March 8, 2012

Blaine Anderson sat still on his living room couch; hands folded neatly in his lap with his back straight. Every part of his posture screamed that he was a proper child of money and reputation. His edgy, hazel eyes shifted from his mother sitting beside him, to his father on his designated chair, and then to the Matchmaker before making the next round. The adults were casually discussing the procedure. The Matchmaker explained the purpose of the stamp; the technology behind it; and how the implantation wouldn't feel any different than getting a simple stud pierced though the ear lobe.

The Matchmaker, who he quickly learned was named Becky, or Matcher Becky, expressed the pain would subside almost instantly after being implanted. Blaine had never gotten his ears pierced; there weren't too many men in his family that donned that type of accessory on their person. Those who did were normally the rebellious kin who would eventually soon find themselves dismissed from the family name; Uncle Vincent was the only exception. He married into the family already with money in tow; fresh off the boat from the boot heel. The Anderson family never questioned his motives; their trust could be bought with the finances he questionably seemed to bring in.

Family history aside, he didn't really understand how it felt to have his ears, or any part of him for that matter, pierced. There were only two people in the room who did, and it definitely wasn't his stoic father who was watching the chattering women, elbows on his knees, chin leaning into his laced fingers. He wasn't too keen on the procedure, no matter how much his wife tried to sell him the idea. She articulated how important it was for kids nowadays to get the implant early; how statistics has shown that getting it done as soon as possible decreased risky behavior early into the teenage years, mostly due to the guilt.

Mrs. Anderson turned to her son with a wide, perfectly bleached grin.

"This will be good for you, dear. This way you won't have to worry about frivolity and getting into any trouble. You can focus on getting into college and your work; and when the count reaches zero we can figure out brand new plan for your future and building a new family."

Matcher Becky cleared her throat and she tapped her fingers on her chrome plated briefcase.
"Ma'am, I hope you do understand that there is no assurance when he will meet his match. It is quite possible that as soon as he gets fitted with the TiMER, it will reach zero and he will meet his match within the next 24 hours."

"Oh, well, I surely doubt that," Mrs. Anderson smiled with a high pitched laughed. She reached a multiple ring and bangle clad hand over to place on top of her son's.
"Blaine's just too busy with school work now anyways to worry about running into all of those girls. He's been accepted into Dalton Academy, don't you know. Such wonderful credentials there. Congressmen, Senators, lawyers; I can't even count the numbers that's have graduated from that wonderful school.

The Matchmaker forced a smile and a barely visible nod at Mrs. Anderson, but Blaine could practically see that thought bubble forming above her head: Prissy, fastidious, and undeniably uptown. And he wouldn't have denied it either had she said it.
Of course, it couldn't be helped. His mother was always like this as long as he could remember. It was all about the best for her son and her family; all about the public eye, appearance, and reputation.

Always reputation. And today was no exception.

As soon as she overheard the neighbors or her club friends discussing their child's futures that always included the TiMER procedure as soon as they turned the legal age of 14, she scheduled Blaine an appointment right away. Lucky for Blaine, today was that special day; and with it came a brand new, permanent implant into his skin.

"Well, let's get started, shall we? I've already explained all of the details to you, had Blaine sign, and you've signed the forms indicating parental consent. Now, Mrs. Anderson, if you could move off of the couch so we can have Blaine lay down and be a bit more comfortable."

Mrs. Anderson all but flew away from the couch in excitement; her stood behind her husband and squeezed his shoulder. "Isn't this exciting dear? We might as well plan the wedding today," she chortled, fingers covering her lips.

Mr. Anderson released a noise from his throat; to anyone else it would have seemed like a growl if displeasure, but his wife just took it as an indication that he was listening. As she always did.

As Blaine turned himself sideways to lay back along the couch, his mother cleared her throat loudly.
"Shoes, dear. You know better."

