DL Ch. 09 - The Human Condition

Hi. :) You are reading chapter 9 of my novel Divergent Limit. If you're new here, I'd recommend that you click on the series link at the top (on mobile) or to your right (on desktop) and start with the prologue (chapter 0). This series isn't a collection of loosely connected stories that can all be read in isolation, but one long narrative where each chapter keeps building on the previous one.

If you want to know whether the story is for you, I'd recommend that you read "Element 00 - Prologue", "Element 01 - A Hint Of Summer", and "Element 02 - I Hate Kurt Gödel". If you enjoy these three chapters, chances are you might enjoy the rest as well. And if you aren't interested at that point, I doubt that later chapters will change your mind.

Should you make it back here, say hello in the comments and let me know what you think. So far, a few people have started following me as I keep posting new chapters, but rarely anybody rates the story or comments on it. Your thoughts are very welcome! ;)

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Element 9 -- The Human Condition

Still November 8th, Saturday

Claire watched the next two fights holding Eugene's hand, the sole exception being a couple of minutes when they went to buy something to drink, her treat, of course. She was more interested in these fights again, partly because her campaign to conquer Eugene's hand had come to a successful conclusion. But her interest was piqued even more by the fact that bouts four and five featured female fighters.

She didn't really know what to expect from a women's kickboxing match. Her standard for what female fighters looked like was Eleanor, but the women entering the ring quickly corrected that image. They were obviously all in good shape, the results of their training clearly visible on their bare arms, legs, and midriffs. But none of the four women was nearly as tall as Eleanor, nor did any of them strike her as masculine in appearance. They had all tied their hair back in one way or another, with braids seeming to be a popular option, except for one fighter who sported a pixie cut. They didn't look as if they had been blessed with a particular build well-suited for combat. Instead, they looked, for lack of a better comparison, as if Emily and Ashley had decided to pick up kickboxing as a hobby. If she met them outside of this event wearing normal clothes, she never would have guessed any of them to be into combat sports.

When it came to the actual fights, Claire wasn't able to identify any noticeable difference from the bout she had watched before. If anything, the woman with the pixie cut seemed the most ferocious and ruthless of all fighters she had seen so far. She put relentless pressure on her opponent, intent on demolishing her face for almost nine minutes straight, only to give her a hearty hug after the end of the fight. In a way, she imagined getting into a street fight with one of these women to be even scarier than getting into one with one of the male fighters. Most people wouldn't expect anything from them, but go down quickly in a flurry of punches and kicks they never saw coming.

And then there was the audience reaction. The spectators didn't seem to treat the women's fights as a lesser version of the male match-ups. She didn't know if that was generally the case or a side effect of so many women showing up today. As Eleanor's fight slowly drew closer, the gymnasium got even more packed.

Between bouts five and six, she spotted a few more people she was sure had little interest in kickboxing. There was Nicole, who briefly greeted them, voicing her surprise that the boy who supported Eleanor also turned out to be the student Claire had requested a section transfer for. She didn't stay long when she noticed them holding hands and left with a knowing smile, the sighed "Ah, youth!" written all over her face.

Then there was Alex, Claire's favorite colleague to hate. He was the very embodiment of the stereotypically arrogant mathematician with a god complex. To her surprise, he left her alone even when he saw her with Eugene. He instead talked to Professor Martinez.

Eugene pointed out Eleanor's mother to her. Once she saw her, the resemblance was hard to overlook. She was tall, not as tall as Eleanor, but still significantly taller than the average woman. But even more than that, it was clear from whom Eleanor had inherited that beautiful, long raven hair. Victoria looked a bit out of place, though, wearing that Princeton jersey. The elegant upper-class woman was hidden behind a thin veil of Ivy League sportswear and a baseball cap. But despite what Claire thought, it seemed to alter her usual appearance enough that journalists left the matriarch of the women's fashion empire known as White Mare alone.

What caught Claire's attention even more was the woman Victoria Gardner was standing next to and talking with. Claire had seen her only a couple of times in person, but unless she was mistaken, Victoria was talking to Marla Robertson, Anthony Robertson's wife. Now that she was thinking about it, Marla could be considered another victim of Robertson's actions. She was a professor at Riverton herself, doing research in sociology. She was also known for speaking out publicly against rape culture on campus, urging the university to do more to protect female students, sometimes even to the point of drawing the ire of the administration with her advocacy. Claire could only imagine what finding out the truth about her husband must have been like for her.

