Chapter 30: Tobias – Stymied

I swear this day will never end. We've spent an eternity trudging around the two glass skyscrapers that might house the Control Computer, walking up and down various streets so we can stay close enough to see without drawing attention. When we were in Pittsburgh, it felt like the broadcasts came frequently, but that must have been because we were busy. Today, it's as if time stops completely while we wait for them.

And the slowness makes it difficult to maintain the expression I practiced in the van, so long ago. I keep finding myself standing too straight, or looking around too boldly, and I have to work at appearing downtrodden again.

Occasionally, we pass the other group at an intersection, as they move along a different path than ours. We don't acknowledge each other, because it could make strangers notice us, but it's always a relief to see that they're still safe. I try not to let my eyes linger on Tris.

Over the course of the day, my father's stiff walk gives way to outright limping, and Pari slows our pace to accommodate him. I'm not sure how I feel about seeing him this way – weak – and knowing it's because of what I did to him. He deserved it, I tell myself, and I know it's true. But whenever his eyes move past me, refusing to acknowledge my presence, I can't help remembering all the times my mother and I avoided his gaze the day after he beat us. It makes me feel far too much like him.

I suppose this day would be worthwhile if we were at least gathering good information, but it just doesn't seem that way. Even after the third broadcast, I personally still have no idea where the Control Computer is. I can only hope one of the others had better luck, or that we'll have some success once we combine our observations.

It's well after dark when we head back to the place we slept last night. As we did before, the rest of us stay hidden until Margot and Christina are able to get us inside. We don't talk as we wait, but it's obvious from everyone's body language that frustration levels are running high. They get even worse once we're back in the basement room and it becomes obvious we don't even agree on which building has the Control Computer.

"The first broadcast was definitely coming from the southern building," Tris insists. "We were on 17th Street, right between the two buildings at the time, and that's the direction everyone turned."

"I don't know what to tell you," Cara responds. "We were on 17th too, but we were right by the southern building at the time, and everyone turned toward the northern one. Are you sure you got the direction right?"

"Yes," Christina says in exasperation. "How dumb do you think we are?"

Before Cara can answer the gibe, Caleb speaks up. "What about the next broadcast? What did you observe that time, Beatrice?"

"We were on Chestnut, and people seemed to be looking at the southern building," she answers, but then her voice turns a bit reluctant as she adds, "but the other building was directly behind it from that position, so I can't be sure."

"Could they have projectors on both buildings?" Uriah asks, and my mouth twitches just a little at his attempt to find a middle ground that lets everyone be right. His Amity is showing.

Cara begins, "Theoretically, they certainly could, but it would be a lot of extra work for no real gain…." And then her voice peters out at the look on Caleb's face. He's wearing the same expression I see on Tris so often when she gets something that no one else has thought of yet.

"They have to cover the whole area," Caleb says enthusiastically. "If all of the projectors point outward from the same building, then there'd be a dead spot in the middle of the building that didn't receive any signal. And if each projection is broadcast as a cone that emanates from the projector, they couldn't cover the full space around the building either. It can't be done from just one location."

"Of course!" Cara responds, her face lighting up in understanding. "They'd have to place one projector elsewhere and point it toward the missed areas."

For just a moment, they beam at each other, and then they turn somber again. "But which building is which?" Cara asks.

"That's the hard part…" Caleb mutters. "There's no way to tell from up close, since each building receives a signal from the other one. We saw that today."

There's a long silence, and then Uriah says hesitantly, "So, we need to observe from farther away?"

"Yes," Cara and Caleb answer simultaneously.

But Tris seems less certain. "How do we know how far away we need to be?" she asks. "It could take multiple broadcasts just to make sure we have the right building. And then we'll still need to narrow down the floor, which gets harder the farther away we are…." Her voice trails off in frustration. She's right. It will be difficult to get a clear line of sight from a distance, and without that, we can't possibly determine which floor we need. On top of that, the farther away we are, the harder it is to know that we're looking at exactly the right angle. After all, our only guide is trying to match our head position to everyone else's, and that's hardly precise.

I sigh. "We'll be lucky to narrow it down to a range of fifteen floors."

"We need receivers," Tris says abruptly. The response doesn't seem related to what I said, but she continues anyway. "We all need to be able to hear the broadcasts, so we can split up more and can pinpoint the location better."

The others nod slowly, thinking about that argument, but Tris' eyes meet mine, and I realize there's something else too. Something she didn't say because the Abnegation in her doesn't want to make Pari feel bad….

"Are you thinking we'll be able to sense the signal better?" I ask her, gesturing between her, Uriah, and me. "Because we can also send it?" I remember how easily she was able to control the computer back in the bomb shelter, and I think she might be on to something.

