In the brightly lit room of an Erudite laboratory lay several metal examination tables, 2 are occupied.
Next to each one is a console displaying vitals on a screen, there are numerous amounts of wires, electrodes, tubes, and Iv's attached to the bodies lain on each surface.
They're both unconscious, but they are very much alive.
With Dauntless finishing up their initiations, Erudite have just completed theirs as well, for the most part.
They've uncovered 1 themselves for a total of 3 altogether, counting ours this year, but they have one extra that was not a part of initiations.
The number is much larger than expected, and that has become concerning but Dauntless doesn't actively seek them out, not like they do in Erudite.
"You could send them to faction-less." Garret says softly, he is only speaking to me.
Before someone is sent to faction-less they are permanently sterilized. They cannot breed, and most of the time they don't last long. It is a lawless place.
But that's not the way we do things when it comes to Divergent. I don't respond to him, instead I make a mental note of his reservations.
There is a girl, who may be a year older than me with cropped dark brown hair. Her pale pink lips are slightly parted as she breathes.
They are heavily dosed with propofol, its primary uses are to treat insomnia, cure night terrors, and induce coma's. When the patient wakes they do not even remember being put under.
The clacking of heels against the hard floor, heading towards us along with the heavy sounds of boots indicate the arrival of Jeanine, Max and Falen.
They speak amongst themselves while I glance over at the screens of the Divergent brain activities, the different parts of their display light up, in flickers, in an array of colors.
Indicating that they may be dreaming.
I can tell the Divergent were already handled by the Erudite doctors by the numerous incisions, abrasions, and lacerations on the exposed parts of their bodies.
There is a boy, much younger than the girl, with curly blondish light brown hair. His cheeks are slightly blushed.
Without much thought I pull the white sheet higher, to cover his shoulders all the way up to his chin, he is the youngest one I've seen.
This boy might be barely 6 or 7 years old.
"We've developed a newer serum, this one is undetectable in the system. No blood, no mess." Jeanine says with a slightly proud undertone, this is a demonstration of a product. "They will feel no pain." She assures.
They talk for a while longer while I watch the child's heart monitor, the beeping is soft and slow.
When Garret steps over with shaking hands and begins to inject the dark purple liquid into the saline bag of the females IV. I count the seconds after it snakes through the clear tubes and disappears into her body before her monitor begins to beep less and less until it flat lines.
Her chest slowly stops rising and falling. I watch her parted lips as if I could glimpse the very last breath.
All the activity on her brain monitor disappears leaving a dull schematic of her mind. He shuts the machine off afterwards to silence the long dull sound.
I step back and away so he can get around me to the next patient, but his hands are shaking greatly, the final syringe is being shaken so violently that he could drop it. The purple liquid inside swishes and slides in the glass.
He looks up at me now, with wide eyes behind his foggy spectacles. I can see the tears that threatening to spill when I take the syringe from him.
My hands don't shake when I step back over to the child, my only thought is over what Jeanine has said about them feeling no pain.
The soft conversation in the room fades out of my ears when I brush his soft blonde curls away and out of his face.
Erudites glass prison seems like such a lonely place for children.
Garret and I wait patiently outside of the listless glass building, I don my gloves and tuck my hair in to pull my hood over my head.
It's not quite snowing yet but I can feel the air begin to frost, it's only a matter of time.
I glance down at the large armored vehicle and at Max and Falen sharing a morning cigarette, deliberating on today's start of the leadership courses.
They had offered me a ride back to Dauntless, which I accepted as it is still fairly early, my watch reads 4 A.M. and the sky is beginning to lighten.
Garret is not dressed for being outdoors but I know he's lingering because he, like many other Erudite, is inherently lonely.
He's claims that he's not cold because the inside of Erudite is just as wintry, if not slightly more so.
"What was the boys name?" I ask him, while pulling the zipper of my slightly thicker jacket up to my chin, it's frigid in the morning and I feel as though I don't have enough layers.
He removes his glasses, uncomfortable with the topic, his jaw tightens as he wipes the lenses off on the corner of his coat.
"His name was Charles." Garret answers when he can, the tightness in his voice is still there and he does not maintain eye contact and although his glasses are thoroughly clean he does not stop wiping them and stares at the ground.
