Experiment Erudite (A Divergent Story)

Chapter 16-Serum 157

At just less than seven meters away from me, two piles appear in front of me. On my left, a collection of brand new clothing from all of the factions-Erudite, Dauntless, Amity, Candor, and Abnegation. On my right suddenly lies a hand gun. Uneasiness squirms inside of me. This is definatly a simulation; objects cannot appear out of thin air. I also now have a choice. I can choose the handgun that I know how to shoot, and maim the two factionless people. Yet I can also give the factionless people the clothing, and hope to God that they won't kill me.

I can clear both the clothes, and gun from my environment if I plan my actions. The man and woman are meters away and hold grim expressions. As if they know that what they are doing is wrong. Dropping to the ground, I stretch my fingers in preparation. I glance up to see the factionless people closer now. Focusing on the objects, I quickly grasp both the clothing and the gun. A strong and invisible force tries to tug them away from me, but I convince myself that I need both the clothing and the handgun. Simulations are mental, and are based on individual attitudes towards an object, event, place, or person.

After some time, I get to keep the set of outfits and gun. I check the chamber of the pistol. Conveniently enough, there's only one bullet in the chamber. I lock it into place. I will need to work with what I have, and Jeanine isn't making things any easier. I consider whether I would have had another bullet if I hadn't taken the clothes.

The factionless people are within a few feet away. Without hesitation, I lift the gun up and shoot the man in the head. His figure halts and flies almost backwards with the force from the bullet. His body lands on the ground with a loud thud, and the sound seems to waver in the air since there is not a single soul around but possibly mine. That woman does not exist, and it would be fair to say that in this state I don't either. Only my conciousness controls my environment, and whatever Jeanine decides to throw in my path.

I continue up the barren street after giving the sobbing woman the clothes. None of the signs at the intersections read the names of roads. I continue up the cracked and deteriorating path. A collection of dead leaves swirls by in a circle.

Out of nowhere, my next step makes me fall and I plummet onto the ground. When I get up though, I find myself in a grey filled room. From my faction textbook I can recall it to be an Abnegation bedroom. The furniture is simple; a wooden and square nightstand that holds the only source of light for the room, grey bedsheets that are perfectly made, a wooden-doored closet on the other side of the room that holds the same, grey outfit for seven days. I sit down on the bed. Everything is quiet and solmn. The Abnegation house even appears to be empty.

A heart stopping scream suddenly echoes in the distance. I look around for the window. I know that there must be one somewhere. My eyes are draw to a small wooden framed window in the corner of the room. It sits opposite of the bed and would be impossible to get to without furniture. I take the only movable one in the room, and prop the nightstand against the wall so it is directly underneath the glass aperture. Once steady, I hop onto the nightstand and am shocked at what I see...and yet I shouldn't. The scream is from a Lyra clad in Abnegation grey, and she kneels in front of Sharon. The Dauntless leader holds a smug smile as she aims her gun at Lyra's head. My best friend has tears that stream down her face. They move with the contours of her jaw, nose, lips, and once they've dripped off of her face like raindrops falling from a leaf, they follow her collar bone. "Kristen!" she cries out. If I wanted to, I could save her. But this is a simulation, and right now Fake Lyra is the least of my problems.

The sound of shoes on wood suddenly emits from the stairs of the house, and the Abnegation certainly don't wear stilettoes. I know exactly who is coming for me, and I do not look forward to meeting them. Out of the dark doorway appears Jeanine. She looks so real, but her smile is not. "You can save your friend now," she assures.

"There's no need," I reply innocently. She nods, still holding a knowing smirk.

"Are you sure about that? I'm giving you another chance."

"Yes."

A sudden scream suddenly echoes throughout the area along with a gun shot. It sends a shiver down my spine and yet I still turn to the window. I desperately grapple at the edge of the nightstand and window sill as I climb up. I don't care if Jeanine is here. I need to see what happened; something tells me that it isn't good.

When I glance outside to see our dilapidated city, I see the world in monochrome, or maybe it just seems like that when someone you care about is shot. Then again, this is a simulation. Lyra's body lies lifelessly on the cold ground below the house. Soon, she will be as frigid as the gravel road. Lyra is officially dead and it makes my heart ache and tears come to my eyes. No, Fake Lyra is dead. Real Lyra is probably alive. I sigh and wipe the water from my eyes. I can feel a steamy fury replaces my sadness as I stare at the scarlet wetness coming from Fake Lyra's body. The color only helps. I quickly swerve around to face Jeanine, but she is  gone. I never heard her leave or even move, but her blue isn't anywhere in the room. Jeanine's words echo in my head. You can save your friend now.