Page 93 of The Sixth Fraction

Caleb’s insides squirm. He feels very young, and very small. He’s been frustrated by the tedium of his work, thinking he wasn’t doing anything interesting or important. But really, he’s been one small cog in a greater machine of interest and import.

“I thought maybe you changed your mind about assigning me to work on simulations,” he admits. “I see now that I was just . . . limited in my understanding. That seems to happen to me a lot.”

Jeanine gives him a sympathetic look.

“You’re being asked to adapt to an entirely new environment in very little time, Caleb,” she says. “I’m sure it’s difficult to feel like you’re behind on everything, but you have the qualities that are truly important in Erudite. You’re observant, and curious, and a quick thinker. I’m impressed that you managed to break in here with so little effort, in fact.” She gestures at the lab around them. “You didn’t know about the motion sensors, of course. But I assume you’ll find a way around them next time you want access to sensitive information you’re not supposed to have.”

“Next time?” he asks. “There won’t be—”

“Please,” Jeanine says, still smiling. “Do you really believe this is the last time you’ll want to know something that someone else won’t tell you?”

Caleb falls silent at that.

“Now, I can tell that you need an outlet for all your intellectual energy, Mr. Prior,” Jeanine says. “So I think your punishment for this infraction will be assisting me and Cara every Wednesday for the rest of your initiation period. How does that sound?”

It doesn’t sound like a punishment at all. Caleb knows better than to point that out.

“That sounds fair,” he says.

Jeanine looks at him like she wants to wink at him, but she isn’t the sort of person who winks. So she just uncrosses her legs and stands.

“Back to bed,” she says to him. “And I expect less frustration from you tomorrow.”

Chapter 32

Four

I can’t help it—I yawn.

Sometimes other people’s fear simulations are fascinating. Last year I had an initiate whose first fear simulation submerged us both deep in the ocean. For her I’m sure the experience was harrowing; for me it was almost soothing, surrounded by that much blue, the waves buoying me along.

But most of the time, other people’s fears are either downright gruesome or . . . boring. People tend to fear the same things, even when their simulations are abstractions. The same symbols appear again and again.

This simulation is what I call a failure sim. The initiate is Al, big and a little clumsy, sitting at his kitchen table. There’s only one light in the room, dangling over the table, a single bulb. All around it is dark. And creeping out of the shadows is a woman who I’m pretty sure is his mom, pointing a finger at him and berating him.

So yeah. Once I got tired of wincing on his behalf, I started yawning.

Fear simulations are supposed to be observed, especially for initiates, who are inexperienced at getting out of them. I have to be ready to pull Al out of the simulation if he’s in for too long or in danger of passing out or vomiting. But I could step out for a moment, if I wanted. Let him work on this on his own.

I’m strongly considering it when a sobbing Al says to his red-faced mother: “You’d never actually say this! You wouldn’t!”

“Stop,” I say. It’s my will that pulls us out of the program—the computer knows I’m running the simulation as an observer, not a participant, and it waits for my commands—but it’s still easier if I say it out loud.

I surface in the simulation room, my back against the stone wall. Al is sitting on the ground, curled into a ball, his body shuddering. He lifts his head, and his glassy brown eyes find mine.

“I did it?” he says.

I consider him for a moment. “Not exactly,” I say. “What did you mean when you told her ‘You’d never actually say this’?”

“I . . .” He gulps. “I meant—in real life, she would never—”

“Right.” I cross my arms. “That’s the thing. You’re not supposed to know she’s not real.”

“How could I not?”

“The program is designed to suppress the part of your brain that’s aware of logical incongruities,” I say. “When you’re in a dream, strange things happen to you and you don’t question them. In fact, your brain finds ways to explain them to you—that’s what we call ‘dream logic.’ That’s what’s supposed to happen in a fear simulation.”

Al unwinds a little, his arms loosening around his knees and his feet sliding on the stone.