Chapter One - Mirrors

Somewhere, in one of the many identical houses peppering the meticulously tidied roads, a blonde woman's voice called out.

"Philip!"

Within that perfect house –white with a black roof- a dark-headed boy was hunched over his desk. He was absorbed in a leather-bound book and had not heard the name being called. It was, in fact, his name, although he preferred the shorter version, simply "Phil".

The woman, who was his kind-hearted mother, called him with louder urgency. "Philip! It's time to go!"

At last Phil extracted himself from the book and felt waves of panic wash over him. He now remembered that he had long since been expected to be dressed and ready. He glanced down; his mismatched socks and checked pyjama pants would never impress his mother. With the grace and poise of a growing teenage boy he clambered from his chair and stumbled to his cupboard, which then led into frantic hopping as he pulled on the skinny jeans he had grown so fond of.

"Coming, mum!" he called breathlessly, zipping a rather dirty hoodie over his colourful t-shirt and throwing a final check over himself in the mirror in the cupboard. His hair was an extraordinary mess, and his delightful hormones had decided to bless him with a throbbing pimple on his right cheek. "What a catch," he mumbled to himself before turning and forcing his feet into his sneakers. His feet had grown again, and he needed a new pair. He'd soon need a new pair of jeans too, as he had yet another growth spurt sprung upon him several weeks back.

He skidded down the stairs, only managing to trip twice. His mother was waiting exasperatedly at the front door. She sighed at his frazzled appearance. "Oh, Philip," she relented, before opening the door. The two stepped onto their front portal and were instantly at their destination. The Mn-Chstr Union Building, in all of its grey glory, loomed before them. Other parents with their teenagers were appearing at the portals alongside them. Phil immediately felt uncomfortable in their presence, and anxiously fixed his hair. His mother pulled him inside and together they navigated the grid of portals.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Phil asked nervously.

"Office 248Bi," his mother said matter-of-factly. They found the subsequent portals and soon were before a dark door marked with the letters 'Level 248- Marriage Placement. Section B- Males aged 15-20. Office i.' Phil gulped audibly. His mother, who had lifted her hand to courteously knock, paused and looked up at her son. "Are you nervous, dear?" she asked kindly. Phil nodded three times and wiped his hands on his jeans. His mother rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "You are going to be placed with your genetic counterpart," she said, not for the first time. "She is going to be absolutely perfect for you, and you two are going to be so happy." She sniffed happily and patted her son's arm. "There is nothing to worry about."

Phil nodded, nervousness not having abated in the slightest. The two entered the office and found a balding man in a burgundy suit working on a holographic tablet. He shot them a bright grin and indicated that they should sit at the two leather armchairs by his desk. "Salutations, Brigitte and Philip Lester," he said cordially. "Welcome to Marriage Placement! I am Marvin Jenkins, your Placer!"

Phil mumbled as way of greeting. The man, Jenkins, bubbled with laughter. "I see you are slightly nervous! Only natural. In a few moments you will know exactly who you are spending the rest of your life with! It's a lot to take in for a young man!" The man's bald pate shone in the fluorescent light, almost as brightly as his gleaming grin. He pulled out a bowl of individually wrapped chocolates. "Please, have something for your nerves," he offered to Phil, who gratefully took one, unwrapped it and shoved it into his dry mouth.

"I have a nice booklet of information for you to read over," the man winked at them, "But I know you're dying to know the lucky girl!"

Phil shrugged. His mother let Marvin transfer the booklet to her tablet.

Marvin drummed loudly on his tabletop. "Now for that sacred moment," he cried. He clearly loved his job. "Your future beloved is..."

Thousands of universes burst into existence and died again in that second.

"Angela Fisher!"

A relatively average name, was Phil's first thought. He didn't know why. His blood pumped through his body, coursing white hot just under his pale skin. Marvin was talking, but Phil heard only the rushing of finality in his ears. The dreaded day had come.

Meanwhile, Marvin had brought up a picture of Angela on his holographic screens. A numb Phil managed to register her appearance. She was clearly still a teenager, but quite pretty. She had long unruly brown hair, large blue eyes and a wide grin. Phil's heart seemed unsure of its reaction; it sped up, stopped, then sped faster. Marvin's booming voice pierced his fogged exterior, "Angela recorded a video message for you Philip! Take a look."

The video started playing. Angela was in her room. She was looking beyond the camera and asking, "Are you sure I should?" She had a nice voice, Phil supposed.

