[ WP ] Tinder becomes a giant corporation and essentially a government institution worldwide . Everyone gets an obligatory implant that automatically notifies matches you come across or walk by .

My phone vibrated, snapping me out of my trance. It was Keira, my best friend, with more subtle gloating about how much the government was paying her to sleep with strange men. Ever since the crop of dangerous STIs that made a large proportion of people infertile, the government had a much greater role in matchmaking. People like Keira were embracing it, paid up to $ 100 per drunken one night stand ( provided she didn ’ t use protection of course ). 
 
 We complemented each other well, the carefree, sexually liberated artist and the calm, sensible biologist. Sleeping around never worked for me. I needed emotional attachment and never managed to get it with those guys. Recently I had been trying, and failing, to care less about the stupid situations she put herself into with these men ( and sometimes women ) she slept with. 
 
 One of the government ’ s most controversial policies was a mandatory implant that checked the user ’ s compatibility with all strangers in the near vicinity. I have to say it did feel good, turning 21 and getting the implant fitted underneath the translucent skin of my wrist. 
 
 As a scientist I was intrigued by the neurology. Wireless facial recognition worked with social science and online profiles, and allowed the machine to determine a match in less than a second, with only simple eye contact necessary. 
 
 There had been protests, of course, my mother being one of the strongest opposers of the program. Her life was ripped apart when she was matched with my father, who abused her for 12 years, and she still blames the government. 
 
 People also saw it as a violation of privacy, the machines using our hormones and neurotransmitters to know ( and broadcast! ) things even the user wasn ’ t aware of. It was based off the old app ‘ Tinder ’, although this version wouldn ’ t allow you to alter your profile. It was truthful, for better or worse. 
 
 As I walked home after the procedure I experienced my first vibration. 
 
 **BRRRR** 
 
 The doctor warned that the machine could be unpredictable for the first few days, but I still searched the faces around me for my potential match. The crowded street was not the ideal place for this initiation, my eyes meeting dozens of people blankly staring back at me. 
 
 My wrist was sore from the operation, so to avoid any other matches I set my eyes on the concrete pavement, heading to the coffee shop near my apartment. While waiting in the line, I opened Tinder on my phone to see whether the device had logged any information on my profile yet. Before I could check I realised I was nearly out of battery, and reluctantly returned my phone to my pocket. 
 
 At the front of the line I looked up for the first time since my first match, and locked eyes with Lisa, the friendly girl working part-time to pay for college. 
 
 **BRRRR** 
 
 My wrist twinged and I inadvertently dropped my wallet. Lisa grinned, her lips stretching over her teeth, and I stuttered for a second before ordering my latte. I didn ’ t know what she thought, I didn ’ t want to know what she thought, I just wanted the coffee. Even though the vibrations were discreet, I swear the whole shop watched my flushed face as I took my coffee cup and walked out the door. 
 
 I pushed the door to the apartment open with my hip, and saw that Kiera was in the kitchen, on the phone to someone. Within seconds I realised it was her ex-boyfriend, and tried to shuffle to my room without her noticing. I was her friend, but I was not getting involved in this mess. She had realised I was there, though, and turned around, silently greeting me with a shrug and a half wave. Her eyes hit mine, and my wrist spasmed. 
 
 **BRRRRRR** 
 
 Her look of shock mirrored mine and I shoved my hand in my pocket, fleeing to my room. 
 
 I saw I had a Tinder notification, and urgently swiped at it, desperate to know what was going on. Obviously it was malfunctioning, I mean … she ’ s my *best friend* and… 
 
 My profile loaded. It was sparse, of course, but in these few minutes the program had ( as promised ) figured out more about me than I knew about myself. I didn ’ t have to look far. 
 
 Under my name and photo was the description ‘ Predominantly Homosexual ’. 
 

