New York, August 17, 2199

Midsummer snowflakes take me by surprise as they tumble gently to the Earth from a gloomy abyss. I watch them through my glass umbrella in the center of the gardens, how they cascade from the sky, and melt upon impact. Before long, my only shield from the sparkling white lumps is heavily frosted, and the world around me is transformed into a glittering wonderland.

"How savagely cruel," I murmur, knowing thousands of people are going to die in this cold tonight. "Why must something so beautiful be so deadly?"

"I imagine the worst is yet to come," says my artificial intelligence assistant.

My gaze drops to the Asian beauty trapped inside my watch, and a shiver runs down my spine. She's right. The world has grown numb to these 'unexpected climate changes.' No wonder the government was able to pass their sickening new law earlier this year without so much as a protest. "Next, bioengineered viruses will be wiping out entire cities."

"That is a grim possibility," says the AI—with conviction.

Needing more air, I yank my pollution mask off. Smog is the least of my worries, though I'm pretty sure enough snow has fallen to clear the atmosphere for the next few hours. Still, my lungs burn with every inhalation as a result of the plunging temperatures. I tighten my grip on the umbrella and forge my way home through the woods.

"To be fair, nobody has claimed responsibility for this weather manipulation," says the AI from my watch, her voice swinging through the air while I trudge through the snow. "And the United Nations didn't begin governing the globe to start a war—but to promote peace."

"True, but their methods of population control are becoming more extreme. First, they skyrocket the price of marriage licenses. Then they heavily fine parents for bearing children out of wedlock. Next, they enforce a one-child policy. And now..." The words are too awful to say aloud.

"...now the time has come for you to go inside, raise your body temperature, and select a husband," says my AI.

Right. I'm to marry a stranger today. I swallow past the lump in my throat.

The new law doesn't require me to marry a random human being. It's much worse. The law requires every unwed person over the age of twelve to be sterilized by the year 2200. It's one of the UN's most aggressive attempts to decrease the world's population. And the only way out is with a costly marriage license.

"Question," my assistant says. "The UN's mission is ambitious and controversial. But it's necessary for the survival of the human race. Would you not be considered a heroine if you sacrificed your fertility?"

My feet stop carrying me as I reach the covered terrace in my backyard. "Heroic actions are made by choice, not by force." I kick the snow off my heels and try to catch my breath. "I'm only nineteen, I don't want to bring a child into this overpopulated and grossly polluted world. But the decision should be mine—not the government's." Truly, corsets are timeless torture devices. While loosening the thing, I pant little white puffs of crystallized vapor into the night.

"You do not wish to have a child, yet you refuse to revoke your right to bear a child?" the AI questions.

A long sigh passes over my lips. Now I've really confused her. "What I'm trying to say is there may come a day when I want to have a child,"—though I seriously doubt it—"so I can't allow the government to take that choice away from me."

"And this is your only solution?" she asks. "Identifying an adequate mate and marrying him?"

"Yes...or her," I playfully amend. "I could always be artificially inseminated, you know." She tends to see the world in black and white, I'm forever showing her the loveliness of gray.

"The one-child policy still stands for lesbians. You would have to determine which of the two wombs is most optimal for artificial insemination. If you wish to bear a child in the future, marrying a female is not your best option."

With another sigh, my head falls into my hands. There's no sense in rationalizing 'love' when I've never experienced it myself. "Let's just drop it. None of my options are good."

Approaching my backdoor, I step into a pool of artificial light that's pouring out of the ballroom's arched windows. It blankets my cold feet and kisses my frozen cheeks but offers no warmth. I curl my fingers around the fridged bronze doorknob, hesitant to pull it open. What am I to choose? Until today, my situation felt like a dream. Reality is terrifying.

Turning my head slightly, I watch as our guests waltz across the marble floors, completely unaware that I've gone missing. It was my mother's idea to throw this singles ball. By now, my father has interrogated everyone on the guest list. He's probably selected a groom for me too.

I close my eyes to hide my tears, but they manage to escape the fortress of my lashes, tricking down my cheeks in rivulets. "I don't think I can do this." This is all easier said than done. "Sterilization sounds rather sensible all of a sudden, don't you think?"

"You now prefer to be sterilized?" my AI asks in disbelief.

Sniffling, I wipe the tears away from my face. "Of course not. But I can't marry a stranger!" Turning on my heel, I press my back against the large, wooden door. I've never felt so trapped in all my life.

"Adamina?" calls my AI, her soft voice perfectly mimicking human emotion. "There is another solution to all of this. One you have not considered."

"Oh, really?" I ask, skepticism dripping from my tone. I rub my arms to keep warm while pacing back and forth on the veranda. Deep down, I'm willing to entertain any absurd idea. "What's your brilliant plan?"

Snap!

A twig breaks from someplace behind me, and I whirl around—rather ungracefully—to face the grove. My gaze flits from tree to tree until I lock eyes with the source of the noise.

Fumiko chooses this moment to utter the most dangerous words that could possibly be spoken on planet Earth. "You can compete for a seat on Mars."

Her synthetic voice echoes off every tree, clear and crisp, drawing a soft gasp from my lips. I immediately cup my palm over my watch in a desperate attempt to muffle her sentence. But it's too late. Her words cannot be retrieved.

Vigilant eyes stare back at me from deep within the woods.

Please tell me you didn't hear that, I internally beg the stranger.

More sticks crack as the figure moves, causing every muscle in my body to tense. Slowly, a man emerges from the trees, his face half-hidden by a pollution mask. His gaze never leaves mine as he advances, and I watch as his eyes turn into slits.

Stars. He heard every word. My heart sinks like an anchor—rooting me to my spot.

He stalks forward, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a black tux like all the other males here. I want to step back from the sheer hostility in his eyes, but I can't move. She didn't mean it! I shout in my mind. It was a joke! But the words remain hitched in my throat.

Just before he closes in, a wintery breeze captures the outer layers of my blue, silk gown. It billows spectacularly around me, creating a sort of barrier. At the same time, my long, scarlet locks hover above my shoulders on the wings of an icy updraft.

This only brings the man to a brief pause before he makes a calculated decision to invade my personal space. As he steps forward, the wind nudges him closer still. My dress—the traitor—begins caressing every inch of his tux, clinging to him like a magnet and wrapping itself around his leg.

I hold my breath while he removes his black pollution mask—only inches away from my face. Ages seem to pass while I stare at his lips, waiting for him to speak. With dark, slicked-back hair, perfectly chiseled features, and eyes the color of the deepest ocean, the man is a walking work of art. My stomach does a little flip-flop from our close proximity.

He pierces me with an intense look...leans in...and then reaches behind me to open the backdoor and let himself inside.

I exhale the pent-up breath I'd been holding as he brushes by, hyper-aware of the faint scent of rosewood following after him.

What just happened? Some kind of thick haze seems to clear from my mind.

"Adamina!" hollers my mother. She pulls me into the house and shuts the door. "What's the meaning of this?" She gestures to my shivering body. "Are you trying to catch hypothermia?!"

"N-no, I j-just..." I trail off, pointing towards the threat who's walking towards my dad! Stars! I lunge in that direction, but my mother hooks my arm with her own and whirls me to a halt.

"And where do you think you're going?" She begins tugging and readjusting the strings of my corset until it's so tight I can hardly breathe. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Your father is ready to introduce you to our first pick."

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© Tricia Bird

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