The Love and The Lie

Chapter 15

Karen's POV

This cell was once a place when time went by so slowly. A sudden clank emits from the door with the strength of a bomb as Mark opens the slab.

His boots make that obnoxious squeaking noise as he walks towards me. Before I can turn away, a hard force grasps my arm and pulls me up like a crane. My eyes meet Mark's clear irises. There is not a glint of self in them. As if even though Erudite has not created a functional version of the control serum, Dauntless training already makes its members pliable and dead on the inside.  Mark fits my arms into handcuffs. He shuffles me along, out the door and into the radiant hall. The Dauntless guard holds the metallic handcuffs that bind my arms behind my back as we walk. The metal digs into my wrists like a dull knife; not sharp enough to sear, but fine enough to cause discomfort.

He spins me left and then right as we near the ends of various hallways. I know exactly where I am. I also know exactly where we are going next. After half a dozen twists, he pushes me along into a glass elevator.

I know that I will miss the luxuries of the Erudite compound; from Jeanine's personality to the form of transportation. Having an awareness of loss makes me grateful for everything that I had in my life, and more than that, everyone I was affiliated with.

The transparent doors shut with a hiss, and the glass canister drags us down to the lowest floor of the compound. Over thirty feet below ground level lies the Erudite courtroom-our destination.

I purse my lips. The dauntless inside of me is tempted to attack Mark. It would be easier to do so now, and since we're isolated, it would be a one on one fight, and the elevator controls would leave me with a chance to escape the compound altogether. Who knows what lies ahead? What if the ruling will be execution? Then, it will be too late. Only now do I have a chance for trouble-free escape.

Mark's fist grips and twists the back of my shirt. Before I can even execute my plan, the elevator slows with a heaviness, and halts. From the other side of the glass doors, a hallway divides into three. The center holds a large set of blue double doors at the end. From what I can recall, this is where the prisoner enters, and is where the trial room is. I am unaware of what lies after the side-hallway doors.

Mark shoves me forward like an ocean wave. He knocks me forward, tripping me, and forcing me to stumble at my start towards looming doom. "You don't have to move me so forcefully!" I snap.

"Shut up," is all that he mutters back. Mark makes me halt abruptly at the foot of the closed doors. He glances at his black watch before scanning his ID, and opening the entrance. I feel my heart as it leaps when both doors open at once. The room is grand, yet like its white, glowing walls it only contains  a risen podium of the same material, and a glass encasing in the center of the room. I glance around the room. There is only one way in, and one way out of it. A set of metallic chairs lie behind the stage. Two colossal blue banners adorn the wall behind the podium. They contain Erudite's emblem and a portion of its manifesto in silver: "Knowledge is the only logical solution to the problem of conflict. Intelligence must be used for the benefit of society". A prisoner has no say in an Erudite trial, because by then they will be confronted enough to collect most of the knowledge needed on the event. The most intelligent individual in the room will then decide not what would be best for the violator, but what would be best for society, yet firstly Erudite.

Three sets of tapping come from behind me. The doors close but the claps continue to become fuller. A blue-clad Jeanine rushes ahead from behind me like a streak of light. A black figure comes from my right and walks upward. It is the Recorder; someone who marks down the event in audio, visuals, and writing. Recorders are present in every trial. A woman in white follows after Jeanine. I can't see her face until she sits down in one of the metal chairs behind the podium.