The second time that I went under a simulation went far smoother. I didn't awaken in a hallway of chaos or feel my body wracked with coughs. My second fear simulation began far more simply. I sat on the ground, the air clear and the sun warming my back through my black tank top.
I was out beyond the fence. This may have been Amity - not that I had ever visited the land of the happy-go-lucky before - or it could have been part of the no man's land that stretched from the edges of Amity's fields into the distant horizon. Either way, I didn't recognize where I was. Twisting my head, I looked around to tell if I was alone. Something nagged at the back of my mind that it didn't matter whether I was or wasn't, that I should just enjoy the day. I ignored it in favor of exploring the space around me.
It seemed that I'd awoken in a small stand of trees, secluded but open enough to allow the breeze that plucked at my stray hair. "Hello?" I called, slipping completely into the illusion. Regardless of it being all a lie, I wanted to know if I was truly alone.
No one answered in return, and I paced around the circle of trees. Again that nagging feeling prodded at the back of my head. I shouldn't leave.
Why not? Continuing to look around, I hadn't a single piece of gear or bag of supplies. It didn't make sense to remain here without a scrap of food or water. Craning my neck, I squinted at the sky to try and guess what time it was. For all the brightness and the lack of a single cloud, I couldn't find the sun. No matter how I turned, I felt the same comfortable warmth on my back and easy-going breeze.
"What kind of fear is this?" I grumbled under my breath. "Isolation? Yeah I'm real worried about getting stuck in a forest during a sunny day. Terrified, even." I approached a spot where a worn trail broke through the trees. When I stood at the opening, my feet refused to budge. I wanted to leave, but at the same time I quite wanted to stay in this fantastic little hiding spot. I found myself back in the center of the clearing settling once more on the ground.
Halfway between crouching and standing I realized that I'd moved. I didn't want to stay here. There wasn't any food and the sun… well wherever it was, it would be setting soon enough. I needed to get somewhere to hitch a ride back to Dauntless.
I wrestled with myself and ended up kneeling on the ground, my hands clenched in tight fists. This wasn't at all like last time. A bug bit my leg to add insult to injury. I slapped it with an open palm and glared about the clearing. Where was the fear I was supposed to be dealing with?
The phantom sensation of insects on my leg cropped up from where I'd slapped the bug. I brushed my leg again to rub away the mild sensation. My hand came away with a beetle clinging resolutely to one finger.
I lost my frustration at the simulation as I looked at myself rather than just the area around me. Beetles, flies, and other creepy-crawlies surged along my feet, calves, and thighs. They all clambored to rise above one another in endless waves. House bugs on their own didn't phase me, but this was a purely alien experience of the ground beneath me writhing with segmented bodies, bobbing antennae, and delicate legs.
I screamed.
There is some base instinct which knows that humans are not meant to be swarmed by insects, that there is something unnatural about the way that their bodies skitter along human flesh. I listened heartily to that instinct and clawed at the hoard invading my personal space. Simply brushing them away did very little; their tiny legs ended in barbs and prongs that clung to my skin and clothes.
I wanted to leap to my feet. The nagging sensation finally agreed, and I scrambled away from the churning ground which continued to erupt with insects. It seemed endless, the flood of bodies continuing even as I ran shrieking into the brush and brambles surrounding the clearing. I had to get away. I should never have stayed in that damn place. When I got back to Dauntless, I was going to track down Lauren and -
Lauren.
Bugs.
And fear, so much blind fear.
This wasn't real. I'd slipped so far into the illusion of the simulation that I'd forgotten that it wasn't actually happening to me.
My feel slowed their panicked steps and I focused on dealing with the pests still crawling along my body rather than running. A centipede scurried along my arm, intent to be the first to reach my hair. I shook like a dog, trying to dislodge the weakest that way.
Rubbing my arms with my hands, I forced the centipede and its fellow friends back to the forest floor. Now that I was thinking instead of just reacting, I stomped my boots in a constant beat to kill the bugs I shoved off. If they were dead, they couldn't climb back on. The urge to scream again had me gritting my teeth in a frantic grimace, but I refused to allow the mindless panic to overwhelm me once again.
No new rush of bugs came from the earth. I swatted at a stray long-legged spider and cringed as its guts smeared onto my skin, joining the dirt and remains of its fellows. I could breathe normally. My heart rate settled as I took in a deep, calming breath.