Tris nods. "I don't know for certain," she replies, "but it seems possible that if we can control the signal much better than most people can, we should be able to receive it better too. Like with the simulations. We're not just aware that we're in one – we can manipulate it too." She pauses, rubbing a hand on the back of her neck. "Maybe resistance, awareness, and control are all different aspects of the same ability."

"I think you're right," Caleb says somewhat timidly. He turns to me for a moment before looking at Amar and continuing in a quiet voice, "When I listened to Tobias'…broadcast, I was very aware of where he was. I felt like I was right there with him. It stands to reason that Beatrice and Tobias would be even better at it than I was. They should have no trouble locating the projectors, or maybe even seeing from the perspective of the person at the Control Computer."

Amar nods slowly, but my eyes move automatically to Tris. I never told her about the memory I shared with Caleb back in the bomb shelter, and it's obvious by her expression that he didn't either – and that she feels this counts as keeping a secret. A weight drops into my stomach at the thought. She's right, of course, but I have absolutely no desire to discuss it now. I look at her levelly, trying to convey with my eyes that I'll tell her later. Someday.

Amar's voice interrupts our silent dialogue. Looking at Pari, he asks, "If we were to try Tris' idea, where would we get receivers?"

Pari runs her hands up her face, grimacing. She clearly doesn't like this idea. "They're in the mandatory vaccinations, to make sure every kid gets a few of them. So, I guess…a pediatrician's office."

"Are there a lot of those around?" Tris asks. It's a fair question given how little care the people of NUSA seem to receive.

"How would I know?" Pari responds. "I haven't been to one in ages." She sighs. "But I'm sure there are some near the hospital. It's a couple of miles from here if you want to check it out."

Amar debates that for a bit. "Yeah, we probably should. I assume it'll be easier to break in at night, and that way we'll have the receivers for tomorrow's first broadcast."

Peter snorts, and we all turn to him in mild surprise. "You're nuts," he says, shaking his head. "Breaking into an unknown place at night is just stupid. Particularly when we have a better option."

He's clearly enjoying having everyone's attention, and I can't help but growl, "If you have another idea, spit it out."

"Gee," he drawls, "if only we had an excuse to visit a pediatrician's office…. You know, like if someone who looks like she's twelve had a visible injury." His eyes move to Tris' hands like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"She does not look like she's twelve," I snap automatically. I hate it when people act like Tris is a child. She's far from it.

"That's not what it felt like to me," Peter smirks. Then his eyes widen as he realizes what just came out of his Candor mouth. But his realization comes too late. I'm back in my apartment in Dauntless, Tris' battered form lying on my bed as she tells me that Peter touched her. And the blind fury I felt then washes over me.

I launch myself at Peter without thinking, grabbing for him as he tries to hide behind Amar. Every part of me wants to hurt him the way he hurt her, wants to make him finally pay for everything he did to her that day.

But Amar blocks my way, as he did when I lost it with Marcus on the train. I'm a good fighter – I know that – but at moments like this I don't think I will ever reach Amar's level. He blocks me with absurd ease, pulling me into a joint lock that I can't escape no matter how hard I try, and then he drags me across the room, away from the others.

"What the hell is going on with you?!" he shouts at me. "Have you lost all control over yourself?"

"He deserves it," I hiss, but Amar just glares at me, forcing me to explain. Somehow, I manage to get the words out. "He attacked Tris during initiation."

"Yes, I know," Amar responds with deadly calm. "Christina said that when she introduced us, remember? But he also saved Tris' life, right? And somehow you've managed to work together this long, so you need to suck it up and deal with him. You can't just fly off the deep end because of something he says. Save it for things he does."

I stare at him, my mouth working soundlessly with the arguments I want to shout…need to shout. But then I hear scuffling behind him, and my eyes go to the sight, and suddenly I'm grinning in fierce triumph. Christina and Uriah are facing off against Peter, anger radiating from them as they inflict the punishment I dearly wanted to. Tris must not have told them about that particular aspect of what Peter did to her, and they clearly aren't reacting well to the news.

Amar turns to them too, and his jaw actually drops open as he sees the fight. But before he can say anything, Tris shouts.

"Stop it!" She walks over to the three of them as if she's planning to physically intervene. Apparently, she's forgotten about her injuries. "I don't need you to defend me. I'm not helpless, and I'm not a little kid!" Her eyes are flashing with fury, and they draw my attention like nothing else can. I'm not sure she's ever looked stronger than she does in that moment.

"But," she continues, her voice low, "I will act like a kid for this, because Peter's right." The words are clearly distasteful in her mouth. "It's much safer than breaking in with no prior reconnaissance."

