The Unauthorized History of Panem and the United States
DISCLAIMER:
Three cheers for the First Amendment! This story is written in full confidence that the case Suntrust v. Houghton Mifflin (268 F. 3d 1257 (2001)) quite correctly declares that even "an encapsulation of [a copyrighted work] [that] exploit[s] its copyrighted characters, story lines, and settings as the palette for the new story" is still protected under the First Amendment even "if its aim is to comment upon or criticize a prior work by appropriating elements of the original in creating a new artistic... work," so long as it "adds something new, with a further purpose or different character, altering the first with new expression, meaning, or message," rather than simply trying "to avoid the drudgery in working up something fresh." In short, "The fact that [the author] chose to convey [his or her] criticisms of [the original work] through a work of fiction... does not, in and of itself, deprive [the new story] of fair-use protection."
- Eruantalon
Chapter The First
Panem arose out of the ashes following the War of Global Devastation. Washington City was radioactive ruins; the Desolation of Bohr stretched from Sacramento to San Diego; the Desolation of Fermi paralleled the Atlantic from New Haven to Newport News. Static blanketed the airwaves; shock waves had snapped almost every power and telephone line. Most government bodies had simply slid away into nothingness. One of the few states which continued to keep records was Maine: we can track the daily meetings of the State Legislature futilely passing resolutions, striving to contact first the country, and then the state, finally surrendering their expectations and trying to preserve order in the city of Augusta, and then finally adjourning sine die when food supplies ran out without hopes of getting more. Their last words echo through the ages wherever their Journal is read.
Into this chaos stepped Arnold Milhouse of Grand Junction, Colorado. Like every other local strongman, he dreamed of reuniting the United States. Like many others, he had enough force to control his town and surrounding farmland but little else. Unlike his competitors, he had beside him Fredrick Baxter, former graduate student in political science at the University of Colorado - one of the few scholars who had managed to survive the chaos. "Panem et circenses," Baxter kept repeating to Milhouse. "That's what the Romans did, and everyone else agrees: give the people bread and circuses, and they won't care what your government's like. Of course, in times like this, all you really need to give them is bread."
So, after several years, Milhouse was able to spare enough force to cross the mountains and conquer the ranches of Wyoming. To his chagrin, the moment he announced they were now part of the restored United States, the ranchers challenged, "If these're the United States, when do we get to elect people?"
Milhouse's first impulse was to kill them, but Baxter's repeated advice stayed his hand. "Then I won't call this the United States anymore," he said later that day. "Baxter - what's that maxim you keep saying I should give the people?"
"'Bread and circuses'? But bread alone -"
"Bread. Great. What's that in that other language you use?"
"'Bread' in Latin? 'Panem.'"
"Perfect. Forget about the United States; I'm now President of the Nation of Panem!"
By President Milhouse's death, Panem had conquered everything from Yellowstone to Four Corners, and from the Salt Lake to the Continental Divide. This was decidedly the most Panem's military could effectively control; except for a decision Milhouse had made almost as an afterthought, there it would have stayed until it broke apart from old age. However, there was a University of Panem at Grand Junction. In Milhouse's last years, the University turned to weapons research; under his successors, it bore fruit. Armed with poison gas and specially-bred monsters ("mutts," they were dubbed, a contraction of "mutation"), the armies of Panem swept from sea to shining sea.
Thanks to Baxter, they bore not only weapons but the Constitution of the United States of America. Most people still valued the ideal of America, he pointed out; they would be more loyal to Panem if President Milhouse promised to restore America at some indefinite future time. All Presidents of Panem paid lip service to this pledge. It is unknown how people reacted or how much they believed it.
What Panem actually did was quite different. Thirteen Districts were established (in the land conquered after Milhouse's death; those first conquests were now declared a Capital Territory) roughly equal in population, to aid in distributing food and other necessities. As Panem's control grew, their District administrators guided (gently when possible; by force if necessary) each district to focus on a certain aspect of production. This was meant to aid centralized control and discourage rebellion; however, it is dubious whether it actually helped any atop Panem's other repressive measures.
