Inextricable: A Divergent FanFiction (Book Three) ©

Chapter 15

We'd just reached the next flight of stairs that led up through a hole in the glass ceiling when Marko entered the room. We were far enough now that he was no more than an unidentifiable blob beneath us, walking towards another blur that had to be Grace. Willing myself not to laugh, I smirked as he continued to flirt in his own peculiar sort of way.

Once we were on the glass –which was now floor instead of ceiling– we walked through a cylindrical room with more transparent walls, and then past a final door. Beyond it the space was vast and dark, with a slightly musty smell to it, and covered in graffiti and exposed pipelines. The only light source we had came from the old-fashioned fluorescent bulbs that hung above us.

"What is this place?" I asked when Lyla pulled away and began to root through a series of cabinets; collecting vials and syringes in one arm, and turning on various computers with the other. "What are we doing here?"

As I wandered around, a wall where there'd been a series of unlit monitors suddenly blinked to life, showing the inside of a low-lit empty room.

"Remember how I told you I had a theory about your amnesia?" she replied as she began to draw up a syringe full of orange liquid. "Well, this is it." She explained as she gestured at a door that presumably led to the room that was shown on the screen. "I want you to go through a simulation known as a fear landscape."

"Excuse me," I blinked. "A what now?"

"Fear landscape," she repeated, drawing up a second syringe and taking a step towards me. "Right now it's disabled, but when we go into that room you'll be able to see your deepest fears come to life. They'll look, sound, and even feel physically real. You'll experience everything as if it were actually happening to you."

"Well, now that you put it that way," I said sarcastically, crossing my arms and shaking my head at her. "Sounds grand, really, what better way is there to spend your first day out of the hospital than to face your worst nightmares."

"I know it sounds bad, but I have my reasons for wanting you to go through it," she tried to explain though I kept talking over her.

"–in fact, why let the merriment end there? After this we should find the nearest cliff and take a flying leap off of it, or set ourselves on fire," I continued; my tone overly casual though I was feeling anything but. "The possibilities are endless."

"Let me explain," she said calmly, capping the needles when she noticed me staring at them guardedly. "I'm sure Dan must've told that when you go through dauntless initiation, there are certain stages you have to go through. Facing your fears being the most important."

"He did," I nodded. "And frankly, I was pretty much okay with the fact that it would be something I wouldn't have to remember. Tell me, what good would they do me now?"

Her tone completely confident, she simply said, "They could bring all of your memories back."

I was so taken aback; it took me a second to reply. "What makes you say that?"

"When you go through the simulations, your worst fears get stored into files as data. It's that very data that makes the virtual obstacles you have to overcome. The thing is, the fears you face aren't always going to be as obvious as an arachnophobic person being tossed into a pit of spiders. Sometimes it'll be more of a 'still waters run deep' case."

I uncrossed my arms, suddenly very intrigued in what she was saying. Slowly, I was beginning to understand what she was getting at.

"Go on," I said, unable to stop hope from bubbling in my chest.

"The way it was explained to me was that, it's basically impossible to hide anything from this program," she said, her tone slowly growing more animated. "It pulls the most deep-rooted of fears from your subconscious. Often times uncovering things that even you might've not been aware of. Now if I'm right, amnesia or not, the program should be able to act as a trigger to bring back whatever your mind is repressing."

"You make it sound easy. But how would we ever get our hands on my fear-landscape program?"

She fished into her pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper. "I -uh- happen to have the password."

"Where'd you get that?" I asked, still processing what she'd just said. "Are all fear files just open to the public like some kind of library?"

"No. The dauntless leaders' records are completely encrypted and basically impossible to get to. Even civilian ones are encoded with a PIN. Usually it's only the instructors that volunteer theirs to be used as teaching tools."

"And I was fine with people studying my fears?"

"Well, no," she said sheepishly, playing with the ends of her hair until she eventually caved and admitted, "It actually took me a while to crack your passcode. However, I know someone who used to live in erudite that works in the control room. Her name's Mel, and she's a genius when it comes to computers."

"Sooo," I said, leaning slightly back and drawing the word out as I studied Lyla in this sudden new light. "Let me get this straight. You enlisted the help of an ex-erudite so you could basically hack into my personal files, based on a theory you had which could –or could easily not– work. All the while, surely breaking a dozen-and-one rules the compound probably has in place regarding matters of personal information. Did I miss anything?"

She laughed nervously, fidgeting under my unmoving gaze. "Hack is such an ugly word."

"But it's what you did, right?" I said, studying her every reaction while making sure to keep my own features neutral. "Broke the rules and did everything possible to get that information, not caring about the risks involved."

"I'd rather phrase it as 'poked a couple of computer keys, got lucky, and then borrowed a file or two' kind of thing," she said uneasily, though she didn't actually appear regretful.

"If any of the dauntless leaders found out about this, you'd surely get in trouble. Probably even get thrown out with the factionless," I pointed out. "Do you regret it?"

"Regret?" she repeated, her eyes suddenly taking on a light of defiance. "No, never. I'd do anything to get you to remember, rules and leaders be damned."

As we stood toe to toe, and I looked down at her fiery expression, I found that I was unable to stop myself from grinning. Every word she'd just uttered had felt heavy; laced with the weight of her uncompromised honesty. It'd been as if she were trying to communicate more than what she was physically saying.

"Glad we're on the same page," I said, wondering briefly if I looked as captivated as I felt.

"Y-you're not mad at me?" She blinked, clearly confused.

"Nope," I replied, filled with wonder and admiration at –not only her intelligence, but also her fervent determination. "I am in awe of you."

For an instant, as Lyla stared down at the capped syringes in her hand, I thought she almost looked repentant; perhaps wondering if she was really doing the right thing.

"You may not feel that way about me later," she said quietly.

"Because of the fears? Lyla, don't worry about it," I said encouragingly. "If this works and I remember everything, it'll all be worth it in the end."

She didn't reply for a long moment, but when she did, her expression seemed almost child-like. "Can you make me a promise before we do this?"

"A promise? Sure, I guess," I said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. "Shoot."

My nonchalance seemed to bother her, because a little furrow appeared between her brows as she shook her head.

"This is serious. I can guarantee that there will come a time when you will be faced with uncertainty," she insisted. "When your mind will have the potential to become the worst of prisons, and you'll find yourself wondering if something is or isn't real. It is then, when you start to doubt the truth, that I want you to ask yourself," she trailed off; struggling for words as she looked into my eyes.

"What?"

"Ask yourself... not what you think is real, but what you feel is real."