Angela scrunched her face up and faced the camera. "Hi there," she said awkwardly. "Future husband, I guess, um," she laughed. "I don't know what to say! My name's Angela, and I suppose I'm your future wife!" She took the camera and pointed it at her room. "Enough of my face," she said. "This is my bedroom, obviously, and those are my books –I love reading- and my stuffed animal collection. No judging!" The camera was taken from her and pointed at her face again. She blushed furiously. "I hope I'm not a let-down, or something, and I can't wait to meet you, future husband! Um. Yeah?"

The video ended. Phil sat quietly. Marvin was looking at him expectantly, a practiced grin fixed in place. Phil looked at him, and started. "She seems great," he said shortly.

Marvin whooped and then started discussing the finer details with Phil's mother. Angela's details were provided so that the two could meet and begin a friendship before their wedding. The wedding would take place after Angela's 18th birthday, which was about three years from now.

Phil sat in the room beside his chattering mother and the oddly loud man. He seemed apart from them, and had never felt more alone.

Phil was meeting Angela today. It had been arranged for weeks now, and it was finally upon him. He was stood in front of the mirror and scrutinising his appearance. He was wearing his nice shirt, with his new skinny jeans, best sneakers, and was currently attempting to arrange his hair into something resembling a hairstyle. "Time to go, love," his mother called from below. Phil gave up on his hair and trotted downstairs.

His mother entered the Fisher residence's co-ordinates into the portal's commands and the two stepped outside. In a blink they were in front of a nearly identical black and white house. Phil's mother reached forward and pressed the conventional doorbell. The door swung open and a pottering old couple opened the door. Phil's mother exchanged pleasantries with Angela's parents. They started cooing over Phil. "Look at how tall the boy is," the woman cried. "Such good genes!"

"Oh, splendid blue eyes," the man said gleefully. "Perfect with Angela's! We'll have blue-eyed grandbabies, Matilda!"

The woman chuckled and pulled Phil inside rather forcefully. "Good day, dearie," she smiled. "And you, dear," she said to Phil's mother. "Come to the lounge, Angela is making us some tea." The group went into the lounge. Small talk was made for a few minutes as clattering was heard from the kitchen.

Eventually Angela emerged from the kitchen, bearing a tea tray laden with all manners of cakes and tarts. A silver pot of tea was wedged between the cream puffs and the scones. She clacked the tray onto the coffee table and then bolted upright. Her eyes scanned over the four seated there to land on Phil. Her face split into a grin. "You're tall!" she cried, before blushing deeply. "Sorry," she apologised. "I am so nervous."

"Angela!" her mother scolded. "Leave me, mum," Angela hissed. She grinned at Phil bashfully. "Please sit and have some tea," she said politely. They all sat and watched as Angela shakily poured tea into a silver teacup for Phil. "Milk, sugar?" she asked. "Um, white with two sugars, thanks," Phil said awkwardly. The room was silent save for the sloshing of milk being added to the tea. She placed two jam biscuits onto the saucer and then passed it to Phil. He was about to brave a scalding sip when Angela shrieked, "I didn't stir!" who then clambered over Phil's mother with spoon.

Phil's cheeks burned as Angela hastily stirred his tea. He took a sip, cheeks tensing at the steaming heat. "Hmm, lovely," he said kindly at Angela, who sighed gratefully and slumped beside him. "Go on," she said to the others, who hastily helped themselves to tea. She reached forward and picked up a slice of cream cake. With little regard to the plates and forks on the table she took a big bite of the cake.

Her mother hissed, "Angela!" again, but Angela rolled her eyes. "I did the tea thing mum, I'm sure Phil won't mind if I have cake. Right, Phil?"

Phil, who laughed genuinely for the first time, agreed heartily. The two smiled softly at each other. Suddenly everything didn't seem too terrifying.

It was the wedding. Years had moved by. Phil had grown into his awkward limbs, filling out his very skinny body into just a skinny body. His hair, while still horrific, could now be masked with hair straighteners, hair dye and hairspray.

Phil and Angela had become close friends, although 'friends' wasn't the exact word. They were friends who knew they would marry, so every conversation had an underlying buzz. Every accidental touch was a shock, and every shared glance held loaded meaning.

Every passing day, with every message the two sent each other, every hug they shared and every joke they cracked brought Phil into the realisation that maybe, this wasn't going to be so bad.

He stood in front of the mirror, as he always seemed to do before meaningful moments. He was resplendent in a deep blue suit. His bowtie was black with a shimmering galaxy printed onto the material. His hair was perfect for the first time ever- it's glimmering deep ink colour offset his creamy pale skin well, and he felt a little trickle of something as he stared at himself. He felt attractive. He felt for the first time more a man than the scared little boy he hid inside.

