Maka Albarn was ten years old when the commercials started popping up. A lifetime of happiness, they touted. One small device implanted on your wrist and the love of your life was certain to find you. The technology was complicated; experts on the news spoke of hormones, body temperature, and space between heartbeats. But after the first year of the product's release, the statistics were clear: Timers resulted in longer-lasting relationships than previous methods, including Internet dating and arranged marriages.

When a politician named Lloyd Mort and a sex worker who went by the name Arachne met "zeroed out" (meaning, within twenty-four of when their Timers ran out, they made eye contact and their soul mate jingles rang) countrywide media went wild. Their courtship and subsequent marriage was covered by all major news sources, much to young Maka's confusion. What was so interesting about two people falling in love? The people on TV made it seem like it was the end of the world, or the beginning of a new one.

In spite of the media circus, Maka's mother told her that Timers were a trend, and the statistics were clearly fabricated. Love was not something a factory could churn out and sell on an installment plan.

But as each of Maka's friends came of age, they had Timers implanted. It was a guarantee, they echoed. What more could Maka want? The hesitation, the longing, the doubt would be gone with the flip of a switch. Even Liz Thompson, jaded skeptic extraordinaire, had run right out the day she turned 14 to get hers implanted, because her mother had run out on her and her younger sister Patti only a few weeks before.

"I want to know I'll have someone to love me," she whispered to Maka. They were curled up under a blanket fort in Maka's room, still adorned with the trappings an 11 year old found cool. Liz and Patti were visiting after having settled in with her new foster family, including a boy Maka's age, whose hair was turning white at a tender age. Liz stroked her sister's hair with her left hand, her right wrist still red and oozing from the quickie implantation, as Patti drooled on her lap. "Besides Pat."

Maka propped her chin in her hands and studied her friend's weary face in the dim light. Liz's right hand would twitch slightly every few seconds, as if the ticking time ran through her blood. She thought of her mother and father, of their tempestuous love, if she could even call it that.

"A guarantee would be nice," was all she could think to say to Liz.

"Yup," Liz said giddily. "Only two more days to go."

Maka raised her eyebrows in surprise. "That soon?"

Liz shrugs. "I'm in high school. That's old enough."

Maka wasn't so sure she agreed. She wanted to understand, but learned to shrug it off. The technology was still new, and younger people rarely got them. Besides that, romance and true love only came out of stories her father read to her at bedtime. Love was never perfect, no matter what television said. Maka looked at her mother and father who, despite the infidelity and distrust that shadowed their relationship, stayed together. Thirteen-year-old Maka admired her mother's strength in a difficult situation. She held her ground, no matter what excuses her father made.

Then her mother, in a fit of pique after a particularly rough fight with her father, got a Timer. If she and Maka's father were meant to be, the device would be blank.

Maka's mother came home, her face ashen, the edges of the bandages around her wrist stained red.

It lit up immediately, her mother said, and started counting down the days until she met her soulmate. She left the next day, her half of the closet clear and her drawers empty. Sometimes, when it was Maka's turn to do the laundry in the house, she would fill the bare spots where her mother's things used to be with her father's shirts and pants. He would move them out as soon as he noticed.

Spirit Albarn's wrist stayed bare.

Maka loved her father, but he was pretty much a sentimental idiot.

But Maka saw her her mother and father's divorce as a sign. If her strong, self-assured mother got the Timer, so would she.

She needed a guarantee. She needed safety.

By the time Maka entered high school, Timer implantation ceremonies were conducted daily by religious, government, and medical agencies. Maka and her best friend Tsubaki got their Timers implanted together. They went on Maka's fourteenth birthday; Tsubaki had waited two years so they could go together

They were both blank.

On their way home from the official Timer offices, they stared at their sore wrists.

"Our soul mates probably haven't gotten theirs yet," Tsubaki reassured, tall, sweet, confident. "They might be a little younger," she giggled.

Maka laughed with her friend, her chuckles strained and hollow.

Her high school's halls were constantly echoing with the twinkling sounds of zeroed out Timers and soul mate's making eye contact with each other, or showing off the ages they would be when they would meet their soul mate.

"I'll be thirty-two," Maka overheard someone say. "That's perfect because then I'll be finished with my doctorate, and two years in the Peace Corps. I wonder if my soul mate is in Columbia right now!"

Jealous flames would lick at Maka's heart. Her classmates would hide their words behind their hands but she could see the sympathy leak from their eyes. A blank Timer, they'd whisper. They'll never know who their soul mate is. They'll be alone forever.

Maka hid her Timer under long sleeved, collared shirts. Not having a Timer was better than the shame of a blank Timer. At least she could explain not having a Timer with one excuse or another. Tsubaki, on the other hand, held her head high, and encouraged Maka to do the same.

"Our soul mates probably aren't ready yet. They'll come to us when they are. And we'll know."

"What if they never get Timers," Maka argued. "Then we'll never know."

Tsubaki stiffened, and shut her locker with a loud clang. "Everyone gets Timers eventually. And if we're really soul mates, they'll be like us. We got Timers. So will they. Be patient."

It was harder for Maka. Tsubaki's parents got Timers, and immediately zeroed out once they made eye contact. Tsubaki had proof that the Timers worked.

But as time wore on, Maka and Tsubaki began to get nervous. One by one, her friends' and family member's Timers light up, and as Maka grew older, the ghost of her mother's words haunted each corner of her mind.

Love is not something you can make in a factory.

Ten years later and Timers were thinner, sleeker, and had a 99% success rate.

Maka, after ten years with a blank Timer, feared she was the 1%.

Maka carefully, quietly packed as much food as she could possibly stuff into her lunch bag. The girlish giggles coming from upstairs spurred her to go faster, and she leapt out the door with a bagel between her teeth as soon as she heard stumbling footsteps coming down the stairs to the kitchen.

Maka happily ignored her father's illicit affairs with Timered women, unless he brought them home in a drunken haze.

She ran all the way to work, her backpack bouncing against her back in time with her heartbeat. The desert sun wouldn't be up for another few hours, but sweat broke out along her hairline. The adrenaline pumping through her system pushed her all the way to Death City University, her second home. She raced up the steps, careful not to jostle the sensitive Timer on her wrist. It had been itching lately, and she'd half been tempted to see a doctor. She ignored it in favor of keeping her breathing steady, her focus entirely on her feet pounding the concrete steps up to the college.