The sixth fight was about to begin. After two women's bouts, this one featured male fighters again. Eugene's eyes lit up in pure bliss when one of the fighters turned out to be a long-haired metalhead walking out to DragonForce's 'Valley of the Damned'. Despite the power-metal theatrics, the guy's name, Geoffrey So, couldn't have been any less intimidating. Nevertheless, Eugene was clearly in love, and Claire didn't need to ask who they were rooting for in this match.

While the second fighter walked out, Claire joked.

"If you ever need walkout music, you have to go with Gimme Chocolate!!"

Eugene snorted.

"Obviously!"

Then she had a funny thought.

"If there are hyperintelligent aliens out there, studying us like we study animals, what do you think they'd make of events like this?"

Eugene contemplated her question for a moment.

"You mean like... a nature documentary? But on humans?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Hmm, let me think."

Eugene didn't say anything for a few seconds. He was deep in thought. Then his face relaxed. He took Claire's hand, pulled it gently to the left, and placed her fingers on the palm of his left hand instead. Two small steps, and he was standing behind her. His right hand brushed against her right shoulder. Her eyes followed the tips of his fingers sliding down her arm to her free hand, leaving a trail of goosebumps on her skin.

Then they stood there, Eugene behind her, her hands resting in his palms supported by the railing, his arms loosely framing hers. Her head rested against his chest, just under his chin. He spoke slowly, imitating the deep, melodious voice of a seasoned narrator.

"The Human Condition -- Episode 6"

The fight began.

"Last episode, we tried to understand why in many human cultures prolonged survival is celebrated by setting dessert on fire and forcing the revered survivor to extinguish the flames with their breath alone. Today..."

Claire suppressed her laughter, shaking slightly, while trying her best not to interrupt him.

"... we will take a deeper look at humans engaging in ritualistic combat. So far, we haven't been able to conclusively decipher the purpose of these fights. The most widely accepted theory is that the, at first glance, nonsensical behavior is a form of religious worship. But some researchers dispute the theory, claiming instead that the humans are hurting each other for fun."

If Eugene was struggling to maintain the façade, he didn't show it.

"The tribe gathers around the sacred square that the humans commonly call a 'ring' for unknown reasons -- even though they are perfectly capable of distinguishing round from rectangular shapes in other contexts. The beginning of the ritual is announced by a third human positioned inside the sacred square. The two combatants seem to accept the authority of the overseeing human over when the ritual begins, stops, resumes, and ends despite the latter often being the ostensibly weakest human participating in the ceremony."

Claire leaned back against Eugene while he kept going. He was so close now. She could feel his warmth, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and his hot breath caressing her ear.

"... the ritual on display is performed by two males. Unlike some related species on this planet, human males and females can't be distinguished by the color of their fur -- which is oddly concentrated on their heads and can grow remarkably long. While all humans might look the same to you, especially when wearing garments, subtle gender markers can be identified by a careful observer. Human males, for example, seem more prone to baring their chests for unknown reasons, while females often let their head-fur grow longer. These are, however, only indicators correlated with gender, not perfect predictors. Researchers suspect..."

Her hands looked so small in his. Her fingers were nestled in his palm, his thumb lovingly stroking the back of her hand. There was no pressure behind his touch. Just a delicate, ghostlike back and forth, so light it felt almost incidental, yet clearly deliberate. His thumb left no visible trace, but it made her skin tingle in a way that was impossible to ignore.

"... behavior seem contradictory at times. In some instances of particularly effective strikes, the tribe seems to cheer on the violence, while in other cases the onlookers avert their eyes in disgust or horror. This apparent contradiction..."

Eugene's hands were lovely. His palms were soft, his fingers long and slim. His hands were meant neither for fighting nor physical labor. Instead, she pictured them fulfilling more sensual tasks. Guiding a brush over a canvas. Playing a gentle melody on a piano. Caressing a baby's head. And yet, when she saw her hands in his and noticed the ease with which he could envelop hers, she knew that she wasn't looking at a woman's hands, but the strong, slender fingers of a man.

"... the two males are circling each other, the sacred square confining their movement..."