I opened my eyes in the simulation room once more. "Bugs," I spat through aching teeth. Clearly that had bled through to my physical self. I wondered if I had screamed, too. Eric hadn't told me if I had last time - though I don't think that I had screamed either way in the burning building.
Lauren laughed as I shook away the phantom feeling of crawling from my legs and arms. Only once I'd wiped every inch of exposed, itching skin did I look at her. "I'm going to itch all day," I groaned.
She closed down my file on the computer after noting something down in her files. The screen went back to the full list of fears available. I spied a counter this time; there were over a thousand listed. My stomach flipped at the thought of being tested against a thousand fears.
"You'll be fine in a little bit," Lauren offered. She spun on the stool to help me remove the electrodes and wiped down each electrical lead. "So, better or worse than fire?"
I paused at picking at the pad on my temple to consider both simulations.
"They were about the same, actually?" I replied. I was being honest; neither simulation felt easier or harder than the other. When Lauren didn't say anything I elaborated to fill the empty air. "It was more… unrealistic than the fire. Like sitting on the ground wasn't anything that I would normally do so the whole sim felt weird."
"I had a question about that," Lauren mused. "You tried to leave the sim start region. I had a tough time getting the actual fear event to run - not that it hurt your time in the end. I'd never seen anyone try to do that before." Her forehead furrowed as she thought. "Well, actually Uriah tried to do a handstand and got a face full of bugs instead of the norm, but he didn't try to leave."
The room felt confined and my face warmed. This was getting a little too close to the questions about my choices in the aptitude test. I didn't want to be an anomaly.
"I just wanted to leave," I mumbled. "Maybe I hate being stuck in Amity subconsciously."
Lauren threw back her head laughing and all the tension in my shoulders dropped. I was being far too paranoid. Lauren wasn't trying to dredge up suspicions about my aptitude. She was probably just bored from running the same sim over and over again.
"You're not the only one who can't stand that place," she barked out between chuckles. "Now head out and send in the next sucker on the list. You did good. We'll see you in gym 'C' after lunch."
Yesterday was it for half days, I guess. I hopped off of the chair and wiped my palms on my shorts. Just as I opened the door, I realized I forgot to ask a critical question. "What was my time again?" I said, looking back at the long-haired instructor.
She slapped her forehead. Reading from her hand-written spreadsheet, Lauren said "Seven thirty-seven. Thanks, and sorry for not telling you." I thanked her and stepped into the hall.
Everyone had heard what she said and was now staring at me. They were trying to size me up, maybe to determine how tough today's sims would be. Something about how Peter didn't look so smug bolstered my mood.
"Next on the sheet," I said with a shrug of my shoulder. Conversation picked up again as Lynn swapped places with me. The door closed with a snap. I sat down where she'd been sitting on the bench and donned a cocky smile. "Under ten minutes again," I bragged.
Marlene scoffed but her immediate nervous laugh cut my concerns that I was overdoing the whole bravado bit. She wasn't actually trying to give me a hard time. "Maybe you'll burn out. Beginner's luck," she offered.
I feigned shock and folded a hand over my heart. "Ouch, that hurts," I said, laughing as well. "We're all beginners though. So we're all just as lucky."
Will shuffled closer, sliding down the bench on the opposite wall. "Maybe you just haven't gotten any of your actual fears yet. It's only a matter of time until they find them. Then you can join the rest of us slowpokes," he said, joining in on the ragging.
"Maybe I'm the next Four," I joked.
Christina gagged. "We can only hope not. There's not enough grouchy comebacks in the world." Marlene nodded in agreement.
"One of those guys is enough for a whole faction. Plus that's not what his name means," the blonde girl insisted. I settled against the wall, confidence settling genuinely settling into my stance. I was done with the fear simulation for the day. People were talking to me again. The tension of the past week felt distant and manageable.
It was Uriah's turn to jump into the conversation. "So what does the number mean? Shauna said it was his fears and I'm inclined to believe her. She was in his initiation year."
"Shauna was wasted when she said that," Marlene countered.
"Your point?"
"I didn't actually think that it meant he had four fears, but okay then," I mumbled. The comment hadn't been intended to start this kind of discussion. Plus I could only imagine the glare I would earn if he walked in now hearing us theorize about his name.
Will normally would have been my go-to guy for rumors and faction history and even he didn't have an answer for the mystery. "No one really knows what the number means," he admitted. "Or no one's talking about it."
"Maybe it's how many aptitudes he has?" Christina threw out the suggestion in such as way that it had to be pure, innocent speculation. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from reacting. Would someone really want to brag about that? Tori had insisted I keep my divergence a secret. But maybe after initiation it wouldn't matter as much, so long as I'd proven myself to belong in Dauntless.