At twenty-four years old, she was already a part-time professor in psychology. She credited her own hard work in high school and undergrad to her blank Timer; she worried about the more important things, and kept focus in the future.

Besides, the Professor with the Blank Timer was better than the Girl with Pigtails and a Blank Timer.

She showered in the gym and settled at her desk to check her email before class started.

Maka didn't bother glancing up as the stragglers from the previous class stared at her and began to whisper behind their hands.

Maybe being the Professor with the Blank Timer wasn't all that great. She gritted her teeth and flipped open her laptop. She tried not to look at the students as it booted up, all of the hideous, sympathetic looks plastered on their faces, their Timers glittering on their wrists.

But it was fine, because she and Tsubaki were going to have their Timers removed.

They had talked about it extensively the last couple of months, and the decision made sense to them both. What kind of soulmates didn't have their Timers yet? Either they were under the legal age, or they were older than the average. Maka and Tsubaki did not take either to be a viable option, soulmates or not. Besides, before Timers, people left love up to luck. Maka and Tsubaki would be fine.

She took a happy slurp from her gigantic coffee and clicked open her browser.

An email from her father (delete), another from Liz (found another one for you: No Timer!), and one from Tsubaki with no subject. Maka frowned as she opened it.

Meet me at Death Bucks after your class, said the message. Maka looked at her phone, confirming that she did not miss any phone calls or text messages.

Maka typed in a quick confirmation reply, and shrugged to herself. Maybe Tsu needed a caffeine break before they took the big leap into Timer-lessness and her phone battery died, or something.

"Professor Albarn," said a male student as he approached her desk. He leaned forward on one hand, forcing Maka to reel backward, to save her personal space.

Maka dragged her gaze up from the many ringed fingers polluting her desk with prints, to say "Can I help you, Mr. Gere?"

He grinned, his innumerable facial piercing glinting in the fluorescent lights. "Call me Rico."

"I'd rather maintain my professionalism, Mr. Gere. As your professor," she enunciated. "I suggest you do the same."

Gere gave her an exaggerated salute. Maka quickly spread her worksheets around, occupying all the wooden surface of the desk. "Yes, ma'am." He leaned back down and planted his big hand on her paperwork, ignoring her indignant scowl.

"Has anyone told you that you need to lighten up, Prof?"

"Yes," Maka hissed. She heard it at least once a day from Liz, through several forms of media. "But that's none of your business. Class is going to start soon. Please have a seat."

She gathered up her handouts and tried to walk away, but he blocked her, wedging her between the side of her desk and the wall.

"Gimme a chance, Prof. I'll loosen you up real good."

"Ew," Maka replied, her nose wrinkled. She glanced at his wrist. Under the many bangles and braided threads, a thin, silvery screen peeked out, grayish numbers counting down slowly. "You have a Timer."

"So do you," he leered. He laughed at her blank face. "Ah, you're one of those girls who thinks I'm cheating on someone I haven't even met."

That, and she wanted him as far away from her as possible. She didn't answer, just glared. Instead of quivering under her tight-lipped stare, he tipped his head down closer to hers.

"There's nothing to lose. She ain't going anywhere." He waved his Timered arm in the air. His hand landed on her shoulder, his rings digging into her bones with the weight of his grip.

If a guy like Rico Gere had a soul mate, there had to be something seriously twisted with the system.

"Remove your hand from my shoulder before I remove it from the rest of your body."

"Don't be like that," he wheedled. "One night. It's not like your guy even bothered to get a Timer, he doesn't care- ugh."

Maka was grateful she remembered to pack her professional looking heels, because the flat bottom of her running sneakers would not have nearly the same effect on Gere's toes as her sharp, narrow heel did.

"I hope your soul mate likes trash," she said in a low voice. Other students began to file in. They barely gave Maka or Gere a glance; it was clear their morning coffee hadn't had the chance to kick in yet. "Because that's all she's going to get." Maka released Gere with a huff and ducked under his arm.

She kept her eyes low, focused on passing out that class's handouts, but she heard the door creak as Gere crept out.

She sighed in relief, letting out the breath she didn't know she was holding. Maka had 20 years of fight training, and was only pressed to demonstrate it a handful of times (usually with Liz, usually at the local college bars). But she doubted her professor reviews would come back to her positive if she handed one of her students their own spine during class.

At that thought, Maka shoved a stack of papers at a student and told him to hand them out. He started and jumped out of his seat, his eyes sharp with fear.

Maka slunk back to her desk, her fingertips rubbing her pounding temples.

She was finished with Timers, with men, with the entire institution. Men like Rico Gere, the ones with active Timers, "lived it up" while they could, jumping from woman to woman until the day they met their soul mate. Maka heard stories about the ones that continued sleeping around even after they met their "one", because the men knew their Timered soul mate would never leave them, reportedly under the notion that they were stuck with what they had.

That 1% haunted them.

As Maka queued up that day's presentation, she thought about her fourteen-year-old self, and how she used to imagine that couples were surrounded in a kind of pure white light. Their happy glow outshone the sun when they went outside.

Their lights were dimmer now, as if the Timers supernovaed a couple's happiness. There was heaviness with Timer-less couples, a dark uncertainty. Why was their love less than Timered couples? She thought of her parents, who's already crumbling marriage was brought to its knees by the Timer, and of Liz, who was going on nine years of wedded bliss.

Timers were supposed to make love and romance easier.

"Ah, professor?"

"What," Maka snapped, jolted out of her spiral.

"It's fifteen past," the student squeaked. "Should we begin class…?"

"R-right," Maka mumbled. "Take out your, uh, your textbooks and open to page 364."

The students turned their pages, and Maka was caught in the flashing lights of their wrists. Soft blues, greens, and pinks mocked her, their trickling numbers whispering, "you'll never have this."

Maka stomped to the podium, her extendable pointer dragging on the floor. Her students sat up in their desks, ruler straight.

"Pop quiz," she said, her pointer slapping the screen. "You have five minutes to answer ten questions."

The students stared at her in horror.

"Go."

It was a little cruel, granted, to start off the day with a lesson in human reactions under stress, but it made her feel a little bit better.

Maka collapsed in the seat across from Tsubaki, who took a shaky sip from her steaming tea.