Claire turned her head, pressing her ear against his chest. She found what she had been searching for. Ba--dum... ba--dum... ba--dum. She doubted that her own heart was so calm.

"... strangely, the overseer seems to intervene most often when the two males abandon the violence for a spontaneous embrace, tenderness seemingly being forbidden until the end of the ritual..."

Ba--dum... ba--dum... ba--dum.

"... the brief, regularly scheduled pauses are another mystery that..."

Ba--dum... ba--dum... ba--dum. Claire glanced up at Eugene's face. The more she watched his lips move, the less she understood the words they formed. She noticed she was breathing through her mouth now. Her face was flushed with heat. Eugene's tender thumbs sent pleasant shivers down her spine. A warmth she hadn't felt since that night at the Infinite Pint began to pool low in her body. She was surprised but welcomed the return of the sensation she thought she might have lost for good. Fortunately, Eugene couldn't see that, an undeniable advantage of the female body.

"... something about funny humans... or aliens... fight..."

Ba--dum... ba--dum... ba--dum. She needed, she wanted to feel more of him. She took his hands firmly in hers, lifted them off the railing, and pulled them toward her, positioning his arms exactly where she wanted: wrapped around her shoulders, lying just above her breasts. Then she put her own hands on his arms, keeping them in place.

"..."

Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum. His deep narrator voice cracked briefly, but he quickly resumed the narration. She smiled. He wasn't unaffected either. He put a little more strength into his arms, pulling her into him as he desired to feel more of her. She gently stroked his arms, tracing the shape of the muscles holding her, while his thumb was now caressing her shoulder with the same calming, exciting rhythm it had stroked the back of her hand before. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum.

Somewhere in the distance, the winner of the fight was announced. Claire didn't care. She closed her eyes and immersed herself in the moment. She could feel herself sink deeper and deeper into his heartbeat, into his warmth, into the strength of his embrace.

"You still with me?"

Eugene's question was an amused whisper.

"Mhm."

She nodded, rubbing her cheek against his chest. Then she took the hand caressing her left shoulder and rearranged it one more time until it reached her heart. She wanted him to feel her heartbeat too. She didn't know what her heart revealed to him, but she could sense his hand relax the moment it came to rest. All the while, her panties had started to feel noticeably damp, a secret she happily kept to herself. Ba-dum ba-dum ba-dum.

Claire was losing her sense of time. She was wrapped in a Eugene-shaped bubble she didn't want to leave. For a second, his soft whisper registered as the rudest interruption of her current bliss.

"We should slowly but surely get to our seats. Eleanor's fight is the next one."

She opened her eyes, yielding to the outside world's demands for her attention. The seventh fight had just begun. If it ended in an early knockout, the introductions for Eleanor's fight could begin within minutes. Eugene took a step back, ending the close embrace she was already missing. His hands lingered on her shoulders.

"Ready to go?"

She nodded and turned around.

"Yeah, let's go."

Eugene offered her his hand. She took it without a second thought.

They made their way down the stairs. Claire had noticed from the concourse that more people had arrived over time, but she only fully realized how crowded the field house had become now that she and Eugene diffused into the masses. She generally disliked moving through dense crowds. As a small person, she could easily be swallowed by an avalanche of people.

After making it past the flow of people hurrying to their seats or the concourse, they finally arrived at their own seats by the ring. For the first time, Claire wasn't watching a fight from a distance, looking down at the sacred square. From directly next to the ring, she had to look up at the fighters, making the traded blows immediately feel more visceral. The Paragon fighter landed a combination, the excited "Ooohh!!" of the audience washed over her from all directions, and the opponent's coach could be heard frantically shouting instructions at his protégé.

They sat down behind several Paragon members. Eugene greeted those he knew and introduced Claire. She was most surprised by seeing ginger boy among them. As it turned out, his name was Robert. Now that he had a name and she saw him up close, she started to feel for him. He had freckles, just like her, but they were starting to get eaten by the dark shades of red and blue spreading from his nose.

Besides Robert, she also recognized pixie-cut, whose name was Layla. She hadn't expected any of the fighters to watch the bouts after their own, but all the previous Paragon fighters had apparently decided to witness Eleanor's fight. Thinking of Eugene's alien documentary, she couldn't help but think that in times of crisis, the tribe came together to care for a wounded member.