Of course Will knew the proper term and made sure the rest of us did, too. He wasn't rude, though, giving his opinion without shutting Christina down as harshly as he tended to with either Al or myself. "If he did have four aptitudes then he'd be extremely rare. Having two is uncommon enough for Divergents - that's what it's called by the way, Divergence - but four? There probably isn't even a way to tell if someone had four aptitudes. Four factional divergence is a completely unproven theory," he rambled on until Marlene interrupted him.
She had kicked him with her bare feet, her boots tucked under the bench as her time was nearly twenty minutes and she "wasn't going anywhere fast." It was better to get comfortable than to sit white knuckled and anxious like Al was. "Oops, I'm sorry," she said dryly. "You were just getting a bit nosey even for an ex-blueberry."
Christina stiffened and glared at Marlene. "He's just being a dork. There's nothing wrong with being curious. Cool your jets," she growled.
Unaffected, Marlene cracked a wider grin. "Well duh, it doesn't matter. I'm just saying it's nosey to be thinking about that crap in a testable, confirmable way. I left mid-levels, I don't need to be thinking about Mrs. Blanchard while I'm learning how to be Dauntless."
Everyone groaned at Mrs. B's name. We'd all suffered through the older Erudite woman's lectures on experimental design. Caleb and I had passed notes all throughout her class, and a good many of them had been mock hypotheses on whether or not she was legally required to bring up the scientific method at least once a week.
What was even more hilarious was the way that Will's face paled. "She's my aunt. Oh my god, I sound like my boring aunt," he moaned.
Our laughter helped ease the wait. I was glad to be there, to help bring the mood back up each time that someone left the testing room.
I wasn't the only one to break the ten minute mark for their sim, but I was still the quickest of the day. Everyone felt bad for Christina. Her screams upon waking up made their way to us despite the thick walls. Apparently Four had tested her on crowds yesterday - as per Lauren's plan - and she didn't care for insects. Her time was one of the longest to add insult to injury.
Still, she didn't want anyone's pity and demanded only that we "shut the hell up" about the sims overall when we went to lunch. Molly brushed by her, whispering that Christina had a spider on her shoulder, and I think it was only by the grace of god that Christina couldn't get out from the table fast enough to punch her lights out.
"Are they trying to be completely exiled before they even finish Initiation?" Lynn wondered aloud between bites. "'Cause they're all doing a great job of it." I agreed with her on a deeply profound level. Even if they hadn't been tormenting me personally, I would never care for that trio.
I noticed as we assembled in gym C that very few of the Dauntless-born bothered to talk with them. Their reputation was biting them in the ass, hard. It served them right. Meanwhile, I floated between my old and new friends alike as Marlene and Uriah warmed up quickly to having us around. I suspected my stupid stunt yesterday had been shared, earning me some bonus credibility in recklessness.
While we hovered, I took the time to look around us. Our normal gym had fighting equipment and weapons lockers. This one had been outfitted with completely different tools. There were wooden walls of various heights, scattered old truck tires, and a series of knotted and unknotted ropes. A massive net stretched across and above everything, suspended about halfway up the room. I tried not to think about what would happen if you fell from up there.
Rita's panicked scream from Choosing Day echoed in my thoughts and I swallowed hard.
Our trainers arrived right on the dot of one o'clock. Four was finally showing his face, followed by an irritated Lauren. She'd never gotten the backup she had expected with our simulations, something which I'm certain wasn't helping her mood now. Her scowl however had nothing on the utterly vicious glare that Eric stormed in wearing.
"Form up and shut up!" he bellowed. It was an unquestionable order. Mouths shut and the initiates clustered into a rough line.
"They don't have a formation yet," Four said, his voice tight.
Eric directed his glare at Four for a few tense, agonizing seconds. "I don't care. They can manage a fucking line without you holding their hands," he snapped.
Other than the shuffling of feet as we moved into a more firm line, you could have heard a pin drop. I mimicked the posture of the Dauntless-born around us, placing my hands behind my back and standing ramrod straight. Parade rest, a voice directed me from the some corner of memory. It sounded a lot like Four from our first days of Initiation.
Eric swept past the instructors and stalked up and down the line. He met each and every initiate's eyes with an unflinching stare. We all awaited the next bout of shouting. I knew deep down this outrage couldn't be about training.
