Money Can't Buy Happiness
Lightning etched scratches into the night sky, its long forks stretching far into the horizon. A solitary man marched with purpose. Head high, he was unphased by the deluge. Thunder boomed, yet he did not flinch. He didn’t even pick up his pace. He continued, relentless to the imposing structure in front of him. Concrete, glass and chrome, it was an aberration. An ugly hypertrophic scar on an otherwise unspoiled vista. That’s what he’d wanted, of course. To show his dominion over nature. He wasn’t a slave to it. And he damn sure wasn’t going to be a victim to it. He was going to overcome it. Defeat it. Forge a man-made perfection of his own design.
His father had wasted away, riddled with disease. His mother had forgotten his name before she died. He had witnessed decay, fragility, loss. They had been weak. He refused to be. He refused to remain inferior, to remain flawed. He was going to rise above and become something greater.
His mouth twitched at the thought. The barest hint of a crooked smile. A flash of emotion just as ephemeral as the lightning above him. They say money can’t buy you happiness. No one knew that better than Ashley Adams. He’d amassed so much wealth he had no idea how rich he was. It gave him armour from most of the world’s problems. But it didn’t shield him from the collapse of his marriage. So he stopped working, sold his businesses to focus on family. But some things are too broken. He was too broken. That’s when he started noticing what else was broken. His receding hairline, little aches and pains, the beginnings of a pot belly. That’s when his real life’s work began.
Thunder boomed again. Cold rain whipped at his face, but Ashley Adams didn’t care. He was above it all. In his mind, at least. But soon, soon he would be above it all physically too. The perfect organism. Money can’t buy you happiness, no. But money could buy the best personal trainers on the planet. The best scientists. All of the experts he needed to improve himself. Yet there was still something missing. He’d made himself better, for sure. But the part of him that drove Adams to build an empire, drove him to be more than just ‘better’. Anyone could be better. Money can’t buy you happiness. But it can buy you access to elite circles. The kind of circles where illicit alien tech is bought and sold.
As lightning flashed again, Adams’ reflection was visible, just for an instant, in the dark windows of the building. He wondered whether this would be the day he’d walk out of this building in his true form, not the pathetic husk he was currently. For he’d had this building, this sanctuary built for exactly this. A secluded, remote refuge where he was free from prying eyes. Free to experiment with alien tech. Free to transform himself into a god. Money can’t buy you happiness. But it can buy you immortality.
If you’re brave enough.