"How long has he been here?" I inquire next, my tone stays impassive.
"A year." He answers with honest certainty, he does not question my interest or ask me of my intentions.
For a moment we stand, silently. The reigns to my curiosity a bit harder to wrangle.
"His parents?" My tone becomes a bit lower. I adjust my gloves and curl my covered fingers against my palm.
"Both deceased, he was orphaned several winters before last… Erudite Born." Garret returns his glasses to his face and smooths his jacket down, before running a steadier hand through his hair. "Both parent's were victim to a faction-less assault, and when the boy did not recover… They found his Divergence."
There is something about the situation and timeline that seem too coincidental to ignore.
"The Candor woman." I bring up next.
Garret looks confused but to him it would seem unrelated, he wouldn't be able to make the connection, he wasn't around years ago.
"Did she have any children?" I ask putting my gloved hands into my pockets, he should know about current events though, I'm not quite sure why I wanted to know if she had children.
"Uhm… Yes, I believe she did." Garret says, still slightly confused. "Would you like me to check?" He doesn't wait for me to answer instead he pulls a tablet out of his pocket and I wait. "This is the first time we've actually had a conversation…"
He mentions while he works to find the recent news.
"Her name was Marelyn Hayes, widowed, mother of one Peter Hayes." He finishes without continuing his earlier statement.
I nod my head slowly and stand there unsure of the importance of such information, unsure of what to do next for the first time in years as I stare at the desolate damaged buildings in the distance, the direction of the train tracks and at the lightening swirling sky.
It's too late to go into faction-less territory and I am under dressed, not to mention unprepared.
Falen's ghost has lingered for far too long and fortunately for Max, I find myself with a little more free time.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" Garret asks me before rubbing his hands together for warmth.
"Are you sure you don't want to start leadership courses?" Amar asks me with extreme curiosity, his brows are raised with a slight head tilt. "You'd finish next winter, right when you finish initiations." He reminds while elbowing me. "You would start right off as a Leader, or you could be an instructor like me."
I shrug my reply, kicking my boot into a bit of the cold mush that now blankets the city.
My breath comes out in a thick fog, our feet crushing and crunching snow under foot.
I pull my hood over my head to keep my ears warm while we take a stroll in the frigid weather.
"Maybe I could do other jobs." I say to both him and myself.
The idea still freshly formed in my head and the sudden unwillingness to become a leader when I had been prepared for it, is a new sensation.
Leadership courses have begun a few days ago, they last a full year and it turns out that Four is expressing an immediate distaste for the position as well.
Max told me in passing that Four want's to be an instructor with Amar and work the rest of his time in the control room behind monitors.
He was very disappointed, but I find myself relieved.
Although the thought of there being one less competent person in the way of Eric coming into power is all the more imminent and irksome. One less obstacle for him to attain it and influence.
Max and Falen both reminded me that Eric is an asset to Dauntless. That he has strong ideals and plans for the future, all improvements to their eyes.
I still have my suspicions of him, but so far he hasn't come forward or made any indications of doing so.
"Like what?" Amar asks jokingly I become distracted from my mental deliberation. "Entertainment? Becoming a janitor? Maybe you want to do food service?" He asks mockingly, all jobs that I expressed a distaste for.
I answer with another noncommittal shrug.
Before late, Dauntless was an absolute. However, my aptitude, I must admit or at least suspect, if not a bit imperiously and arrogantly on my part, may coincide with Erudite. I've begun to value knoweledge above courage.
It is not quite bravery if I can calculate my odds of sucess or failure when undertaking tasks.
Amar smiles at me with all of his straight white teeth and pinches my cheek.
"Where are you going to start at?" Amar asks curiously.
I hadn't thought about it much and when I told Max, and Falen during the drive back that day. They just laughed and said it was a waste of my skills, a waste of my time, and that I still had other obligations and work to attend to.
I reply with a deep sigh, evident of my disappointment. He starts laughing.
"You're going to do every single job before choosing?" Amar asks but his eyes are amused, challenging.
There are 6 months till now and choosing.
