Breeding Match Allocation

The engine was careful and mild:
It scored who might sit reconciled.
Not marriage, not fate,
Just “adjacent seems great,”
In a tone institutionally styled.

It measured shared rot and gratitude,
And whether two archives matched mood.
“Compatible dread”
Was one note that it spread,
With a very non-binding attitude.

The comments were gentle and spare:
“Would probably cabinet-share.”
No promise, no claim,
Only subjunctive flame,
For an office afraid to declare.

Some mascots already had ties
That ran crosswise to algorithmic tries.
The ledger looked down,
Saw sibling and crown,
And withdrew from adjudicating eyes.

Some humans had checked the field in
For refuge, not partner-like spin.
Their silence said, “Near,
Perhaps, but not here
In a list where expectation begins.”

Then Bin 8C entered the math,
Where proximity authors your path.
One nearness too close
Can rewrite who arose,
So the engine stepped back from that bath.

At the threshold it quietly froze:
“These pairings exceed what one knows.”
The safest next stage
Was a subjunctive page,
Not a ledger where anybody owes.

Serotonin Sam softened the view,
Turned scores to a comfort band hue.
No ranking, no race,
Just a warm little trace
Of who might not mind sitting with you.

The guidance was later made plain:
Use eligibility to locate your lane.
You may find one another,
But not name each other
As obligation archived in chain.

So the archive, unusually kind,
Allowed companionship into the mind.
Then it stopped at the seam,
Where a humane small dream
Would become something binding and blind.

The matching was rubbed “til it shone,
With a vigor the ledger had known.
It massaged the “might,”
Until all was in sight,
In a companionship-regime sub.