"I had the worst morning," Maka babbled, pouring sugar into her coffee. She watched the stream of white flow into her cup; her nerves danced, anticipating the sweet sting of caffeine. "My dad brought home another random girl and he forgot to make her leave before I got up. And this kid in my class started to hit on me-I almost dislocated his face-"

Maka broke off as she examined her friend's face. A sheen of sweat coated Tsubaki's forehead, the tip of her nose was red, and her lips were pressed in a thin line.

Maka hadn't seen that face since the day Tsubaki got her Timer in the first place.

"What's wrong," Maka demanded.

Tsubaki thrust her wrist towards Maka, a thin plastic screen jutted out from the pale underside. Small numbers ticked down, flashing gently. Two months, three days, fifteen hours, fifty-six minutes, eleven, ten, nine, eight seconds.

Maka's breakfast rose in her throat. "Tsu..."

"I'm sorry Maka. I know we promised but... it happened. My soul mate got a Timer."

"I… need coffee." She chugged her cup, so she could blame the tears that were forming in the corner of her eyes on her scalded tongue. She was breathless and nauseated by the time she finished, the hazy buzz of sugar and caffeine pushing away sadness and replacing it with a feeling of agitation.

"When I got this Timer, I thought it was going to tell me when my life was going to be whole," Tsubaki pleads. "We were both miserable when they turned out to be blank, and then stayed blank for so long."

"What about being whole without having a soul mate," Maka hissed. "We talked about it, Tsu, and we agreed. Free will. Having a choice. Not letting some piece of plastic control our lives."

"It's not controlling me. It's giving me a gift. He's going to make my life better, I know it."

"How do you know it's going to be a 'he'?" Maka groused.

Tsubaki gave Maka a pained look, which she ignored.

"You haven't even met him yet, how do you know he's not some old guy with snaggly teeth?"

Tsubaki grew quiet. "I'll love him anyway, because he's my soul mate. And this is all the proof I'll need." She gestured to the soft flashing light on her wrist. "I wanted to know that someone is out there for me to spend my life with, and here's the proof that I will. Please understand. I like having a guarantee. That's why we got the Timers in the first place. And now I have it."

"What about love, Tsu? Romance?" Maka asked. "Timers, it's all so controlled! Love for a fee, remember? There's no fun, no spontaneity."

"You don't know that, Maka," Tsubaki said gently. "You're angry right now-"

"Of course I'm angry," Maka crumpled her cup. "We had a deal. There are more important things in life than constantly worrying about Timers and soulmates. We were going to get our lives back, our independence."

"Who says I can't have the more important things with a Timer? With a soulmate? I can have it all, and I want to."

"There's no such thing as one true love."

"You're only saying that because you've given up!" Tsubaki's mouth snapped shut after the words left her, her lips tightened into thin lines.

Maka looked away from her friend, tears spilling down her cheeks. In that moment, Maka saw the line; the clear distinction between those with active Timers, and those without. Tsubaki's path was clear, she had someone waiting for her. Maka didn't.

"When your Timer starts counting down, you'll understand." Tsubaki stood and swung her bag over her shoulder, avoiding Maka's eyes. But she had the same sympathetic look that everyone in high school had, and in college, and out on the streets.

A blank Timer. How sad.

Maka's blood boiled in her veins.

Maka walked up to the door. She actually wrapped her hand around the doorknob this time, but still hopped away back towards her parked car.

The neon sign of the Timer implantation center was lit in the dark night, making the sidewalk glow in alternating rainbow colors. She supposed the effect was meant to be romantic; newly Timered people would walk out and enter their new world in a lilac haze.

Alternatively, a red glow could also hide any bloodstains from recently broken up couples with mismatched Timers.

Maka attempted to open the front door of the implantation center but balked again, spinning on her heel and stomping back to her car.

She stopped with her key in the lock. It was what she wanted, freedom from her Timer. She wanted the choice to fall in love with whomever she wanted, and not feel any guilt for choosing her own partner. Or partners. She was getting her Timer removed; she could do what she wanted! Maka stuffed her key into her purse and walked back to the door. She pulled it open and her heart dropped to her stomach. She let the door go as a quiet "Welcome to the rest of your life" from an Implantation Specialist reached her ears, and ran to her car, wrenched the door open and clambered inside. Maka stuffed the key into the ignition and the engine roared to life; static from the car and the ignition sparked at her wrist and shocked her.

She rubbed at the skin around her Timer irritably. She cursed her fourteen-year-old self, her romantic notions at that tender age, and the goddamn clunky Timer imbedded in her wrist for the last ten years.

She pulled the key from the ignition and laid her head against her steering wheel. The horn blare was not enough to stir her from her position; she wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole, car included, so she could at least drive around hell if she wanted.

Tsubaki's Timer activated. There was still hope. Maka's soul mate could still be out there, somewhere. Maybe he was agonizing about getting the Timer at that moment. He must have a reason for not having one yet. He probably had his life planned out, and was waiting for the right moment. What was he doing now, she wondered. A smile crept up on her face. Her mind spun a blurry image of him, his perfect teeth and dark hair.

She wanted to meet him.

Maka groaned and lifted her head from the steering wheel. The neon sign from the implantation center glowed yellow, casting a sickly shine on everything within a half-mile radius.

She didn't need to meet him. She was a successful woman, the owner of her own damn destiny. Fuck those Timers! She would love whomever she wanted, not someone who some scientist thought was best for her. Fuck those scientists.

Maka left her car, violently clicking the automatic lock on her key chain. She yanked the door to the facility open and marched in. The air-conditioning was on full blast and blew her hair and clothes back, disorientating her.

She blinked her bangs out of her face, and a tall person in a red, official looking shirt waved shyly at her.

"Welcome, y-young lover-" the employee stammered as Maka gagged "-what brings you here today?"

"I want it off," she said, and held her wrist out.

The employee's timid smile faltered. "What."

Maka squared her shoulders. "I want my Timer removed."

Skin paled under fading lavender hair. "An… extraction?"

They said it like she had asked them to skin a childhood pet. Maka gritted her teeth and said, "Yes. Now please."

It was way past time. She should have had it removed when she turned 16, and the Timer's cold glint kept her from enjoying her high school football star's tongue in her mouth. She should have had it removed during her sophomore year of college, when the overbearing silence on her wrist kept her from going to the spring formal with her intramural lacrosse co-captain. She should have had it removed when Liz sent her on her 15th blind date with yet another Timer-less man.