Christina and Uriah stare at her for a long moment before they reluctantly back away from Peter. She, on the other hand, walks right up to him, glaring up at his face without a trace of fear. "But just so we're clear," she hisses at him, "you only succeeded that day because there were three of you. If you ever try something like that again, I will kill you. And I'll do it even with my hands like this."

For another long moment, their eyes remain locked, and then Peter looks away. Something that's almost like regret passes over his face before he makes his expression scornful again. "Yeah, I'm worried," he mutters, but he doesn't look at her again.

Tris turns to Pari and asks calmly, "So, what is a pediatrician's office like around here?"

The consensus is that Tris will be vague about how she received her injuries, something that Pari says is unlikely to draw attention in this country where abuse is common. It will apparently also be easy for Tris to request her twelve-year tetanus shot while she's there, given the slices on her palm. The rebels believe that shot contains a receiver like all the other immunizations do, so at a minimum Tris should have a receiver in her bloodstream by the end of the day. That alone should help us tremendously.

If the opportunity presents itself, Tris will steal vaccines for the rest of us, but only if she can do so with very little risk. Amar emphasizes that repeatedly, and Tris keeps agreeing to it, but the idea still worries me. Tris has never been a good judge of her own danger.

"Seriously, don't take a chance on it," Amar stresses. "It may be enough for you to have a receiver, and if not, at least we'll know what the office looks like and will be in a much better position to break in if we need to. But if you get caught, we don't gain any of that."

"I know," Tris says in aggravation, clearly tired of repeating herself. Her eyes find mine as she adds, "I won't take any unnecessary risks." When I nod, Amar finally seems to accept her answer and moves on.

The biggest debate ends up being about who should go with her.

"No way," Amar tells me flatly. "You're too out of control these days." The words sting, particularly since they might be true. But it stings even more when Caleb tries to help.

"You're not really a good choice anyway," he says quietly. "If we're trying to make her seem younger, she shouldn't have a boyfriend with her. Besides, your hands are the same size as your father's." I look at the finger marks on my girlfriend's wrist and feel sick at the idea that people could think I did that.

Caleb continues, "I'm the only one of us who's related to her, so I should go. It will look less suspicious if she's with family."

"That would be true if you looked remotely like her," Christina says, "but you don't. And if she's going to be with someone who looks different, it should be someone Dauntless. At least we know how to handle it if something goes wrong."

"I can take care of myself," Tris responds in annoyance, but Christina just arches an eyebrow at her.

"You didn't let me climb between buildings when my leg was bad," she says reasonably. "How is this any different?" It's clear Tris has no answer for that.

"I disagree that it should be someone Dauntless," Cara comments. "Caleb and I can spot the vaccines more easily than you can, and we know what questions to ask to make sure Tris gets the tetanus shot. I think that Erudite background would be useful. And out of this group, I probably look the most like Tris." She laughs lightly at the idea, as if she doesn't like the thought, but as I look around at the dark skin and hair that dominate our group, I realize she's right. She and Tris at least have similar coloring even if their features are different.

"Tris has as much aptitude for Erudite as you do," Uriah says bluntly. "I'm sure she can get to the vaccines just fine. We need someone Dauntless enough to handle what goes wrong and Amity enough to make people want to help us." He smiles, clearly promoting himself for the job, and then adds, "Besides, I think we look plenty alike. It's the dazzling beauty thing."

Christina rolls her eyes, but I comment firmly, "Yes, I can see that."

"Enough discussion," Amar states flatly. "It will be me and Pari. I'm old enough to act like Tris' step-father, and Pari and I look enough alike for her to play my daughter. It's the closest to a family unit we can get, and it gives us one person who can hear the broadcasts." He looks levelly at Uriah and adds, "And you're not the only Dauntless-Amity mix here." Uriah opens his mouth to protest but then closes it. There really isn't a counter-argument to that statement.

We're all tired by the time the details have been worked out. I'm glad, because it means Tris doesn't question me about Caleb's earlier confession. And while I know I shouldn't keep that secret longer, I also don't want to relive my girlfriend's death in my dreams tonight, and that would undoubtedly be a side effect of discussing that particular memory right before going to sleep. So, I don't say anything as I pull her against me and hold her close, and she doesn't either as she rests her head on my chest to listen to my heartbeat.

Despite my weariness, it takes me a long time to fall asleep. My mind keeps playing through everything that could go wrong tomorrow, and I hate the thought that I won't even be nearby to intervene if needed. It feels too much like falling asleep the night Tris slipped off to Erudite. And despite my silence about what I showed Caleb, that's what I dream about, over and over throughout the night. I'm glad when morning finally comes.