Chapter One: The Gamemakers Can't Remember What the Apprentices Do

They don't seem to be able to remember what they themselves do, either.

…..

"That kid's been working hard," says Icarus.

Viva shakes her head, strands of multicolored hair clinging to the creases of her face. "I think he needs monitoring. Look at his eyes."

Radia's eyes have a glazed-over quality. They look up, dwarfed by the bags that have formed beneath them over the last few days. There's something unsettling about them, but he presses his lips tightly together and turns back to his work, and Nerva can't place a finger on what it is.

"Still, he's the best techie we have," Icarus insists. He places a hand on Radia's shoulder. "Any progress?"

Radia flinches, shying away from the Gamemaker. The panicked look on his face is reminiscent of the faces of tributes from Hunger Games past, when they're terrified, but still fighting. He stutters. "I…I've scanned the arena for weak spots."

That's Nerva's task. He pulls the headset off, flips through the files on his computer and pulls up a list.

"The Cornucopia," Nerva cuts in, attempting to speak professionally. "It's a major pressure point, if hit from the side. It could trigger a domino effect which could bring the whole Arena down." He struggles to keep his voice calm.

An array of unpleasant words comes through the receiver of the headset slung over the corner of Nerva's computer. He eyes it reproachfully, and turns the volume down.

He has their attention. Radia meets his eyes with a peculiar expression. Pulling up the simulator, Nerva fiddles with the button panel. An image pops up on the screen. A smooth dome, partially protruding from the ground, in the center of a labyrinth of open-air tunnels. "The pressure point is along the seams." The image zooms in to show where the tunnel walls meld with the metal structure of the dome. Nerva taps in a code. The image begins to move again, showing a movie little more than a blueprint. Nothing happens on the outside, but the structure within the pressure point begins to cave in, breaking the supports running through the labyrinth, which hit other pressure points.

Viva and Icarus watch with critical gazes. Face flushing, Nerva looks to Radia for approval. But Radia's eyes are downcast, a frown plastered to his face. Nerva's spirits sink. Radia is used to doing all the work, he thinks.

Icarus scratches his head. "It certainly wasn't built this way, Viva."

Viva, one of the overseers, examines the picture. "No. This is new."

"Yes, ma'am." Nerva says. "Well, it…." Now he's the one stuttering. Radia's eyes burn holes through his mind. "It only showed up yesterday."

"Ma'am," Viva adds. Icarus lays a hand on her arm, and she growls. "Get off."

They head off, away from the two apprentices. Radia doesn't stop staring.

"Look, that was my mission. Whatever you're upset about, tough luck. Get over it." Nerva closes the image. Quickly he pulls up a scan of the last people to modify the arena in any way, both the ones in the control center, and the ones working on the field.

"Don't you have some—something you should be doing?"

"Oh." Nerva does. He picks up the headset, adjusting it clumsily over his head. It's too big; every headset is.

"Mister Feathersnap, sir. This is your apprentice Nerva."

Nothing. Nerva finds on his computer the live streaming of Pan's work in the arena, the one he was told to watch and learn from. Pan's lips move, but still, silence from the headset.

"It's muted," Radia deadpans.

Nerva clenches his jaw and shoots a glare at Radia. He flips the volume up, and is immediately greeted by a string of unimaginative curse words. Nerva yanks the earphones away from his ears. "Yes, Pan, I'm here. I can hear you now."

"Good riddance," Pan growls.

Nerva bits his lip and doesn't say anything. "Have you heard about the pressure point?" he asks. "Sir."

"No, and I sure don't have time to. There's something you'd better see, being an apprentice and all."

"I could fix it. Sir," says Nerva.

Pan laughs, low and soft, completely incredulous. "Apprentices don't do work like that, got it? Leave it to the masters."

And there's no chance Nerva can fix a pressure point.

A small click comes from his computer, a flat note, accompanied by a blinking orange light. But he can't look at the screen, check the lists for someone he's sure he'll find, a number or a name to confirm his suspicions. He can't find evidence. Pan's static voice in his ears requires all his concentration.

Radia uses the distraction to hack into the central computer system. It's much easier than hacking into the entire Capitol network.

Nerva, he thinks, thwarting all his attempts. Nerva, trying to pin him to a wall like a fly. But Radia will not go down. He's familiar with the hum of computers, with the strings of numbers that make his eyes water. And he's familiar with long, patient endeavors, step by step.

The glazed quality leaves Radia's eyes. Slowly, glancing at Nerva out of the corners of his eyes, he tilts his screen away from Nerva. The fluorescent overhead lights cast him aglow, illuminating him from the twitching of his fingertips to the irregular rise and fall of his chest. There can be no secrets in the Gamemaker control centers.

Radia's movements, too, grow irregular. He holds his lethargic fingers above the keyboard. The password he needs is familiar to him. Far too familiar.

Radia sighs. He pulls his hands away from the keyboard. A tap of a key and the screen before him ceases it's blinking 'password.'

"Nerva?" Radia says.

Nerva holds up a finger. "I'll have time later."

But Radia sees Nerva's hand scrolling the mouse around. He sees the blinking orange of the list on the toolbar.

So while Nerva, again pulling the headset away from his throbbing ears, uses one hand to pull up his list, Radia begins to delete all evidence.

Number 516. Delete. Number 516. Delete. Radia's number is there no more than three times now. Two times. One. He could have used the central network. Zero.

Right before Nerva's eyes, the numbers vanish from the screen. Delete, delete.

The screens mean nothing to Nerva, omnipresent machines with no evidence. In one flourishing movement, he clears the day's memory.

And Radia's eyes are glazed again.

...

A couple of things: Firstly, this is the restarted version of Antidote, which was an SYOT. It no longer is one. However, I kept a quite a few of the characters.
Secondly, I am not technologically savvy. That's why the whole deal with Radia and Nerva using technology seems chunky. Please, if you know anything more about technology than I do, flame and/or give constructive criticism on what I did wrong and, if possible, how I can fix it.
I'm going to try to do what Wingbeats is doing and update every Friday, even it it means staying up till 11.59 on Friday night finishing and uploading each chapter.