The Algorithm of Us

In the Year 2149, love was no longer an accident—it was assigned.

The government called it Eros, an all-seeing artificial intelligence that tracked every citizen’s emotional and behavioral data from birth. Every message you sent, every show you binge-watched, every heartbeat recorded by your wrist chip fed into the system. On your 18th birthday, Eros would issue your Pairing Notification, selecting the person with whom you’d share your life. No exceptions. No delays.

To most, it was a relief. No heartbreak. No chasing. No fear of rejection.

But for Mira Vale, it felt like a prison sentence.

Mira was a painter—one of the last. Her art, abstract and stormy, had no place in a world driven by logic, precision, and efficiency. She lived in the Lower Bloc, where creativity was tolerated, not celebrated. And yet, her soul burned with defiance.

On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, the screen in her apartment blinked to life.

Pairing Notification: THEO LANE — Compatibility: 99.7%

Your bonding ceremony is scheduled for June 9, 10:00 a.m. Compliance is mandatory.

She stared at the name. Blank. Unfamiliar.

A second later, a file opened automatically, displaying Theo’s life in clinical detail—occupation: systems analyst. Hobbies: simulation design, vintage chess, AI ethics. Personality type: INTP-A. Physical health: above average. Psychological stability: high. No criminal record.

Perfect, on paper.

Yet Mira’s stomach twisted. This wasn’t love. This was... a contract. A digital mandate. A prediction dressed up as destiny.

That night, she painted.

A black background. Splashes of red, white, and static gray—colors of confusion, compliance, and control. She titled it The Algorithm of Us, and posted it anonymously to the underground art feed. An hour later, it was taken down by authorities. That always meant it hit too close to the truth.

Theo arrived the next day.

Tall, quiet, and watchful. He wore the standard slate-gray suit, eyes dark like they’d seen too much. His handshake was polite but cold.

“I don’t want this,” Mira said before he even sat down.

“I didn’t ask for it either,” he replied, his voice low, careful.

Over the next few weeks, they pretended. The government monitored all Pairings for ninety days to ensure “emotional alignment.” Every morning, a daily survey appeared: Are you satisfied with your match? Do you feel emotionally connected? Have you expressed gratitude today?

Mira answered falsely. So did Theo.

But there was something underneath Theo’s stillness. Late one night, when Mira wandered into the shared kitchen, she caught him hunched over a cracked tablet. Lines of old code scrolled down the screen—something outlawed after the New System Act.

“You’re a hacker,” she said softly.

Theo looked up, eyes lit with something she hadn’t seen before—fear, yes. But also hope.

“I was. Before they erased the old net.” He closed the tablet slowly. “Eros doesn’t just match people. It manipulates them. Adjusts brain chemistry. Suppresses memories. That’s how they keep the love algorithm working. Synthetic attachment.”

Mira felt her breath catch. “So none of this is real?”

“Only what we decide to make real.”

He showed her what he’d found: logs where Eros had flagged Mira’s rebellious tendencies—her artwork, her emotional volatility. She had been paired not for compatibility, but for correction. Theo was calm. Obedient. He was her behavioral anchor.

She was his test.

The revelation shattered her.

But it also bonded them—not as a couple, but as co-conspirators. Late into the nights, they decoded fragments of the original emotional independence program, a forgotten initiative from before Eros. They called it Project Iris—a secret framework that allowed people to choose their bonds.

Mira began painting again, more than ever before—now embedding hidden messages into her art. Colors and brushstrokes that, when decoded, revealed locations, names, questions. Other rebels began to respond.

On the final day of their 90-day observation period, Mira and Theo staged the perfect illusion. Smiles. A kiss. A fake bond.

But behind the scenes, Project Iris was spreading. Quietly. Rapidly.

They weren't lovers.

They were the virus inside the code.

Months later, after Mira fled the city with a new identity, she walked into a secret gallery in a Free Zone. On the far wall, her painting hung—The Algorithm of Us. And below it, in invisible ink now revealed by UV light, were the words:

Love cannot be assigned.

It must be chosen.

—M.V. & T.L.