The seventh fight ended with a technical KO in the second round. Shortly after, Ashley came running and joined them.

"Please tell me I didn't miss Ellie! I wanted to be here sooner, but I swear, the line for the ladies' room was approaching infinity!"

Claire smirked. It wasn't a great math joke, but she decided that, every now and then, it was okay to grade her students on effort.

"No, you're just in time. Look, there, the announcer is coming back."

Claire pointed to the announcer returning to the ring. She hadn't seen him up close yet, but even he looked a little nervous despite having done this seven times already.

Claire was sitting to the right of Eugene, still holding his hand, while Ashley sat down to his left. She poked him several times with her elbow and whispered something into his ear.

"Hehe, didn't kn... you... in... ol... women."

She could feel Eugene chuckle through his hand. Then he put his index finger against Ashley's temple and pushed her a few inches away from him. Ashley was clearly having fun, letting out a hearty laugh.

Ashley, together with the rest of the audience, grew immediately quiet when the announcer started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for the eighth bout of the evening!"

Professors all over the country could only dream of receiving such a breathless reception upon entering a lecture hall. The sudden silence was eerie. Claire could almost feel the people sitting and standing behind her lean forward.

"Making her way to the ring first, representing Vanguard Kickboxing, please welcome -- Maya Torres!"

The crowd collectively exhaled as if Eleanor walking out second were a major disappointment. Maya was, nevertheless, received politely. Despite rooting for Eleanor, Claire felt bad for Maya. She wouldn't want to be in her shoes, or maybe gloves were more apt in this case. Through no fault of her own, almost everybody in this room wanted to see Maya lose.

Maya walked out accompanied by the rhymes of a rapper Claire didn't recognize, her coach two steps behind her. Green seemed to be Maya's color of choice. She wore her hair in a braid just like Eleanor, albeit shorter. She walked steadily, no theatrics for the crowd, only the occasional glance to the bleachers. She likely had never fought in front of an audience this big.

Next, the announcer finally delivered what everyone had been waiting for.

"And now, representing our hosts, Paragon Combat Sports -- Eleanor Price!"

The crowd erupted before the announcer had even finished saying her name. The rock music playing for Eleanor was struggling for dominance against the deafening cheers.

"I'm a runaway train on a broken track

I'm a ticker on a bomb, that you can't turn back this time

That's right

I got away with it all and I'm still alive

Let the end of the world come tumbling down

I'll be the last man standing on the ground

And if my shadow's all that survives

I'm still alive"

Eleanor was greeted with standing ovations. If there was anybody present who was unaware of what she had done, the experience must have been bizarre for them.

Eleanor's gaze was demonstratively focused on the ring. She was walking with quick steps. Her coach, a mountain of a man who made even her look small, walked beside her to her left, shielding her from the frenzy of flashing cameras to the best of his ability. Another female coach of her gym accompanied her to her right. Eleanor was dressed in all black. Completely ignoring the frenetic audience, she stepped into the ring, now an easy target for the cameras chasing her.

Everybody in this room knew that Eleanor had been raped. Now they were cheering for her, celebrating her. Claire gulped. Eleanor's story had been revealed to the public a mere six days after the second assault. Another five days later, she was stepping into the ring without a moment's hesitation. It was incomprehensible to Claire. She admired Eleanor while, at the same time, just imagining herself in her place made her feel sick. Instinctively, she held Eugene's hand a little tighter. In response, she felt his thumb stroking the back of her hand again. He looked at her.

"Don't worry. Trust her. She got this."

Claire nodded. The announcer gave the crowd a few more seconds to calm down before he continued.

"Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce first, fighting out of the blue corner! She weighed in at 139 pounds and enters the fight tonight with an amateur record of three wins and one loss. From Vanguard Kickboxing -- Maya Torres!"

He continued without further ado.

"And her opponent, fighting out of the red corner! She weighed in at 140 pounds and enters the ring undefeated with an amateur record of four wins. From Paragon Combat Sports -- Eleanor Price!"

Claire was surprised.

"I thought you watched Eleanor fight almost a dozen times?"

Eugene gave her a nod.

"Yeah, but for most of those fights she was still a junior. I guess they don't include those in the record. I think she had something like seven wins and three losses in her junior fights."

