stuff you’ve been doing.’

‘Well... I’m not in any resistance, so job done, guess you can celebrate now.’ I got up to leave but she shook her head.

‘Give it five more minutes – trust me, you’re standing on a knife-edge. You want to do anything you can to seem like a harmless, clueless writer.’

I sat, my butt landed in the chair with a thump, my hand was clutching the pill bottle and I was seriously considering tipping my head back and downing every pill at once.

Lonely Cultivator smiled, ‘Anyway... I’m not here to convince you of anything. I think they’re idiots. Why would you care about a few more reads when freedom is at stake?’

‘So you’re on my side?’

‘No. I’m on my side. It’s just that our sides are closer together than you think.’

She rubbed her chin, ‘The two of us, we’re going to pay off our debts. We’re gonna get out of this hellhole, unlike your friend over there.’

She pointed at Manuel who had slipped into the party and had a lazy cigarette dangling between his fingers, ‘Look at him, he’s a bad boy – cartoonishly so. He wears a leather jacket, drives a motorbike, smokes cigarettes whenever he’s around people, and deals drugs. He’d be a dime a dozen in the teen fiction section.’

I spun the pill bottle in my hand, ‘Are you saying...’

‘I’m saying he wasn’t always like that. He used to be a little goody-two-shoes romance author with his head in the clouds and his heart on his sleeve. He was cute, naive when he got here – not all cynical and wrapped up in himself like you and I were. That’s why we’ve survived.’

I frowned, ‘I’m not sure I li-’

‘Don’t lie to yourself Eli. Lie to them, lie to your readers, lie to your lovers, lie to me...’ She spun the lid of the small purple container off with a graceful flick and popped another pill into her mouth, ‘But don’t ever lie to yourself, or you’ll end up just like the rest of them.’

‘Happy?’

‘Exactly – that’s exactly why Crusher Media can do what they do. Because everyone just wants to be happy.’

I sat there for a moment, just letting what she’d said sink in. She took another sip of champagne and swallowed her pill down.

‘Eli. Constant happiness is an illusion. Look at nature – the place we evolved to be in... we weren’t always happy there, there was stress and hunger and pain. It’s just a fact of life.’

I pulled the purple bottle from my pocket, ‘Seems like an ironic thing to say when you’re popping pills all day.’

She shrugged, ‘These are for focus, not happiness. I don’t want to dull life. I want to crank it up to max volume. That used to mean doing what you’re doing – putting up posters in the middle of town, setting fire to shit, cutting electrical wires, now... I just want to get the hell out of here.’

I rubbed my forehead, ‘Who’s Kate Wilder?’

Lonely Cultivator went silent. She went to speak, caught herself and then stared at me for a minute.

‘How do you know about Kate Wilder?’

‘She was a warning – or maybe a threat. I got told to ask about her.’

Lonely Cultivator blew a stream of air between her red lips, ‘Kate Wilder is a message – a message to us, to let us know that no-one is untouchable.’

‘But who was she?’

‘Crusher Media’s biggest author way back when they started this whole prison thing. She pulled in more reads than the next four writers combined – and so she thought she was safe to do whatever she wanted – namely leaking photos of this place to news sites.’

‘And...’

‘And she’s gone. Not just physically – you try searching for her online, you try bringing up one of her books, every mention is gone.’

‘What about the news sites? Surely they’d still...’

‘Crusher bought them, every single one. There isn’t a single byte of data about Kate Wilder.’

‘And what happened to her?’

‘No one knows...’ she stopped, narrowed her eyes at me, ‘Sorry... I mean almost no-one knows. There’s a person... a figure who lurks in the shadows...’

‘Do they have a name?’

She looked around, checking to see that the music was still loud and that we were still alone, ‘Their name is Q. Listen, Kate isn’t important – but Q is. He or she can help you when you’re ready to leave. I won’t tell you what Q’s done for me, but they can arrange fake passports, identification, they know people who will let you crash on their floors.’

‘Okay... okay... thank you... Lonel-’ I paused, stared at her, ‘I don’t know your real name.’

She winked, ‘It’s best that way. Besides... you might end up warming to me... and I tell you, us hating each other has been one of the best read-boosts of my career.’

I laughed, she laughed. Maybe it was fleeting. But I did feel a kind of happiness.