The employee edged away from her, like she carried something horrible and infectious, and gestured to a man behind a desk, whose serious expression was entirely contrary to the fake arrow bisecting his head. "Ah, S-stein? Could you help me, please? Please."

The Stein in question sighed and pushed his chair out from behind his desk. He didn't bother standing; he wheeled backwards towards them, until the wheels caught in the carpet and Stein tumbled to the ground. He lay spread-eagled on the heart-patterned rug, out of place in his stark white lab coat. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked up at the panicking employee hovering by Maka. "Did you try and Timer yourself again, Chris? You can only do it once, remember, the other wrist doesn't work."

"Ah, no," Chris stammered, still staring at Maka. She felt self-conscious in her work clothes, and shrank into her collared shirt. "This lov- ah, lady, asked me to remove her Timer. I don't know what to do."

Maka frowned. "My name is Maka Albarn. Don't call me lady."

Stein peered at Maka interestedly, adjusting his ridiculous headband. "An extraction, eh?"

The self-conscious feeling increased, but this time it pissed Maka off. It was supposed to be a liberating moment and those two were ruining it.

"Just get it off," she said, shaking her wrist insistently.

Stein studied her for a moment, the solid gray eyes behind thick lenses piercing her. He nodded, more to himself than to anyone else, and said, "Take her to Room 4. I'll be there in a moment."

Chris lead Maka, stumbling, to room 4. Their shaky confusion annoyed her, and she was tempted to bump into them on purpose as she entered the room by herself. She sat on the cushy reclining chair, the small room more comfortable than a doctor's office, but with the same clinical coldness.

Maka took a deep breath, clearing her frazzled mind.

It was right. She traced the rectangle of metal and plastic that had run her life for the last ten years.

She remembered when she was fourteen, and almost couldn't get a Timer implanted; her wrist was too narrow for the smallest size Timer carried. She had begged the implantation specialist, though he warned her it might have adverse effects, like random electric shocks and possible infection. She mostly grew accustomed to getting shocked every time she started her car or used the microwave, but maybe the specialist was wrong about the infection. Maka had had one the entire time, infected by the insane notion that love could be scheduled according to an overly ambitious clock.

But Liz was happy, wasn't she? Isn't that why she was always trying to set Maka up with guys without Timers? Process of elimination, Liz would smirk, then shove a suspiciously candid photograph of a potential suitor under Maka's nose.

Tsubaki would be happy, too, in approximately six weeks. She'd have someone she would inevitably marry and be happy with and not spend the rest of her life wondering if it was the right choice.

Maka's gut hollowed out, leaving cold nothing in its wake.

She gave her pigtails a hard pull.

The door swung open and banged off the opposite wall, smacking the intruder on his way in. Stein plunked down in the stool beside her and grabbed her hand.

"I haven't seen this model in ages," he said as he examined Maka's wrist. He gripped the Timer between two fingers and pulled it experimentally.

"Ah," Maka twisted in Stein's hold. "Don't do that."

"I hardly ever get to do extractions. Excuse me while I take the opportunity to experiment."

"No, thanks," Maka said, cradling her arm to her chest.

Stein sighed. "Fine." He dug around a drawer and snapped on white disposable gloves.

"The Timer Company apologizes for your dissatisfaction with their product," Stein droned. "As a courtesy, the Timer Company kindly reminds you that Timers are not re-implantable-" the leather chair squeaked under Maka's tight grip "-as the nerves are irreversibly damaged during the implantation process, their subsequent use by the Timer product, and the inaccurate results as produced from implantation in the non-dominant hand."

He dove into the same drawer and hefted out the Extractor. The tool was reminiscent of a security tag remover from a department store, only with wider, more threatening prongs.

Maka's eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"The Timer Company thanks you for your investment in Timer, and hopes you find true love even without the guarantee." Stein positioned the Extractor around Maka's Timer, his index finger poised over the lever. The tendons in his hand flexed as he began to squeeze-

"No, stop."

Maka rolled away from Stein, and off the recliner. She looked over the edge of the sofa like a feral animal. Stein held the Extractor and his hands up, mild confusion lighting his eyes.

"I can't," she said, calm despite her crouching.

"Evidently," Stein replied. He rolled back on his stool, the wheel creaking along the tile, and dropped the Extractor back in the drawer. He slid the drawer shut and Maka finally took in a breath. She crawled back into the recliner, and tried to look sane, though her skewed pigtails didn't do her any favors.

She fidgeted with the edge of her skirt. "I thought I could do it. I mean, it's been ten years. Maybe I just don't have a soulmate. Or maybe my soulmate doesn't want to stay with one person forever, or they don't even want to know who I am."

Stein concedes. "It's a commitment. It's not for everyone."

"You have one," Maka said accusingly. "You work here, you have to have one."

"I used to have one," he pulled up his sleeve. Two dimples in his wrist revealed where it used to be, the double prongs digging into his skin. "The owners don't like it when I show people, but I'm the only one qualified to do removals in the tri-county area."

Maka grabbed his arm and stared at the pale rectangle where his Timer used to be. "Didn't like your soulmate?" she asked offhandedly.

"If I had met her, no doubt that I would like her very much. Decided I didn't care." He waved his left hand in her face, and she caught the silver gleam of a wedding band. "This meant more."

Maka felt a little horrified as she asked "What about your soulmate?"

Stein pulled a cigarette out of his coat pocket, stuck it in his mouth, and handed Maka a lighter. She lit it for him, and he offered one to Maka, but she waved him off, waiting impatiently for her answer.

Stuffing his lighter back in his pocket, Stein took a long drag, and said, "I'll never know. I don't care to. I like what I have."

"Does your wife have a Timer? Or your husband?"

Stein gave her a hard look. "She did have one, before we met. But then we had Shelley. It was moot for us."

Maka released Stein. "If I was your soul mate, I would hate you so much."

"Maybe at first," he admitted. "But then you would get to know me, and grow to love me, and inevitably accept me as your soul mate, because the Timer told you that you should, regardless of whether those things work or not. That's life's madness."

"No," Maka said, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest.

"Yes," he replied flatly. "It's a self-fulfilling prophecy in that way. It's why the Timers have been so successful. " He took another drag. "On the other hand, Timers help us plan, but the choices we encounter dictate who we meet." He grinned around his cigarette, and patted her arm. "It's too late for us, sorry, Maka."

She grimaced and pulled away from him.

