Chapter 18: Tobias – Consequences
We spend the next couple of hours practicing with the mock Control Computer. It quickly becomes obvious that Tris is better at sending broadcasts than I am. I can relay information without a problem, but I'm told that my messages lack the intensity to make people believe me if they're not already inclined to. Tris, on the other hand, seems able to convince everyone of anything she chooses. I can't say that surprises me.
Once she's consistently transmitting the message correctly, Tris goes downstairs to train some more with the others, while I keep practicing. The longer we continue, the more annoyed I become, and while I succeed in transmitting that particular feeling very well, it's debatably helpful.
Finally, Anna takes a seat beside me, pursing her lips thoughtfully. "We need a different approach," she says. "You clearly have the ability to do this, but it won't work unless you convey a strong emotion with it – something that makes people see through your eyes and agree with you. And for whatever reasons, you seem reluctant to share your feelings that way."
I don't bother answering. It's hardly a shock that I hide my feelings, after growing up in a faction where emotions were considered selfish and a household where the only sentiments I saw were anger and fear.
"I'd suggest," Anna says after a moment, "that for now, you transmit whatever message or memory you want – anything strong – to whoever you're comfortable sharing it with. That should help you get the hang of it. Maybe you'd be willing to share something with Tris that way?"
My entire body goes tense, and I shake my head automatically. It's not that I haven't shared my feelings with Tris – of course I have. It's just that they're much stronger than I've ever let her see, and I'm afraid of scaring her off. She grew up in Abnegation too, after all, and she still struggles with intimacy. There's no way I'm going to blast her with emotion in order to master this machine.
"Okay," Anna says with a sigh. "Then, maybe there's someone you'd like to send a…less positive message to?"
She's obviously referring to Marcus, but that's an even worse thought. I don't want to be anywhere near him, let alone be connected mind to mind in any manner. The idea makes me shudder. But it also leads me down a different path. Maybe there is one experience I could share with someone I wouldn't mind inflicting it on….
"Caleb," I say firmly. "I have something to show him."
Anna looks hesitant, and I remember that he's her grandson, but she must value the mission more than that relationship, because she nods reluctantly. "Okay," she says. "I'll have someone get him."
Caleb is clearly nervous as they connect him to the receiving computer. "What are you going to show me?" he asks, his eyes wide as they meet mine.
I give him a hard look, debating whether or not to answer, and then I respond simply, "Consequences." After a few seconds, I add, "If you want to come with us, you'll listen and try to learn. I assume that Erudite brain of yours is capable of that?" He nods, swallowing hard.
Once he's connected, I look at the others and say sternly, "You'll need to wait outside. No one else watches this." That seems to make Caleb even more nervous, and I see the others exchanging worried looks, but Anna escorts them from the room without debate.
I reconnect myself to the sending computer and sit there for a moment, trying to compose my thoughts. But there's no real preparation for this, so I take a deep breath and fill my mind with the memory that's haunted me for the last two weeks.
I'm in my tiny cell in Erudite, the walls pressing in around me, but I don't even notice them anymore…except as an obstacle. I need to get through them, desperately need to escape. Tris' execution has been moved to this morning, and I can't let that happen. There is nothing beyond that.
My fists keep pounding on the door, on the walls, on the ceiling – on anything that looks like it might give way. The mattress and sheets are mangled on the floor, but the cot is bolted in place, and no matter how much I tear at it, I can't make it move.
The panic is a wild animal inside me, ripping me apart from within. My shouts echo through the room, cries of pain and desperation. I don't even know what I yell. There has to be some way out of here. It's impossible to let this happen.
And then I see it, her hand pressed to the tiny window high up on the door. She reaches inside my heart and yanks me toward her, and instantly I'm there, staring down at her face, at the only face I love, the only person I care about in this world. She can't die. She can't.
She looks up at me bravely, calmly, and I know she's accepted her fate. But I can't. I can't let her go. I stare at her hungrily, a thousand unsaid words fighting for release all at once. I need more time with her, need to hold her, need to kiss her, need everything. I place my hand against hers on the glass, trying to reach through it to her fingers. And then I set my forehead on the window the way I've so often pressed it to her, trying to feel that connection one more time. The last time.
My eyes close for just a moment.
When I open them, she's gone. The emptiness is beyond despair. A hole has been ripped through me, taking my soul with it. I stagger backwards, tripping on the shredded mattress and falling to the floor. I pull my knees to me and sob.
