Almost a year had passed since I was commanded to

handle my unusual and unprecedented task. I had

counted almost a full hundred deaths at my hands.

      My darkness never resurfaced in that time: a small blessing.

      My next random assignment’s file was that of a young

and very pretty woman. She had brown hair alive with the

freshness of youth. Her image alone made me enthused to be

the end of her life. Eyes in the image provided were clear and

sentient unlike most people abraded by routine.

      Sharon 1-323. Quite young; a shame to die so soon.

      She wasn’t even pair-bonded yet. One part of me

found the machine logic of my slate so cold and inhuman. On

the other hand, I was glad it found her for me. Her residence

was in the young and single territories across the city from

where I lived with a separate set of singles. Her task was

to clean the streets and file inspection notices for repair to

conglomerate structures.

       I figured it would be easy. I was mistaken, my

assumptions always off when it came to the people of this

world.

       Stalking her, I instantly found out that she was

constantly surrounded by people. Her beauty made her very

popular. Especially since her age was prime for bonding. Men

were endlessly chatting with her. Sharon’s work never took

her into private or secluded spaces. This would be tough.

       The moment I would find her alone, I assumed it would be a

quick and easy mission. My hands hungered to snap her thin,

apparently fragile neck; those beautiful muscles straining under

flesh created hunger within me. I wanted to touch her.

       This game was my favorite. A true challenge to get her

alone. I could have gone in during the night, but I wanted to

only use that as a last possibility on a final night. Luckily I had

a week.

       Most all of that time was spent following her. Hours

of my time were taken watching her tall, thin body picking up

stray debris in the streets over a good portion of the city, taking

notes on cracks and chipping, and talking to young men.

      Nothing happened. No opportunities opened for me.

       The only striking moment was when I saw her from

afar going around a corner. I hurried my pace to catch up to

her, to not lose sight of her. As I came around the edge of a

building on 125th Avenue, Sharon 1-323 came back around.

        We collided lightly.

        She looked up at me and smiled.

        “Excuse me,” her voice rang in my ears.

        I was totally agape. To her, I must have looked guilty,

possibly demented.

         Then she walked around me and was gone. I decided

to break off for the day.

        Later, I found on my slate a recent data entry from her.

        She was attending a pair-bonding ritual the next night at a large

hall on 2nd Avenue. It was one of the larger ones comprising

of an expected sixty youths. I immediately signed up. It would

be the opportune chance to get her. If not there, that night in

her apartment, alone, when no one would be around or awake.

        Perfect.

        The affair was at later night. It was indeed filled with

newer citizens seeking their mates. Such a gathering I had

never seen in all my years. I entered at the height of energy

and attendance. The rooms of the building were over-heated

and thick with humidity. There was a sea of heads chattering

and milling about.

         It wasn’t difficult to spot Sharon, but it was difficult

to keep an eye on her. Between her being swamped by men

and groups discussing nonsense, and me being besieged by

young women wondering about my particulars, the room was a

shifting melee of hopefuls eager to complete the major, missing

element in their life. As the party matured and began to wane

slightly, I worried, then was overcome with anxiety as she

disappeared.

        My eyes scanned the room continuously. I went

through the building at a steady but hopefully unsuspicious

pace. She was gone. Sharon was gone.

        I stepped outside. No one was on the street. It was

black outside, except for the street lamps. Quiet.

My heart began to pound furiously. I had blown my

chance. She was gone.

        One last time, I thought, one last search through the

house. I rushed back in, and that is when we collided again.

Sharon 1-323 was darting out of the main room as I entered.

Our impact was embarrassingly violent.

        We looked into each others’ eyes for a while.

         Her intensity made me sweat. Nothing about this hunt

was going well. It got worse.

        “There you are,” Sharon aggressively stated, “I’ve been

watching you.”

        “E-explain,” I stuttered.

       “I’ve been following you.”

         “That is... strange,” words were hard to formulate.

Now I was getting extremely anxious. She had seemed

clueless to me, but she had been cleverly stalking me in some

fashion while I did the same to her.

        “No stranger than you always observing me.”

        “You must be mistaken,” I made an excuse.

         “We met the other day,” Sharon began, “when I

bumped into you.”

         “I remember,” my nervousness filled a space inbetween

her words.

         “Yes, I figured you would. You spent days following

me around the streets. I created a way to meet you. It seems

you were too shy to get close enough to talk.”

         “I-I-y-you--,” words: there were none. I was screwing

up a perfect opportunity.

        She had cunningly been aware of me this entire time.

