The notification chimed, a sound so universally recognized it might as well be a new bird call in the urban jungle. From her stool behind the counter, Elara Vance watched another customer's face illuminate with that soft, hopeful glow. A 94% match. The girl gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Her friends squealed and gathered around the phone, their own screens a constellation of reflected light. It was the modern-day miracle, the digital parting of the seas. The Echo app had found another soulmate.
Ellie just wanted to know if they wanted a refill on their oat milk latte.
"Another round for the table?" she asked, her voice a practiced monotone.
The celebratory bubble popped. The girl looked up, momentarily dazed, as if dragged back from a higher plane of existence. "Oh. Yes, please. Thank you."
Ellie nodded, her fingers already tapping the order into the tablet. She worked the foam wand with the easy grace of someone who had made a thousand lattes before lunch. The hiss of the steamer was her background music, the percussive thump of the portafilter her bassline. This was her life. Not a 99% connection, not a cosmic destiny. Just caffeine, rent, and the constant, low-grade hum of her own student debt.
"You're awfully quiet today, E."
Ellie glanced up. Ben, the human golden retriever who managed the cafe, was wiping down the machine beside her. He had the kind of easy smile that made people trust him, which was probably why his own 94% match, a sweet elementary school teacher named Sarah, had agreed to marry him after six months.
"Just tired," Ellie lied. The truth was more complicated. It was a feeling, a persistent, hollow ache that had nothing to do with lack of sleep. It was the feeling of being on the outside, her nose pressed against the glass of a party she wasn't invited to.
Ben followed her gaze to the table of celebrating women. "Ah. The Echo effect. Don't let it get to you. Sarah and I are proof it works, but it's not the only thing that works."
Easy for him to say. He was on the inside. He had his match.
The bell over the door jingled, and in walked her best friend, Maya. Maya moved through the world like she owned the lease on it. Her designer bag was slung just so over her shoulder, her blouse was a color that probably had a fancy name like 'marigold,' and her smile was a weapon, sharp and dazzling. She was a marketing major, and she marketed herself as a success 24/7.
"Sorry I'm late," Maya said, sliding onto a stool. "The presentation for Professor Davies ran over. I think I killed it, though." She tapped her perfectly manicured nails on the counter. "Did you see my latest post? The one about the new algorithm update? It's already at two thousand likes."
"Congrats," Ellie said, sliding a mug of black coffee across the counter. Maya's fuel of choice was pure ambition.
Maya took a sip, her eyes scanning the cafe. They landed on the table of women, still huddled around their phones. A flicker of something, too quick to name, crossed her face before her smile snapped back into place. "Another one? It's like an epidemic. A happy, shiny, soulmate epidemic."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," Ben said, chuckling.
"Not at all!" Maya's laugh was bright, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I just think it's interesting. The pressure, you know? To find your person. To be a 99% match for someone." She turned her full attention to Ellie, her gaze suddenly intense. "Have you done it yet, E? Taken the test?"
Ellie's stomach tightened. This was the question, the one that followed her like a shadow. "No. I've been busy."
"Busy with what? That final VFX project isn't due for a month," Maya pressed, her tone light but her words pointed. "It's just a quick cheek swab. It could change your life."
Or ruin it. Ellie had seen the other side. The people who got 47% matches. The ones who deleted the app in shame. The ones who stayed in relationships with their 65% match because it was "good enough." She preferred the uncertainty. At least in the unknown, there was potential. A number felt like a verdict.
"I'm good," Ellie said, turning to wipe down a perfectly clean surface. "I'd rather be surprised."
Maya sighed, a dramatic, put-upon sound. "You and your art. You're such a romantic. You think some boy is just going to fall out of the sky and into your lap without a cosmic nudge?"
"I think I have bigger things to worry about," Ellie said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. "Like, you know, graduating without having to sell a kidney."
The lie tasted sour in her mouth. The truth was, she was a romantic. She desperately wanted to believe in the kind of connection she saw in movies, the kind she tried to capture in her art. But she wanted it to be real, messy, and found on her own terms. Not generated by an algorithm.
Just then, the university library's automated system sent out a campus-wide notification, and Ellie's phone buzzed on the shelf under the register. She ignored it. But Maya, ever curious, glanced at the screen.
"Ooh, overdue book," Maya said, a smirk playing on her lips. "'Structural Integrity and the Modern Metropolis.' Sounds thrilling, E. You really know how to live."
Ellie snatched her phone, her face flushing. "It's for research."
"Right. Research." Maya's smirk widened. "Well, don't let your overdue book get in the way of finding your cosmic destiny. The clock is ticking, you know."
As Maya sipped her coffee, already scrolling through her phone, Ellie felt the familiar weight settle back on her shoulders. The weight of expectations, of numbers, of a future that felt like it was being written in a code she couldn't understand. She looked out the window at the rain-slicked street, at the people hurrying past, each one a potential story. She wasn't a number. She was a collection of stories, of feelings, of a million tiny, unquantifiable moments. And for now, that had to be enough.