Chapter One
Bzzt…bzzt…
Jim Kirk stared at himself solidly in the mirror. He had liked his previous hairstyle—the messy, dirty blonde spiked look—even though he wasn't supposed to. He allowed himself a tiny smile, even though he wasn't supposed to. Or wasn't he? Was smiling self-indulgent, too, like having a full head of hair?
"Jim," his step-father warned. His smile immediately dropped, and he had to work to keep his hands out of fists as the man that he hated so deeply ran the buzzer through his hair.
Today was a special day, and frankly, Jim had resigned himself. Even if he did get an Abnegation result on the Aptitude test, he was leaving, running as far and as fast as he could from this place. His step-father was a wife-beating asshole, and his mother hadn't cared for him since his father—his real father—died.
That was sixteen years ago.
Jim's stomach grumbled as he sat in the school cafeteria, waiting for his test. So maybe he hadn't eaten enough for lunch.
All of the city's factions were scattered around the room, into different pockets of color and personalities. The blue Erudite sat neatly in a row, reading, as a group of standing Candor talked loudly about something that was sure to be controversial. Maybe, Jim thought, he would join them. He did have a loud mouth.
When his name was called, Jim stood up and strode purposefully out of the cafeteria. Some people were nervous, but he wasn't. He wasn't staying home anyway.
"My name is Chris Pike," the Dauntless administrator said gruffly. "Sit your ass down so we can get started."
He did. "Chris Pike, huh?"
"What are you, deaf? That's what I said, wasn't it?"
The man looked to be middle aged, around forty. Funny, Jim thought. He'd never met an old Dauntless.
"Excuse me if I say so," he said, "But 'Chris' doesn't sound like a very Dauntless name."
The man looked at him levelly, a smile twisting on the edges of his lips. "Not all Dauntless have weird names. Besides, what's yours?"
"Jim," he said immediately. "Jim Kirk."
"Well, Jim, would you change your name if you joined the Dauntless?"
"No."
"Case in point." He turned around, grabbing a small glass filled with a clear liquid from the table next to the surgical chair that Jim was sitting in. Meanwhile, he peered at himself in the mirrors lining the wall, throwing his reflection back at him.
"Here," he said, offering Jim the glass. "Drink up."
He didn't need to be told twice. Quickly, he downed the unknown clear liquid and handed the small glass back Chris Pike. Immediately, he was drifting. His head lolled back, his eyes closed…
…And then shot open. He was now standing in the cafeteria, completely drained of people. The place seemed so empty that it emitted a hollow sound.
"Choose."
Jim whipped around, searching for the source of the voice. On a table behind him sat two objects—a block of cheese and a long knife. Although he was hungry, he picked up the knife, watching it glint under the overhead lights.
Suddenly, a low, grumbling sound. Jim slowly turned to see a big German Shepherd dog, its teeth bared and its ears back. It was looking straight at him.
Jim looked at his knife. Oh shit. He couldn't kill this dog!
So what could he do?
Slowly, he dropped into a squat, placing his knife on the floor carefully beside him. He held out his hand and clicked his tongue to his teeth, trying to get the dog to come to him. The dog eventually stopped growling, wagged its tail a little, and trotted over to sniff his fingers.
"I guess we aren't as bad as we thought, huh?" Jim smirked, petting the dog's back and giving it a good scratch behind the ears.
"Doggie!" someone cried. Jim looked up to see a small girl, dressed in a yellow and red Amity dress.
"Wait—" Jim began, but by then it was too late. The dog launched itself in the direction of the girl, teeth bared and barking loudly. Completely forgetting about his knife, Jim lurched forward quickly and grabbed its tail. The German Shepherd yelped in outrage and twisted around, getting a good chunk of his wrist before the image abruptly changed.
He was at the bus stop right in front of his house. Looking up, he saw that the sky was a striking shade of bright blue, but in the distance, clouds were rolling in.
The grumbling sound of a bus rounding the corner piqued Jim's ears. It appeared around the corner on his right, making what looked like a very sharp turn. It came to a sudden, screeching halt in front of him. The bus driver—an old, gray-haired Abnegation man—frowned back at him.
He got in—what else could he do? Before he could even start looking for an seat, the bus jolted into drive and rocketed down the road. Quickly, Jim landed himself in the first seat, next to a man with a newspaper. He looked scarred on his face and hands, dark sunglasses covering his eyes.
"Hey," he said. "Stiff. Look here."
Involuntarily, he stiffened. "What do you want?" he asked.
The man flipped the paper over and tapped the top of the page. A headline and a picture—one of an ordinary but familiar looking man. One word stuck out: MURDERER.
"Do you know this man?"
Jim shook his head, even though he felt like he did know the man. "Nope."
"Really?" the man sounded incredulous. "You're Abnegation. Are you sure?"
"Yep."
"So you do?"
"Nope." Jim looked away briefly. "Sorry, man."
"Sorry," the man grumbled. "Sorry! You could save me!"
"Look," Jim said, laying his hands palms up in front of him and leaning in. "This is a simulation. I can't help anyone."
And, just like that, it was over.