"I wanted mine removed because it's been blank for ten years."

"Lost hope?"

Maka shook her head. "I don't need it. I don't need a soulmate."

"Is that why you dove over the couch when I took out the Extractor?"

She slumped in her seat. "I don't know…"

Stein stubbed out his cigarette on the arm of the recliner. "To live your life with uncertainty is yet another commitment. Which ever you choose, we'll be here to assist you in your endeavors of love. That's the Timer Company's motto."

Maka saw that she was dismissed, so she dragged herself out of the Implantation center and into her car.

Back home, she curled up in her bed, and tried not to listen to the phantom ticking emanating from her wrist.

Weeks later, Timer still buried a quarter inch in her wrist, Maka woke to the piercing sound of her cell phone. She groped her nightstand, blind from sleep and the bright light that shone from her phone.

"Maka! It's today!" Tsubaki burst. There was a rhythmic creaking on Tsu's side, telling Maka that her friend was literally bouncing with excitement.

"What's today?" Maka asked, her fogged mind churning.

"My Timer ran out: I'm going to meet my soul mate today!"

Maka's blood ran cold. "Right," she said slowly. "How do you feel?"

"I'm so excited, I don't know what to do with my self."

"Sleep would be a good start, probably."

Tsubaki laughed. "I'm sorry, Maka, I didn't know what else to do but call my best friend."

Warmth soothed the jealous twinges in Maka's heart. It was not the time to feel sorry for herself and her blank Timer. "I'm so happy for you, Tsu, I really am. Where are you going today?"

"Nowhere special, to be honest." Tsubaki gasped. "But we are going to that new bar with Patti! I completely forgot."

"We could reschedule," Maka offered. "I'm sure Patti won't mind."

"No, no. I better keep to my schedule. Keep everything as normal as possible. Or should I do something special?"

Tsubaki sounded so terrified, but thrilled. She was going to meet whoever it was she was going to spend the rest of her life with. It was a momentous occasion, a milestone in Tsubaki's life. Maka just wished she could feel excitement for her, instead of this terrible, heavy envy.

"Oh my goodness," Tsubaki spat.

"What?!"

"What if I meet my soulmate at that disgusting bar?"

"Then you'll have a great story to tell the grandkids," said Maka, not trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"Maka," Tsubaki sighed.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Maka rubbed her hand across her face. "I'm happy for you. But I'd be happier if it wasn't three o'clock in the morning."

"Ah, right. I'll let you go then."

"But you call me as soon as it happens," Maka says warningly.

Tsubaki laughed again, the sound too sweet and clear over the phone it made Maka nostalgic for their high school years, when their Timers were new and their blankness wasn't a big deal.

Now it felt like everything.

They hung up after Tsubaki made her promises, and Maka flopped sideways down on her bed. She wished there were someone to land on, someone to wake up and vent to, but there were only pillows to stuff her face into and scream. So she did.

After three hours of vacillating between periods of screaming into her night clothes and staring into the darkness of her room, Maka's day carried on as usual. She ran to work, taught a class, held office hours, and ate lunch. She checked her phone periodically, the screen as devoid of phone calls as her Timer was with steadily descending numbers.

She flinched. She had to stop making comparisons like that. It was only making her more miserable, if that was even possible.

Back in her shared office where three other part time professors lay claim to all of the good, non-wobbly desks, Maka stared at her pile of ungraded papers, their stark black and white surfaces taunting her.

Nothing in her life was simple. All she wanted was to be happy, damn it, with or without a soul mate.

And where was her joy? She liked teaching; she earned enough money to pay her bills and buy whatever little knick-knacks she could want while she applied to doctoral programs. But willful ignorance pissed her off, especially when it came to things that were clearly in the syllabus. She would not be able to teach for much longer, if she was honest with herself. She preferred research, something that she could plan and schedule and run at her own pace.

She loved her friends. They were usually busy with their significant others (like Liz with Wes) or doing things she wasn't sure were legal (like Patti and her parachuting-off-of-highly-secured-buildings thing.) Soon Tsubaki would be busy doing her thing with her soul mate.

Where did that leave her? Was she missing something?

Maka wracked her brain for all of the times she had witnessed a Timer going off. Were they happy when they found their soul mate? She wasn't there when her mother's Timer went off; in fact she hadn't seen her mother in quite some time. Maka had never seen her mother's soul mate either. She got a postcard after their unification ceremony, whatever that was, but it did not include a picture. She didn't know whether or not they were happy.

Liz met Wes two days after she got her Timer implanted. They met at some random library, a place Liz would never frequent voluntarily, but she apparently was looking for a book of sheet music for Patti. Maka hadn't met Wes until a couple of years ago, because he was frequently traveling and performing. She liked him well enough, and he was quite handsome, laughter always spilling from his dark brown eyes. Though, he teased her mercilessly about her blank Timer. And her pigtails. And her stature. And whatever else he sensed bothered her.

They didn't hang out much, but he threw amazing parties. Liz seemed pleased enough with him, hardly ever complained, except maybe after a glass or two of wine.

Maybe Tsu's soul mate would be like Wes.

Maka wrinkled her nose as she pulled her phone from her back pocket, checking the screen. There was a snapchat from Tsu, taken surreptitiously over the edge of an open book, of a handsome man with an open laptop. Why can't he be my soulmate?

Maka smiled. At least Tsubaki retained her sense of humor under stress. She couldn't imagine what Tsu's day must have been like, flinching at every noise, thinking it might be her Timer ringing for the last time. She could see Tsubaki avoiding eye contact with guys with tattoos and mohawks, politely smiling but being very terrified at one of them being her soul mate. Maka sniggered guiltily, imagining her best friend ducking and covering, trying and failing not to be seen for the statuesque beauty she was.

Maka's phone rang shrilly and she dropped it in surprise. It landed under her desk and she dove for it, frantically digging under the low cabinet.

What if it was Tsubaki calling to tell her that she already met her soul mate? How does a person respond to that kind of news? Do they shout and smile? Do they cry? Should she cry, even in front of her office mates?

Maka snapped her ancient flip phone open, eyes watering from the dust and possibly from the potential emotional torment she was about to experience.

"Tsubaki?"

"Pshh. She would be so lucky."

Maka exhaled. "Liz."

