The Algorithm.

Chapter 1: The Glitch

The Algorithm's chime shattered the early morning silence, filling Nova's small apartment with its familiar, mechanical voice. She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as her daily itinerary illuminated the wall—just another list of tasks and decisions preordained by the system that governed every aspect of her life. It was routine, predictable, and Nova had long since stopped questioning it. But today, something was different. Her heart skipped as the words Match Assignment: Epsilon Ward, 3:00 PM flashed on the screen. That couldn't be right. Nineteen was too young. The Algorithm never made mistakes—until now.
Her heart skipped as the words Match Assignment: Epsilon Ward, 3:00 PM flashed on the screen a second time. She blinked, then stared harder, hoping the text would change, fade, or reset itself. It didn't. Nineteen was too young for a Match Assignment. Match Assignments—life-partnership selections—were given at twenty-five, precisely when the Algorithm deemed a person fully optimised for a lifelong bond. The system never got things wrong.
Nova swallowed, the dry taste of unease forming at the back of her throat. This had to be a mistake. But as she tapped the screen, hoping for clarification, the message remained unblinking, a cold, unyielding directive from the Algorithm.
Match Assignment: Epsilon Ward, 3:00 PM.
Her fingers hovered uncertainly above the screen, the familiar holographic display now tinged with an undercurrent of dread. She glanced toward the small mirror on the opposite wall, her reflection staring back with wide, uncertain eyes. Everyone dreamed of the day their Match would be assigned—celebrated it, even. It was the ultimate seal of approval, a testament to your successful alignment with the Algorithm's plan for humanity's future. But for Nova, the words on the screen felt more like a sentence.
She pulled the thin sheet tighter around her body, seeking comfort in its warmth, even though she knew it wouldn't help. Something about this wasn't right.
"I'm only nineteen," she whispered to herself, as if hearing the words aloud would somehow dispel the confusion. Maybe it was a glitch. She had heard rumours about glitches in the system—assignments given in error, paths disrupted. Of course, those were the kinds of stories people told in dark corners, hushed voices heavy with paranoia. No one believed the Algorithm could make a mistake. Not openly, at least.
Nova tapped the panel again, searching for an option to send a query, but there was nothing. Just the instruction to arrive at Epsilon Ward by 3:00 PM. That was less than ten hours away.
Her chest tightened.
She had followed the Algorithm her entire life. It had chosen her schooling, mapped her career path, determined her daily meals, and structured her friendships. It had always known best. It was supposed to. But the words glowing on the screen seemed wrong, disconnected from the carefully calculated life she had known.
Nova's heart thudded in her chest as she pulled herself out of bed and padded to the window. Circuitropolis stretched out beneath her, a sprawling web of steel, glass, and flickering lights, its carefully designed grids reflecting the Algorithm's mastery. The streets were already alive with movement—drones whirring through the air, citizens dressed in their assigned colours moving with the same purposeful efficiency. Each person below had a path, a purpose, perfectly synchronised with the collective.
She should have felt a sense of calm watching the city pulse with such precision, but instead, a knot tightened in her stomach.
Her daily brief—her map for the day—was clear about her tasks up until 3:00 PM: routine errands, work at the records office, and a stop for lunch in Central Square. After that, her Match Assignment loomed like a question mark, casting a long shadow over everything else.
She dressed quickly, pulling on the muted grey uniform the Algorithm had assigned her based on her occupational tier. The familiar fabric felt stiff today, constricting. As she slipped her boots on, the metallic tone of the city echoed faintly from the streets below, a constant hum of efficiency. Yet, at that moment, all of it felt like a thin veil covering something she could no longer ignore.
Nova grabbed her wristband—a sleek device that synced with the Algorithm in real-time—and checked her notifications. No updates. No clarification. Just the Match Assignment that stared back, mocking her growing unease.
Her friend, Rein, would know what to say. Rein always trusted the Algorithm, and believed in its perfection with a kind of religious fervour. If Nova was being irrational, Rein would remind her that the system couldn't fail. But if Rein felt this was wrong, then maybe Nova's fears weren't unfounded.
With a final glance at the screen, Nova pushed out of her apartment and into the bustling hallway. People streamed past, their expressions blank, their eyes glazed over with the quiet satisfaction of a life governed by certainty. Everyone had a place, a purpose, their fates woven seamlessly into the fabric of the city.
But Nova couldn't shake the feeling that her thread had come undone.
As she stepped into the lift, her wristband buzzed softly. She glanced down.
Reminder: Match Assignment, Epsilon Ward, 3:00 PM.
The message glowed brightly, accompanied by a notification ping that made her stomach lurch.
The door slid shut, sealing her inside. She leaned back against the cool metal, her mind racing. She had trusted the Algorithm her whole life. It had never given her a reason not to. But now, for the first time, doubt crept in, curling itself around her like a cold breeze in the sterile, controlled air of Circuitropolis.
Could the Algorithm make a mistake?
Or was something else at play?
By the time the lift reached the ground floor, Nova had made a decision. She wasn't going to Epsilon Ward without answers. Something was wrong with her path, and if the Algorithm wasn't going to tell her what, then she'd have to find out on her own.