The Perfect Mate

Brian paced endlessly in front of the Matchmaker's office, his bright green eyes flicking to the clock on the wall every few seconds. It felt as if he'd been there for hours, but the digital numbers on its holographic face rolled over at a snail's pace. It was foolish to try and rush the Matchmaker, though; there was a lot of data to crunch, and such things took time. The wait would be well worth it, once Brian had finally met the perfect woman.

Looking back, the Matchmakers had not only saved the human race but revolutionized it. Since it was implemented into law back in the year 3000, birth defects and congenital diseases had been all but eradicated. People were living longer, healthier lives, and growing more intelligent as a species with every passing year. Also, because the earlier Matchmaking algorithms were designed to ignore physical attributes in their calculations, racial barriers were a relic of the ancient past. Most people of breeding age - like Brian - didn't even know their cultural or racial ancestry. It was forbidden to access those records anyway, unless one was a high ranking government official.

Brian settled into a chair with a heavy sigh, as his feet had started to hurt from pacing. The Matchmaker's program was a good thing. Without it, he'd have to try and find a mate himself. When he was little, his great-grandparents told him horror stories about what his ancestors used to call "dating". It usually involved walking right up to a complete stranger, either in person or online, and just asking them for courtship outright. In the rare chance they said yes, months or even years of grueling research followed to see if they were a suitable mate. The dating process was far from infallible, though, as even the longest and most promising matches were never guaranteed to work out. If Brian had to find a mate like that, wasting valuable years of his life and taxing his emotional health beyond repair for a match that wasn't perfect, he would rather remain a bachelor forever.

Truth be told, Brian wasn't sure he was ready to meet his match yet. He was twenty-four, though, already approaching the end of his optimal breeding period. If he didn't mate and produce a viable offspring in the next year, he might not get the chance to be a father at all. Brian wanted to be a dad more than anything... but the idea of being physically intimate with a woman he barely knew - even if she was his perfect mate - made his guts twist up in painful knots.

"I can do this," he muttered under his breath, wiping his sweaty palms on his slacks. "All it takes is one time, right? I can do it once... I think."

Brian leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes as he absorbed the coolness of the metal into his curly blond scalp. Pre-match jitters; that's all it was. Lots of couples had gone through this before, including his own parents. He still remembered quite clearly how it was before his mother died: those quiet dinners, with just the three of them around the table, and his parents barely looking at each other while they spoke. They had separate bedrooms for as long as he could remember, too, not that he really knew or cared why. No matter what, though, he knew without question they loved each other deeply. How could they not, when they were so perfectly matched?

"Greenwood, Brian?"

Brian's eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, nearly falling out of his chair he was so startled. "Y-Yes, that's me," he stammered. "Has the Matchmaker..."

Brian's sentence died in his throat the moment he looked up at who had addressed him. It was a young woman, roughly his age, with hair as black as pitch and the deepest blue eyes he'd ever seen. The moment their eyes met, she lowered her gaze and tucked a loose hair behind her ear, focusing on the tablet in her arms. "The Matchmaker is ready for you," she said softly, her voice sweeter than music to Brian's ears.

For a moment, the world just stopped. Brian's hand moved to his chest, massaging a strange ache that had manifested behind his sternum. He couldn't really explain what was happening, but he couldn't take his eyes off her. Brian was dizzy and tingly all over, like there was electricity running through his veins. His heart pounded in his ears like ocean waves against a rocky shore, as if it wanted to break free of his ribcage. Before he could stop himself, he was on his feet and her petite, cool hand was nestled in his.

"What's your name?" he heard himself ask.

The young woman's freckled face glowed with a blush as her perfectly formed lips curled into a smile. "Hannah," she answered. "Hannah Brown. It's nice to meet you, Mr. Greenwood."

"Brian, please," he said quickly, catching her contagious grin. "And the pleasure is all mine." His thumb raked across the back of her hand gently, surprised to feel her heart racing as much as his. As he stared into her eyes, he saw her pupils grow larger, as if they were trying to drink in every inch of his face. As the pulse in her hand quickened, he could hear her breath following suit. Without telling his body to do so, he took a half step closer to her. The moment he did, his knees quaked as her sweet, heady perfume threatened to overwhelm his senses.

It defied description, this strange fire consuming him body and soul from the inside out. All Brian knew was that he burned for her, and - based on the way she was looking back at him - the feeling was mutual.

"Mr. Greenwood, we're waiting!"

Brian let go of Hannah's hand and snapped his head around, scared out of his wits by the new voice. An old woman stood in the doorway to the Matchmaker's office, tapping her foot irritably. "What do you think you're doing with my assistant?! Miss Brown has other things to do than chat!"

Brian cleared his throat and took a step back from Hannah, nodding sheepishly. "Sorry," he stammered. "I didn't mean to keep you. I'm right behind you, I promise."

As he followed the Matchmaker into her office, he couldn't help looking over his shoulder one last time at Hannah. She was still there, but she turned her back the moment he looked at her. As her heels clicked down the hall, Brian rubbed his palm gently. He could still feel the ghost of her hand in it, and the farther she got from him, the worse that odd pain in his chest became.

