A grainy, flickering screen sits inside a suburban-esque looking Arcadian dwelling, through which the smiling face of Mr. Sunshine beams out.
“Remember, my little Sunbeams, always wear a smile on your dial and you will spread a little sunshine everywhere you go.”
A young boy and girl sit cross-legged in front of the screen, watching intently. The Sunshine Club Theme plays and credits roll over a waving Mr. Sunshine.
“Yes, Mister Sunshine…” chant the two young voices in unison.
As one, the children stand without speaking, smiles plastered on their faces. They reach the front door, which creaks open before them without a touch.
Outside in the shared pathway, glowing TV screens are visible in every dwelling window. Children, some older, some younger, emerge from within their homes. Their vacant smiles reflect the same glazed happiness, the same mindless obedience.
Their smiles are strained, as if too wide for their small faces.
“Spread the sunshine,” the children utter as they walk.
The crowd of children converge at the center of the walkway, a mass of smiling faces. On a wall before them stands a large advertising screen, used to display Zeus’s latest addresses among other advertisements approved for public viewing.
The screen itself, dark and blank until it flickers to life. Mr. Sunshine stands proudly behind the screen in an advert promoting his latest episode. His face glows with that same wide grin.
“Sunbeams! Look at how bright you all are tonight!” He calls in a cheery voice. “Join me, my Sunbeams, and spread a little sunshine in your homes.”
A chorus of young voices erupt in perfect harmony.
“Yes, Mr. Sunshine!”
An older boy near the front of the crowd speaks up.
“The adults… they still don’t see the sunshine. We need to show them the way.”
The children nod in agreement, chanting voices rising as one.
“Spread a little sunshine, spread a little sunshine…”
The children turn in unison, dispersing in every direction. The twin boy and girl move back towards the dwelling across the street. The boy’s hand tightens around the doorknob as the door creaks open. The parents inside are still asleep, unaware of the light footsteps approaching their bed.
“We have to show them, Tommy,” his sister whispers, her smile even wider now, her eyes glinting.
In the distance, a scream pierced the quiet night, followed by another. The air filled with the rising cacophony of terror.
One by one, children returned to the walkway. Covered in blood, smiles unfaltering, their chanting voices now filled with satisfaction.
“Spread a little sunshine, spread a little sunshine…”
…
Hours later, elsewhere in Arcadia, the real figure of Mister Sunshine wakes up in a cold sweat to the news on his radio blaring
“…a tragic mass murder in the Arcadian suburban level of Peachyville. This level of Arcadia has the highest recorded viewer ratings for the children’s show known as the Sunshine Club, which has been placed under review after these events…”
Mister Sunshine sits up in horror, wide eyed.
“By Zeus…” he utters, his voice choked, no smile on his face. “What have I created?”