Mons woke up feeling tired, and not to mention an hour before he was set to. He scampered out of bed and into the bathroom where he unplugged his sleep mask from his eyes and ran them under cold water from the tap. It had overheated again. He knew he would have to get them fixed soon or it could be dangerous. So he laid them on a towel next to the sink and got back under his covers and told his alarm to ring ten minutes later. It had been a while since he had slept without the mask, so he was worried he wouldn't remember how, but he was back asleep in no time at all.
At 7:55am, the alarm rang and Mons rose again, this time to a warm sunny day without panic in his mind. He thought of an outfit for the day and his shirt and pants changed to fit it. He felt as though the color was off a tad, but he couldn't argue. He ate breakfast and caught a bit of the news and before long he was out the door and to his work.
Mons preferred to walk to work rather than take the chute. He felt it woke him up in the morning and it was a mere 8.66 minutes by foot. He thought it could be a little brighter outside, so he adjusted the filters on his retinas and took away a few clouds as well.
As he was adjusting while still walking, which one should never do - but he was already a few minutes late due to the incident during the night, he didn't notice the woman walking right in front of him. They didn't collide directly, but their shoulders brushed and she dropped her entertainment tablet. It fluttered to the ground as Mons snapped out of a trance and picked it up before it touched the ground.
"So sorry," he said politely. "It was so mindless of me to not watch where I was going." He handed the tablet back to her and she smiled.
"It's quite alright," she said in a smooth voice. "I'm sure it was my fault for fooling around on my tablet in the middle of the street."
"What is that article you're reading?" He looked over her shoulder at the screen, taking notice of her bright orange hair and uniform white skin.
"Oh this? It's about this scientist who's studying intense emotions."
Mons' face lit up. "I absolutely adore emotionalism! Who is the scientist?"
They ended up talking for a healthy 11.3 minutes until Mons remembered that he was late for work.
"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I'm so sorry, but I'm late."
"Oh I'm sorry for holding you up," the woman said. "But before you go, could I have your name and your identification? Perhaps we could keep in touch." She smiled sweetly.
"Oh of course. Mons. 0110062."
"Kiko. 0177394. I'll see you around."
Mons waved goodbye and hurried to work. He sat at his desk and typed on his computer automatically. At lunch he ate a sandwich and lazily blinked through his messages. Lots of updates on work and peppered with stories about the war.
He almost scrolled past an important message, but caught himself. 0177394? That was Kiko.
"An invitation to dinner?" he said to himself. He was eager to see his new friend again and quickly responded with a message of gracious acceptance.
Throughout the rest of the day at work he could barely wait for dinner. They were going to a very nice restaurant. For a first meeting he himself would have gone with something less extravagant, but enjoyed the thought that Kiko warranted the occasion as one fit for such an elegant location.
The restaurant turned out to be fancier than Mons anticipated. He felt as though he were underdressed. Kiko arrived shortly after him in a fancy dress and took him by the arm to their table. For the whole night they talked, about everything from emotionalism to the war to music to art. Sophisticated conversation no doubt, but they connected so well that their childish laughter filled their meal and the drinks afterward. The restaurant was almost closing when they left, getting in a hovering taxicab that whisked them back to Kiko's home.
"That was wonderful!" Mons applauded with a laugh. "I hope we get the chance to do it again very soon."
"As do I." Kiko smiled very brightly and gave him a warm hug before going into her apartment.
He didn't know why, but Mons stood at the doorstep for a few more minutes with a light smile on his face before walking back to the taxicab and going to his own apartment. When he was there he collapsed on the sofa with a sigh. He had thought about the night with Kiko the whole ride home. And he was still thinking about it now. About how much they had in common and how thoroughly they had enjoyed each other. And he kept thinking about her.
Suddenly he realized that his face was hot. And he felt giddy in his stomach. And strange in general. He wondered what might the matter, so he went to the wall and selected the doctor panel. A portion of the wall flipped over to reveal a small screen. Mons spoke his symptoms into the screen and it split in two, opening a chamber that Mons laid down inside of patiently while it scanned his body. The machine gave a ring and out he crawled. The chamber contracted and the screen assembled once again with large red words on it.
DIAGNOSIS: LOVE
Mons stared at the screen with horror and disbelief. He muttered to himself and pressed a button. He scrambled back into the chamber for a rediagnosis. But when he got out the screen remained. In large looming letters it pierced him. He was in love.
He staggered backwards and luckily landed on his sofa. He was sweating. Hot. He was terrified. He knew that through scans and tests an equal and opposite partner was selected when one was ready to share their life with someone. The tests were never wrong. Anyone who deviated and was attracted to someone else was insane. Love was a rare and deadly disease. Mons went back up to the screen and with a trembling finger he pressed the information.
There it read:
Love is a very rare disease where one is attracted to someone who is not their selected life partner. Symptoms include fever, sweating, dizziness, and obsessing over the person they are attracted to. It is difficult to treat, but in some cases patients have received medical help before they lose their mental and physical health.
Frequency in males: 0.58%
Frequency in females: 0.97%
Mortality rate: 92%
Would you like to send this diagnosis to your doctor, Mons?
He quickly closed the panel. 92 percent. It rang it his head. He didn't want to die. He was doing well at his job. He was almost ready to meet his life partner. He was talented. But now it could be all over.
He put his face in his hands and hunched over, almost crying. He had never felt this bad before. But still... through all of it he couldn't shake his feelings for Kiko. How she talked so eloquently. And knew about the things he liked. And how she looked at the restaurant. With her beautiful hair tied up in two short orange curls and her soft face and her white dress that made her look like an angel.
He wanted to see her again. He knew what it would mean but he wanted to see her again. Just once. To explain it all. And then he would get treatment. But maybe he was already insane.
As he picked out a good coat to leave the house for, there was a tone in his ear that told him someone was at the door. 0177394. He slowly opened it and there stood Kiko, still looking beautiful, but concerned.
"Uh... hi again," she said nervously. She looked up at Mons. "You look red. And anxious. Did you get the... uh..."
"I did."
She closed the door behind her and took off her scarf. "Are you going to get treatment?" She stood in the middle of the living room.
He hesitated. "I think I am."
She looked down. "Well... I've made my decision."
"What is it?"
"I'm not getting treatment," she said firmly.
Mons was startled. "But why not?"
"One of my friends died of love a few years ago. I watched her spiral into madness. But after all of it, just a day or two before they took her to the hospital, she told me about it. She had 'fallen in love,' as they say, with a girl she had met in the park one day. For a week or two after her diagnosis she sneaked around with this girl and did things she said she couldn't tell me. But that day she sat down with me and told me that... it was the most amazing feeling in the world. Love, that is. She said he wouldn't trade it for anything. She couldn't really explain it all that well, but she said that it was worth dying for. And I believed her."
Mons was speechless. What could anyone say to that?
Kiko looked away from the ground and into his eyes and suddenly kissed him. Mons was startled and scared. He knew that if he acted on this, it was a sentence. A condemnation. There was no going back. But he believed, too.
As they gave into their disease, their doors silently locked and ambulances rushed to the apartment. Doctors and other professionals with masks on and tools out broke into the living room and held Mons and Kiko down as two men administered shots to their necks. Then they were carted away. The apartment was quarantined. Sad messages were sent to their close friends and family.
Kiko died on the 4th of April, 2201 at 23:42. She will be missed.
Mons died on the 4th of April, 2201 at 23:41. He will be missed.