Brian tried to shake the strange feeling as he headed in to see the Matchmaker. His perfect mate was waiting, and it would be rude to prolong their meeting further. The moment he sat down in front of the Matchmaker's desk, she glared at him over her half-moon glasses.

"Glad you could join us," she said curtly. "Alright, Mr. Greenwood; given your age, it was difficult to find a perfect mate for you, but my calculations are never wrong. Are you ready?" At Brian's anxious nod, the Matchmaker tapped the computer screen in front of her sharply. "Miss Bluebell, you may come in now."

Brian's pulse raced as the door behind the Matchmaker whooshed open silently. A few seconds later, his perfect mate strode through them. She was certainly beautiful, with her large hazel eyes and flaxen hair woven into a network of braids. Miss Bluebell was quite tall, too, with long legs and a slender yet strong athletic frame. When their eyes met, however, Brian couldn't help feeling... disappointed. Something was missing. He just didn't know what.

"Hello, Mr. Greenwood," she said in a lilting alto voice. "My name is Lila. I am honored to be your perfect mate."

Her voice was pleasant, but the way she spoke gave Brian pause. There was no joy in her tone, or any emotion whatsoever. It was as if being his mate was no more than a chore for her; a necessity and not a desire. When he looked into her eyes again, a cold chill ran down his spine. He had seen eyes like that before: they were just like his mother's every time she looked upon his father. Cold; indifferent; resentful. As a child, he thought they loved each other... but now, he finally realized the truth that had been in front of him all his life.

"Mr. Greenwood?" the Matchmaker frowned. "Aren't you going to say anything to your mate?"

"I... no," Brian stammered. "I mean... are you sure she's the one?"

"My data does not lie," the Matchmaker snapped. "Based on genetics, personality traits, and breeding ability, she is your perfect match! Are you accusing me of making a mistake?!"

"No, of course not," Brian said, trembling under the Matchmaker's scathing glower. "It's just... I..."

There was no use explaining, as Brian himself didn't know what was wrong. Following his instincts, he got to his feet and approached Lila, taking her hand just like he did with Hannah. Her hand felt strong in his, warm and tender, too. Lila's caring yet firm demeanor made him positive she would be a fine mate and a wonderful mother. But he didn't burn for her the way he burned for Hannah.

"I'm sorry, Miss Bluebell," he murmured. "...but I can't be your mate. Please forgive me for wasting your time today."

"What do you mean, you can't?!" the Matchmaker shrieked. "You don't get to choose, Mr. Greenwood: Lila Bluebell is your mate! If you do not breed with her, you do not breed at all!"

Brian's throat grew painfully tight, constricting around a hard, spiky knot that formed behind his tonsils. After a few minutes of thought, he kissed Lila's hand and let it go. "Then I won't breed," he said, blinking to stop his eyes from stinging, "not with her. Please don't be offended, Miss Bluebell; the problem isn't you. I'm sure you will find a more suitable mate soon."

"No offense taken, Mr. Greenwood," Lila said, smiling for the first time since entering the Matchmaker's office. "Good luck to you, sir. I have a feeling you may need it."

Brian left the Matchmaker's office with his head hung low, kneading his sternum with one hand. A new ache had appeared there, dwarfing the first: the ache of emptiness. This was his last chance to become a father, and he threw it away. Why? There was nothing wrong with Lila Bluebell. Physically, she was stunning, and genetically he couldn't ask for a more perfect mate. What was wrong with him?

His feet took him to the lobby on their own, as his mind was otherwise occupied digging his hole of sorrow and self-pity deeper. Because he wasn't paying attention, he collided with someone walking the other way. An apology sprang to his lips automatically as he caught them, recovering both his balance and theirs. Only after he had his hands on her shoulders did he realize who he'd bumped into.

"Hannah," he gasped, letting go as if he'd been burned. "Hi again. Sorry, I wasn't watching where I was going."

"It's alright," she said, a soft giggle lacing her tone. "We're both guilty on that count." A shy smile played on her face as she knelt to collect her tablet, but it faded into a worried frown moments later. "Oh no; the screen is cracked," she groaned. "Not again. I'm so awfully clumsy. They'll probably take this one out of my salary."

Brian took the tablet from her curiously, tilting it to examine the crack. "It doesn't look too bad," he said. "I'm sure I could fix it. Dad's got loads of spare screens back at the shop, and I'm pretty handy with a soldering iron."

"Really?" Hannah said, allowing Brian to help her to her feet. "That would be incredible! Thank you, Mr. Greenwood; I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you."

Suddenly, lightning arced across Brian's cerebral cortex, bringing an idea with it. "Well... I like coffee," he said. "There's a Starbucks right by the shop. Why don't we grab one when your tablet is fixed and get to know each other? That would be payment enough."

Hannah's smile widened with delight as her freckles flushed again. "That sounds nice. I think I'd like that very much, Mr. Greenwood."