"Four days ago on the eve of Phase Two an initiate was violently assaulted in the transfer dorm," Eric began, his voice low and dripping with malice. "This attack-" he spat the word "-was cowardly and very, very stupid. It bears reminding that each and every one of you is no longer a dependent hiding behind your parents. When you chose to come to Dauntless - or to remain - you also accepted the consequences of all of your actions moving forward."
From the corner of my eye I tried to read the room around me. I couldn't see beyond Will to my left or Uriah to my right to tell if anyone looked nervous from Eric's speech. I knew very well that I wasn't involved in Edward's attack but I still felt tension eating away at the pit of my stomach.
"When - not if, when - we identify whoever was involved, you're not going to get the chance to slink away in the night. And you're going to wish that you could just confess your crimes in front of a judge." Eric stopped in front of Molly, his mouth twitching in a cruel smile. "A Dauntless inquiry is less formal. And entirely unforgiving. Simply being thrown out is too good for people who would readily attack one of their own."
He didn't elaborate, moving away from the line entirely to regard the two trainers. They'd been standing to the side, each with tight expressions. Lauren gave a small nod and pushed away from the wall with her foot. "I'll reiterate what I already told most of you: if you know anything, talk to Eric. If you protect the piece of trash who stabbed one of their own now, you'll share their fate," she said. Her voice rang slightly in the open air, leaving her threat hanging.
Four didn't choose to chime in, remaining against the wall without looking at anyone. After a few more heartbeats, Lauren rolled her shoulders and cleared her throat. "Right then. Now that that's been brought up, we can get back to what you're supposed to be learning," she called out. "Break up into two groups. You'll be learning how to actually function in a squadron today."
The gym filled with nervous chatter. I tried to fend off questioning glances from the Dauntless-born - those who didn't know me, not those who had been with us in the room that night - with the same attitude I'd channeled earlier. At very least it gave me the confidence to meet their eyes until they looked away.
I chanced a look over at Eric to see if he was going to disappear again. He was deep in conversation with Four. Neither of them looked happy, but they'd yet to raise their voices beyond a low murmur. Lauren sent them both a dirty look and ushered us over to one of the obstacles to explain the course to us.
It was easy to fall into the drills that Lauren lead us through, even when I had to rely on Drew to grab my hand and help me over the wall. Both groups had to get through the course as efficiently as possible. We didn't get direction other than "make it happen without leaving anyone behind."
We didn't get to rest after finishing the first time. The other group lagged behind and we were told to go back and help them out. Then we shuffled the groups and ran through again. And again. Four stepped in and relieved Lauren sometime through our second assault on the course, though he was even less hands-on. He didn't bother reshuffling the teams, sending us through in the opposite direction without another word.
"Good effort, everyone," Four commended, the words stiff and emotionless. My fingers hurt and my limbs ached by the time we broke for dinner. It was astounding how quickly I had grown used to spending my afternoons sitting around. Clamboring over wooden obstacles was taxing on completely different muscles than the ones I'd been working on to fight.
I lead my pack of friends out of the gym, taking the front so that my slow pace would keep me from falling behind. When we got our food and settled down, I almost lost my appetite all over again. Al held up his forearm to get Will's opinion on a piece of wood wedged under one of his fingernails. Christina turned her head to look away while Will investigated. I tried to make a joke, but she didn't seem to hear.
What a way to finish the day.
Had I thought about it, I wouldn't have left the dormitory that night. There was a sink in the bathroom and plastic cups available for exactly the post-dinner thirst that I had struggled to ignore while tossing and turning.
But I didn't think and my tired feet led me down the halls past other, equally effective water fountains until I got to the mess hall. At this point in the night the chafing dishes were empty and the only food around was the perpetual table of fruits that somehow always ended up only having grapefruit and some very yellow oranges. I pawed at the wire bowl for a few seconds, trying in vain to find an apple. Instead I directed my attention to my actual goal
Several nights ago, someone had made the mistake of pointing out to me tanks of water in the corner of the mess hall. They weren't just filtered wellspring water. Oh no. They had floating slices of lemons and limes in one and the coldest damn refrigeration system. It wasn't anything special if you weren't thirsty, but I had been craving some from the moment that we'd gotten back to the dorms tonight.
The few scattered faction members around essentially ignored me as I downed a full glass of the refreshing water without moving from the station. Then with a second full glass in hand, and an expertly retrieved quarter slice of lemon, I started on my slow walk back to my friends and bed.
