Chapter 3

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HARRY

Harry was in the middle of making lunch when the alarm went off.

It was Saturday, which meant his only plans were to finish his stir fry, finish his daily work out, and then read or watch whatever movie ALL had selected to show on TV that night. Maybe he'd pour a glass of wine and listen to one of his records.

But the alarm was one he hadn't heard before. It was definitely a government alarm — he didn't recognize it from his own presets. It was loud and musical, a series of bright, happy charms. He frowned and walked over to where he left the tablet on the island. The tablet screen lit up when he approached, and the soothing, mechanical female voice he had grown used to giving him announcements over the years played.

"Congratulations, Mr. Styles," the voice said, "You have officially been matched for the Cause. Please scan your retina to view your match now."

Harry stood in front of the screen, mouth open in shock, as he looked at the tablet, pulsing a pleasant light pink and displaying words that matched exactly what the voice had just said.

The system had matched him within only about a week of his testing.

He'd prepared himself to wait months, a year, even, but ALL had quickly delivered him his perfect match within a few days, never failing him.

The voice recording repeated, and Harry exhaled and lifted his tablet so he could complete the eye scan. His tablet slid open, but instead of opening to his usual home screen, it opened to a simple white background stamped with the The Cause fertility department seal in the upper right hand corner. He skimmed the letter, already eager to click to the little arrow at the bottom of the page.

Dear Harry E. Styles,

Our sincere congratulations on your recent positive fertility testing. You have now entered an elite group responsible for rebuilding our society's future and providing new hope for us all. We trust you will serve us all well in your new role.

After careful examination, we have determined your ideal genetic match is one Louis W. Tomlinson. The omega will be delivered to your residence at approximately 15:00, August 15, 2085. Please read the following health and behavioral file and prepare accordingly.

We look forward to your check-in in six weeks time. Once again we salute your commitment to The Cause and to ALL.

The fertility department logo stood bold at the bottom of the page.

All that remained was the arrow button that would take him to everything he needed to know about Louis Tomlinson. His omega. He couldn't stop staring at the name. It was a perfect name. The first part so elegant and pretty, the second part so clean cut and strong. Of course it was perfect. That was how the system worked. Everything about Louis would be perfect, because their genetics matched, he had been selected just for Harry.

Harry took a big breath and clicked the arrow button.

The next page was a profile, as promised.

The profile showed Louis' name typed in bold letters at the top of the page, and his information listed right after. But Harry fixated on the image at the side of the screen: a moving image of an omega man, blinking serenely up at Harry and smiling gently.

Even in the image, he was lovely, with big blue eyes and full cheeks and shapely, bright pink lips. Harry tapped the image to enlarge it, and he pulled his fingers across the screen, zooming in on Louis's eyes, his small, upturned nose, his bright smile. In the corner of the screen was the option of switching to a full body view, and he tapped it immediately, spinning his finger to take in the 360 degree view. It showed Louis in a pair of black shorts and a white vest, his feet bare, and Harry clicked and zoomed all he could on his elegant collarbones, his tanned and smooth legs. He flushed a little as he scrolled away from Louis's full hips, his crotch, and his bum. A banner at the bottom of the screen informed him that he could look at Louis without the shorts and vest if he so desired, but he waved the option away. He knew the profile was a tool - to look and learn everything he could about the omega.

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