Many would find it ironic that the people of District Six, the District of Transportation, preferred to stay in one place. But those that knew the life in the nonstop shipping lanes of the district, also knew that things, or people, that were fleeting, never staying in one place for too long, paled in comparison to the objects and people you could build memories with over long periods of time. Each day they had tons of goods hauled into the district, just so they could be hauled to a different place at a faster rate. It was in that way that the people of District learned to value the things that came slowly and the things stayed long enough to actually make an impact. People valued the time they had to sit still, away from the arduous task of work and simply relax, releasing themselves from the stress that came from the never ending imports and exports that came through.

The place that, for Wister Taravel in particular, was sitting on a stone bench across from an old fountain that had been there since before the Dark Days. Though the fountain no longer had had water enchantingly pouring down from the apex of its structure, it still had an untouched sort of elegance that radiated from its center. Its base, unsmooth, with images of warring men, their fighting paused in a single frame for the rest of time to come, rose up to an empty pit where Wister supposed water was meant to gather after gliding down the centerpiece of the fountain. What a centerpiece it was though. I was arched gracefully and swooped inwards, making for the perfect canvas for several intricate patterns that weaved seamlessly, beautifully over its eye capturing body. Of course, Wister's view of the masterpiece was constantly being distorted by the continuous flow of traffic that flowed throughout the district. She could only manage to see flashes of its brilliance, those wonderful moments passing as quickly as they came.

Wister turned her head away from the fountain and closed her eyes. She could scarcely hear the cars and trucks leaving the district when she was sitting on her special bench. It was a surreal experience really, to be able to not hear the constant bustle and instead hear the symphonic sound of silence. Yes, Wister enjoyed her moments of silence just as much as any of the other citizens in her district. In these moments particularly, she liked to think of all the goods from the surrounding districts that found their way into the shipping factories. She wondered about the gleaming jewels from District One and how they managed to shine so brightly. She wondered about the fish that came all the way from District Four and thought about the weird texture of their scales. Maybe it was strange that she thought about work when she was relaxing, but it was more abstract than that. She thought about the places she had never been, places she had only learned about in classes, where they might see the occasional picture of coal miners on their way home from work in District Twelve, or the lines of people in District Eight sewing extravagant garments for the equally as extravagant people in the Capitol. She wondered about what they did in their free time, maybe they thought about the other districts too. These were all questions she knew she would never have answers to and she was fine with that. In fact, it was part of the appeal, just wondering about things that she would not have to worry about the answers to later; thinking about the infinite.

"Wister!" A call echoed down the path that led to the solitude of her bench. Wister opened her eyes, letting them come back into focus before she stood, wiping off the remnants of nothing from her school trousers out of habit. She knew at one point the break had to end, but that didn't mean she was completely at peace with it. She fancied herself a certain aptitude for thinking about the infinite, and didn't appreciate having to halt in her therapeutic endeavor. "Hurry up, Wister! We have to get to the packaging center or we'll have another lecture from Ms. Rambo about punctuality keeping the factories moving!"

As Wister briskly walked back down the path, settling back into the high speed nature of the district, she finally saw the source of the calls and recognized it as Porter, which looking back on it was obvious, he always came to get her when her mind wandered a bit too far into the infinite. Wister always became amused when she thought of Porter's name, due to the sheer irony of it. Many of the people that lived in the district were porters and his parents, as amicable as they were, did not seem to have a flash of brilliance when he was born. So, after hearing the midwife that helped birth him say he looked like he would be a great porter one day, they decided on the name Porter.

A smile crossed her face a she continued to approach Porter, thinking about his ridiculous name choice. She saw the weird look he was giving her, probably due to her randomly smiling when her break had been interrupted, but she simply smiled wider at his confusion. Porter lifted a brown eyebrow in her direction, as if question her sanity, but dropped it, realizing they still had to get to the packaging factory, where they would be completing their required work hours issued by the administration, and, by default, the Capitol. A look of urgency crossed his face as he remembered why he had ventured back out here to get Wister.

