Mating Call

Seventeen minutes. I can’t mess this up. Seventeen minutes. It’s all the time in the world. That’s what Dr. Pritchard said. If I can just walk over the right way maybe she’ll fall for it. Maybe she’ll accept the heart-shaped locket. The key is not to walk too fast. You can’t succeed if you look like you’re in a rush. But it is seventeen minutes after all. We’re all in a rush.

June 23, 2174, 11:48 am. It's almost the start of the ritual. This happens once a decade. Everyone from the age of seventeen to ninety-nine, is selected to participate. Almost a century ago, a ground-breaking sociologist named Edmund Mating published a paper called “Recognizing Natural Selection as a Solution to Overpopulation in Humans.” In it he proposed theories about humankind’s divergence from its core and fundamental purpose of procreation and survival, namely the expression of dominant genes. To be completely honest the paper was ridiculed when it was first published, and he was labeled a charlatan. As the population issue became more politicized, his article gained momentum. Mayor Dinkle first mentioned it in his campaign. Then, some scientists started citing it. Interest groups got involved. People revolted in the beginning. They always do. They say that when the Nazis started to rise in power, people fought back too. But people can only fight for so long.

I lied. It isn’t only seventeen minutes, except that it is. The way it works is you have seventeen minutes per “round.” Anyone who doesn’t succeed in the first round goes on to the second. And of those not selected for the second round, they go to the third. And so on. The rounds are not infinite, but there are many.

Other than clothing, money, and a Qz-71, you can only bring one item with you to the Ritual. Mine was the locket. It started as a joke. My grandfather was the first in our family to participate in the Ritual. The year was 2085. He was notified that he had been selected. He had a week's notice and was told he was required to bring something with him to help him succeed. But he could only bring that one thing. He spent days wondering what to bring. On the last day before the Ritual, he stumbled upon a rusted and chipped heart-shaped locket. Partly out of irony, and partly as an ode to the gentleman of yesteryear, he thought it would help. It did. He found Grandma during round four. It worked for dad too. He used it to find mom. This was in the second round. Same with my uncle. Only he found Caleb in the first round. Very few people do.

Those that fail to link by the end of the Ritual disappear. It was never told to us where they went, but no one heard from them ever again. Grandpa always joked that, “you either met your mate or your maker. Nobody went home alone.”

Mating argued that the current rate of population increase would deplete the world of its natural resources, strain its global infrastructure, and lead to its eventual demise. The argument went that that as the population continued to grow, it would be detrimental to quality of life. The lowest class would continue to expand at an unchecked rate stretching the upper class to ruin. He analogized it to a pyramid where the bottom stretches and pulls the lateral faces apart. As this process continues, the apex falls out from the bottom. Repackaged maybe, but we've seen this before. Malthus with a face lift. Mating provided suggestions and actions global leaders could take to prevent the Apex from falling out. He recommended “Rituals” where wide swaths of citizens were selected and placed into rounds in order to find a match. Although Mating’s paper was inspired by now archaic mores, its chief contention was the idea of partner selection. It did not matter who the corresponding match was or what biological gender or genders they identified with. The only thing that mattered was that there was one other living, breathing, citizen that wanted to match with you and you wanted to match with them. But both you and your match had to desire one another equally. The government even had equipment to measure it. The fact that two citizens wanted to match exactly was proof enough that both were worthy of consuming the world's depleting resources. In other words, you both had a seat at the table.

Each match was eternal. Well not eternal, but until death. Since death happened to both of you at the same time, it's not really clear if death ever did you part. Once matched, you each became one another's “Perpetual Mate” or PM. Once matched, you were no longer an individual. You counted as one unit for purposes of the census. One unit with shared legal implications, resources, voting rights, travel restrictions, tax debts, employment, and—for lack of a better word—identity. Any crimes committed by your PM were ascribed to you. Any decisions made by your PM, were your decisions. Given the current average life span of one hundred eighteen years for citizens, that was a long time for a shared identity. Legally, you and your PM were officially known as Adinsvet, which in a now extinct language, meant “one light.” But everyone just called it Adam. Adam was also used to refer to the Ritual itself.

Initially, Mating was universally panned. OpenTimes referred to him as a quack. The New Citizen called into question his credentials. Many joked that his days in academia were numbered. A few years later, after Mayor Dinkle's endorsement, several scientists employed by the Utopian League Council gave it further review. Data supporting his contentions inexplicably appeared and distinguished anthropologists and political scientists began citing it regularly. Before long, it became an international mainstay.

Countries across Eurlandia Major, Eurlandia Minor, Ruslanzia, and eventually, Ausnasia, accepted it as gospel. Shortly thereafter, the United Continental Alliance launched Project Gondwana or “PG.” General Secretary Trygve de Oilveri Gutterman called it “the world's most critical undertaking.”

11:56 AM. Four minutes to go. I sat there running the locket through my fingers. I wondered about what I would say. I saw through Uni-net that apparently, years ago, citizens would approach each other with something called “pickup lines.” These were openers. Typically, a citizen would say something straightforward or humorous with the intent of starting a conversation. Sometimes these lines were canned and recycled. Sometimes they were witty and impromptu. Either way, according to Uni-net, they rarely worked. I wondered what pickup line I would have used two hundred years ago. Maybe I would say something about their eyes.

I hope my friends fared well too. I knew that I would likely recognize some of them. Chances were good that you would see at least one person you knew. I wonder what Liam and Bo were bringing. I knew that Liam’s favorite possession was the Indian Peacock feather his father gifted him. Green with a bright bluish eyespot. It was breathtaking. I read that when a peacock sought a mate it would fully stretch its six-foot tail and create a rustling noise. This vibration and captivating iridescent display caught the attention of peahens. In a symbolic way, Liam would be honoring this now extinct bird.

11:59 AM. One minute to go. Grandpa and Grandma came from a different time. We heard the story of their Adam every year. I am not sure how much stock to put in his advice. But he told me that the most important thing was laughter. If you could make them laugh, they were yours. These days, I rarely laughed myself. As I watched my Qz-71change to Noon, I took a deep breath and stared into the overcast sky. Win or lose, soon it would be over.