XI

Sitting through Investigations was one of the hardest things I had ever done. But I did it. And I did it with Morris only calling me “spacey” twice.

As soon as class was over, I rushed back to my room and made sure I was presentable. Hair managed. Pants wrinkle-free. I even put on a blazer. Of course, Irene was blind, so impressions weren’t much to her, but I had never stepped foot inside the Merciless Mart before. I was justifiably excited. I brought my bookbag with my laptop and legal pad, just in case I needed to take notes for anything. I wasn’t sure what I was about to face. But just in case.

Then I took the elevator up to the deserted top floor, where Ace was waiting. “Before I take you, I have some rules,” she told me.

“Okay,” I said.

“When we’re in there, you will say nothing. Not a single word. Not a peep. I will do all the talking. And you are never to leave my sight. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Do you?” she asked.

“Yes,” I told her.

“Because historically, when I have told you to do something, your response is to do the exact opposite.”

“I promise I’ll stay quiet and stay with you,” I said.

“I’m going to hold you on that,” said Ace.

She sounded like she wanted to add “or I’ll tell Morris”, but she hadn’t told Morris any of this yet. That I knew of, at least. I doubted she would start now. I think she knew that I knew that.

We set off.

It was only a short walk across the street from the Institute to the Merciless Mart, but the journey felt like forever. I couldn’t stop looking up at the building. Or around at the swarms of Candor, dressed in finely-pressed suits and dresses. When we stepped into the lobby, my eye was instantly drawn to a ring of white marble tiles in the black floor. forming the symbol of Candor—a set of unbalanced scales, meant to symbolize the weighing of truth against lies. A bounce brightened my step. Somewhere, this building held the answer I was looking for. Somewhere in the mass of people who modeled what I could be.

I soon realized why Ace had to do the talking. I had a student ID pinned to my chest like all of the initiates did, but in this crowd, it made me stand out like a flashing red light. We passed through a co-ed team of Candor and Dauntless security who checked my ID, then Ace’s ID, then asked why Ace was bringing me.

“Shadowing for the afternoon,” Ace said. “Phoebe’s a transfer. She still doesn’t know what she wants to do for Candor, so I’m showing her around the real place for the first time.”

The security seemed to like this. “Good idea,” said one of the Candor. “I did always think that the transfers need more hands-on experience. Hell, if I had that, maybe I wouldn’t be working front desk security now.”

“Aw, shut up, Rhonda, you love it up here,” one of the Dauntless teased.

“I never said that,” Rhonda chuckled. “Alright, you two. Just step through the metal detector and you’re free to go.”

“Thanks again,” Ace grinned.

We passed through without a hitch. Once we were out of their sight, I looked up and Ace and whispered, “How?”

“Your Investigative Technique class,” said Ace, “all those lie detection strategies they teach you—only works on some people.”

“Well, that too, but how’d you know I don’t have a career direction?”

“Lucky guess.”

She wouldn’t tell me anything else.

The Merciless Mart, I realized, was one of the few other places in the city where factions seemed to mix. The halls bustled with Candor and clients of the whole spectrum. Dauntless guards in black and silver I predicted, but every once in a while, primary colors would flash from an Erudite or Amity, a shadow of an Abnegation flicker through the masses. Or from a factionless. Factionless were everywhere—normally escorted by a Dauntless guard or two, sometimes locked into hand and wrist cuffs. I couldn’t help but try to walk a wide berth around them. I wasn’t unfamiliar with criminals. Most factionless committed crimes. But the ones who were prosecuted by the Candor had to have done something terrible. Once, a grizzled factionless man met my eye. He only had one. The other was a black glass bead. I shuddered and hurried along with Ace.

The lower levels of the Merciless Mart were mostly public-use courtrooms, so when we stepped onto the elevator and got off at level fourteen, the scene became a little more refined. It was just Candor now. Down the halls were dozens of offices. A metal sign in the lobby read Department of Academic Integrity.

A young secretary sat at a desk in the lobby and stopped us before we could go any further. “Can I help you?” he asked.

“I have an appointment with Irene McCandless,” said Ace.

McCandless. The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

“Names?” the secretary asked.

“Ace of Dauntless and Phoebe Prior.”

The secretary’s brow furrowed as he checked his computer. “I’m sorry, you’re not on today’s agenda. Would you like me to make an appointment for later?”

Ace frowned. “There has to be a mistake. I’m sure I have an appointment today.”

“Miss McCandless isn’t seeing anyone today.”

“Then she’s free.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Just tell her that I’m here.”

The secretary hesitated. “I’m afraid—I can’t do that.”

