Light draped across me as I re-entered the small house

on the ground floor of one of these endlessly identical

buildings across the city. I had only spent a small span

of minutes outside after excusing myself. Coming back, it was

the duplicate image seen as I departed and glimpsed over my

shoulder to check if anyone was watching me. No one noticed

as I joined the party once again. That was a relief.

     The first group of fresh citizens was a cluster of two

girls and two boys in their upper teens. As before, they stood

silently and stared at each other. It was always like this for

many: there wasn’t much to say. I slowly slinked around them

as I observed their mildly embarrassed and terrified expressions

while they were attempting to think of something to say.

     Beyond those was another group of six. That bunch

was more lively and with plenty to say.

     “I’m learning to exchange conductivity squares,” one

of the three boys said to the group.

     “There’s a good walkway on 4th Street and 20th

Avenue,” a chipper girl added.

     “Our sky was so beautiful today,” another lad stated.

     “Try some new shoes,” a girl demanded of the group,

“it helps you walk more.”

     “I feel good today,” another guy said.

     “Yes!! Yes-yes!” the last young woman in the small

group exclaimed, “That’s interesting!”

     It made me sick to hear them. None of them were

listening, all were talking in hopes of making an impression.

     Their stagnation of mind boiled black hatred from deep inside

my heart until I wanted to vomit; for all our sakes, I moved on.

     Always the same, these staid and uncomfortable pairing

gatherings. No one really understood what they were doing

there. However, like all facets of society, it was expected and

normal and everyone did it because it was what everyone had

always done forever and ever.

     Once a new person had become a certain age, he or she

was encouraged to pair-bond with another of the opposite sex.

     Life would then be lived in communal bliss forever afterward.

There was a promise of sex. Naturally, there was sex within

bonding, but it didn’t make much sense. The act of conjoining

was just something people did, while birthing was a rare and

strange event that was miraculously bestowed on few active

pairs.

     It didn’t take long for everyone to find someone they

could be with continually. Kids would begin searching through

these parties around age sixteen or seventeen and by twentytwo

there was never anyone left unpaired. Except for me. I’m

now thirty-seven and had never found a pairing partner. It’s

been decades, but I am now someone that fell through the

cracks of this world.

     The promise of God--to have someone for everyone--

was dashed and destroyed by my existence in his universe. All

girls were either too bored with me, found me too strange, or

just didn’t take to my entire image before them. Now I was

twice the age of the average pairing-pool member. Even the

casual connections some find in life were not gifted on me.

     Around me was a farce of a system. I was the killing joke at

the height of all events within the city, and they all laughed at

me behind my back.

      This pathetic gathering had an even twenty kids. Now,

it has nineteen, including myself, since I am on the same

pairing level as these new people. Ten of each sex tried their

best to find a mate while a couple of chaperones, sagacious

folks well above one-hundred-years of age, silently looked over

the crowd inside that house.

     “Red eyes! Red eyes!!” a squeaky, feminine voice

clapped into my left ear as I wandered around another group of

four, “You have red eyes!”

     It was a willowy blonde girl with ample height in her

bones. She had somehow decided to glom onto me and make

me the center of her attention. It dragged me into discussion

with the small huddle.

     “Obviously,” I told her, aware of my unusual feature,

“We have mirrors everywhere. It isn’t anything I don’t know.”

     She had instantly annoyed me with her simple

statement of my grotesque eyes. In every way, every

dimension and detail, I was completely and blandly

unspectacular. Regardless, my irises had always been oddly

tinted since I was able to recognize their difference to all other

eyes in the city. That abnormality didn’t help me. I think it

began my slide into ambiguity, disgust, and contrarianess.

     “You have red eyes!” she continued, undaunted and

pointing to my face, “You are a bad boy!”

     At first I was paranoid. Perhaps she knew something

about what just happened outside the party.

     “We were talking about good boys and bad boys,” the

woman continued, her body swaying and waggling flirtatiously,

     “Tell me how you wear your hat!”

      Her demand was niggling. I said nothing, just stared

expressionless at her and her energetic stupidity.

      “Look!” she continued, donning her flat cap.

     Everyone had the same hat; it was regulation clothing

for us. The front brim was short, the crown just a cylinder with

a flat top. No insignia or special markings were ever involved

in hat design. I felt it was a useless and boring article, though

I always kept it shoved in my back pocket every moment I left

the house. That hat was another appendix in this world which

declared normality and stability of emotional state--I had to

keep it with me as a precaution.

