My mother jokes of how I'm destined to transfer from Candor. She is one of seven children, five of whom remained in Candor. Between the five remaining, seven more were born, myself the youngest. Almost ten years ago my cousin Rachel transferred to Dauntless, two years after her brother Samuel transferred to Amity. Only last year did one stay, when four of my cousins came of age. Ryan to Dauntless, Joseph to Erudite, and Jillian to Abnegation. Alexander stayed however. Alexander is the only one I still see due to Faction norms.
I repeat that, over and over in my mind as I sit on the bus to school. I peer down at my clear white jacket over a black t-shirt, some of the most casual clothes you'll find on a Candor. The other Candor sit straight up with backs against the seats, whereas I lean forward, slack.
"Sit up Chase."
I look up at Alexander, who is on the bus to head to his teaching job at the school. He teaches Candor Faction History.
"Easy for you to say." I sit up a bit, still a few inches from against the seat, "You've always belonged in Candor from the day your mother birthed you."
He gets a look of unease from the mention of his mother, as he always does. He has to learn to face the fact she's gone. He tries to be honest with everyone else, but when it comes to the topic of her he still can't be honest with himself. He's about to reply, when the bus comes to a halt. "Time to get off." He says sternly, standing and walking to the door with everyone else.
I let out a sigh and stand, exiting the bus and walking to my Faction History Class. Today's topic is the evolution of the Choosing Ceremony. A fitting topic for it's eve. As I head into the doorway of the class I am met by a fierce bump. "Watch where you're goi-" I stop dead in my tracks and thought when I see who it is that bumped into me.
Beatrice Prior.
I chuckle a bit as she collects herself and stands, dusting dirt from her skirt. "Prior," I speak as I lean down, recollecting my books "Surprised to see a Stiff dashing her way to class. You must've caused quite the disturbance besides bumping into myself."
She blushes brightly, finally getting her books back together. She starts scrambling together an apology, but before she can I quickly raise a hand and bring it down hard onto the books in her hand, spreading them all over the floor again.
"Don't apologize if you don't mean it, Stiff. You're as transparent as-" I am cut off as I notice a lock of my dark-brown hair in my face. I keep my hair gelled back with the longest parts in the back reaching the top of my t-shirt. I grimace at the out of place strands and quickly lose my train of thought, looking back down to Prior getting her stuff together. "Forget it," I state, running my hand through my hair, placing the lock back into uniformity, "You'll fade into the background like every other Stiff before you and suffer in silence anyway. Who am I to try to fix what was broken from the start." With that, I turn into the class.
The Aptitude tests begin after lunch. Five long tables in the cafeteria hold each faction's sixteen-year-olds. The rest of the Candor debate back and forth on some topic I have discussed time and time again, so for once I give others the freedom to debate. I peer over the other tables. The Abnegation sit in silence. The Erudite chatter as if birds in a cage. They all seem to be saying the same thing with different inflections. The Dauntless squawk and holler, they seem rowdier than usual. Amity girls sit on the ground… are they slapping each other?
"Chase Lionel!" The sound of my name brings me out of my daze. It's my turn to take the Aptitude. I quickly stand and straighten my jacket then dust off my white jeans, knowing they are still impeccable.
When I reach the group of fellow students, I groan when I find Prior to my left. "How much can one man take?"
She doesn't even attempt to hide the darting glare she shoots at me. When I step to my room I find my proctor to be a Stiff as well, just as I had guessed. Upon further glace I notice something more though. "No. Are you a Prior?" I demand as I sit in the seat, surrounded by walls of mirror.
She looks up with surprise. "Yes, do you know my son?" She asks sheepishly, but with a slight glance to her left.
She feels like she just lied, but with a question? "Fortunately, no. But I have the dissatisfaction of knowing your daughter, Beatrice."
"Dissatisfaction?" She looks up with worry in her eyes, "Has she been rude to you in the past?"
"No. I just don't care for self-deceit." I sneer at her as I speak.
She suddenly goes off on a tangent to avoid the tangent I had created. "Drink this, please." She hands me a small vial which I gulp down without question.
Seconds later, I find myself standing in the cafeteria yet again. The tables are all gone, and out the window I spot a violent winter storm. Strikes of lightning illuminate the cloudy night as snow sticks to the window.
"Choose" booms a voice out of nowhere. It's slightly female and sounds familiar.
"Ms. Matthews? Choose for what?" I suddenly notice two pedestals before me. One holds a block of cheese; the other a blade.
"Choose" she booms yet again.
I look down to the two options. Clearly I'll be getting no more information. Wait… are there only two options? Of course not, at any point there are infinite choices to make.
But this is a simulation! So, are there still infinite choices?
No… but there's still more than two.
I reach forth with both hands, grabbing each. The pedestals suddenly disappear and I am left with the knife in my right hand and cheese in my left.
I hear a bark from behind me. I turn to find a fierce canine of some sort charging at me. Without a moment's hesitation I throw down the cheese. The mangy mutt suddenly stops at the cheese and starts sniffing at it peacefully. I chuckle to myself and bend down, scratching behind it's ear.
As I scratch behind it's ear I notice something off. Every so often the dog twitches, at when it does small cubic shapes seem to slightly extend from it. Three dimensional pixels? Well, you can't expect the best simulations are being used for something this simple.
Without any warning, my ears are suddenly pierced by a high voice. "Puppy!"
I look up to see a boy, about ten years of age, arms outstretched and eyes closed. He wears white jeans, a black T, and a white jacket, the same outfit as me. Before I can react, the dog starts turning.
That high-pitched voice! This thing's gonna kill him if I don't-
My thoughts are cut off by my action. Before the dog can respond, I quickly raise my knife and switch it around in my hand. Then, thrust the blade into the mutt's rib-cage.
It makes a small whimper and then falls, my blade slipping out, still in my grip.
I pause for a moment, expecting the simulation to end, but it doesn't. "It's not over yet?" I ask, looking to the ceiling.
Sobbing. I can hear sobbing.
I look to the boy to find his face in his hands. I sigh and walk over to him. "Look up." I demand, steel in my voice. When he does, I recognize his face. I'm not sure if he notices my slight flinch at the sight of him. "You're an idiot. A dog like that would obviously attack a high-pitched human. You know that."
The boy looks away in shame. As he does, I switch the knife to my left hand, and before he can look back at me, I bring it down into his neck. My knees wobble a little as I watch the ten year old version of myself fall to the floor.