[ WP ] We live in a world where it is a serious crime to laugh .

Binoculars pressed against my eyes, leaving indents against my upper cheek as I watched the figure far below me. He raised a hand, waving to the crowd before him and flashing a smile so convincing that even I had to remind myself of the snake coiled underneath the suit. 
 
 A smile of my own matched his as he walked to the podium. My vantage point in the sound room was the perfect place to watch him, separated by a glass window from the rest of the auditorium, and posed in the uniform of a sound technician. My plan had taken months to plot, years to prepare, and a decade to complete. 
 
 Today, I would take his life. Just as he had taken the life of my mother ten years before, torturing her until she gave information concerning the whereabouts those opposing his political ascension. It was whispered that he enjoyed torture, and continued destroying the bodies long after he obtained his information. But no one would speak aloud- speaking against Our Dictator would result in certain death. 
 
 And in twenty minutes, Our Dictator's own voice would result in his. 
 
 As I waited for the minutes to pass, I went over my plan again, and my mind floated in daydream to the plan's origins- my classroom in ninth grade. 
 
 `` Alright class, it's time to see who has been doing their reading, `` Said my teacher, in the sing song voice that meant she already knew the answer, `` Who can tell me about the impact of the *Ridere Virus*.'' 
 
 *Everyone* knew about the Ridere Virus, even though it had swept across the globe over thirty years ago. But from the front center of the class, a girl's hand shot up from behind a pile of books, just as it did every day of that year. 
 
 `` The Ridere Virus,'' She said, the words memorized from the page, `` Occurred when American scientists sought to uncover old traces of DNA in order to improve upon human traits such as sense of smell, vision, and other abilities that animals have but humans no longer possess in such sharpness. The scientists succeeded in tampering with DNA, and managed to remove segments more recent to human's evolutionary development. Specifically, they removed those concerning laughter, or the ability to distinguish laughter. Without this genetic code, laughter is perceived as a threat, or a challenge, and the action will provoke animalistic aggression that has lied dormant in human genetics for millennia.'' 
 
 `` Correct, Silvia.'' My teacher said, `` The virus does not make humans sick, as you know, but instead passes through their bodies without a trace. It is estimated 98 % of the globe has been infected. That is why we must hold back our laughter, as if it is heard, we risk being attacked by someone nearby. No matter how friendly they may be,'' Her voice turned stern, `` They are animals when exposed to laughter.'' 
 
 My daydream changed, and I thought of all the preventative measures humanity had taken to prevent accidental laughter after the first few thousand deaths. There was counseling now, mandatory classes, that did their best to eradicate it. But laughter was human, and no matter how many hours were spent in sound proof rooms trying to remove it, traces still remained deep in the tracks of the mind. 
 
 Then there were the inventions, many of which ridiculous, that prevented laughter. But some were successful, most notably Laugh-Off contacts, which displayed images when they sensed laughter was immanent. It's hard to laugh when you see a dead puppy, a starving child, or lands torn apart by war. And if someone did laugh when being shown that, perhaps they deserved the consequences of that laugh. 
 
 A buzzing sound jolted me from my reverie, and I was looking at Our Dictator again through the binoculars. That was the thirty second warning alarm I had set before the plan began and I watched the crowd erupt into applause at the end of his speech. Admiring faces looked up towards him- some knew his sins, and they still praised him like a god. 
 
 But gods did n't die. 
 
 I pressed a button as he waved again, and though no one heard it, canisters of nitrous oxide gas that were once used by dentists long ago as a anesthetic and were now a controlled substance, broke open underneath him. Already the positive emotions from the crowd's reaction would be flowing into him, pumping him full of endorphins, priming him for the desired effect. The gas would only push him in the right direction. 
 
 Directly before him, in the front row, a server bore several glasses of wine that he was serving to those wealthy enough to buy a seat. I did n't feel sorry for the server- he was loyal to Our Dictator's cause, and had reported a single mother last year for disrespecting his name. She had gone to jail and her baby had gone to orphanage, never to know his mother. 
 
 I pressed a second button, and soapy water oozed onto the floor beneath the waiter's feet. He yelped, drawing the attention of the entire auditorium, and lost his balance on the slick surface- spilling red wine oven an entire shrieking front row. They stood, and like he, they lost their balance, sprawling against each other and sliding across the room. 
 
 In the past, such an event would be described as *hilarious*. But now, it was dangerous. 
 
 Our Dictator's cheeks puffed out as a laugh threatened to escape him, and even from my vantage point I could see his contacts begin to activate. 
 
 But instead of the standard images that quelled laughter before it had a chance to grow, his contacts displayed other visions. An inside man had switched out his contacts that morning. Now they showed people undergoing torture. 
 
 The snake in him reared up, the evil of him enjoying the torture of others, and a tiny laugh escaped Our Dictator's mouth. Instantly the crowd quieted, all eyes focusing on him, and hair raising like that of animals. 
 
 But now he could n't stop. 
 
 And as the second laugh escaped, one of his own security guard's eyes glazed over, and without a thought a pistol shot erupted. The guard stared at the gun his hand, his mouth open, as Our Dictator slumped to the floor and he realized his own action. 
 
 I watched through the binoculars as his blood spilled, and my own laughter carried where he had left off. I was supposed to escape at that point, to run before security could catch me. 
 
 But instead my hand wavered over the microphone button that would broadcast my voice to the entire auditorium, and my laugh intensified. 
 
 I wanted to see the crowd, all those that had loved him, go *wild*.
