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Caleb Prior was born, as every other child from Abnegation is, to live and die a simple, selfless life. He'll wear the same gray clothes, eat the same, tasteless food, and he'll never act in his own favor. Manners, service, and the public good. This is what he was born and raised to live by and for.
To hell with it all, he privately thinks, I couldn't possibly live like that.
He's not sure how long it had taken for him to realize that he didn't want to have a life like that as his future. A life of being just another stiff in a crowd of dull, polite gray. Caleb knows moments when he'd become more acutely aware of it, but not the actual realization.
The earliest one he can remember is from when he was around 7. Caleb had gotten full marks on his final exams, which had been difficult enough that almost half the class had failed to get a 60 for a passing grade. His teacher had had him stand in front of the class with the other top-scorers, two girls from Erudite, and a boy from Amity.
He'd been the only Abnegation score higher than an 80.
He remembers sitting up straight at the dinner table that night, waiting on pins and needles for everyone to finish eating so they could go to the living room, where he'd finally be able to tell his family about what he'd achieved.
Caleb's father made a passing remark about how arrogant the Erudites always were on Exam Result Day, how they brought their kids to work that day. How he'd had to smile through so many children and teenagers brag about their top scores.
Later in the sitting room, Caleb bit his tongue and made small talk about something or other, envy and pride burning in his chest, because I want to brag too, I want to show you what I did through my studying too, I want you to tell me I'm smart too, and wishing that he could openly acknowledge three perfect scores that he cared about, instead of the creepy old Factionless woman he'd helped down the street.
He's not an idiot, and he never was, so even child-Caleb had known enough to avoid talking too much about academics. No matter how much he'd been tempted to, Abnegation's distaste for Erudite kept his lips sealed when it came to talking about tests, books, or lessons in general.
He'd been 10 when he'd learned that hiding his intelligence and pride meant more than just leaving school unmentioned.
"The world is like a clock," he’d once said in the living room after dinner. "And then people are like all of the different gears inside. Whether they're big or small, even gears that don't seem useful serve their purpose when the hands start moving,"
Caleb had thought he'd put his thoughts into words quite well. He'd always thought of everything as just one big machine: the human body systems they'd learned at school, his classmates and family, himself, everything. It just made sense that way, and he was proud of explaining himself in a way he thought was clear and concise.
His family didn't react the way he'd hoped they would.
Beatrice looked at him, eyebrows scrunched up together in confusion. "I don't get it," She said.
His parents glanced at each other, doing that weird thing where he could clearly tell they were talking without saying anything out loud. Caleb's father looked disappointed, and his mother looked somewhere between confused and concerned.
"No, that's not how it is," His father had sighed. "People aren't like machines; they don't need to serve any purpose to deserve help and acknowledgment. Who taught you that?"
"Who taught you that?"
It's a question that made him stiffen, biting the inside of his cheek with regret. He should've known that anything he was genuinely proud of was just taking others closer and closer to his web of lies.
He lowered his head a little, to show embarrassment and to avoid eye contact. "I'm sorry. I guess I must've overheard someone say it. I should've thought before saying something like that,"
His mother raises her eyebrows at that, but thankfully, his family decides to turn a blind eye to his outburst. It was easier to think he was just a dumb kid than that he wasn't one of them.
By thirteen, Caleb has learned the rules of Abnegation life. He's written his own mental guideline on how to live as a good little Stiff son. Abnegation, like everything and everyone else, is just another machine that can be observed and tested to find how and why it ticks.
He hides books secretly borrowed from the school library between his mattress and bedframe. There are more slipped behind his wardrobe. He's taken apart and put together his watch multiple times with the little toolkit he'd hidden under his desk.
No one knows that he's been hiding all of this. No one knows that he's a faction traitor. It's like he's just another loyal Stiff. If he tries hard enough, he can even fool himself into thinking that.
Caleb's most valuable treasure of all is tucked away inside a hole he cut into his mattress: All the exam papers he's gotten from school.
He's a perfect Abnegation son until he hides his precious achievements where he can keep them close to him. He's a modest child until he holds those sheets of paper and every 100 written in bright blue ink sets his heart on fire with pride. He's a selfless person until he keeps all of this for himself instead of letting it all go for the sake of staying with his family.
The day of the Aptitude Test arrives. Caleb quietly says goodbye to his room before he leaves for school; whether he gets Erudite like he's sure he will, or he gets Abnegation as he should, it'll be the last time he'll ever get to see his room the same way.