"I got you a date," Liz barreled on. "He's a law student at DCU, about five-nine- normally I would have issues with him being as short as hell but you're like four feet tall anyway-"

"Hey, I am not that short," Maka sniffed. "The rest of you are just mutant giant freaks-"

"-he digs reading giant novels in public places aaaaaand no Timer!"

"Liz," Maka said seriously. "Did you pick up another random guy?"

"Either that or Wes's connections. You know, he had a brother-"

"No," Maka objected immediately. "Way too inscesty."

"Fine then. And don't worry, I made it clear it was for you this time. I showed him your picture and everything, so he's interested."

Maka squeaked, "Why do you have my picture?!"

"Maka, I love you, but you're not taking action. Someone has to get you laid."

"Liz," Maka huffed. "This is not about getting laid…" Maka noticed that one of her office mates leaned in closer to where she was sitting, his ear pointed towards her, pretending to type on his computer. Maka growled at him, not caring that she sounded like an angry otter. Her two other office mates stifled their giggles, but they looked away quickly when Maka set her molten green gaze on them. "I'm trying to find my soul mate. Or at least I was."

There was a loud sound over the phone, like Liz had dropped something and it landed hard on the floor.

"You ok-?"

"You didn't have your Timer removed,did you?" She demanded.

Maka rested her head in her free hand. "I went to the implantation center last week but I couldn't do it."

"Oh, thank fuck, Maka, don't scare me like that."

"What's the point, Liz? My Timer has been blank forever."

"So you just give up? That's unlike you. What's really going on?"

Maka groaned and let herself melt to the floor, ignoring the panicked looks from her office mates. "How are Timers even a guarantee?" she murmured. "Hormones and heart palpitations. Is that really it?

"Well, if you want to get technical."

Maka wanted to wail. "Then what's the point?"

"Because it's all the stuff that gets you there that matters," Liz soothed. "The handholding and the flirting, making each other breakfast. Laughing together. Fucking. If you break it down, it's all chemical reactions. But it's about the big picture, Maka, and having someone who makes your brain fire chemicals off by your side, and wanting to keep them for the rest of your life."

"That is… interesting," Maka mused. Poetry was not Liz's strong suit. She checked the time on her phone. "I'm getting worried. Tsu's Timer hasn't even gone off yet and it's getting late."

"Oh, it's totally going to go off at the club," Liz said confidently.

"Why would Tsu meet her soul mate tonight? Guys who go to that kind of club aren't her thing. Tattoos petrify her."

"Because Timers love irony! I met Wes at the library, for the love of fuck."

Maka winced. "Ah, Liz, not so loud."

"Why? Are you with the office drones? Those assholes- Tell them they can fuck themselves with their shiny mechanical pencils."

Maka had to hold her phone away from her ear while Liz spouted abuse. She noticed her phone flashing, there was someone calling-

Tsubaki.

"Gotta go," Maka ended the call with Liz hurriedly, and answered Tsubaki.

"Tsu," Maka breathed.

"I did it. I met him," Tsubaki said, her voice cracking over the line.

"I met my soul mate."

Maka spotted Tsubaki and snatched her ID from the bouncer before she ducked under a huge man's meaty arm and stomped across the sticky black floor.

Perched on her barstool, Tsubaki's leg bounced, either to the beat of the music or to the beat of her own racing heart.

Maka formed no preamble. "Here?" she asked incredulously.

"Here," she confirmed with a weak smile.

"How?" The thumping music and shock reduced Maka to cave-man-like monosyllabic communication. "How did you even meet him?" she shouted over the music, if she could call it that.

"Here! About twenty minutes ago," Tsubaki grimaced as the music swelled again. "Bathroom. Drunk."

"Drunk," Maka gaped. The music echoing from the overhanging speaker stopped short, though Maka's ears kept ringing.

"He's better now," Tsubaki explained hurriedly. "I helped him clean up. He drinks when he's nervous, that's all."

"Wow, what a guy."

"Maka…"

"Fine. Tell me everything, from the beginning," she insisted.

"I got here four hours ago because I thought Patti said we'd meet at four o'clock, and I walked in on the bands' rehearsal. They were playing, so I thought I'd stick around, enjoy the music, and maybe save us a table.

"For four hours?"

"I didn't have anything else to do, ok? And I thought I would miss him if I stayed home and watched television."

It's a self-fulfilling prophecy, a voice that sounded too much like Stein's whispered from the back of her head.

"I've learned how to mix a couple of drinks from the bartender, too," Tsubaki continued. To Maka's confused face she said, "One of the band members kept ordering them and the bartender looked so swamped, so I helped him out."

Maka shook her head. "Only you, Tsu."

"I wasn't doing anything," Tsubaki blushed. "I was just sitting there so I helped pour some shots-"

"Just keep going."

"Ah, ok. I took shots up to the stage and dropped them off for the band, and the guitarist was talking about how their drummer had been in the bathroom for an awful long time-"

"Let me guess," Maka said wryly. "You offered to help."

"Well, yes. I went to the bathrooms and knocked, but I heard retching so I opened the door. He was hunched over the toilet when I walked in, so I tapped him on the shoulder and asked if he was alright." Tsubaki looked at her hands. "In hindsight, that was probably a stupid question."

"Then what?" Maka prompted, eager to clarify the mess that she was imagining in her head.

"He looked at me, and our Timers went off. Maka, he had the most beautiful eyes."

"Yes, I imagine red eyes fresh from vomiting would be very romantic."

"Maka, he was really so sweet. He tried to stand up and hug me, but he couldn't and kind of ended up tackling me. He apologized right away. So I helped him up and we introduced ourselves. He's back stage right now. He says he's going to write a song for me," Tsubaki grinned without a trace of irony.

Maka was saved from replying by dimming lights, signaling to the crowd.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to Club 42," the cornrowed announcer called. He smiled at the crowd and Maka sat up a little straighter. She stood on her toes and squinted at his wrist, but she was too far away to see whether he had a Timer.

Tsubaki gave her a side-glance and nudged her. "Kilik Rung. He's the band's manager. Married, father of twins. I checked for you."

Maka dropped back on her heels and scowled. All the attractive ones already had Timers. If they didn't, there was no guarantee, no security. If they had Timers, but were willing to go out with her, it made Maka feel like she was doing something wrong. Beyond that, if they were willing to date her with a ticking Timer, she didn't want to date that type of person anyway.

"Please welcome to the stage," the handsome manager continued. "Death Weapon Meister Academy!"

