Computer technology.

In those big giant computers which made all those decisions, I had been assigned computer technology. Out of absolutely everything, why this? I had never been skilled with technology; surely the machine knew that. Surely it knew my strengths were anything but computer technology. I closed my eyes, hoping it was just something I had imagined.

But I had to face it eventually.

I opened my eyes and stood up with quivering legs. It wasn't, but more a feeling you might get after several cups of coffee or standing after hours of sitting. I heard my own heart thumping so loud it blocked out everything else. Staring around, I tried to find the boy called Jake Morris.

There he was. As the boy stood up, my heart sunk into the pit of my stomach. Within moments, I recognized him, not from school but just moments prior to when the assignment began. Jake Morris, my match, had been the boy I caught a glimpse of earlier, with his arms wrapped around another girl. I could never forget that look he had in his eye, complete admiration for her.

Mom had told me that it doesn't feel real when your name is called, but until this point, I had never truly believed it. I closed my eyes again and opened them, my heart thumping louder and louder. I tasted bile in the back of my mouth as I tried to take steady walks to meet Jake Morris. The closer I got to him, the more I saw it. In his eyes, disappointment.

He was disappointed to be matched with me. It's a realization I never thought I'd have, something I had never hoped to see in another's eyes when looking at me. But as we grew closer, the dread in his eyes grew. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe what it's like to look into someone else's eyes and see disappointment as they look into yours.

We met in the center. If he had said anything, I wouldn't have heard it. My heart was so loud it was beginning to give me a headache. I didn't make the conscious choice to move at this point, but I'm glad my body seemed to know what to do. After he gave me a small, forced smile, we began to make our way toward the exit.

I didn't want to say anything to him. I feared if I spoke a word, I would burst into tears. And I guarantee that wouldn't help my situation. So instead, I pushed back every emotion I could; I forced myself to smile at him as we reached the exit door, stopping as we received our key cards. I glanced at the card before looking up at him, about a head taller than myself. After taking a quick look at his card, he gave me a small smile. But it was as fake as it was forced.

His eyes didn't wrinkle the way they did when you laugh; the corner of his lips quivered as he kept his gaze forward again. As if it were miles away, I could hear the following names being called in the far distance. I couldn't make them out, but it didn't matter anyway. This was it; this was my life now.

The moment the cool midday air hit my face, that reality set in. I breathed the air like I had been locked in a stuffy room for hours. I hoped it would calm me, but it did anything but that.

Outside of the hall was a small courtyard. Walls of the building surrounded it, except for the doorway behind us and the archway to exit. Marble pillars bordered the yard, supporting the structure above. My father had told me that the rest of the hall was used to store the computers. I wonder if I'll be working here?

I tried to distract myself from the garden. A crossed pathway went through the center, surrounded by an array of flowers, real flowers. Not the fake ones found in classrooms or doctors' offices. The smell was of nothing I had experienced before. Sweet roses, daisies, and lavender all bordered the path. I hadn't seen natural flowers in years now.

Automatic sprinklers were set in the center of the flower beds. And for a moment, I was taken away from the situation. But instead, I thought about how this tiny little paradise hid behind these walls. How, in a world of perfection and purity, a garden sat in the center.

However, that moment soon ended as we exited the courtyard. The outside air hit me with reality. It was a smell I was used to, but now it had an entirely different effect. It was the same smell but a whole new world.

A bus waited outside. Guards in white plastic suits ushered us towards the open door. It was awkward, to say the least; it was as if we were both trying to ignore the fact that each other was there, that we had both been matched. But it was a fact that we would both have to accept today.

Jake took a step onto the bus. I wanted to ask him about the girl without seeming jealous or attached. I tried to push it to the back of my mind as I stepped onto the bus; a waft of different perfumes and colognes filled my nostrils; unlike the sweet-smelling flowers, mindless chatter from new matches crowded the bus. I glanced around for a spot to sit before I remembered I would have to look for two places.

I was never used to traveling with another person.