He and Beatrice both get their hair cut, and he sees himself in the mirror for the first time in 3 months. It's a rare treat, and he can't help but feel guilty for sneaking peeks at himself. He knows that he's already done worse, knows that what he's been doing for years could count as a crime if he's ever caught, but as small as his reflection is, it feels impossibly vain.
Caleb knows the Abnegation manifesto by heart and knows every little way he's defied it. He's become his own obsession by his desire to be smart and be acknowledged as such. Studying, keeping all his exam resits, reading in secret, taking apart and fixing his watch; they're all selfish actions of vanity, but at the very least they're done with the purpose of abolishing his own ignorance and lack of knowledge.
Looking at his reflection is pointless.
Connecting the dots of his experiences and the academic reasoning behind them satisfies him with the mental click as everything falls into place. It's satisfying because it means he's getting smarter. Because it means he's learning and improving, and his understanding of the world is expanding.
Having a pretty face just means that. He has a pretty face, he got lucky with his genes. It's something that came naturally, without him being able to affect it at all. It has nothing to do with him.
Still, he has a hard time looking away from the mirror. Every three months, he's struck by the realization that yes, he's the boy in the mirror with green eyes and brown hair. Yes, that's really him. He has a reflection.
Caleb notices his father's eyes meet his own in the mirror for a microsecond, and he stares just to the left of the glass instead, at the blank wall with worn, slightly chipped paint.
"Erudite," The Erudite woman tells him. She looks almost proud. "Your aptitude test result is Erudite,"
"Thank you," Caleb says, his heart racing but his mind calm. He's thought of this situation over and over again. His brain can't think of anything new to worry about anymore, so his anxiousness is irrational. Caleb has a plan and he knows what to do.
He nods at the woman as he politely gets up to leave the room. He takes a deep breath before opening the door. After 16 years of living a lie in Abnegation, he knows that he can't slip now; not when he's so close to the Choosing Ceremony.
Red blood spills into stained water.
Caleb betrays his family.
The Dauntless initiates, a crowd of reckless 16-year-olds, go sprinting towards the trains. The Amity chatter cheerfully amongst themselves as they enter the elevator. The Candor debate with each other, making blunt statements at their newcomers.
Caleb follows the Erudite to the elevator, digging his fingernails into his arm as excitement and fear rush through the same veins his blood had flowed out of.
The Abnegation march solemnly down the stairs. One or two look at him bitterly. The rest ignore him. He doesn't see his parents amongst the crowd.
He could almost fool himself into thinking that he doesn't know whether or not they hate him now based on lack of evidence. He'd seen them during the Choosing Ceremony, watching as their perfect Abnegation son betrayed them, and their precious, though likely-Dauntless daughter stabbed them in the back as well.
What a mess.
But it's for the best, anyway.
Caleb has spent 16 years in that dull, ignorant world of selflessness. He can't live the rest of his life in that mindless love filled prison. He unlocks his rusty iron cage and flies free of the people who had taken care of him because he can't spend another second keeping his real faction a secret the peace.
The initiates who were born and raised in Erudite look down on everyone, but they have a special hell in their hearts for Caleb, it seems. It's an odd hell, filled with the glee of his betrayal, hatred for the faction in which he was born, and simple condescension.
The other transfers have a relatively better image of him. Some of them must judge him for betraying Abnegation like that, but it's a hypocritical judgment, considering they're traitors to their own families and former communities. After watching him survive the Erudites' taunting while experiencing the guilt they understand firsthand, Caleb knows that he's earned some sort of begrudging respect from them.
That respect likely comes from discovering how low he can stoop to try and make it in Erudite. His vision is perfect. He knows that. Despite his many years of reading in the dark, his eyes work perfectly fine.
Caleb swallows his pride and gets himself a pair of glasses.
Even if he still believes in his theory of a machine-like society, starring people as gears, he's not an idiot. He knows that the law of "survival of the fittest" still applies in the factions, with different definitions of strength in each one. Until Caleb can prove that he's smart enough for Erudite, has to do whatever he can to bluff and fit in.
The glasses he can watch himself put on in the mirror every day fill him with exhilaration, dread, anxiety, and determination all at once until he can barely stop himself from shaking from it all. He's living a life of luxury, a life where his intelligence and interests truly matter. It's a life he's been wanting since he knew of its existence, and one he's been guilted for wanting the minute afterward. He's showing his true colors here more than he's ever shown his own parents, but it feels like he's keeping just as many secrets locked away in his chest.
Caleb knows that he can't take a single step backward, back to the home he's known and even loved, the way back crumbling behind him. The left and right of this blue path plunge into abysmal gorges of failure and factionlessness.
Forward is the only way left for him, and he can't fuck this up.