It happened without warning. Ace slammed her hands on the desk, nose to nose with the secretary. His eyes bulged.

“Interesting choice of words,” she growled. “I said. I have. An appointment.”

“Y-yes, ma’am. Sir! Um,” said the boy. He scurried down the hall and vanished into a door. Around the lobby, Candor gave us weird looks. One person muttered an insult.

“Was that really necessary?” I asked mildly.

“No. But it was funny,” said Ace.

The secretary reappeared and nervously made his way back to his desk. “Miss McCandless will have you now,” he said meekly, pointing to the office at the end of the hall.

Ace just gave him a grin. Then she led me back to the office.

When we stepped inside, it was dark, which I hadn’t expected. The only light came from a computer on the desk—and a pair of reflective glasses above it. Right. Irene was blind.

“Come in,” said Irene. “Close the door.”

“May I turn on the light?” asked Ace.

Irene huffed. “If you must.”

I think it was a joke, because Ace smirked before flicking on the light. When she did, I saw that Irene was sitting at a long white desk, wearing headphones and her signature white suit. Her desk was piled with papers. At first, I wanted to ask how she read the papers, but then I saw her hand moving across one. Three of her fingers had strange silver caps on the ends. Some sort of reading assist technology, probably.

Ace and I sat down in the two chairs, and Irene took off the finger caps and headphones. “Ace,” she said. “Always a pleasure.” She paused and frowned. “Miss Prior.”

“Um...hi again,” I managed.

The frown deepened. “Ace, I told you to keep an eye on her.”

“What?” I said.

“She was making a fool of herself,” said Ace.

Now I frowned. “Excuse me.”

“Please, Miss Prior. The adults are talking,” said Irene. “What does she want?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” said Ace. “She figured out that I know you, and all she wanted was to talk to you. So just get her to stop bothering me.”

Irene pressed her lips together. She sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “There’s coffee in the break room.”

“Thank you,” said Ace, standing. Then she turned to me. “Find me afterwards. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“No promises,” I said, which was the wrong response. Ace gave me a glare that could bore through a brick wall.

Once Ace was gone and had closed the door behind her, Irene walked over and locked it. Then she sat back down, folded her hands, and regarded me. At least, I figured that she was regarding me. I quietly opened my notepad and checked my list of questions. It was a very long list.

But Irene asked first. She reached for her coffee thermos and took a sip. “What were you thinking?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I said truthfully.

“You’re not stupid.” Irene slammed the thermos down with such force that the papers on the desk jumped. So did I. “You know what I mean. You chose Candor specifically to answer what you got on your aptitude test. Am I wrong?”

Honestly, when she said it, and every time I had thought about it, it sounded a little more stupid.

“I mean...a good Candor always wants to know the truth?” I tried.

Again, it was the wrong response. Irene’s mouth opened, then closed, like a fish gasping in air. Then she said, “Excuse me,” opened a drawer in her desk, and pulled out a pillow. She took off her glasses and pressed the pillow to her face. She screamed into the pillow, a long and unbreaking scream for a full thirty seconds. I was so shocked that I couldn’t even move. I just watched. It was horrifying.

Finally, Irene stopped and put the pillow and her glasses back.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

She smiled. “Really, no.”

“Listen, I know it sounds stupid,” I began.

“It was stupid,” said Irene.

“But I know there was more to my aptitude test than that, there had to be, I—”

“Did you forget the part where I said to forget about the test or it’ll get you killed?” Irene snapped.

“No, I—”

“Do you realize that not knowing the answer is infinitely safer for you than knowing the answer, keeping it secret, and having to lie?”

“Well—”

“Have you considered that this is possibly the most dangerous faction to choose if you want to keep a deadly secret?”

“It crossed my mind, but—”

“And are you aware that to become a full Candor, you must take a truth serum and admit every single secret you know? Do you realize that if I gave you an answer, the Full Unveiling might actually be the end of your life?”

“I just want to know the truth! Is that so much to ask?”

The office fell into silence. I couldn’t even hear the bustle of the room outside the door. This room was soundproofed, I knew. Why, I couldn’t say. Irene bowed her head.

“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked.

I hesitated. I thought of the Full Unveiling, that mysterious final exam. I offered a quick prayer and then inhaled. “Yes.”

“The truth is,” she said, “your aptitude test assigned you Candor.”

I opened my mouth. But then she lifted her head again.

“And Abnegation,” she continued. “And Dauntless, and Amity, and Erudite. Your results were—you passed every single simulation, Miss Prior, something that is not supposed to happen.”

I looked at my hands. Every simulation? “But I thought I did something wrong.”

