Smile Tax

Six forty in the morning.
An Ran stuck two silver electrodes to the corners of her mouth.
As she did every day.
The current came on.
The corners of her lips rose.
Seventeen degrees.
The bathroom mirror lit up green.
[HAPPINESS CONTRIBUTION: 91.3]
[RECOMMENDATION: Increase engagement of the orbicularis oculi.]
An Ran looked at herself.
First attempt.
Her mouth smiled. Her eyes did not.
88.7.
Second attempt.
Her eyes crinkled too much.
89.4.
Third attempt.
Just right.
92.1.
She switched off the mirror.
Left home.

A small queue had formed at the entrance to the underground station.
The man at the front tapped his card three times.
Failed.
The people behind him were already close to being late.
A woman raised her wrist to check the time.
Frowned.
The man turned.
“Sorry about that,” he said in Cantonese.
The woman had already opened her mouth.
Paused.
“It's all right. Try again.”
People beside them made room in another lane.
Twelve seconds later,
The queue began to move again.
No one said anything more.
A small screen above the gate flashed:
[CONFLICTS IN THIS STATION THIS WEEK: 2]
[SAME PERIOD LAST YEAR: 17]
An Ran walked beneath it.

The carriage was packed.
A little girl dropped her teddy bear.
Three people bent down at once.
A woman in a suit picked it up.
The girl took it.
“Thank you, auntie.”
The woman smiled.
“Call me big sister.”
A few people around them laughed too.
Real laughter.
An Ran smiled as well.
Her wristband vibrated softly.
+0.1.
She glanced down.
Ignored it.

The next stop.
A man leaned against the door.
His face had fallen completely.
The corners of his mouth turned down.
His eyes were red.
Directly above his head was a blue sign:
[EXPRESSION-FREE ZONE]
No one beside him looked at him.
No one reminded him to smile.
An office worker squeezed in,
Sat down.
First he loosened his tie.
Then his whole face slowly sagged.
As though he had finally put something down.
An Ran glanced over.
The doors closed.