"Oh, right. I'm sorry, mom," Blaine nodded, quickly untying his polished-leather shoes and placing them neatly in front of the couch. After receiving a nod of approval from his mother, he turned again and rested his back down along the couch.

The Matchmaker kneeled down beside him on the floor and opened her chrome case, removing a large contraption that unnervingly resembling a large caliber gun. How quaint. She then set up a small stand with a dipped in top; just high enough for Blaine to rest his arm in comfortably, which he was then instructed to do. It seemed all so medical: how the Matchmaker inspected his pulse on his right wrist; how she cleaned and sterilized the area and inspected any abnormalities. When she seemed satisfied, she picked up her terrifying white gun-like tool and patted his hand.

"I'll count back from 3 for you hun, okay?"

Blaine gave a curt nod, shifting his feet a little in anticipation. Honestly, he just wanted it to be over with as soon as possible; no countdown necessary. But, being a gentleman he decided to humor his mother and Matcher Becky.

"Here we go. And 3…2…1…"

Blaine gasped and squeezed his eyes closed hard as jolt of pain radiated throughout his body. It was the most bizarre feeling he had ever experienced. There was no way a piercing would ever feel like this; it just felt like something was coursing through his body, reading each particle that made him…him. Just then, almost as soon as it happened, the pain was gone. Completely gone.

"And that's all there is too it." the lady smiled, as she cleaned the tip of her implanter with an alcohol pad.

Mrs. Anderson leapt over to her son and grabbed his wrist. Her forehead wrinkled in a most unattractive way as a look of confusion glossed her eyes. "Why are the numbers moving so fast?"

"It's just calculating; calibrating to the body of new host. Just give it a moment," she stated as she placed her gun in its proper compartment before shortening the arm stand.

Blaine glanced down to the wrist his mother held and watched his new accessory in awe. The beeping, flickering, and scanning numbers seemed to go on forever. It was fascinating really, more so than he thought it would be.

Eventually the screen went completely blank, and he felt his mothers breathing practically halt in anticipation. Then, once more, the screen lit up again with a much unexpected result:

—.—.—.—.—.—

Mrs. Anderson shook her head and released a disapproving noise from her nose. "There's something wrong. I think it's defective."

Matcher Becky snapped her case shut and peered over to Blaine's wrist.
"Oh, no. That's normal; it just means that his match hasn't gotten an implant yet."

The confused look on Mrs. Andersons face never left. "I-I don't understand. So does that mean they might be a bit younger, or…"

"No, not exactly; not all parents go out to get TiMER's for their kids the first day they're legal to get one. Although, it's recommended now to decrease the risky behavior (Blaine caught his mother's smile to his father still sitting on his chair), it's possible there are people who just prefer not to have one at all."

"So, you mean…"

The Matchmaker stood to make her way toward the door, her briefcase in hand. "Unless his soul mate decides to get a TiMER implantation, it's possible he may have to either play the waiting game or just…live."

Mrs. Anderson's stunned look indicated she had not considered this scenario at all. She looked up to Blaine and then over to her husband, who was just simply staring at his wife.

"Thank you for your purchase, I hope you find your happy ending," the Matcher stated to Blaine in a sing-song, nearly scripted voice. She reached out a hand to Mrs. Anderson who stood up quickly before shaking it. "Good day to you, ma'am."

Mr. Anderson stood from his chair and held a hand out to Matcher Becky as she turned toward him. "And to you, too, sir," she smiled, receiving a brief nod in return. "Please let us know if there are any complications, your satisfaction is import to us."
With a final smile to her customers, the Matchmaker left through the door held open by Mrs. Anderson.

Blaine peered down at his wrist, waiting for his mother to come back into the room to break the uneasy silence. "Well," he finally said with a smile, "I guess this means I have more time to focus on school, right mom?"

This idea brought on a more relaxed look on his mothers face as she clapped her hands together. "Yes, yes. Absolutely. Whoever she is won't be an issue right now, we'll just work on prepping you for your future as a lawyer, just like your father."

So much for just living.