The coaches were helping both fighters get ready. Maya and Eleanor were wearing gloves matching the color of their corners, blue and red, respectively. The coaches could be heard giving a last bit of advice, the mouthguards were put in, and then both fighters met in the center of the ring. The referee went through a few final instructions, after which they touched gloves and went back into their corners. Seconds later, the bell rang, signaling the official start of the first round.

Eleanor came out of the gate swinging, metaphorically and literally. Maya was immediately forced to retreat. Twice the referee stopped them from cuddling, or clinching, as Eleanor had called it. When they stood this close, Eleanor's height advantage became readily apparent. The audience was on fire. And to Claire, Eleanor looked in control of the fight. But then she saw her coach shake his head. She turned to Eugene.

"Does Eleanor always fight like that?"

Eugene shook his head as well.

"No, uh, usually she lets her opponents approach her. Maybe she's trying a new strategy. I don't know."

For the first minute of the round, Eleanor was clearly dominating. But then the momentum began to shift. Maya, who seemed surprised by the unusual aggression, was adapting to Eleanor's full-throttle offensive. She was dodging Eleanor's strikes and countering. She landed several kicks on Eleanor's stomach and thighs. Eleanor was getting noticeably slower, even to Claire's untrained eyes.

The first round ended not long after. Three minutes had become suspiciously short now that Claire was invested in the fight. She couldn't understand what Eleanor's coach was telling her, but the anger in his voice was clear. Eleanor closed her eyes and nodded.

Claire took a look around. People were not just watching and cheering, but many were also filming. And the journalists were taking photos relentlessly. She spotted Eleanor's mother on the concourse, not far from where she and Eugene had watched earlier, and saw her tapping her foot, arms folded across her chest.

Claire tapped Layla, who was talking with Robert, on the shoulder.

"I'm completely new to kickboxing. Can you tell me who won this round?"

"Sure, no problem. Hard to say how this round will be scored. Looked about equal to me. Ellie clearly had her in the first half, but the second half was Maya's. I'm more worried about the momentum of the fight than the score of the first round."

"Thanks!"

The break was over. The bell rang again, and round two started. Immediately, the fight looked so different that it was hard to believe these were the same two women from the first round.

Eleanor's new strategy looked much more like what Eugene had described. She kept her distance and put her longer arms and legs to use. Maya could no longer rely on Eleanor enthusiastically stepping into her range. She now had to close that gap on her own somehow, and that turned out to be easier said than done.

Maya approached, Eleanor's right arm snapped forward. She tried it again, Eleanor's foot lunged at her like a snake. Every time she tried to close the gap, those long limbs stopped her dead in her tracks.

The second round was approaching the halfway point. Maya's frustration was becoming obvious. Sometimes, Eleanor did nothing more than briefly raise her leg, and that was enough for Maya to retreat before she had even attempted a strike. Eleanor, on the other hand, occasionally threw a punch from a distance, then immediately took a step back again.

The crowd didn't get the spectacle of the first minute of round one but was nevertheless pleased to see Eleanor clearly winning this round. Her coach looked satisfied too. Even her mother seemed more relaxed now, standing with her legs crossed and leaning on the railing.

But then Maya managed to close the distance, albeit at the cost of absorbing a strong kick to her leg. For a second, Claire was worried this might turn out to be Maya's chance, but her advance quickly ended in another clinch. The referee was already on her way to separate them. Before she could do so, Claire and everybody else sitting ringside could hear Maya.

"You scared to come at me? Are you freezing again?!"

Eleanor reacted immediately, pursuing Maya even as the referee tried to separate them. Many people close to the ring gasped. Ashley jumped out of her seat.

"That bitch! I'll fucking kill her!"

Eugene pulled her back, even though his eyes reflected the same anger that was driving Ashley. The grip of his hand tightened around hers, as did her own. She wasn't prone to violence, but now she, too, hoped that Eleanor would knock Maya out cold.

The referee sent both fighters back into their corners, and then reprimanded Maya for foul play. Eleanor's coach was trying his best to calm her down, but she was barely listening. The way Eleanor was staring down Maya, Claire barely recognized the playful Eleanor she had talked to earlier.

When the fight resumed, Eleanor's previous control was gone. She was fighting as if a last-second knockout was her final desperate chance at victory. And Maya was clearly pleased that her provocation had paid off. She was landing hit after hit while Eleanor burned through her stamina.

