Page 79 of The Sixth Fraction

I don’t know who those people would be, or if they’re people at all, or why we’re so confident they also have receivers in their brains to pick up on the simulations; I don’t know what’s out there. Our collective paranoia has no name and no face. I only know that outside forces supposedly exist and it’s the task of the wall guards to defend us against them.

“They render your job basically unnecessary, is what they do,” I say to Zeke. “We don’t really need wall guards if the Dauntless computer is broadcasting fear simulations, do we?”

“We do if our hypothetical intruders are really, really brave,” Zeke replies.

The only problem with the signal repeaters is, if a Dauntless wall guard steps into their path instead of an intruder, the simulations have the same effect on them. So they come back with wild stories about what they saw out there in the nothingness, not realizing they saw only what their own mind concocted.

It’s part of my job as simulation technician to make sure all the signal repeaters—positioned at regular intervals along the wall—are working properly. It’s a time-consuming job, so I divide it up into segments and tackle only one a week.

I yawn. “I better get moving if I’m going to make it back to the initiates by lunch.”

“A mother hen rushing back to his chicks,” Zeke says. “How sweet.”

I glare at him and grab the mug out of his hands to take a sip. He drinks his coffee black, which is too harsh for me most of the time, but it’s better than no caffeine at all. It burns my throat on the way down.

“I hear it’s capture the flag night?” Zeke says. “Kind of late this year, isn’t it?”

I nod. “Eric wanted to delay it until after the first round of cuts. Knowing him, he’ll probably introduce a new torture to the game, like an electrified flag or something.”

“Or live ammunition,” Zeke suggests. “Maybe he stole our weapons crate.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

Zeke takes the coffee from me. “Those computery things won’t computer themselves. Get to work, nerd.”

That night I sit on the floor of the train car, a paintball gun leaning up against my knee, and wish I’d opted out of this particular Dauntless tradition.

It’s dark, and I can tell where the faction headquarters are by the patches of electric light we pass, streetlamps and windows aglow. Curfew isn’t for a couple hours, but we’re going to a part of the city that’s never lit up at night—north of Erudite and the Hall of Factions, close to the marsh.

We’re in the middle of picking teams. Lauren, who teaches the Dauntless-born initiates, is my cocaptain. We don’t even need to talk about who our first choice will be: Uriah, obviously, because he’s first in the rankings and he’s a good team player.

Eric takes Peter, then Edward, Drew, Molly, and Al. In addition to Uriah we get Lynn, Will, and Marlene. We’re short a player because we have two captains. I think about when I would have chosen Christina. After Uriah and Lynn, maybe. Before Will, certainly. He’s good, but I’m wary of him. He’s always watching everyone, and in general, I try to go unnoticed.

Especially after Amar died.

As we draw closer to the pier, I get to my feet.

“Your team can get off second,” Eric says to me.

“How generous of you,” I say. “But I’d rather not give you a reason to cry about us having an unfair advantage when you lose.”

Eric’s eyes meet mine. “Fine. Get off first, then.”

I put a palm against the wall to steady myself as the train brakes. Our team lines up at the door to disembark. I go first, because if I don’t force myself to jump off as quickly as possible, I tend to overthink it. I jog along the platform for a few steps, then turn to watch the others. I’m happy to see they mostly manage it without stumbling, though Marlene—always a little clumsy—drops her paintball gun with a clatter.

Once we’re on the street, the initiates start debating strategy.

“What’s even around here?” Lynn asks. “We could pick a random building and camp out there.”

“You don’t want to go to unfamiliar ground,” Will says. “Especially not unfamiliar ground where you could be approached from four different directions.”

“When your team won, where did you put the flag?” Marlene asks me, tapping my shoulder to get my attention.

I shrug her off.

“Not giving you hints,” I say.

“Come on, Four,” she says, whining a little. “You know Eric’s basically telling his team what to do.”