The door creaked open and he saw his mother's apprehensive face in the reflection. "Honey," she breathed, coming inside. "You look so handsome!"

Phil embraced his mother lovingly. "Are you ready, dear?" she asked, looking up into her son's eyes. She was incredibly proud of him.

"I am," he said steadily.

"Time to go wait by the ceremony stand," she choked a little through her tears. Together they walked outside, past the rows of friends and family there to see the Joining. Phil kissed his mother on the cheek and she went back to her seat. He fixed his bowtie. Soon the orchestra struck up a familiar haunting tune and everyone stood and turned to face the door.

Angela, his Angela, appeared in the doors of the hall. Her long hair was pinned into a cascading waterfall of curls, and she had never looked as beautiful. Her dress was a sweeping miracle of shimmering black, and she clutched a worn book. She blushed deeply at the stares of the people, before hurrying down the aisle. She kept her eyes locked on Phil's, who saw that they were glinting oddly in the light. She was teary.

She stood next to him and he reached for her sweaty hand. "I have the book," she mumbled unnecessarily. "A thousand times better than a bouquet," he assured her. They smiled at each other before facing the hologram projecting their officiator. He began his speech and Phil zoned out a bit, concentrating only on Angela's fingers in his.

"It's time for the traditional vows," the officiator droned. Phil luckily caught that and turned to Angela. He swallowed once before saying the memorised words.

"Ang," he started. "I'm so glad you're exactly who you are. You're perfect for me. I just know that our life together is gonna be amazing."

Phil wasn't a man of many words, and he preferred not saying the important ones in front of a hall of people. Angela's bubbling laughter filled the room before she said, "Phil, you're... taller than our first time meeting."

The two shared an indulgent chuckle. "Even if I hadn't known you, I still would have chosen you. I- I love you."

They hadn't said it to each other before. Phil's mouth dropped. He looked at this woman –for she had grown into one- and saw her sparkling eyes, her wonderful personality, her hilarious jokes, everything that made her perfect. He realised that the tightness he felt around her was just that- "I love you too," he said, heart bursting into racing speeds. The officiator behind them said the obligatory "I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss your partner."

Phil looked at his wife. Not for the first time, he glanced at her lips. It was time. They hadn't allowed themselves this, as some illegally do. They had waited. And here it was. Phil leaned down. Ang leaned up. Their lips brushed. Phil had expected more- fireworks maybe, or even just a spark, but it never came. Instead Ang looped her arms around his neck and pressed her lips harder against his. It was awkward, as first kisses go, but it was sweet. They pulled away from each other and blushed. A whole new side of their relationship was blooming into endless possibilities as they stared into each other's eyes.

The room was applauding. The newly-weds were ushered through the crowds to the portal set for their new house. The others would go to the Reception Hall and party until late that night, but the couple weren't expected to join them. The reasoning behind it was that the young hormonal teenagers had a lot of catching up to do.

Phil was mortified by the entire process.

In seconds they were standing before their new house. Black and white. They were still clasping each other's hands. "Want to cross the threshold the traditional way?" Phil joked. Angela shrugged, suddenly looking terrified. Phil understood. They entered the house quietly. It was cold, and almost exactly the same as their childhood homes. The climbed the stairs and entered the bedroom. The lone double bed sat there, almost accusingly. "So-" Phil stuttered. "I guess we don't have to, right now? Um. What do you think?"

Angela sighed, a long thin sound. "Let's just-" and she reached for Phil's lips again. The kiss was as anticlimactic as before, simply the moving of lips against each other. Angela opened her mouth and poked her tongue onto Phil's lips. His mouth fell open in shock, and Angela slowly let her tongue snake into Phil's mouth. Phil never realised that kissing was this... weird.

Angela reached behind herself and unzipped the dress. It fell into a heap around her ankles. Phil pulled away from the kiss and gulped at her exposed body. He shrugged out of his jacket. He undid his bowtie. He began undoing his top button when Angela whispered, "Let me." She slowly let each button release and slid the white shirt off Phil's arms. She looked up at his pale chest. She put her hand on his stomach, where a smattering of dark hair led downward. "I-" she uttered.

Phil didn't know what to do with his hands.

Eventually he wrapped his arms around her soft body and pulled her closer to him. He leant down, far down, and kissed her again. There was no sound but their lips moving. Slowly, very slowly, something built in Phil's belly. He felt that tightening, that burning, grow and slowly reach from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. "Ang," he whispered hollowly. Ang looked up at him, her eyes blown wide and dark. "Phil?" she breathed. "Are you-"

"I'm ready."

It was short, and awkward, but loving, and the marked beginning of the rest of their lives together, as one.