"What kind of band name is that?" Maka snipped.

With a grand gesture Kilik summoned the band to the stage as the crowd cheered, rising to their feet and approaching the stage.

One voice rose above the crowd's. The band's drummer cartwheeled across the stage, black converse narrowly missing his band mates' heads. They glared at him but looked resigned, much like a parent would gaze at a child clowning around at a funeral. The drummer finally landed in his seat and began spinning his drumsticks between his fingers, his foot pumping a fog machine. The heavy, artificial smoke poured into the audience, making them gag and cough. His bright eyes searched the audience feverishly, coming to a halt on Tsubaki. His cheeks pinked as he waved, his hand blurring from the speed. To Maka's surprise, Tsubaki returned his greeting with a shy little wave.

"That's your soul mate?" Maka asked incredulously.

Tsubaki nodded, her smile threatening to break her porcelain face. "Isn't he great?"

Maka shook her head violently, but it was no to avail. Tsubaki's eyes were glued to the drummer; his sticks flying erratically and his blue hair sticking up in directions Maka didn't know existed.

He was truly unlike anyone Tsubaki ever even glanced at. When she dated, before she got her Timer at 16, Tsubaki went out with boys who were clean cut and athletic. While the drummer had arms that could probably crush Maka before she could blink twice, he was anything but clean cut; he had tattoos inked down both arms, the most prominent being a scar-like five-pointed star.

Tsubaki watched Maka evaluating her soulmate, with her bottom lip between her teeth, as the band set up on stage. "I know he's not my usual type," she admitted. "But the Timer can't be wrong."

"He's just so-" Maka's thought was interrupted by loud crashing on stage. The drummer had started doing back flips to the chagrin of his friends, and managed to land on his drum kit. Tsubaki got to her feet, anxiously peering over the heads of the crowd at Black Star. A thumbs up appeared over the lip of an overturned bass drum, and Tsubaki sighed in relief.

"I've really only spoken to him once, so I don't really know how he is," Tsubaki said, her focus back on Maka, impaling her with icy violet eyes. "But I'm choosing to have faith in him."

Tsubaki turned away from her, the set of her face determined. But her grim expression gave way to surprise. "Oh, there's Patti!"

Sure enough, the young Thompson sister strutted up to the microphone, her infectious grin drew up the corner of Maka's own mouth.

"Hi," Patti said to the crowd. She nodded to the band mates behind her, and stared at Tsubaki's soulmate expectantly. He was looking past her, into the crowd, making a show of tossing his drumsticks into the air and catching them. Patti yanked off her shoe and chucked it at him, hitting him square in the face. Maka felt Tsubaki flinch beside her, and felt marginally guilty about the glee in her chest.

He rubbed his face and tapped his drumsticks together three times, and started the band's opening song.

"What's his name?" Maka shouted over the music.

"Black Star," Tsubaki shouted back, her eyes glued to her newfound soulmate.

"No, seriously. What's his name?"

Tsubaki's clapping slowed. "It would have to be a stage name, huh?"

Maka snorted. What a wonderful start to the relationship. She watched Black Star, alternating between baffled and disgusted as he banged on his "instrument."

How were he and Tsubaki going to work out? Maka supposed they had to; the Timer had paired them as soul mates. Knowing Tsubaki, Maka was sure her best friend would make her relationship work, whether or not she had to force the decision.

They were just so different! Tsubaki worked at a bank, she was buttoned down and neat, always polite and patient. That douchebag on stage was anything but. His hair was blue.

Liz was going to flip her shit, if she wasn't too busy planning Tsu's wedding to that idiot.

She'd have to mention to Liz that the wedding would now have to include more leather clothing than the usual. Maka stifled her snickering and the twinge of guilt that crept into her throat. She wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but how could she? Maka herself was barely deserving of Tsubaki's friendship; she couldn't see how the drummer of some band was deserving of Tsubaki's unconditional love.

Maka watched Patti, so at home on the stage. Patti sang, one sneaker still on her foot, her Timer-less wrists twisting and shaking a tambourine in the air. From the time her older sister Liz got her Timer, Patti refused to even consider implantation. She purposefully snuck out of the house on her fourteenth birthday because she knew her sister was planning on surprising her with an implantation ceremony.

"No one can tell me what to do or who to love," Patti told Maka as she slipped into her window in the middle of the night. "Not even Sissy."

Maka had self-consciously hidden her freshly Timered wrist behind her back.

Unobservant as ever, Patti had continued, saying "It's just a piece of plastic. It doesn't know me. Can you hand me my giraffe?"

"Don't you like Wes?" Maka asked. "The Timer matched him and Liz, and they're happy."

"Sissy has Wes, and she can keep him. I have myself, it's all I need," Patti said simply, holding her hand out impatiently for her stuffed animal.

Maka obliged but her friend's words spun a dirge in her head along with her mother's departure.

The song ended, and Maka was left with a lungful of fake fog and a heaving chest.

Maka clapped along with the audience as the band bowed and left the stage.

Tsubaki bounced on her toes, electricity in her applause. "He's so good," she breathed.

Maka fought her gag reflex. "I need a drink," she declared, turning on her heel. She weaved her way through the crowd, Tsubaki trailing after her. Maka ordered something sharp and bitter, and swallowed it without much thought. Tsubaki opted for something sweet, with chocolate, and she savored each sip.

Maka could never tolerate anything sweet.

"I'm leaving," Maka announced.

Tsubaki choked on her sugar laced martini. "You can't! Black Star is going to meet me here any minute."

"You need time alone with your soul mate," Maka said, plastering a smile on her lips.

Tsubaki nodded, and smiled gratefully. "You're right!" She was so sincere, so good.

"I hope he's good, too" Maka said, alcohol blurring her. Maka gave her friend a quick hug. She turned on her heel, and left the club, the din fading behind her, leaving Maka in the solitude of silence.

Maka uncrossed and crossed her legs, the burning between her legs increasing. She'd been sitting in her itchy green dress, heavy earrings, and too high heels for the last twenty minutes while she downed a couple of glasses of wine. Her date was late and she had to pee.

Really. Bad.

Her heel hung off her toe as her leg jiggled, her nails dug into the skin of her forearms, crossed over her chest.

The waitress kept eyeing her table. She already turned away her offer to let her order ahead of her date. Twice.

Maka checked her phone again. She found it mercilessly blank, the generic background picture of blue bubbles stark in the dim light of the restaurant.

