Page 130 of The Sixth Fraction

I don’t know how to account for his reaction. It’s just a bird. But then others start falling. One after another, the birds drop from the sky, raining down around Will like hailstones of feathers. Tears streak his face as he bends to pick one up.

It’s a soft gray, with a delicate neck and dark, gentle eyes. A dove. Its wings flutter against Will’s palm, and then it goes still. He falls to his knees.

I blink, and the simulation is gone.

I feel like I might be sick, and I don’t know why. I’ve seen all kinds of things in simulations. All kinds of gruesome deaths. Bloody and burnt and drowned. It’s not easy to watch those things, even now, even after so many repetitions—but I’m capable of detachment, because I know what I’m looking at isn’t real.

This is different. Unsettling in some deeper way.

Will is kneeling on the stone floor, looking as bad as I feel.

“You okay?” I say.

He nods.

“I don’t understand,” he says. “I thought these were supposed to be our worst fears.”

“Fear isn’t just one thing.” I sit forward. “People tend to think of panic when they think of the sim room. But there are deeper, quieter kinds of fear.”

He runs his hands through his hair. His forehead is dotted with sweat.

“What do you think it meant?” I ask.

“I don’t know.” He laughs a little. “Weird, right? My mind made it, but I still don’t get it.”

Something about his reaction—forced, casual—tugs at me.

“Sometimes the things we see in fear simulations are specific to us,” I say. “But we all share the same symbols, to some degree. Teeth are about stability. Heights are about control. Do you know what doves mean?”

Will’s eyes fix on mine. “Peace,” he says. “So I’m . . . afraid I won’t find peace, I guess.”

“Maybe.” I decide to press, just a little. “But if there’s something more to it than that, Will . . . you can tell me. If there’s something bigger going on, and you’re in over your head—”

He blinks at me.

“Like what?” he says, and just like that, the good-naturedness is back. Eyebrows up, mouth curled into a half smile.

I lean back. “Just think about it.”

Will gets to his feet, gives me a wave, and walks out of the simulation room. But I sit there, on the stone, collecting myself. It won’t be long before Max, Eric, and Jeanine arrive.

Chapter 45

Four

Jeanine Matthews is a careful person. It shows in her smooth blond hair, not a strand out of place. It shows in the high-collared blue dress she wears, not a single crease in it. And it shows in the way she speaks, like she’s picking up each word with tweezers.

“I’m sorry to intrude on your domain, Technician,” she says to me. Simulation technician is technically my title, and I think a formal Erudite official like Jeanine Matthews struggles with calling people by nicknames. Especially one that’s so quintessentially Dauntless, like “Four.”

There are two people behind her. One may as well be her copy: taller than average, blond, dressed in tailored blue clothes. She introduced herself as Cara. The other is younger, her protégé. He didn’t introduce himself at all.

“This computer system is highly sophisticated and important,” Jeanine says. “So updating it on such a deep level requires a particularly skilled touch.”

“I understand.” I gesture to the crucible, with its simulated flames. “By all means.”

I’m standing in the antechamber, my hands clasped behind my back and my posture so straight my shoulders ache. When Eric and Max walked in, I greeted them both with a respectful nod. Hopefully that’s enough to get Eric off my back.

Cara sets down her briefcase next to the crucible. I’m not sure what it’s actually called—it’s just a big, metal bowl. It’s made of bronze, and it’s tarnished, in time, leaving it a dull green-brown.