"Would you hurry up Wister?" He whined, grabbing her by the wrist so he could pull her along, trying to get her to speed up. "Honestly. One would think that after being berated by the Rambo at least a dozen times you would learn your lesson. But no, you continue your lifelong goal of checking me into a mental institution for all the stress you cause me. Do you see my hairline? I'm telling it is definitely thinning. Is that what you want?" He eyes questioned her dramatically as they began to weave themselves through the crowd, while he made extravagant gestures with his remaining arm. "Do you want me to be bald and crazy?"

"I was actually meaning to talk to you about your hair line, but I didn't know how to approach the subject. I'm glad you realized though, I was starting to feel really bad for you. Just walking around completely oblivious to your rapidly depleting supply of hair." Wister's eyes glimmered with mirth as she continued to tease her best friend. "Do you think they have good hairdressers in the insane ward? If not, we could always buy you a wig. Maybe something follows the trend of Capitol haute couture. You'd be all the rage and it should hide most of the damage."

"Shut up," He snapped at Wister, taking the joke in stride. "I'm telling one of these days we'll be checking me into an institution and you will regret every mean, sarcastic comment you made to me in my time of need."

Wister smiled, a habit she always seemed to pick around him. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I would visit you every day," He huffed, obviously not pleased with that answer. "And I may or may not bring a couple of biscuits with me. You know, only if you take your meds."

Porter turned to Wister, a smile adorning his face now; he had always loved the biscuits that were made in one of the bakeries in town, dipping them in tea until he was utterly bliss. Men, so easily pleased and manipulated by something as simple as food. Really, one would think they would learn by now, no? Wister ripped her wrist from Porter's tight grip and started running through the crowd.

"Last one there takes the blame for being late!"

"Wait- what? Wister! Come back here you little fiend!" He shouted as he began to chase after her. Wister had always loved riling Porter up and today proved to be no disappointment. She picked up my pace as the crowd began to thin out, knowing she would no longer have to coverage of people to keep porter from reaching her. Wister looked back momentarily to see that Porter had accidentally knocked over a man carrying a box full of tools, probably a repair man on his way to fix a broken down engine. Using his momentary distraction to her advantage, she started to jog, lengthening the distance between them.

Wister started to slow down when she decided that there was enough distance between them. She came to a halt about a few warehouses down from the building center and looked around at the scenery. She had always been accustomed to rectangular buildings that lined the streets with their sharp edges, but looking at it from the factories, them being on a bit lower ground, the buildings looked imposing. She wondered if it was nice to the artful buildings with rounded out edges in the Capitol, if the bright colors made any sort of difference in the daily lives of people; maybe making their days happier, or potentially making everything seem more artificial. Though there seemed to be no deficiency of artificial in the Capitol.

For a second, Wister imagined what it would feel like to have all the bright lights that lined the streets of the Capitol beating on her skin. She pictured all the giant screens, promoting the latest bodily modification that was all the rage. She could practically hear the people of the Capitol talking in their strange accents as they clicked by with their abnormal heels and their pocket sized puppies. It was all just too much, her head began to hurt as all the colors began to swirl together.

Just as soon as she had been sucked into the infinite, she was quickly tossed out, as she heard her name being screamed by an out of breath Porter, who had his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. She smiled mischievously as she saw the result of her little game. She felt bad for poor Porter though, one day she was going to wear him out so much that would actually leave her company, like he always threatened to do.

"I win," She smiled cheekily, trying to grate on his nerves as she started to walk towards the center.

"If you ever…try to…pull a stunt like that…again," He managed to regulate his breathing and catch up to her, keeping pace with her. "I will tell the Rambo that you were the one who put a fish face in the place of hers on her employ of the month plaque." His deep breaths continued to mar his speech until he finally regained his breath and stood tall. "I still didn't know how you did that, by the way."

"A magician never reveals their secrets." She grinned, her eyes wandering off into the distance.

They had finally reached the packaging center and were pleasantly greeted by the scowling face of the fish-looking head of the center, who gritted her teeth together as she said, "You're late."


Hey! I've been working on this story for a while and finally decided to post it. This is my first story on this website, so I'm looking for feedback so that I can improve my writing as the story progresses. I'm really excited about this project because I am going to take a very different approach than the typical HG fan fiction on this site. Be warned, this story is going to be a slow moving one. I'm really trying to build up the characters and bring them to life.

I hope you liked the first chapter and I hope you review