     Once she put her cap on, I could only stare at her face.

     Whatever point she was trying to make, it seemed pointless and

stupid to me--she merely had her hat on her head--as she stared

into my eyes with some triumphant air to her body language.

     After a few seconds I realized she was a stunningly beautiful

girl with healthy and strong physique and character. My body

felt for her, desired her, but my mind wanted to punch her face

in for being a self-obsessed fool.

     “Good boy!” she declared.

     The girl then slowly turned her hat all the way around

until the brim faced backwards.

     “Bad boy!” she told me.

     I stared into her penetrating eyes. She was extremely

beautiful. All the others in our group donned their hats: the

other girl was a “good girl” while the boys, kissing up to the

girl before me, wore their hats as if they were “bad boys”.

      “Show me how you wear your hat!” the girl demanded.

     That inky emotional bile overflowed within my chest.

I choked back the urge to smash her nose with a forehead butt.

My anger was caged as I took my hat from my back pocket and

put it on normally.

      “Aw,” she deflated, “good boy!!! I was sure--”

She cut herself short as I slowly turned the hat’s brim

toward the back. It re-inflated her with happiness.

      “Bad boy! Bad boy!” she cheered me as the brim

turned, “I knew it!! Bad boy!”

      Then my hand came down. On my head was a hat

turned only half-way, the brim sticking out sideways over my

right ear. I continued to stare at her, taunting her.

      “w-w-WH-What are--,” she choked off words.

      Everyone around stared at me. All eyes contained

a fear I loved to witness. It was the kind of reaction which

I dared not coax from people, but tonight I would indulge

myself.

      “Stop it!” the pretty woman screamed at me.

I continued to stare into her eyes, a spry smile curling

the very ends of my lips.

      “STOP IIIIIIIIITTTTTT!!” she screeched.

      The chaperones turned their attentions to us.

Tears were rolling from the contorted faces of everyone

around me. They were so sensitive to these things.

      “Help meeee!” screamed the comely girl as she

grabbed her head and staggered away from me. In her eyes

was a primal insanity I loved to see. My torment was now her

own. “Someone stop hiiiimmmmm!!!”

      I merely stood straight and followed her with

unflinching expression.

      Voices about the room rose in pitch as they demanded

to understand what I was doing and what was creating the

unusual row. It seemed the turbulent sensation of confusion

and fear would explode and rip the edifice to pieces.

      Unfortunately for me, the girl swiftly turned once she had

reached a wall where a bowl of pills sat on top of a simple,

glass table.

      Those warm lights cascading from the ornate

chandeliers inside the home seemed to me to turn grey and

cold.  Everything was a disappointment.  She was coping.

      I slowly tucked away my hat while the girl hungrily ate

one of the many Still-Pills in that huge bowl. Several seconds

later, that unbalanced female was coming back to their version

of reality. All signs of distress faded.

       “You challenged her,” a chaperone told me, her face

putting her in the upper 190s by my guess, “Tell us why you

challenged her.”

      “I did not challenge her,” I lied, “I was showing her

how I wear my hat.”

      The excuse didn’t work.

      “Your manner was a challenge. Never challenge

people.”

      I stayed quiet.

      “Take a pill,” the chaperon commanded me.

       I did nothing.

      “We will call the stewards if you do not conform,” she

threatened.

       I walked over to the table and took a pill. It was

tasteless and useless. Well, honestly, it was useless to me,

but the rest of the room relaxed at sight of me swallowing

the medicinal bon-bon. Their ridiculous assurance made that

blackness boil up within me again.

      “SHE’S DEAD!” a distant voice cut through the room,

emanating from the front door.

      All heads turned.  It was the exasperated exclamation

of the other chaperone.  While my drama was going on, he

obviously counted heads and found one missing. Seems the

overseer had found her.  No one in the room expressed fear or

concern, merely waiting for further word from the older man

assigned to maintain fading dignity within the gathering.

      “Purple 24-321 is dead!” he shouted to everyone,

“Outside!”

       No reactions.

       “She went into the nearby maintenance shed,” the

chaperone explained, “and was knocked dead by a falling box

of metal parts.”

      No one reacted. I did, though.

      With a curled hard raised back to my mouth, I

recoiled in horror.  My acting was unnecessary, but it seemed

appropriate to me.