My Name Is Schedule

Meeting My Fiancé

I could feel the blood drain from my face. I had gone too far, this time.

They had heard me.

The officials had heard me speak the truth about this vile town, and it was all over.

An overwhelming feeling of guilt and horror overtook me as I realized I and my entire family would be dead in a matter of seconds.

And it was my damn fault.

If I had just shut up, like I was supposed to! Listened to my mother when she said it was all for the best! That these lies, and this mundane life, was all justified in the name of order! She was right! We would hardly have lives to live, but at least we would be alive!

If I had just kept my mouth shut--

But 'ifs' could not help me now. The officials were in my home, fully armed, and ready to shoot.

To a sharp, horrified gasp of my mother, I got out of my chair. I took a step toward the officials, hoping they could not see how bad my hands were shaking. Perhaps I could at least get them to spare my family.

"Please," I stammered, "it was just--"

"Schedule 852, return to your place." 

I had no idea how their voices were so monotonous yet so powerful. 

I would have protested, had I not thought it through. But if they were going to kill me, they would have shot me on sight. They could have shot me on sight. But they hadn't. 

They wanted me alive. 

I returned to my seat, and was reminded by the persistent flashing on my watch that I was still, in fact, 18. 

Of course! They weren't here because what I had said about Schedule!

"Schedule 852..." the official nodded to the other, who went outside and pulled a boy into the room. "This is your husband, Schedule 733."

The boy looked disgusted, and refused to make eye contact with me, or anyone else in the room. His arms were crossed over his chest. He had the same vague familiarity everyone in this town did. I had surely seen him before. There were not many people to see in this town. 

My stomach twisted as I looked at him. Like everyone else, he was thin from the meager diet we were fed. He was tall, which only accentuated how thin he was. He was young. 18, my age, of course. I could not marry this boy. I could not marry this stranger, live with him for the rest of my life, raise children with him to have them only do the same thing!

"Refer to your watches for further prompting," was the only thing they said before they marched out of the house, leaving Schedule 733 standing there by the door.

He finally glanced up at us. He stared at me, and I stared back. There was no way I could do this.

"Well, aren't you two so grown up!" my mother's voice rang out, breaking the tense silence. She had a smile, too large to be sincere, plastered across her face. "We'll leave you to get acquainted!"

Sure enough, the prompts on our watches indicated we were to spend an hour conversing about approved topics--the Schedule Proverbs,  the motto...the order. "Time of Acquaintance," it was called. 

My mother beamed before leaving the room with the rest of my family to accomplish their schedules.

"Uh..." I gestured to the chair next to me. "Do you want to sit down?"

"No," he replied curtly. 

"Alright..." I was not about to ask him what his favorite Schedule Proverb was. "It's, um, 733, right?"