"I'll just spend a little time in each one." I explain fixing my gloves, before brushing loose strands of hair from my face. I am curious about them. "I-" The words get cut off when I am hit with a cold wet force from behind.
Amar bursts out laughing, doubling over into the snow kicking up the white mess everywhere.
I turn sharply and see Kat, waving enthusiastically, her hair is now a shade of green. Her eyes are never quite that bright anymore.
Gabriel hides behind her, peeking out from under her arm while giving me his 'I'm watching you' expression with two fingers and another ball of snow rounded in his other hand.
I bend down and cup my hands to form my own snowball, noticing my hesitation at engaging them.
I've been hesitating a lot lately the past few days doing mundane and simple things that shouldn't require thought to accomplish.
It has become more apparent that I am not wholly unaffected.
"As you all know, today is the final day of schooling for our senior students." Jeanine says, she stands in the front of the auditorium.
She's dressed in her usual sharp blue suit dress with her glasses hung around her neck, she talks about how we have attained enough knowledge to make a smart, sound decision for our futures and about how our choosing ceremony is only 6 months away and that in less than a month most of us will be stepping into our 16 year old forms, reminding us that in the very fast approaching future we will be taking our aptitude tests. "We welcome you with open arms, as adults, capable of making the right choice. The future depends on those who know where they belong."
People clap, and I clap along with them absently until I get tapped on the shoulder.
When I turn around, so does Kat. The culprit, a familiar looking Amity, standing behind us.
The one who sang in a class once, I don't remember his name nor do I try to recall it from memory.
"Are those for me?" Kat asks, her voice is icy, much like the snow falling outside, it looks to be a brewing snow storm.
I turn back around to watch as Jeanine Matthews leaves the room along with all the teachers that taught us over the years.
We are done with inter-faction schooling and one day soon there will no longer be any inter-faction schooling.
Soon every faction will be required to teach their faction born children.
At first I was alright with the idea of its disbandment when suggested. But I wonder at Erudite's more and more ambitious goals for the future.
"Actually." Says the Amity boy. "They're for the girl with moonlight hair." I don't turn around and Kat starts laughing raucously, she slaps my back and almost doubles over from her laughter, bumping into the people beside her, they shove her back un-graciously.
In the Amity boy's hands are weeds.
"Oh my gosh, Gene, oh my gosh, I can't even-" Kat continues, she wipes the tears from her eyes, her smile is exuberant, her green eyes lighter than they've been in weeks. Her hair is now blue. "They're giving you daisies!" She cracks up again and soon she begins snorting. " Daisies !"
Ah, Daisies. Curious.
"You missed a spot." Eric says as he leans casually against the concrete wall with his arms crossed over his chest, he wears a triumphant look, at the way I appear beneath him. A lowly stature.
He presses his snow covered boot on the ground that I've just mopped over for the 2nd time, creating a wet mound of ice and mud.
Instead of rising to his challenge, or breaking the mop stick over his head. I swallow my pride thickly down my throat, and willingly make my way to sop up the mush again.
This job is not hard, but it's not one I can do for long.
For I've spent too long cleaning blood off concrete to not liken this ice and mud for the thick red substance mixed with brain matter and human tissue in the heavy way the mop licks and slaps the floor.
I've learned a valuable lesson on the stresses of my subconscious, however. I won't be staying in this job. Not another day.
"Gene! Could you cut the cake please?!" Jackie asks in a frantic manner, dinner today is rushed and I am too slow to keep up with the flurry of people working so precisely and efficiently around me.
I had been standing in front of a row of cakes, having been put in care of the baking section of the large Dauntless kitchen, in all my years I have never been in here.
The knife in my hand feels heavy, and when it slides into the cake with little effort on my part I know that I am ill suited for this job.
Not just because I do not like sweets, nor is it because they had no instructions or measurements for the ingredients so to speak. It is just done.
"To think there are things the great Genesis can't do." Joseph says tossing me a paint brush. I don't answer him and I've only just started this new job not minutes ago.
He jokes while painting large strokes of waterproofing agent over the newly buffed initiates co-ed bathroom.
I don't answer him. Instead drenching the end of my own brush with the thick clear substance and proceeding to making long strokes all over the tiled walls myself.
