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month has passed and Mays is a ghost. Her skin is dry and scaly and she shuffles because it is too tiring to lift her feet. She whispers most of the time. But with her P.E. levels finally improving and stablising, the Smilers push even harder.
    “Your current P.E. level of eighty-seven is a positive sign. You will be embracing Smiler ways before you know it,” says the picture-lady at the end of one of their sessions. Her hopefulness makes Mays want to vomit.
    She has been considering Suzu’s idea. She closes her eyes and imagines herself a cold, inanimate slab of meat, Smilers scuttling about her lifeless form. She cringes.
    “So, let’s get started. We haven’t had to use the pain method again for two weeks now. That’s progress!”
     
    ***
     
    The next day when she enters picture-lady’s office, Mays sits in the chair and attempts a smile. It is strained and tight, her facial muscles weak from lack of use, but there it is, as visible and painful as a puss-filled, infected wound on one’s forehead. The Smiler’s eyes are nearly popping from enthusiasm.
    “Shall we get started?”
    Mays nods as enthusiastically as her scrawny neck will allow.
    A holo-picture of a forest with rays of sunlight breaking through the trees appears.
    Mays licks her dry lips. “Nature…Animals live there. They mate and make more animals.”
    Picture lady tilts her head. “Nice, Mays. I like it.”
    Now it’s a clown.
    “He’s going to a party for children and makes all kinds of P.E. jokes. One of the children cries so he pulls down his trousers to reveal a pair of polka-dotted underpants. The child laughs.”
    “Lovely.”
    Mays looks at the picture of a boy with a red ball.
    “The red ball belongs to his big brother who told him, ‘Go ahead and play with it. I was going to watch some holo-vids anyway’.”
    “You’re doing great, Mays. You’re going to be one of us before you know it.” The Smiler beams at Mays. She then hesitates before tapping the pad to call up a young woman with dark hair.
    Mays studies her own scowling face from her Garden photo ID.
    “That’s Mays. She…wants to be a Smiler.” She looks at picture-lady and attempts another withered grin.
    The Smiler is overjoyed and stands up to embrace Mays.
     
    ***
     
    “You’ve been here five months now, Mays, and just look at your P.E. chart!” The male Smiler with the black, crow-eyes behind the big desk points at the vid-screen with his metal pointing stick. The curve has made an impressive ramp upwards. “According to this, your P.E. has elevated to a very healthy level of ninety-two. You’re going home soon. Isn’t that good news?”
    “Why yes, it is. But I’ll miss the Garden with all of the Smilers running about, my pastel green clothing and all of the inspiring individuals here.” The smile on Mays’ face is rather plasticy now. In fact, it is a rare moment when she is without it now.
    “We’ll miss you too. You’ve been quite a challenge, but well worth it.” The Smiler escorts her back to her room. “I’m sure the next time we see each other will be farewell.” He winks at her and walks away.
    Within three days Mays is released after making a new personal record on her P.E. tests. Ninety-five. She leaves the Garden amidst a flurry of warm embraces and vigorous handshakes. They let her take her pastel green tunic and pants home as a souvenir.
    When she arrives at her apartment, the first thing she does is paint her home yellow. Bright, Smiler, big-and-happy-flowery yellow. She tosses out her entire wardrobe and buys the trendy pastels of the day. The woman at the shop tells Mays how becoming she looks in a flower-petal-pink dress.
    “I do look goody-candy-sugar-sweet, don’t I?” She spins around in front of the mirror as the shop keeper smiles.
     
    ***
     
    The opening party at the Shaktomisto Art and Culture Center is in full swing. Well-clad guests in pastels mingle and admire the art installation amidst music consisting of