The difference in their approaches became so obvious that even Claire could see it. Eleanor was chasing Maya around the ring, every new strike an attempt at knocking her out. She prioritized hurting Maya over winning. Meanwhile, Maya wasn't looking for a grand finale to this fight. She was content to inflict a death by a thousand cuts.

When the round ended, Eleanor was definitely worse for wear compared to her opponent. Everybody could see it. Ashley was biting her nails, Eugene was tapping his foot, the audience was silent, and nobody from Paragon except for her coach was saying a word. The room had become so quiet that Claire could understand what Eleanor's coach was saying even though he was speaking more calmly than after the first round.

"Listen, that little bitch got nothing on you. You hear me? Nothing. I know that, you know that, she knows that. That's why she has to resort to bullshit like that. So fight your fight, don't let her control the pace. Don't give her what she wants, that's how you put her in her place. Alright?"

Eleanor seemed to calm down somewhat. But she didn't let Maya out of her sight, not for a second. It was hard to tell if she was even hearing her coach.

The bell rang a third time. At first glance, the fight looked like it had returned to the dynamic of the first half of the second round. Eleanor was no longer blindly charging forward, and Maya had trouble getting close again. The excitement of the crowd seemed to be perfectly correlated with Maya's growing frustration.

Yet something felt different. Maybe it was just the tension rising as the fight neared its end. But to Claire, Eleanor's strikes seemed more forceful, more relentless than earlier. When the leg was raised, it kicked. It was never just a warning anymore. When she landed a counter with her fist, a second strike followed immediately. When Eleanor's foot connected in the second round, it often didn't do much more than push Maya away. Now it looked determined to leave an imprint on her body.

"Come on... One, three, two..."

Eugene murmured to himself, his fist raised in front of his face. Claire had no idea what he was counting.

Both fighters looked tired at this point, but Maya was literally gasping for air. She was barely landing hits anymore and struggled to keep up her guard.

Then a punch to Maya's liver, retreat, Eleanor followed, a punch aimed at Maya's chin, arms going up, a last-second block, Eleanor bounced on her left leg, the right hovering in front of her chest for a fleeting moment, finally three kicks in quick succession: Stomach -- Maya bent over. Head -- Maya bent back. Chest -- Maya tumbled backward. She would have fallen on her back if not for the ropes catching her.

Eleanor followed her, determined to strike her down, the roaring crowd supporting her advance. But the referee intervened to check on Maya. She was still standing, even though she wasn't looking so good anymore. She was heaving, seemingly disoriented, arms hanging by her sides, face bleeding from a cut. The referee sent Eleanor to a corner and started to count.

Maya slowly recovered as the count went up. Eleanor looked at her with zero sympathy for her condition. She taunted her opponent, gesturing for Maya to come at her. This was a side of Eleanor Claire hadn't seen before. Eleanor didn't want this to end yet. She was scary when she was angry.

The referee's count reached eight when she decided that Maya was able to continue the fight. The moment the fight resumed, Eleanor was back at it. She no longer had to keep her distance. There were 30 seconds left and the fight knew only one direction. Eleanor attacked while Maya fled and desperately tried to block Eleanor's heavy strikes. The fight was no longer about who would win, but about whether Maya would be able to keep standing until the clock ran out.

14 seconds left, then it happened. Eleanor landed a strong kick on Maya's thigh. She retreated, but her leg gave out and she stumbled. Eleanor wasted no time and mercilessly capitalized on the opening. Even Claire could name the kick that followed. A roundhouse kick hit Maya in the head, no guard, and sent her crashing to the floor, the impact accompanied by a loud thud. The audience went silent.

11 seconds left, Maya was trying to get up again. Eleanor rushed in. Maya was down on one knee, trying to stand up, but her body no longer complied. She rose a few inches, then collapsed onto her knees again. Meanwhile, Eleanor had closed the distance. She was towering over her defeated opponent, her raised fist ready to strike her down for good. Eugene let go of Claire's hand and jumped out of his seat. Claire hid her mouth behind her hand, not wanting to see the final strike, but unable to look away. The hammer was about to come down on Maya when, just before it was too late, the referee stepped between Eleanor and her prey.

8 seconds left. Eleanor was sent back into a corner. As she walked away, she left Maya with a vicious:

"Stay down, bitch."

