Meeting My Match

The blades of grass were soft between my fingers as I stared up at the sky. I’ve been told by my grandparents that their grandparents told them that the sky used to be so clear and bright blue. But after World War 3 the haze that descended with the radiation has left the sky looking like we are in a perpetual dust storm. Although, I’ve never known anything different and neither has anyone else who lives in our dome these days. Our dome is the second Montana dome, but not the mountainous part of the state. Instead, we live in the flat part where everyone could probably see from one side of the dome to the other. All 100 miles across if you were standing on one side and looking for the other. I’ve never left our dome and the only reason I know about the mountains to our west is because of a map I’ve seen in school. They teach us what the United States looked like before all of this happened and the domes were built. Each state in the United States has one dome, with a few of the larger states having two. These states include Texas, California, Arizona, and Montana. Each dome has a diameter of 100 miles and was able to save as much of humanity as they could. Although many perished along the way to get to where we are today. The dome with the mountains in our state helped contain a lot of animal diversity while the people that lived there are very secluded and have about half the population of our dome. Although, I know that our dome also has a smaller population than the other domes due to all the growing we do here. We have plentiful fields that help supply the rest of the country with food and fuel. The problem with supplying food is that it means people will have to leave the dome. Leaving the dome is forbidden except for when working in the plants about a mile away from where our dome sits or traveling by plan to dispense food where it is needed. The only problem with these positions is the radiation exposure. Scientists studied long and hard after the first nuclear missile hit, but found that radiation suits only helped deter the side effects for a couple of hours. It’s been so long that no one uses the suits anymore. People who work in the factories work every other day to ensure that they don’t get radiation poisoning and can still supply us with goods and services. The pilots fly as far as they can in 24 hours and then rest at the next dome for another 24 hours before they can fly again to either their destinations or back home. Pilots have better protection than factory workers due to improvements made to the plane. The 24 hours are just precautionary while the 24 hours for the factory workers are mandatory. I once knew a man who worked two days in a row and became so sick that he had to be hospitalized for a week. His hair grew thin and he kept vomiting uncontrollably. His stunt was enough to deter anyone else who even thought about trying to stay out longer outside of the dome. For being so far out in the country we have very good doctors and my father is one of them. Jacob Park has sandy blonde hair and blue eyes and doesn’t take no for an answer. Whether he be taking care of a patient or asking my little brother to clean his room. The man was a force to be reckoned with. My brothers and I all sported his blue eyes, while the boys also inherited his sandy blonde hair. I on the other hand inherited my mother’s dark locks. While my mother’s hair was black as coal and straight as a board, mine fell in chocolate waves down the middle of my back. To tame the unruly mess it tended to get into, I would throw it up in a ponytail that would brush the back of my neck as I continued with my day. My mother is a botanist, which means she is also a farmer. All of our farmers are botanists so that they can ensure the best outcome for our crops. Too many people rely on us to have a bad crop season. The soil outside was dry and held no nutrients, making the few domes that farmed essential to the survival of man. “I could never be a botanist.” I thought to myself as I picked a blade of grass between two fingers and the stem of a flower between the other. As I stared at the two I saw almost the same thing. The grass and the stem were the same dark color while the petals seemed a lighter shade of the same color. I guess that’s another reason why the sky must seem so different now. Since the radiation descended we have had one lasting side effect, we can’t see in color anymore. Well, I guess I should clarify. Most of us can’t see in color anymore. The way my teacher explains it is that our bodies evolved to keep our species alive. The only way you can see color is when you find your genetic match. Your genetic match is the one person whose genetics match in with yours for optimal breeding. Meaning that our race will continue to get stronger and stronger. Most people don’t ever find their genetic match and don’t really care about seeing color. I would probably be that way too, except for the fact that my parents are genetic matches. Meaning the small things like the colors of the flowers or the sky when the haze isn’t so thick is absolutely mesmerizing to them and they could stare forever at the smallest things. I crave to have that wonder and their passion. My parents are so hopelessly in love with each other that I thought it was embarrassing and gross for most of my life. But after I turned 14 I started to see them differently, and I started to figure out that their love was rare in our world now. That, and the fact that I wanted to find my match and have a love like that. I’m 15 now and in one month I’ll turn 16. Which means that I can start looking for my match. We still have to wait to get married until we are 18 due to society’s rules, but genetically out bodies are ready to find each other. How I dream of seeing the green in the grass and my brothers’ sandy blonde hair. I have already decided that I will wait until I find my match if I ever do. Waiting for something so special is a lot better than settling and knowing that something better is out there and I just haven’t found it yet. “Ashlyn?” I hear my brother calling my name and know that it is time for me to stop messing around and begin on my homework and chores. Rolling my eyes into the back of my head, I let my eyelids close and enjoy the warmth on my face for another minute. “Ashlyn!” Jacob yelled my name and I could hear him getting closer to my spot behind the big oak tree in our yard. My name is Ashlyn Park and although I have two years to figure out what to do with my life, I have yet had even the slightest clue as to what that could be. I’m just a normal girl with big dreams, dreams that center mostly around my match right now. I hope that he is dreamy, with a well-toned body. One of the guys in our athletic training class showed off a very well-toned stomach while stretching and I’m sure that the air was sucked out of the room at that very moment. It took a punch on the arm from my best friend Joshua, although I’m the only one who still gets to call him Josh. He thinks Joshua sounds more grown-up and wants everyone to start calling him that now. But, I think it’s stupid and will continue to call him Josh since that is the way it has been since we were six. I’ve been noticing boys a lot more these days. When I’m trying to focus or study at school an image of a nice boy comes into my mind. I always wonder if it could be my match, and then I start to keep a close eye out on those around me as I remember that one of them could be my match. I end up getting so distracted that nothing ever gets done and I end up getting behind on my studies. Finally, after two weeks of non-stop thoughts around boys, and having to stay after class to talk to one of my teachers, I got up the courage to ask mom about it. At first, she just laughed until I gave her my most serious expression and she sobered up. After composing herself she placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and smiled down at me. “Honey,” she started saying, “it is perfectly normal for a girl your age to start thinking about boys. It has to do with your hormones. You know, the ones that determine who will be your match?” She asked and paused while she waited for me to respond. Of course, I knew that everyone was taught the way matches worked biologically in the fifth grade. “Of course mom, everyone knows that,” I said, doing my best not to roll my eyes and be disrespectful. We were all taught that hormones are what determines who our matches are when we were in the third grade. But that didn’t affect me then and I didn’t know why it would affect me now. “Well these hormones will cause you to be interested in boys. The way I always thought of it was that it meant it was time for me to keep an eye out for my match and that I was starting to turn into a woman.” Mom said, shrugging her shoulders and sipping from the tea from the mug in her hand. The conversation was in my head now as I went upstairs to do the laundry, my chore for the week. With so many people in one house it made for the most daunting chore. But it was safer than when I was on meal duty. I shivered just thinking of the last catastrophe I had caused in the kitchen. So it was almost time for me to start looking for my match. As I changed clothes over from the washer to the dryer and started to fold the clean hamper, I imagined a million different guys in my mind trying to find a face that would satisfy my wonder. But no matter how I changed the face I would shake my hand because it wasn’t just right. If it was this bad now, I can’t even imagine what it will feel like after my birthday next month.