Take the Path of Least Resistance (Prompt)

> The week passes you by at an agonizing pace; the first few days you searched and searched for some way out that didn't involve actually getting a civil union, but no such solution seems to exist. Not even a temporary union-- if you were to get a separation, you'd end up right back at assignment.

> Only exception is the of your spouse-- but you know that the investigation would be thorough.

> ...And besides, you wouldn't want to kill Talia.

_> _Talia had the same amount of luck. When you asked her if she was willing to go through with it when the two of you reached the conclusion you were fucked, she said no.

> You spent the rest of the week in a depressed stupor, barely getting out of the house. You blocked Talia's number, though you're not sure she tried to contact you at all. Your relationship was a fake one, but still... you expected something more from her.

_> _A "sorry," a "I'll hook you up with someone--" a better reason than "We said we're each on our own."

_> _The court date rolls around, and you make the officers come get you. You don't resist; "didn't feel like driving," you tell them as they stuff you in the back of a police car.

_> _You arrive to the trial an hour late, and the judge is none too pleased. In fact, the only person in the entire courtroom that looks happy is Patricia.

_> _She takes glee in describing the nature of your offenses, how she's been onto you and Talia for months, and how you mercilessly harassed her.

_> _You don't bother rebutting; when asked, you don't bother implicating Talia, either. She looks a little surprised at this, having been sweating previously.

> It just isn't worth it.

> Your public defender does the bare minimum throughout the case, perhaps catching your sense of depression and hopelessness.

_> _As the jury goes to debate, you're taken away from the courtroom by an evaluator; "The judge is concerned with your mental state," she tells you, "So he asked for my opinion."

_> _You take the evaluation and bullshit the whole time. You're mad now, purposely giving the wrong answers to the obviously leading questions and going on scathing rants about your situation when she gives you more long-form questions.

_> _To no one's surprise, the rigged jury finds you guilty. You don't feel a thing.

_> _The judge puts you into the special assignment pool. You don't feel a thing.

> You don't feel a thing as you're walked out from the courtroom, put in a transport van and bussed to the New Apple Mandatory Assignment Center.

_> _It's to the point where the various guards, handlers, and secretaries don't even bother getting frisky with you-- after a single pass, they all steer clear.

> After about an hour of waiting, your escort pulls you into a lobby, standing you in front of an overly-friendly receptionist.

> "Hello, Anon, my name's Rachael." the rabbit woman says, the sweetness sounding false, "Having a long day, are we?"

> "Yep."

> "Well, hopefully I can make it somewhat better," she says with a saccharine smile. "We've taken into account your personality traits, hobbies, and the results from your latest eval, and picked out a wonderful wife for you."

> "Great."

> "Oh, cheer up Anon!" she says "I know everything today took the wind out of your sails, but trust me, the state has only the best in mind for you! The way we do it might be a little strange, but it's what's worked for thousands of other problem cases like yours."

> You're tempted to explode, but you figure your bulky bovine escort wouldn't like that. Calling out one line of propaganda bullshit won't matter consider the walls are plastered with posters of the same ilk, anyway.

> "Anyway, we let your wife know, and she's going to be on her way here any minute now. We did the same personality tests and evaluations on her as we did for you, so it'll be a perfect match. You can wait over in Room 27 for her-- it'll give the two of you a more private place to meet up for the first time."

_> _Your guard nudges you along, and you can't help but feel like you're marching to the electric chair.

_> _Considering the stories you've heard-- especially those involving "special assignment--" that might be preferable

> The guard opens the door for you, her stare nearly as dead as yours. She's been nothing if not courteous.

> "Thanks," you mumble, and step inside.

_> _It's a small room, looking more like an interrogation room from one of those bad cop movies. Just a small table and two chairs-- one noticeably larger than the other.

> You take the human-sized one and begin to wait, making an effort to think about nothing.

_> _Better than those horror stories milling about your thoughts.

> ...