The fight was over. Eleanor won by KO.

The crowd's silence slowly turned back into cheers, albeit less enthusiastic ones than anybody would have predicted after Eleanor's walkout. Eugene sat back down. Ashley wiped sweat off her face. Victoria breathed a sigh of relief. They were all quiet. And Claire wondered what the press would write tomorrow. Eleanor towering over a defeated Maya was not what the public wanted rape victims to look like in the aftermath of their assault. Claire knew that.

Eleanor was officially declared the winner. There was no hug between the fighters this time, no friendly words after the fight was over. The support for Eleanor was still overwhelming. Then a single male voice cut through the cheers.

"Liar!"

Nobody seemed to pay him any attention. Eleanor left the ring escorted by her coach, and the preparations for the next bout began.

Eugene put a hand on Claire's shoulder and looked at her.

"Hey, um... Do you mind if Ashley and I go look after Eleanor? I'm a bit worried about her."

Claire understood what he was saying. He wanted to check on her, Eleanor's close friends only.

"Yeah, go. She needs you. And bring our coats when you come back. I don't think I need to watch all of the remaining fights. I'll be back on the concourse."

Eugene let go of her shoulder.

"Thanks. I won't take long."

Ashley looked worried too. She hugged Claire goodbye, and then both of them left.

Claire bought a soda, then went back up to the concourse. Somehow, she felt like she could use some sugar. Technically, she was watching the ninth bout, but the events of the fight were no more than white noise for her eyes.

She laid her arms on the railing and rested her chin on them. She took an occasional sip from her soda while she quietly watched people leaving the field house. She had become so used to the flashing lights of the cameras that she noticed their sudden absence. She didn't miss them.

Kickboxing was weird. That was her professional assessment of the evening. Why were humans so fascinated with violence? It was hard for her to make sense of, now that she thought about it. She read books, watched movies, and played games where people were punched, kicked, thrown, stabbed, and shot en masse. That was the most normal thing in the world. And she was fond of her memories of watching horror movies with Jason back at her parents' house when they had been sixteen. She didn't consider herself to be particularly interested in violence, but it seemed to be everywhere around her.

Violence was condemned, yet thoroughly enjoyed. Whether it was fiction or sport, she wondered if these aspects of culture were, in the end, nothing more than desperate attempts to compartmentalize the uglier facets of human nature. But did it actually work? Did sport and fiction really give people a healthy outlet for their darker impulses? Hearing Maya's ugly taunt and seeing Eleanor's vicious response within the confines of supposedly healthy competition made her doubt that. What if these socially accepted pockets of violence didn't compartmentalize violence, but normalized it?

"Ms. Wallace?"

Claire looked up at the deep female voice interrupting her spiral into the abyss of human nature. Eleanor's mom was standing next to her and looking down at her.

"Yes, that's me."

Reluctantly, Claire lifted her head off her comfortable, soft arms and stood up straight.

"I'm Victoria Gardner, I am..."

"You're Eleanor's mom."

Victoria smiled. She had taken the baseball cap off.

"Yes, that too."

Victoria reached out her hand. Claire took it and shook it.

"May I ask you for a few minutes of your time? There is something I'd like to talk to you about."

"Sure..."

Claire was confused. What could Victoria Gardner possibly want from her? Was she looking for models for a new collection? She doubted the CEO of White Mare was doing this kind of scouting herself. And even if she did, weren't models supposed to be tall?

"Let's get straight to the point then. You're a math major in your senior year and you're likely to graduate as valedictorian of your class, correct? What are your plans for after graduation?"

This was getting spooky. Why did Victoria Gardner know about her academic trajectory?

"Uh, yes. But how do you know that?"

Victoria leaned back against the railing and crossed her legs.

"I had my assistant look into all the people affiliated with Anthony Robertson. I'm sure you read that he and I went to high school together?"

The article that had made the scandal public had mentioned that. Claire nodded.

"The truth is uglier than that. I won't go into details, but he targeted my daughter because of me. Eleanor isn't the only one affected by his behavior, though."

Claire didn't know what to say. She just waited for Victoria to continue.

"Students lost their supervisor, an employer, letters of recommendation. If I can, I'd like to mitigate the damage he's done. Call it a whim born out of a misguided sense of responsibility. So?"

Claire was baffled by the straightforwardness of this conversation.

