(Kimberly's POV)
I was 16 when I fully understood that love wasn't a choice in my world.
It was the day of the Matching Broadcast, an event that turned the city into a ghost town. People abandoned their routines, their work, their lives, just to watch the government's message.
The voice of the announcer was classy, rehearsed, and void of emotion. It echoed through the speakers in our home, through the city streets, and from the massive digital billboards looming over the skyline. The government wanted no one to forget the rules, the rules that decided who lived and who vanished.
But the reality of it was actually different. No one ever talked about what happened to those who swapped genders, but everything didn't go well between them, they didn't find common ground and regretted it at the end.
No one mentioned the ones who swapped, only to return two years later, re-tested, and cast aside for failing to maintain a high enough score. They are forced to live a life with little to no choices and hardship.
Even their children have to live under this condition until they get the opportunity to match with someone with a high compatibility score to change their lives. So at the end of the day, many people are getting married to escape hardship and not for love.
The announcer gave a brief pause. Just enough for the weight of the words to sink in.
<…will live as outcasts, their privileges stripped, their futures uncertain.>
That was another way the system controlled us. Even if you matched, even if you swapped, you still weren't safe.
I held my breath, already knowing what will come next. It didn't matter how many times I had heard it before, it still sent a chill through my spine.
<…will be eliminated.>
Beside me, Patricia's hand tightened around mine. The warmth of her fingers was the only real thing keeping me sane. She was my one and only best friend. We lived together because we didn't have parents or siblings, or any family - we just had each other. We were like sisters.
We sat cross-legged on our bedroom floor, staring at the screen in stiff silence. The broadcast continued, but I could barely hear it. The words blurred together, a string of mandates and justifications for why the system was "necessary."
Fair? Absolute? There was nothing fair about it.
The screen flickered, transitioning to a list of names of those who had successfully matched this year. Beneath it, another list containing names of those unmatched and up for the Pending Elimination.
I squeezed my eyes shut before I could scan the list. The scary part was watching the live recording of someone getting eliminated. Puff into thin air! Gone! Gone forever.
This live recording was something the government suddenly started to make people realize how real it was. To scare people and make them take things seriously.
"Kim," Patricia whispered, barely louder than the sounds from the screen. I turned to her, looking at her green eyes, which was always so full of fire, now clouded with something I rarely saw in her. Fear and Doubt.
"What if we don't find a match?" she asked.
I opened my mouth, but the words couldn't come out. We had never spoken about this before because we didn't fully realize how the situation was. But that day, as the broadcast continued, as names were called, as people were erased, it became so real.
I forced a smile, the same way I always did when she needed me to be strong.
"We will,"
Because what else could I say?
*
Two years passed, and I was 18, witnessing an execution real life. The crowd stood in silence, gathered in the city square. The large screen overhead displayed the man's name, his age, and the number that had sealed his fate. 27. No match found.
His crime was simply existing too long without a partner. The officials dragged him forward, his face blank, he didn't fight. No one ever did. They always accepted their fate.
We watched as a high-pitched hum filled the air, a beam of light surrounded him, him screaming and then he was gone.
No body. No blood. Just… gone.
The people around me bowed their heads, murmuring words of gratitude to the system even if they were scared to death. This was a reminder to everyone watching: Find your match, or you will disappear from the earth too.
I looked at the number on my wrist that day. 18.04.12. A countdown that starts ticking at age 18. I just knew that on my 27th birthday, it would reach zero.
*
Years passed, but the fear never left. At age twenty-six, my number burned brighter than ever. 26.10.04.
Patricia sat beside me in our shared apartment, staring at my wrist and hers. "Our match results come in today, right?"
I nodded, in agreement. But remembering past failures didn't help me feel excited to see my result. The first time we took the compatibility test, we were twenty-two.
Patricia and I sat side by side in the waiting room, fingers intertwined, hearts pounding. We had convinced ourselves we would pass, that the system would finally grant us a match.
We were wrong. "Compatibility score: Kimberly Dawson- 60%, Priscilla - 62%." It was lower than 70%.
We tried again at twenty-four. "Compatibility score: Kimberly Dawson- 65%, Priscilla - 64%." Still not enough.
Again at twenty-five. "Compatibility score: Kimberly Dawson- 68%, Priscilla - 69%." Closer, but still a death sentence.
And now, at twenty-six, we were out of chances. This was it. Our last chance.
We heard a sudden knock on the door. Patricia quickly stood up and ran to the door.
"Compatibility results for Miss. Kimberly Dawson and Miss Patricia Hayes".
"Yes, you are at the right location. Patricia collected the envelopes, signed and closed the door.
I didn't stand up, my heart was pounding fast. Patricia came to where I was sitted and placed the envelopes on the center table.
We both stared at the two golden envelopes on the table—the results that determined whether we would live or die.
Patricia was bouncing, her excitement barely contained. "Kim, this is it. I can feel it. Each time we took the test, our scores kept on increasing. This time, we're going to match. I believe we can get AT LEAST borderline 70%."
"What if we don't?" I whispered.
She grabbed my hands, squeezing them tight. "Then we try again, like always."
"Or if one of us fails?"
"Hey! Be positive." She hit my shoulders slightly.
I held the shoulder she hit. " Ouch, that hurts. I just mean there won't be another try. Our birthday is in two months. We are only 5 days apart."
Her bright face turned dark, but she forced a smile. "Then this time, we match. Let's keep our fingers and hearts crossed"
I took a deep breath and nodded. This time, we had to. We were going to open the envelopes, get a 70% match and above, survive and still remain life long friends. That's all we wanted.