Liz's background was of her and Wes, hugging and clutching melting ice cream cones.

Maka snapped her phone shut.

"Hey, I'm sorry." Maka glanced up in time to see a casually dressed man plop into the velvet-covered seat in front of her, his round glasses slipped down his nose as he scrubbed his oddly shaped sideburns, dripping with sweat. "My friend and I were talking about the relationship between lightning strikes and surface damage, and I had to finish the conversation." He wound his tie around his neck, and knotted it.

Maka smiled stiffly. "Ox, right? You're here now, it's fine." She handed him a menu, while hers remained closed. She'd known what she had wanted for the last fifteen minutes.

"So Liz tells me you're a professor?"

"Part-time. Yes," Maka replied. "I like it-"

"Are you sure?" He asked, his nose buried in the menu. "It must be unreliable work, dependent on enrollment. You should find a different job."

"I enjoy what I do very much," Maka said, leaning back in her seat, fists clenching. "Pay is important, but it's not the only thing. Don't you enjoy your job? You're a researcher, right?"

"Yes," Ox nodded. "With Death City Medical Corps. Researching is tedious work, but the pay is excellent. Honestly, I wouldn't do it if it wasn't for the paycheck."

"I see," Maka said uncomfortably. "Do you have any hobbies, then?"

"I spend most of my time in the lab. But I do love watching String Theory! Have you seen it?"

"No," Maka admitted. "I've heard that show treats the female characters terribly."

"Well, it's about men in science, so the women don't matter much."

"Aren't two of the women scientists, too?" she pointed out.

"Yes, yes," Ox said impatiently. "But the show is focused on the men. It's hilarious; they get everything wrong!" He threw his head back and laughed, his hand clutching his chest, and drew startled looks from their fellow patrons. Maka ducked slightly to avoid their gazes, her cheeks heating up.

"I think it's more to entertain than to inform," Maka mumbled.

A waitress swept over to them, brushing her bangs out of her face with her notebook. "Phew," she said. "Busy night. Sorry to keep you waiting." She winked at Maka, who grinned back.

"Give me the pork chops in truffle oil," Ox said, interrupting the exchange. "And a bottle of red." He waggled his eyebrows at Maka obnoxiously. "A salad for the lady, perhaps?"

Maka snapped her menu shut and handed it to the waitress, looking Ox dead in the eye. "Steak. Medium rare, please."

"Okaaaaaaay," mused the waitress. "Be right back."

"How unprofessional," snipped Ox. "Pink hair. She should be fired for that."

"I didn't notice."

"You wouldn't, I suppose. You must be used to working with delinquents like her, in community college."

Maka cleared her throat. "The students I have are very hardworking. Most of them," she amended. "I teach a couple of core general education psychology classes-"

"That's a common major. Not many job opportunities. Poor chumps should have gone into an actual science."

Maka grit her teeth together.

"Psychology has helped enlighten people to different ways of thinking," she said defensively. "It's helped people deal with personal crises and mental illnesses-"

"Mental illness," Ox snorted. "More like excuses to be lazy. Those people need to suck it up, get jobs, and actually contribute to society."

Maka suppressed the bile surging in her throat.

"Mental illnesses are a serious issue. Many people suffer from them, and they have no control over it. They need to be supported, not judged!"

"You talk a lot," Ox mused. "Do you usually talk this much?"

Maka flushed and her fingers twitched towards the paperback stashed in her purse. Ox was saved from a whack to the forehead as the waitress approached with a tray laden with food.

"Took long enough," he said to the waitress coldly. The waitress dropped the plate in front of Ox with a clatter, spilling the soup.

Maka smiled apologetically at the fuming waitress. She made a mental note to tip, and tip big. If she even made it through the night. As she left, Maka hissed, "You don't have to be so rude."

Ox shrugged dispassionately. "I am paying good money for service with a smile. It's not my fault she has a shitty job. She probably dropped out of high school too-"

"You can't possibly know that," she said, slamming her hand on the table. "I'd like to see you do this job, deal with people like you all day. See how long you smile." Maka stood, her purse under her arm and marched away from the table. She paused a few feet out before turning on her heel and returning to the table for her plate. "I've been wanting to try the steak here forever," she snapped, and left Ox again, balancing her meal in one hand.

Hunched outside with a bottle of water and a disposable plastic knife and fork, courtesy of the sympathetic kitchen staff, Maka chewed her steak, but couldn't taste it.

She couldn't remember the last time she had a nice date. The Timers had always played a part in them in one way or another. If her date had a Timer, it was always ticking down until the day they met their soul mate, and inevitably left her.

Like your mother, a tiny voice said in the back of her head. Your mother, Liz, and now Tsubaki. Their time is ticking to their future, and yours never started.

Maka squeezed her eyes shut and chewed harder.

If her dates didn't have a Timer, she had to question why they were unwilling to get one. Was the idea of commitment too much for their fragile male minds? She would berate them with her questions, unwilling to relent until they gave her a sound reason, preferably with evidence that could be found in academic journals.

She actually convinced a few of her dates to get one, sometimes after a few months of dating. Their Timers began ticking as soon as the prongs dug into their skin. She sat by them as they were enveloped in joy, in their destiny, their soul mates in calculable distances.

Her teeth ground the heaviness in her mouth, willing it to bits and pieces, just manageable enough for her to swallow.

This was all Liz's fault. What had she been thinking when she gave a guy named Ox her number? They had absolutely nothing in common. He was crass and rude and utterly cruel.

Did Liz know her at all? What kind of friend tried to hook her up with an idiot? She was probably too busy glowing from all of the true love she was wrapped up in. Was Liz so desperate for her? Would Tsubaki try and do the same? Would she stalk Timer-less men for her, shove her picture under their noses, beg them to date her?

She could imagine her friends gathered around together, huddled in a corner, plotting on how to get Maka a soulmate.

She was so tired of it.

Love did shitty things to people; including making other people do stupid things, like put themselves out there.

Maka stabbed her fork into what was left of her food and tossed it into the dumpster.

"Hey," called a voice from out of the dark. The waitress with pink hair stood in the dim alley, leaning against the brick wall, a cigarette burning between her fingers.

"Did you eat the soup?" She asked, blowing smoke through pursed lips.

"N-no?"

The waitress dropped her cigarette to the floor, stomping it out with a black boot. "Good."