        Everything was futile.

        “Oh,” she continued, “you didn’t deduce my little play.

        So innocent. So strange. So strange that a man twice my age

would be so easily caught off guard.”

         “I just--,” words began, but she interrupted.

        Her hands grabbed my left hand.

         “No pair bonding, yet,” Sharon declared as she lifted

my hand so we could both see its lacking bond ring, “I find that

strange. A man your age without bonding. You probably feel

strange. Explain that to me.”

        Her demand caught me completely unaware.

        “I never,” I stammered, “I never, just never found....

found a pair-bond.”

        “Detail me: attempts.”

        “Well, constantly. I tried and tried.”

        “No one avoids bonding or escapes God’s plan,” she

boldly declared.

       “Yet, here I am,” I became obnoxiously defiant, “You

enjoy taunting the less fortunate.”

        “Less fortunate: I see someone suspicious,” her words

pierced me.

       She realized more than I suspected anyone would.

        “There is a greater purpose to you,” Sharon pointedly

told me, her eyes steely and sinking into mine.

        “Do tell,” my manner became loose as I relaxed in

order to avoid breaking down and falling apart in front of her

beauty.

       “Tell me why you have been following me through the

streets this past week.”

        I didn’t say anything.

       “I saw you. You thought you were clever.”

        I stayed quiet.

       “Then you come here. I suspect you followed me

somehow. Please, explain.”

       Her request wasn’t granted. I smiled knowingly.

       There was no way she could know my true self, my tasks, my

intended duty. No way.

       “I watched you flit around this gathering for the past

half hour. You were keeping track of me. You weren’t here for

pairing: you were here for me. That is certain.”

        My smile faded.

       “You challenge me,” Sharon accused.

       Sweat was sliding down into my eyes. This situation

was completely devastated. I had met my match.

        “You challenge me!” she blurted, her eyes still drilling

into mine, “Tell me my name.”

         “Sharon 1-323.”

       “I figured you knew that. Tell me yours. Now.”

       “Hooke 5-302.”

       “Hooke. Tell me your work directive.”

        “Repairing lighting in the 12th and 13th quadrant.”

        “Nice. Describe your recreations,” Sharon demanded.

         I answered. She went through a long list of such

imperatives. Before I knew it, the night was ending at that

pair-bonding. Caught in a trap, I found no way to escape, so

I stayed there and fulfilled every need for information she had

requested. I did so honestly, though I wasn’t sure why I had

done so.

        She was challenging me. Constantly. There was no

escape. Something about this young lady was inexorable. My

life was opened to her. The only details I didn’t tell were about

my God-given task, my sculpting, and my inner beings nagging

me to do wrongs. Everything else was hers.

        I discovered nothing about her. I didn’t pry. She

would end this night; I was certain and determined to have my

way, somehow.

        Time danced along at a rapid rate. I never noticed.

       There was a sudden hand on my shoulder, hammering down

from behind.

        “OK, you two,” an elder’s voice communicated

annoyance, “you have both had enough. We want to get sleep.

The party is over.”

        Both of us turned to look into the main room.

       Everyone had left. They had all filtered around us and

departed long ago. We never noted them going. It must have

been closer to lightening than to darkening. Several weary

chaperones stood in the half dimmed chamber behind us.

Sharon laughed at the embarrassment. She held my

hand tight and dragged me away into the street outside where

we continued for a little while.

        Time lapsed again. Her enthusiasm for me left me

disabled to break away. Also, her beauty kept me vulnerable. I

enjoyed her image in my eyes.

        “I have to go,” a demand from me finally was issued,

        “It’s been interesting, but I need to work tomorrow morning.”

        “You mean today,” she said.

        “Yes, crap,” exasperating poured from me, “I must go.”

        “Good,” Sharon grabbed one of my hands tight, “time

we go home. I live this way.”

        She was dragging me through the roads toward her

apartment.

        “Wait,” I complained, “I must go home.”

        “Home with me, yes.”

        “No, to my apartment.”

        “No, to my apartment,” her stubborn assertion was

declared as she stopped us and turned to me.

         Looking me in my eyes and making me obey, Sharon

had made her ultimate life’s mistake. It made me extremely

happy.

        “NO,” she exclaimed, “You are the one. I am sure.

You are my pair-bond. We were made to be together. You and

I. I have no doubts.”

        My reaction was fear, then relief. It wouldn’t be

difficult to complete my mission before light of a new day.

         Together, hand in hand, we walked a good distance and

retired into her apartment.