“You didn’t,” she said softly. “Typically, the simulation progresses in a linear fashion, letting you fail until you pass one. The first stage was the decision between the knife and the flower. If you had shown an automatic distaste of the knife and selected the flower, I would have sent you to the room of people, and if you passed, would have confirmed your aptitude for Amity. If you chose the knife, you would have gone to the dog, the test for Dauntless. If you failed both, then you would go to the locked room with the passcode, the Erudite test. If you failed that too, you would have been taken to the bomb, the Abnegation test. And if you failed to act before the bomb detonated, I would have sent you to the Candor test—the murderer.”

“So I was only supposed to make it all the way if I failed?” I croaked.

“In theory.” Irene sighed. “Technically, you failed the Amity and Dauntless tests. The Amity test passes when you place the flower on the pedestal. The Dauntless test passes when you kill the dog. You tried to choose both objects, which the simulation does not allow. But both of your solutions, singing to the crowd and bowing before the dog, worked. So I took you to Erudite, hoping to rule that out. You passed that one correctly. You passed the Abnegation test by throwing yourself on the bomb. And you passed the Candor test—twice.”

“Wait—twice?”

“Once in the simulation, when you admitted to the murder,” said Irene, “and again when I lied, and you knew it wasn’t the truth.”

“So... I don’t have an aptitude,” I said.

She hesitated. “Yes and no. My conclusion is that you display equal aptitude for all five factions. People who get this kind of result, aptitude for three or more factions, are—” She hesitated again, letting the silence linger, as if trying to sense people who might be listening in. “They’re called—Divergent.”

Irene said the last word so quietly that I almost couldn’t hear. Divergent. I was silent for a very, very long time. Every faction. I waited for my logic to protest, to realize Irene was lying again, or to suddenly come up with any other explanation than the one Irene was giving me. But there was nothing. For the first time, it felt—right.

“Why did you lie about it?” I asked.

“Divergence is not something to be taken lightly, Miss Prior,” said Irene. “I lied because the alternative was to reveal you to my superiors, and that was something I could not in good conscience do to you.”

My tongue was dry in my mouth. “What’s wrong with your superiors?”

She hesitated. “Nothing. I don’t know. I can’t tell you.”

“Those are three very different answers,” I said warily.

“There are things that are—literally impossible for me to explain, Miss Prior.” Her lip tugged; she was biting it from the inside. “The only thing I can tell you is that being Divergent is very, very dangerous. You cannot tell anyone. Don’t even let slip that you know the word.”

“We aren’t supposed to share our results.” I nodded. “I know that.”

“No.” Irene leaned forward and reached across the desk. I put my hands in hers and she squeezed them tight, so tight that it hurt. “Remember what I told you about your simulation possibly getting you killed? Adding the word ‘Divergent’ into the mix increases that ‘possibly’ to ‘immediately’. Am I making myself clear?”

I swallowed. “Crystal.” My voice still trembled.

“The Full Unveiling shouldn’t ask the results of your aptitude test—that’s still protected information. But it is very possible that something might still come up. Due to your Divergence, there are certain ways for you to lie. I will be in contact with you closer to the date of your Unveiling.”

“Okay.”

Irene sighed and lowered her head. “I wish I could give you the answers you want,” she said, much softer now. “But I think it would be wise for you not to worry about this for now. Focus on the exams, alright?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I can tell that it’s a struggle for you to say that,” said Irene.

She was right. “Yes.”

“I understand.”

I didn’t know if she could. Her grip on my hands loosened.

“Can I ask one more question?” I asked.

“You can try.”

“What about Ace? Is she—Divergent?”

“That is for Ace alone to answer. But I think that, no matter what the truth is, you’re going to get a firm no.”

Irene let go of my hands.

“You’d do well to follow her example.”

+ + +

After Irene was finished, she dismissed me and gave me directions to the break room, where Ace would be waiting for me. I wasn’t even in good enough of a mood to disobey. I just found the room, walked over to where Ace was sipping a coffee in the corner, and said, “I’m ready to go now.”

Ace eyed me, as if puzzled. “Is that it?”

“I guess.”

She shrugged and stood. As we walked out of the Merciless Mart, so did hundreds of other Candor, going home for the day. I just stared, unfocused, at the wash of white and black.

Soon I was back in the Institute. It was not yet dinner, so Ace dropped me off where I would normally study, the courtyard. Oona was there and gave me a strange look when I walked over.

“Where were you?” she asked.

“Merciless Mart,” I said flatly.

“For what?”

I dropped my stuff on the ground next to her.

“Job shadowing,” I said, echoing Ace. “Since I... don’t know what I’m going to do.”