It's starting again!

"Sir, are you okay?" Sam asks me in panic.

"It's okay. I'm fine," I reply through gritted teeth.

I roll my jacket's sleeves to see the pale pink line on my wrist is glowing red. Again. Six months after my eighteenth birthday, the glow and the pain have been bothering me once a month. But since the start of February, it has become rapid, for it comes almost every day. Each time the pain is getting more prolonged and more intense. Today is even worse than yesterday.

"What do you want again?!" I snap as if the pain is a living thing and can hear my scream.

Strangely, it does, for it subsides. After a few deep breaths, the throbbing pain disappears as quickly as it comes. Nevertheless, my anger doesn't.

*Ring, ring.*

"Sir, you have an incoming call from your brother," Sam informs after the second ring. "Would you like me to answer in your stead?

"Is it a video call?"

"No, sir."

"Then put me through."

"Right away, sir."

The ringing sound stops, replaced by my brother's voice. "Leo."

I try to steady my labored breaths before answering, making sure that my brother won't notice anything. "Brother."

There is a brief silence at his end before he sighs. "It happens again?"

And this time, I sigh, too.

Fail again, I think to myself.

I am curious as to how my brother can see through me every single time. No matter how hard I try to mask up, he never fails to unveil me.

"Yes," I reply.

"I think it's time you should let it lead you."

My brother has told me that when the head of the line is glowing, we will meet our match 一a new term for a partner一 on that very day.

And it was true.

I was there when he met his wife. He met her on the very first day it glowed. The strangers turned lovers the minutes their hands came into contact. A few months later, they got married, skipping the acquaintance stage.

But it isn't any surprise, though. Half of Zanie people have been living this way. This is a city of advanced technology. Accuracy is valued more than emotions. After all, feelings can be wrong; Unlike an analysis.

Even so, when it comes to me, it doesn't work that way at all. It has been six months since the light glowed. Until now, I still haven't found my match.

"Leo?" My brother calls my name, worrying about my silence.

"I'll try." I snap myself out of the thought.

"How's the pain?"

"It's gone now."

"Good. If anything, give me a call. I'll be there."

"It's okay, brother. I have Sam. But thank you."

The call is disconnected, leaving the whole room in silence. Like I've said, my brother can see me inside out. He must have heard it in my voice that I don't want to pursue this matter, so he decided to drop the topic.

Since I prefer to be alone when my mind is a mess, my brother gives it to me, to which I am really grateful.

"Sam, open the garage." I drag myself off the floor, mood ruins. And to lift it, there is only one way.

"Sir, I can give you a ride."

"Is my condition showing unfit in your system?"

"No, sir."

"Then, I can drive myself."

"Of course, sir," His voice sounds down. I somehow regret my tone, but I am really in a bad mood now.

My garage door slides down to reveal a glass-made scalene triangle aircraft and a green-white striped motorcycle. That's right. In Zanie, we don't use cars anymore. Everyone, girls especially, are driving an aircraft of different shapes. Guys, on the other hand, prefer riding motorcycles.

I pick the green helmet to match with my shirt and hop on before giving a command, "Engine, starts."

The engine roars to life with its headlight on and floats forty inches from the ground.

"Sam, lock the door and set the alarming system on," I shout on my way out without bothering to turn back to look, for I have always trusted him with every job.

After getting off the small road into the highway, I release my clutch to slow down as the light turns yellow. Once red hits, a thin barrier sprawls in a linear line over the road, invented, especially for those who fancy running a red light. If they dare to cross this line, the riders will find themselves beaming straight to the police station, which isn't all that pretty afterward.

While waiting for the green light, I turn to the sidewalk to see a man standing a few feet away from a woman standing outside a wedding dress shop. Both of them are looking at their wrists in awe. I follow their gazes and realize that they, too, have their wrists' lines glowing. But unlike mine, the glowing blinks profusely just like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.

The man advances, and so does the woman. When they are within reach, they extend their left hands as if to exchange a handshake. However, it isn't that simple. Only the people in Zanie know what they are doing. The truth is, they are scanning their match percentage.

The moment their fleshes come into contact, the glowing lights burst out, and suddenly, a big number appears in between the gaps of their bodies.

91%

The number shown makes broad smiles plaster on their faces as they lock gazes. Well, who wouldn't when we find our right one?

"How about getting married today?" the man asks once the displayed number disappears.

The woman giggles shyly before nodding. "Sure."

Hand in hand, they walk inside the wedding dress shop.

The scene makes me subconsciously let out a sigh. These days the marriage between people isn't out of love. They are purely out of the scientific results. You can only get married when the connection between the two of you is greater than or equal fifty percent, whether you harbor feelings towards each other or not. And if your match is less than fifty percent, then sorry, you won't be allowed to get married. That's the rule.

Some people are lucky that their matches are their loved ones, but some aren't. If they still believe in their own hearts and resist the system, then they'll have to elope. And to those who dare to choose this path, we have never heard from them again, for they are banished right afterward. They are stripped of everything that holds them as lawful citizens here and never again can enter Zanie.

Of course, you are allowed to date and stay in a relationship as long as you don't mind not having a marriage certificate; also, if you can withstand the eyes of those who look at you as if you are an outlaw.

Usually, the date-for-love thing only appeals to those hotblooded teenagers, according to my observation. But on the day that strikes you fully eighteen, that idea mostly disappears. It is either because we are designed this way or because we come to realize what kind of world we are living in. After all, the idea of the follow-your-heart thing can never give an accurate result. No one wants to walk on a path full of uncertainty when precision exists.

What happens if you can't find your match?

Well, sorry to convey it to you that be prepared to live your life forever alone. But that has never been the case. Everyone got someone.

Even I do.

I just never care to search.

Even though I know my match comes, I still don't know what percentage we may get. I am curious to see if we can get around ninety percent or somewhere around fifty.

Speaking of the percentage, I have always wondered why no one ever gets a one hundred percent match? Ever since this system is developed, the highest record that has ever been achieved is ninety-eight percent. And there was just one couple only—my brother's. My parents, on the other hand, only got a ninety-percent match when they got married.

*Honk, Honk*

The sound of the aircraft honking behind me brings my attention back to the road. I turn my eyes back to the road to see the light is green, and the barrier is gone.

"Hey, you. Move. Or I'll fly over your head." The voice of an angry woman echoes through the speakers.

I click my tongue in annoyance with both her attitude and city life. Without turning to look at the rude woman's face, I accelerate and drive away from the area with no destination set. As long as I can escape from this heavy traffic street, I will be satisfied.

But then, it occurs to me. Since I'll be driving aimlessly anyway, why not make the trip worthwhile?

"Sam put the destination on the screen."

"Where are you referring to, sir?"

"I want the location that the system gives us this morning. The place where my match is."

"Much obliged, sir." Sam sounds enthusiastic all of a sudden. It is as if he can't believe that I finally give in to the glowing light request. Or maybe, he is just happy to have a new master?

Well, whatever.

The route is put up on the right corner of my helmet's screen. With no further delay, I make a U-turn and head to where the GPS is showing me. Unlike the first five times, this time, I decided to heed my brother's advice as I ride at full speed toward the city's outskirts.