Through all this, the Panem government kept up the rhetoric that it would restore the Constitution of the United States at an appropriate time. Virtually everyone was surprised, however, when newly-chosen President Vernon Conifar declared that the time was now come! After two dozen immediate secret meetings with the political establishment, President Conifar revised his plan to move gradually: in ten years, legislatures would be elected for the fifty states. (Actually, of course, Alaska and Hawaii had never been reconquered. The traditional number of fifty would be made up with parts of Canada.)
The first acts of the new state legislatures were to improve living conditions in the Districts. The second acts were to inquire into the national government's finances. Stunned, President Conifar ordered the state legislatures to confine themselves to local affairs. New Hampshire in the lead, numerous legislatures refused to back down. Conifar ordered them dissolved; in response, they named electors to choose a President and Vice-President of the United States.
Thus began the Dark War, afterwards styled the Dark Days by Panem loyalists and the War of the Great Tragedy by nearly everyone else. The several states had the support of nearly everyone in the country, but it was Panem that had the armed forces and transportation network. From the first Battle of Pierre onward - where a small division of Panem soldiers held out for two days before running out of ammunition and being swamped by a large mob of civilians - it was clear that the states' defeat was only a matter of time. The states' hastily-collected army marched over the Great Plains, only to meet Panem's forces at Laramie, Wyoming, in the foothills of the Rockies. Panem destroyed the states' apparently-hidden supply caravan in the first minute of battle (having learned its location through genetically-engineered spy birds). Knowing their planes and battle-machines would run out of fuel shortly, after which Panem would have them at their mercy, the states' commanders pressed the attack. Surely, they thought, we could resupply from Panem's bases? Perhaps they could; they never found out. Zeal could not substitute for training, nor desperation for fortification. Panem easily held the mountains until the states' fuel ran out and then swept down to massacre the now-defenseless attackers.
The Battle of Laramie was an unmitigated disaster. The states' only trained army east of Grand Junction was now no more. The western army (much smaller) tried to turn back now, but Panem swept down and destroyed it at Copper Canyon in the Nevadan desert. Thus, major military operations in the War of the Great Tragedy ended after less than six months.
Still, things could have gone far worse, as everyone who had marched past one of the many radioactive ruins realized. Panem still had nuclear weapons. Due to widespread disgust with it after the War of Global Devastation, however, they had concentrated all the nuclear weapons at two points - one at Lake Pleasant, New York; the other at Mount Shasta, California - both fenced around with so many fail-safe measures that Panem loyalists and States loyalists easily wrecked them so completely that neither side in the war could fire them. After the Battle of Laramie, however, Governor Vorhees of Massachusetts seized control of all States forces in the District Thirteen region (that is, roughly New York and New England) and sent them to crack Lake Pleasant. Aided by their own nuclear engineering experience - that having been the primary industry of District Thirteen - they finally succeeded within two days of the Battle of Copper Canyon. Thus, over the still-intact telephone lines, Vorhees sent President Conifar an ultimatum: stop your advance or face nuclear bombs.
"Have you forgotten the War of Global Devastation?" Conifar screamed back. "The ruins of your own Manhattan still glow every night!"
"I should be the one reminding you of that," Vorhees said flatly. "You're in Grand Junction, are you not? Missiles can cross the continent faster than your helicopter can escape. Or have you finally seized Mount Shasta?"
"Maybe we have."
It was a bluff, Vorhees was sure. But, still, he played it out: "Then as a governor of another state in rebellion once said, 'Give me liberty or give me death!'"
Vorhees hung up, knowing Conifar would call back soon, and returned to coordinating the retreat. At least, that was what he called it: few military units remained in formation to retreat, mobs of civilians clogged the road at the mere rumor of Panem's approach; the entire Great Plains and Midwest was almost beyond coordination. All who would listen, Vorhees had sent to dismantle factories. To wreck things before Panem got there, they asked? No, Vorhees had replied, don't destroy. Take them in good order. I have plans for them.
In fact, Conifar did not call back. He did not have time to. He was shot not an hour after hanging up the phone, by Haddad, Secretary of Homeland Security, as soon as Conifar told his Cabinet what had happened. The Cabinet unanimously voted congratulations to Haddad, formally abolished the fifty states, and elected Haddad himself President of Panem. Nonetheless, with Vorhees' very credible threat of nuclear fire hanging over his head, Haddad inquired about conditions on the ultimatum. To his surprise, Vorhees was quite willing to abandon most of his claimed territory. No formal treaty was ever signed, because neither side recognized the other as a legitimate government, but the cease-fire set the de facto border of the United States roughly along the old southern boundary of New York State.
