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bonding and sharing with a fellow Garden patient.
    Mays looks bleary-eyed as she faces her partner’s limp, dirty blond hair and pasty face, propped on top of a pudgy body. They both wear the same Garden-issued tunic and pants in pale green. Ugh, pastels.
    Suzu requires rehab for a different PE disorder -- her self-denigrating attitude. It also didn’t help that as a pharmacist she skimmed off many of her clients’ more interesting prescriptions for personal consumption.
    “So, Suzu, tell me what happened after you stuffed your face with that whole cylinder of ice cream.” A robot couldn’t have spoken in a more monotone voice.
    “Well, I looked down and couldn’t believe it was empty. I am such a pig.” Suzu bites her lip and looks down at her sausage-link fingers clasped in her lap. “You know what it’s like though, right? Where before you realise it, you’ve already done something bad?”
    “Don’t know…”
    “But what about how you say all those mean things? Like yesterday in the cafeteria when that guy bumped into you and you told him he was a ‘fatty-matty-fart-smeller.’ I think I heard people do that kind of thing when they’re afraid of having relationships. A kind of defense mechanism.”
    Mays glares at Suzu for a moment before her eyes lose focus again.
    Mays has just turned twenty, single and friendless. She does remember a guy from some umpteen years ago -- Lesil Greenfield. She was twelve. So was he. He dumped her as soon as he got a dog for his birthday. It’s better that way though, because inside she is nothing more than a pile of mush. But it’s not her fault, it’s her father’s. You see, her mother left them as soon as she was ripped from the womb and papa’s words are forever imprinted in her brain: You were born to be a failure, Mays .
    “Well, that’s just what the Smilers say,” says Suzu. “I don’t mind it, Mays. Really I don’t.”
    Mays looks at the clock. They’re everywhere, even in the toilets. Living to a schedule is a ‘way to fight depression’ according to Garden guidelines.
    “Yikes, gotta go!” Mays stands up. “Time for one-on-one time with picture lady.”
    “Okay. Same time tomorrow then? Hope you don’t mind being my partner. I really appreciate--“
    Mays is already out the door.
     
    ***
     
    The Smiler who does the picture exercises is on a mission. Out of all the Smilers who provide P.E. treatments for Mays, she is the most cheerful and optimistic -- the most P.E. of them all.
    Mays gazes wearily at the holo-picture of the man and woman sitting on a park bench on a sunny day. It’s number 27. “Hmmm…I see two lovers who are in the middle of breaking up. He’s telling her that she was a lousy lay. She asks, what do you mean? He says she could’ve at least made some noise instead of acting like a slimy-slippy-rotty-fish. She says, well, at least she doesn’t have make-your-eyes-bleed body stink and --“
    “Okay, Maysing. I get the idea.” The Smiler’s smile seems a little less smiley as she taps the holo-pad to send the picture away. “You know, your creativity never ceases to amaze me. Now if we could only channel it into a more P.E. direction.” The Smiler leans back in her chair and gives Mays an appraising look. “Let’s try something a bit radical to break this negative pattern of yours. What I’d like you to do is tell me one positive thing about one of these pictures. Anything, no matter how small. And you’re not going to leave this room until you do.”
    “Is that right...”
    “You heard me, Maysing.” The Smiler grins. “Here we go.” The Smiler taps the pad again and a holo-picture of a beagle puppy frolicking in a bed of flowers appears.
    “That runt is about to get kicked by its master for taking a shit on the flowers and--”
    “Next.” It’s a little girl and a woman holding hands.
    “The woman is a serial killer and she’s going to take the girl home, hack her into small pieces, then braise her with