"So... what?"

"You haven't answered my question yet."

Then Claire remembered. The question about her future.

"Right, sorry. I, uhh, I was going to stay here at Riverton for my Ph. D. It's true that Robertson wrote a letter of recommendation for me, but I know enough people here I can ask instead."

Victoria thought for a second.

"Have you ever considered doing your Ph. D. somewhere else?"

Claire shook her head.

"Not really, no. Why do you ask?"

"Because I hate to see talent settle for mediocrity."

How had this date with Eugene gone from handholding to defending Riverton's reputation against a fashion mogul?

"Riverton's math department is one of the best in..."

"Was. Riverton's math department was one of the best in the country. It was never the best. And now the man who built it is gone, and the public scandal will deliver a blow to the university's reputation in general, and the math department's reputation in particular. So what's holding you here aside from sentimentality?"

Claire had no answer to a question she hadn't even considered. Maybe she would have if her personal circumstances hadn't overshadowed the public implications of the Robertson scandal for her.

"It's not like there's a lot of time left until the application deadlines. I couldn't have known that Robertson would suddenly disappear."

There, that was a perfectly reasonable explanation for why she couldn't simply apply somewhere else.

"Fair enough. That's exactly where I can help. I can put you in touch with everybody in Princeton's math department. Convince them of your merits and you'll have the best letters of recommendation you could ask for. And I can make sure that they will consider your application seriously if you decide to apply."

Claire was almost speechless.

"Yeah, uhh, that's very kind, thanks. Um, I'll have to think about it."

Victoria handed Claire her business card.

"That's my number. Please reach out once you've come to a decision. Don't let your talent go to waste out of a false sense of loyalty toward Riverton."

Claire took the card and quickly put it away. She didn't want to know what journalists would do to her to get that number.

Victoria had no intention of bothering Claire any longer.

"I'll leave you to your date then. Goodbye, Ms. Wallace."

Apparently, this woman even knew she was here on a date. Victoria was about to leave when Claire blurted out:

"You must be very proud of Eleanor."

Victoria looked surprised for the first time during this whole conversation.

"What makes you say that?"

She hadn't expected that answer. In her experience, parents usually didn't question why they should be proud of their children.

"Eleanor being here today means a lot to so many people, especially women. To see her struggle, but also move forward, gives them hope. At least, to me it does."

Victoria's face softened.

"You're right. I am very proud of her."

Then she left.

Claire was tired but also restless. Victoria had confronted her with a question she hadn't asked before. What was holding her here? Was there anything left for her? A few weeks ago, her future had been clear to her. Riverton had been her home, a place of success and fulfillment. Now it was the place where she had been raped, and the mentor who was supposed to oversee her academic future was gone. So why not start anew at Princeton?

She grabbed her phone. She just had to look it up. The application deadline for Princeton. December 15. If Victoria Gardner helped her get those letters of recommendation, she could make it. Then what? She'd probably know if she was admitted sometime in February or March. After that, if she actually got in, she'd have to decide by April 15.

April 15, a little more than five months from now. But before that, she needed to decide if she wanted to apply in the first place. The tenth bout had just ended. She saw Eugene coming back, carrying her coat. She ran toward him, happy to see him return. Today had been a good day.

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A Note From the Author

Hi again! With the end of chapter 9, Divergent Limit has reached the end of the opening phase of the story. This is the first time I'm writing a novel-length story and, by and large, I'm very proud of how the story has turned out so far.

If you made it to this point, I'm really curious what you think! Don't worry, I'm not asking about some deep literary analysis of the story. It would just mean a lot to me if you shared some of your impressions. As the author, I naturally have a very unique perspective on my own novel. So if you took a few minutes to leave a comment, I'd really appreciate it. Who of the three POV characters are you most interested in? Which side character would you like to see more of? Did anything surprise you? It's questions like that I can't really assess without my readers sharing their thoughts. And if you want to know anything about what I thought or intended while writing a specific moment, feel free to ask. I'll respond to every comment. Even if it takes Literotica a few days to approve my replies, I promise to reply to every comment. :)

Thank you so much for reading Divergent Limit up to this point. I hope you had as much fun reading the story as I had writing it. I can't tell you exactly how long the story is going to be in the end, but we're nowhere near the halfway point yet, so there's a lot more to come. :)