With the war wrapped up, President Haddad set Grand Junction to reestablishing its control over the twelve remaining districts. (The truce was kept secret; it was publicized that the Lake Pleasant nuclear weapons had blown up and destroyed all District Thirteen.) Panem rebuilt the factories, constructed barracks in place of most houses, and forced everyone to work under bare-sustenance conditions. Two-way television sets were to be placed in every structure to pour forth Panem propaganda. No one could object to this, Haddad said. Had they not committed treason against Panem? Did not their own Constitution of the United States allow the enslavement of people convicted of treason or other crimes? Still, he said in private to the Cabinet, this was not enough. It was only an extension of policies in place before the war, and people could get used to it over time. Besides, in another generation or so, who would remember that it was in place because of their treasonous revolt? No, Panem must lay something new on the Districts which would be freshly outrageous every year and eternally remind everyone of their - or their ancestors' - treason.
No one knows who first proposed the Hunger Games. Public announcements merely traced it to "the Government of Panem, under the wise leadership of President Haddad"; all records of President Haddad's term were burnt before Grand Junction fell. Similarly, no one knows whether anyone objected to them. Secretary Raven's recently-published memoirs maintain that she and other unnamed Cabinet members vocally opposed it on moral grounds. Any actual disagreement would probably have remained quiet, as the memoirs suggest, but it is highly improbable that any Cabinet members - who had just sentenced half a continent to eternal slavery - would have such moral qualms. Therefore, the Raven family's impassioned attempts to rehabilitate their ancestor must be rejected. Perhaps some Cabinet members did oppose the Games on practical grounds; if so, though, we will likely never have indisputable evidence.
We can be fairly sure, however, that at least one person opposed them. Vice-Propagandist Olifeld's dissent, as well as being carefully archived, is written across the television broadcasts which would never have been prepared if not for him. "You're going too far!" Olifeld exclaimed. "You don't want to make them hurt just for the sake of hurting them. You want to punish them - and you can do that so much more if they feel that it is, however remotely, justified! So far, you've managed to justify everything under their own Constitution. But, the Constitution of the United States does not provide for the killing of innocent children! Can't you go back to the drawing board on this one piece?"
"Perhaps we can convict the children of treason as well?"
"No. Won't work. Oh, it might in this generation, but we want the Games to be a permanent institution."
"Or amend the Constitution?"
"Great. First, we'd need to convene Congress and get the amendment through it. Then, we'd need to convene legislatures or conventions in three-fourths of the states. Your late predecessor abolished the states, didn't he?"
"Well, he did. Very well; get me a copy of that Constitution."
At long last, a copy was dug up from the National Archives, and President Haddad's finger fell on the "House Joint Resolution No. 184. Proposed 1926; passed by Congress; approved by 28 states. Unratified." :
"""Section. 1. The Congress shall have power to limit, regulate, and prohibit
the labor of persons under eighteen years of age.
Section. 2. The power of the several States is unimpaired by this article
except that the operation of State laws shall be suspended to the extent
necessary to give effect to legislation enacted by the Congress.
"""
"But... Mr. President, we aren't trying to prohibit children from working."
"Ah, Mr. Olifeld, that's the wonder of the word 'regulate.' We're regulating their labor by saying that if chosen, they must labor in the Games, and they must do it in the prescribed manner, et cetera. And it will all be quite legal and Constitutional!" He smiled a great smile. "Thank you for pushing me to find this!"
"If we can say this Amendment was actually ratified. Three-fourths of the states would need to approve it. Back in 1926, there were... 48 states? That means we'd need to find -"
"But now, there are zero states," Haddad interrupted. "Three-fourths of zero is zero. Zero states need to ratify it; it's ratified already!"
"But you could just as well say it's completely unratified!"
"Except twenty-eight states already ratified it. That's far more than three-fourths of zero. And besides, Olifeld, we don't need to actually ratify this amendment or anything; we just need to make it sound plausible!"
The First Hunger Games were announced that same year. Great lamentation and uproar greeted them, but Panem troops were in place to suppress every riot.
Upcoming: Reelection of Senators; new appointment of electors for President of the United States; Peeta Mellark's next surprise. Update within about a week, I think.