I don't know how long I stay that way. Eternity never ends.
When the door opens, I don't lunge at it, because I know what it means. They wouldn't open it if there was still time for me to help her. It must be too late, and they're coming for something else.
"What do–" I yell. Fury is the only emotion I have left.
But then I see her, limp and lifeless in Peter's arms. I can't breathe. "Oh my God." My heart is pounding so hard I'm sure it will burst, will stop like hers. "Oh–"
Peter interrupts me. "Spare me your blubbering, okay?" For a split second, the entirety of my anger focuses on him, and I begin moving toward him, fast, with no thought except how to kill him. How quickly and in what manner. But he continues, "She's not dead; she's just paralyzed."
The words shock through me, filling me with more emotion than I can process, more than I can even remotely handle. I stare at her, trying to see if he's right, and I see the very slight movement of a breath. She's alive. Alive.
I take a weak step toward her, barely able to stand but even less able to stay away from her. I'm vaguely aware of Peter's voice saying, "It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run." The words don't make sense. I tear my eyes away from Tris long enough to stare at Peter. Is he offering to help us escape?
The thought fills me with dread, because I know Peter would never do that. And that must mean I'm in a simulation, and Tris is really dead, and Jeanine is experimenting on me again. But I feel the raw edge of the pain, and my eyes take in Tris' face, her limp body, the slight twitch of movement, and I know beyond doubt that this is real. She's real. I just know.
"Let me carry her," I say hoarsely.
Peter shakes his head immediately. "No," he says firmly. "You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her." I can't stand the thought of her in his arms, but in that moment, I know he's right. All that matters now is getting Tris to safety. I slide his gun from the holster, and as I feel the weight of the metal in my hand, I know I will kill anyone who stands in the way of that goal. Anyone, without hesitation or doubt.
I pull myself back from the memory, aware of the chair underneath me again, and I direct the next thought with every bit of mental strength I can muster.
"Including you, Caleb, if you ever harm her again."
I breathe out, feeling the explosion of anger and grief and fear and hope releasing all at once. I tear the sensors from my head and sit forward, pressing my hands to my face and letting the sobs wrack my body. It takes several minutes to pull myself together, but Caleb doesn't emerge from the other room, so I don't rush. When I'm finally calm enough, I stalk across the room and open the door to check on him.
I half expect to see that he removed the sensors before I started and is hiding there. Instead, I see him sitting in the chair, still connected, his face soaked with tears. He looks up at me, and I recognize my own desperation mirrored in his eyes. Apparently, I succeeded in sending the message strongly enough.
"I'm so sorry," he gasps, choking on a sob. "I didn't know…." He rubs at his face, his entire body shaking. "I mean, I knew you were dating, but I thought it was just…. I didn't know it was like that. And everything was being recorded, so we couldn't say anything in advance, not to either of you."
He wraps his arms around himself, rocking back and forth in the chair. "She seemed so calm as she entered the room, I thought maybe she'd figured it out. That maybe what I'd done wasn't so bad…."
His voice suddenly rises to a shout. "What the hell kind of person am I? How could I do something like that? To her, to you, to everybody." Another sob wracks his body, and he doubles over as if in pain. "I've never loved anyone like that…the way you do. I've never felt anything that deep. My whole life, I've been nothing but selfish."
For a moment, watching him, I remember Tris berating herself at Al's service, and I begin to feel something like sympathy for Caleb. He's not much older than she is, and he's struggling with many of the same issues. The loneliness of Abnegation, the struggle to fit in somewhere else, the loss of his parents, the crushing guilt over how his actions have affected others.
Maybe I've done enough to him. I reach over and begin pulling the sensors from his head. He winces away from me, the same way I pulled back from my father a hundred times over the years, but I don't let my hand drop.
"It's time for dinner," I say quietly as I continue to remove the electrodes. "And then we need to figure out what supplies we're taking with us on this mission."
He meets my gaze tearfully. "I can come with you?"
"Yeah," I answer simply. And then I manage a small smile. "But we really need to work on your self-defense skills. Right now, you're pretty useless." As I say it, I remember that he fired Tris' gun once, back in Amity. He may have saved our lives in the process. I look at him again, trying to evaluate him without the bias of everything that's happened since. Maybe, just maybe, he has some skills to offer, if we let him.
I extend a hand to him, and when he tentatively takes it, I pull him to his feet. "We should probably clean up a bit," I comment.
"Yeah," he says with a weak laugh. "You don't look so good."