I heard footsteps behind me from the moment that I left the mess hall. Looking down at myself, I could actually feel my heart rate lurch into overdrive.
My feet were bare. I had my hair down. My only potential weapon was the plastic mass-produced cup in my hands that was probably already cracked from endless wash cycles in the dishwasher.
And I was alone.
What's good about an adrenaline rush is how it equips you to deal with sudden, dangerous situations. Your decision-making proceeds at the speed of light, and the world around you seems to move at the pace of a vaguely determined tortoise. I spun on my heel and threw the lightly chilled water in the face of whomever thought they could get the jump on one foolishly picky nighttime drinker.
The little triangle of lemon stuck to Eric's shoulder valiantly before slipping down and landing on the floor with a wet plop. I watched all of this in the painful slow motion of my adrenaline high that refused to fade with the same speed that it started at.
"...Shit," I breathed. Two heart beats later I surged forward, issuing frantic apologies. The lemon went into the empty cup with another soft noise. "I thought you were going to stab me and all I had was water but I'm sorry, Eric. Damn, I feel so dumb."
My hands stalled before actually touching him. What was I going to do anyways? Wipe away the remaining drops of water? I didn't have a towel or even a napkin. Worst of all was the fact that Eric still hadn't said anything. He was looking down at his grey shirt and blinking. I think he was still processing what had happened.
I pulled my hand back and wrapped it around the plastic cup for want of anything else to do. Eric tipped his head slightly and swiped uselessly at the wet fabric. "I'm still waiting for someone to come out of the shadows and yell 'gotcha' but the longer that I do, the more I realize that this isn't an elaborate prank," he intoned dryly.
Cringing, I bit my lip. "You just made that big speech and I realized I was walking alone," I explained.
"So naturally you defended yourself with a bit of shitty lemonade and called that proper tactics?" he said.
"Technically it was just flavored water?" I offered.
Eric rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to his shirt. It was sticking to his chest in a way that wasn't altogether unflattering. Even in the blue light of the tunnel I could see the way it started to outline the sloping contours of his chest before fading off into dry, free-flowing fabric. "My eyes are up here," he teased.
I switched my gaze back to his face and fought against the rising heat around my ears. "I know that," I mumbled. "I have to head back anyways. And you need to dry off."
My feet shuffled, now properly chilled on the stone floor even this late in the summer, and I started off to the dorms again. A few steps in I expected to hear footfalls falling in beside me. Silence was all that greeted me. Turning my head, I saw Eric once again standing there with his head tipped and some unreadable expression darkening his face.
I felt my stomach twist as I wrestled with the disappointed feeling settling in on top of the tiredness. I had expected him to offer to come along, maybe make a crack about me having meant to get him wet after all just to catch another glimpse. My mouth fell open, the suggestion of him walking back with me dying on my tongue.
I couldn't bring myself to ask. Eric wasn't just some other initiate or even any other Dauntless. He was a Leader, actively involved in our training regimine. He'd even said the other day how he had to fight with Four to get me the rank I ended up with. I couldn't entertain the thought of him walking me back to my dorm like we were some Abnegation dependents testing the waters.
"How come you're skipping out on our runs, Prior?" Eric called out. "Gave up on trying to beat me?"
That I could answer. I squared my shoulders and shook my head defiantly. "Nah, I thought I'd give you a few days off to rest up. Tomorrow I'll kick your ass all over that gym," I boasted.
I could see the glint of his teeth as he broke out into a genuine grin. Sure, it was a cocky, determined slash of white, but it was real. That much I knew. "See you in a few hours then," Eric said.
"I'll bring the water," I promised, smiling as well. He issued a mock salute and turned to head back to… wherever it was that he went off to. I spent the rest of the walk to the dorm in a mixture of barely contained happiness and careful observation, lest I be caught off guard again.
When I got to the dorm I threw out the bit of lemon and stacked the cup on top of my chest to be brought back to the mess. My motions were careful so that I didn't wake anyone else up. Scurrying onto my bunk, I looked over at where Will lay sleeping. Two shining spots glinted the low light back at me until heavy eyelids covered them once more.
A pit opened up in my gut. Did Will care enough to mention seeing me slipping back into the dorm in the middle of the night? I hoped that he didn't, that such a detail would only matter to people actively seeking a scrap of gossip to throw around. But I remembered the betting pool and how he was the one monitoring the odds that I would sleep around.
A second question dug at my conscience. If I left in the morning again, would that make me look even more guilty?
Of what, exactly? Of course, I knew what.