I wonder at the many other uses for it and try not to identify the hydrophobic substances that might be used.
"What's with all these jobs you're doing?" Eric asks me curiously, he stands beside me with his head tilted as I fold a shirt neatly, it takes me longer to get through one load of laundry while Ash, Henry and Mia all breeze through theirs with ease.
They glance over some times and offer to help me but I don't let them. This job is clean, sterile, simple, but it's too clean, too sterile.
The fabric is too soft in my hands, the smell of detergent is too pungent and strong.
I don't reply, and instead think about what I could say, how it could be possible to steer him back towards Dauntless values. I've learned them in my time.
More and more of his ideal suggested improvements for Dauntless seem intent on throttling it.
He made a suggestion to Max on changing the traditional initiation process by creating only a limited number of spots for Dauntless born and for transfers.
Falen agrees with me that Dauntless values are sound, simple, bravery and camaraderie. Initiation is already proficient in teaching those values,
He also wants to eliminate visitation days, and segregate the male and female Dauntless born that have not chosen yet, ban relationships amongst them completely, along with prohibiting Dauntless-born from spectating choosing ceremonies, and then segregate dauntless-born and transfers completely during the entire initiation period.
The list is long. Nevermind his ideas for new consequences to rule breaking. I've not even heard or read his reasonings behind the suggestions or why they would be considered improvements at all.
Though I am ravenously curious to.
Eric snorts at my silence unable to find the words to convey my thoughts and his eyes narrow, he notices when my hands hesitate over the pristine white sheet dropped on top of my already overwhelming pile.
I work switfly and efficiently taking apart guns, cleaning and oiling components before reassembling them.
Picking up the next one. Flipping the catch to release the slide all the way forward. Taking pressure off the spring and then removing the barrel.
Field stripping is simple but when I raise the reassembled guns to dry fire and cycle the actions, the pull of the trigger is more diffcult each time.
The feeling of being watched, of eyes on my back the whole time never seem to desist. However this is a task which I can lose my mind to due process.
"It's only been 2 weeks and you've gone through what? 5 jobs?" Amar laughs raucously, his food comes sputtering out, Tori slaps him hard on the arm when he catches her with some of the spray.
"2 weeks and 2 days." I amend, though I dont correct that it was in fact 6 jobs in that time.
I've come back to sitting in the reception chair of the tattoo shop for a few days for some familiarity and uninterrupted time for myself with a book.
Tori and Bud were more than accommodating.
Amar brought his lunch over because he's on break from working in the control room with Four and Zeke.
I thank him for the soda and when he tosses food into my mouth, bits of rolled up bread. I catch them effortlessly although the taste is bland.
"What is your next job?" Tori asks me after they laugh about how I can't cook, I can't clean and I can't even do laundry, they praise me for trying but continue to tease me relentlessly.
"Chasm Maintenance." I answer casually, calmly taking a bite out of one of Amar's carrots.
Eric had told me the amount of pressure it takes to bite through a carrot is the same as it takes to bite off a person's finger.
I had unconsciously avoided the carrots before then but when he's around I know he expects me to after telling me that little fact. Interestingly enough, the book I read being related to the topic of the human anatomy.
"How is your leadership training?" Amar asks Eric conversationally it hasn't been that long since they started.
The Leader in training sits casually in the chair getting a new tattoo but on his calf.
"Great." He says with a shrug, biting into his own carrot with an audible crunch. He makes a show out of chewing with his mouth open, exposing the mushed bits of orange between his pearly whites. "I guess all it took was a little push in the right direction."
The tone of his voice sets off an alarm in my head.
I take another bite forcing my teeth through with a little more emphasis than necessary to create my own audible crunch, while maintaining eye contact.
"Nice place." Eric says, striding into my apartment, while I close the door behind me.
I leave it unlocked. He walks further in and I take a seat, at first I was unsure why I brought him here.
I'm unsure of his intentions and what I intend to do about him. He must have witnessed. I was careless but, why wait so long for a confrontation? I puzzle.
I rest my elbow on the table with my cheek against my palm as he curiously inspects the empty room, I have a table, a chair, a couch and a half kitchen with empty cabinets and a sink.