As I was looking for two seats, I watched as a girl near the back of the bus stood up. Jake, who was in front of me, froze. His back arched back as he stood up straight. I didn't need to see the girl or Jake to know what was happening.

She stepped out from behind the seat carefully, her blonde locks slipping out of the confines of the ponytail. Her legs quivered as she stood in the center of the bus aisle. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, her body slumped. Even though I couldn't see his face, I knew his smile had gone. He took a step forward.

"Jess..." his voice trailed off as if finishing the name would have hurt even more. I could hear the sounds of more people getting onto the bus as I tried to look around for more empty seats. I didn't want to watch what was happening in front of me.

She opened her mouth as if to say something but shut it. He took another step again, faulted, and as if forgetting I was even there, he ran forward down the aisle. She stepped forward as if about to fall, but he caught her. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close as she began to sob into his shirt. This was what I had to live with, the situation that I was matched with.

I began to walk forward as he caressed the back of her head, whispering to her. People around looked at me with pity. They could only imagine the pain I felt in this situation. Before I had even met my match, he had given his heart to someone else.

Jake helped her back to her seat, where a boy with messy black hair sat, his chin resting on his palm as he propped his head up, looking out the window. He glanced at me, almost with disgust. Then, with his index finger on his opposite hand, he pushed the brims of his black-rimmed glasses up his nose and turned away. Jake sat on the seat in front of her as she turned around to face her, not giving me so much as a glance.

I could tell people were watching me as I walked toward the back of the bus. I heard some couples whisper; others snicker under their breath. They were probably thankful for having somebody who hadn't had their heart sold. It seemed as though the girl's match didn't even care what was happening as he lazily stared outside.

I pushed past Jake to sit beside him as he gave me not so much as a glance. They were whispering to each other, their faces mere centimeters apart. When I sat down, I tried to ignore them both. But it was hard to ignore something that was right beside you.

A few more sets of couples piled onto the bus. The seats themselves were not designed for comfort, an inch of foam covered by grey cotton, no different from those of the shirt we wore. But soon, the last few couples were on the bus. Every seat was taken. The bus doors closed.

The bus began to move, and glancing at the messy-haired boy behind me; I slumped into my seat. This day had been awful, and as I watched Jake tuck a piece of hair behind her ear and wipe a tear away, I was reminded of how horrible it truly was. He was trying to make her smile, even though she was upset. He was broken and even still cared about her more than himself.

If I hadn't been matched to him, I would have found the encounter sweet, romantic even. But it hurt, even more, knowing I would never have someone love me like that because of the one person whose heart was already taken.

I wanted to be angry at them, enraged at what they were doing. This is why this rule is in place; you're not supposed to fall in love before matching. But even so, I couldn't blame them. I couldn't be angry with people who were doing the most human thing possible.

I wanted to be angry at them, but I decided to distract myself because I couldn't. I began to look at the keycard we were given. Soon, this bus would stop at our apartment building, and these cards would help us get into our rooms.

But they were more than that. These slim cards of metal and plastic were more than that, holding our credits, paying for wants and needs, and our entire identity. Engraved on the front were our names, underneath the date of birth, and then our job. On the back, our matches name and information.

I quickly flipped it back over. I didn't want to see his name again. I didn't want to view those words that sealed everything in forever. I wanted to believe I was free, even if it was just for this bus ride.

That fantasy ended when the bus stopped; however, the doors did not open. Instead, we heard a voice over the speaker. Similar to the one from earlier, it was androgynous, smooth, and calming.

"You have arrived at apartment 56B – on the back of your cards, you will find your floor number and your room. Welcome to society," the voice cut off, and the doors opened. As ordered, I checked the back of the keycard, where 16-04 was printed on the card next to Jake's name.

I looked at him, but he had already stood up and walked out of the bus with Jessie. He didn't even give me so much as a glance. I wonder if he even remembered that I was his match, not this girl he seemed so infatuated with. I stared down at the metal and plastic-infused card at his name. Jake Morris.

