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in order.”
    “Thank you.”
    Neither of us says anything for a few moments after I slip the new microcard into my pocket. At first, I look around at the grass and the metal benches and the small concrete fountain in the center of the greenspace, which sends up silvery wet showers of water every few seconds. Then I peek over at the woman next to me, trying to catch a glimpse of the insignia on her shirt pocket. I know she is an Official, because she wears white clothing, but I am not sure which Department of Society she represents.
    “I’m part of the Matching Department, authorized to deal with information malfunctions,” the Official says, noticing my glance. “Fortunately, we don’t have much work to do. Since the Matching is so important to the Society, it’s very well regulated.”
    Her words remind me of a paragraph in the official Matching material: The goal of Matching is twofold: to provide the healthiest possible future citizens for our Society and to provide the best chances for interested citizens to experience successful Family Life. It is of the utmost importance to the Society that the Matches be as optimal as possible.
    “I’ve never heard of a mistake like this before.”
    “I’m afraid it does happen now and then. Not often.” She is silent for a moment, and then she asks the question that I do not want to hear: “Did you recognize the other person whose face you saw?”
    Suddenly and irrationally I am tempted to lie. I want to say that I have no idea, that I have never seen that face before. I look over at the fountain again and as I watch the rise and fall of the water I know that my pause gives me away. So I answer.
    “Yes.”
    “Can you tell me his name?”
    She already knows all of this, of course, so there is nothing to do but tell the truth. “Yes. Ky Markham. That’s what was so strange about the whole thing. The odds of a mistake being made, and of a mistake being made with someone else I know—”
    “Are virtually nonexistent,” she agrees. “That’s true. It makes us wonder if the error was intentional, some kind of joke. If we find the person, we will punish them severely. It was a cruel thing to do. Not only because it was upsetting and confusing for you, but also because of Ky.”
    “Does he know?”
    “No. He has no idea. The reason I said it was cruel to use him as part of this prank is because of what he is.”
    “What he is?” Ky Markham moved to our Borough back when we were ten. He is good-looking and quiet. He’s very still. He is not a troublemaker. I don’t see him as much as I once did; last year, he received his work position early and he no longer goes to Second School with the rest of the youth in our Borough.
    The Official nods and leans a little closer, even though there is no one around to hear us. The light from the street lamp above shines down, hot, and I shift a little. “This is confidential information, but Ky Markham could never be your Match. He will never be anyone’s Match.”
    “He’s chosen to be a Single, then.” I’m not sure why this information is confidential. Lots of people in our school have chosen to be single. There’s even a paragraph about it in the official Matching material: Please consider carefully whether you are a good candidate to be Matched. Remember, Singles are equally important in the Society. As you are aware, the current Leader of the Society is a Single. Both Matched and Single citizens experience full and satisfying lives. However, children are only allowed to be born to those who choose to be Matched.
    She leans closer to me. “No. He’s not a Single. Ky Markham is an Aberration.”
    Ky Markham is an Aberration?
    Aberrations live among us; they’re not dangerous like Anomalies, who have to be separated from Society. Though Aberrations usually acquire their status due to an Infraction, they are protected; their identities aren’t usually common knowledge. Only the Officials in the Societal