The bathroom is around the corner with the standard bathroom settings.
"No roommates?"
"Occasional." I reply simply, referring to the people who sleep here more often than not.
He walks over to my room and opens the door, he doesn't go inside but instead just sticks his head in to look around.
My room has a bed, a dresser, a side table and a mirror.
The closet is open so he can probably see my array of all identical, black clothing. Same as everyone.
"Is this your mother's room?" Eric asks when he tries unsuccessfully to open the other door. "I mean, was."
I don't answer him but he gives me a questioning look before knowingly looking into the planter located next to it and retrieving the key.
I don't stop him or complain when he unlocks the door and looks inside though my annoyance begins to grow.
That room is empty. Just a bed and a dresser. The closet is closed, the contents still undisturbed.
"Well, you are about as interesting as a rock. . ." He says with a disappointed sigh before making his way to the kitchen.
"What do you want?" I ask when he begins opening and closing the empty cabinets above the sink.
I expect him to blackmail me.
He just turns and gives me a thoughtful, speculative look and leans back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.
I stand and make my way to the door, shutting it with a slam, locking it, removing the key and shoving it into the dirt of the plant.
"I have some questions. Since we'll be working together in the future." Eric admits with a shrug, his eyes follow me first across the room to close the other door he left open, and then back to my seat. "I'm sure you already know what I'm looking for."
I don't answer. Instead I lift my boot to the chair and slide my knife out of it to place on the table, I know he's not asking about my concealed weapon.
He rolls his eyes but his mouth turns up into a smirk. Several moments pass before he kicks away from the counter to kneel and open the bottom cabinets.
I stand silently, swiftly, with my knife while he disappears halfway to get in behind the pipes of the ktihcen sink.
When he comes back out with a small bundle I've hidden, still on his knees. I grip his hair to pull his head back and press the blade against his throat.
My fingers curl around his hair in a tight fist with little gentleness as I yank his head further back to expose the tattoos along the columns of his neck.
He doesn't move and the blue of his eyes become bright, excited as he leans back and into me, resting his head against my shoulder.
"I'm not going to tell anyone." Eric says, his voice amused. I brush the blade lightly along his growing stubble, shearing pieces of hair off his neck and watch as his throat moves when he swallows thickly.
The thought of the arduous process of cleaning up, and disposing of his body is severely unappealing. I'd left the door unlocked purposely to discourage such violence, I use those thoughts to will my hands to submission.
I remove the knife and let him stand, he turns to face me, leaning back against the kitchen counter once more, with a composed unbothered countenance.
The smug look in his expression is what keeps the knife in my hand.
"Then what is it that you want?" I demand.
"Nothing." Eric says with a shrug.
My brows furrow and I stare at him.
"I've been watching you do all these piece of shit jobs and I've been waiting for you to realize that there is really only one thing you're good at."
He turns his back on me, as though I don't still have a knife in my hands and places the wrapped bundle with mask on the counter beginning to unwrap it.
"Why do you have these?" Eric asks with pure disgust, becoming completely distracted. "Where did you get them?"
He turns around holding up several dead weeds - Daisies.
I pinch the bridge of my nose and press my fingers into my eyes, while grinding my teeth together.
Never have I encountered something like this. His bizarre playful and teasing countenance, his blatant and superficial nature when it comes to somber, grave and very serious situations.
Someone who is extremely observant and yet completely oblivious.
"Well?" Eric asks still curious and not accepting of silence. He holds the weeds under his nose and scrunches his face up before dropping them into the sink unceremoniously, washing his hands.
I tell him. "I received them from Amity."
"That doesn't explain why you keep them." He admonishes, with a palm against the countertop.
We are interrupted by the shaking of a doorknob and muffled voices, and my front door bursts open.
Eric adjusts his position so his body blocks my unwrapped tools in the kitchen. I position my knife so it is out of view.
"It was already unlocked." Insists Gabriel as he, Joseph and Jade waltz in.
Joseph is the first to notice us, he is stopped dead in his tracks, his eyes jump wildly from me to Eric and then back to me again.
"You guys-" he starts, but then Gabriel is the first to say "What the fuck."