"Must suck," a voice startled me, and I jolted my head up to see where the voice was coming from. The girl's match stood there, a blank expression on his face as he looked at me, sitting in the bus seat alone. I could see myself in the reflection of his glasses and was almost shocked by how upset I looked.

I wasn't that upset, was I? I mean, it didn't matter who I matched with. Surely, I wouldn't care that he loved someone else.

"Yeah..." is all I could get out. He seemed to be waiting, staring down at me. His arms crossed, his gaze unmoving, "Uh.."

"The bus is waiting for you to leave," he said, shifting the glasses up the ridge of his nose with his finger. Quickly, I glanced around, and sure enough, it was empty. How long had I been wallowing in my pity?

"Oh, yeah. Right..." I stood up, and he continued to look at me as he stood back to let me pass in front of him. Then, as I began to walk down the aisle, I could feel his gaze watching me still, "I'm Rebecca..."

"I don't care," the words were sharp, simple, and blank. Yet still, it hurt to hear someone say it. Maybe he was just cold because he was matched with someone who was in love, like me. However, there was something about him. It just seemed like a typical day for him.

When we got off the bus, he didn't give me another glance as he walked ahead. As I stood at the front of the building, watching matches excitedly enter the elevators, I realized I was alone.

It was cold outside, the kind of cold where everything itches. But now, I stood alone, staring at the building I was to live in for the rest of my life.

Is this what it feels like to die? Surely, something similar. I know that at least when you die, you don't experience anything. But as you're dying, I mean. Alone, cold, and scared. Scared of the unknown, scared of what's to come. Knowing that nobody was coming to save you.

When I walked inside the building, I walked toward the elevator. The lobby was quiet except for a receptionist, not unlike the one from earlier, who was tapping away at a keyboard. She glanced at me before the same pitied look formed in her eyes before returning to her work.

Every building was the same. Exact dimensions, same levels, identical everything. Each had 20 floors, with 20 rooms on each floor. But even though this building had been the same building I had grown up in, except for the address, it felt different. Bitter. Cold.

The elevator doors opened, and I walked in alone. I stared at the keycard again, trying to ignore the words Jake Morris etched into the card, and instead focused on the numbers beside it. 16th floor, 4th room. I pressed the 16th floor as the elevator doors shut. In the metal doors, my distorted reflection stared back.

Why did I look so sad?

I shouldn't be sad. I should be grateful for the life I lived that I wasn't a Lower like Charlie, and Lillian wasn't dead that I had been matched and assigned successfully. But I couldn't; just as I couldn't be angry at Jake, I couldn't be grateful.

I could just be sad.

As the elevator doors opened on the 16th floor, I tried to think of Lillian and what she would say to me. First, I thought of her beautiful red locks trailing down her shoulders, the biggest grin only she could give. Then, she would ramble about how awesome it would be to work with computers, as Charlie would congratulate me.

I walked to the fourth room, noticing the carpet being the same as the bus seats. The door itself was as every other, with a keycard scanner, door handle, and 04 printed in bold font, similar to what had been displayed on the screen.

Jake was inside when I opened the door. The same sad fake smile he held earlier. He had shown me our work schedules which were already in the apartment, and our belongings.

The apartment, as with everything, was like any other. A small living room, kitchen, dining area, bathroom, laundry, and a singular bedroom.

The central part of the apartment had three connected rooms. The kitchen was closest to the door, with a small table with a few chairs across from it, with the living room diagonally from the kitchen. A coffee table sat on a grey rug, with a sofa and chair beside it.

Then there was a corridor, the bathroom, and laundry to the right and the bedroom to the left—a singular bed. Someone had already hung up our work clothes in the closet too. It was all set up weeks in advance. Before we even had met, we had been assigned.

That night was uncomfortable. With one queen-sized bed, there was only one choice but to sleep beside each other. I kept to the very edge of the bed, facing away from him as he did the same. The silence of that night is something I'll never forget.

I cried myself to sleep that night. Then, as my watch blinked at 1:00 am, I began to cry. I wouldn't have done it if I had a choice, but I couldn't hold it in at this point. I was lost, alone.

And so I wept, silently.