"Engineering is the art of directing the great sources of power in nature for the use and convenience of man."

- Thomas Tredgold


I sit in a room over come with was darkness only brightened slightly by the unnatural lights from the screen resting on the crime and glass table in front of me. I'm silent as to not alert any people passing by as I continue my search for information.

The mirrored face of the screen shows the reflection of my new disguise. I wear a tight white turtle neck that chokes my throat. My platinum pixie hair appears purple absorbing the fluorescent blue from the screen. My yellow green eyes are dulled by the clear head piece that encircles my head as googles and a mic. The screen of the chat room reflects in the plastic displaying the exchange between Didgitex and Beetee.

Didgitex: How are the wires?

Beetee: Withstanding dozens of bolt strikes.

The bolt strike that he's talking about is the strike of a lightning bolt. (We can't speak point blank if by chance someone's stumbles upon our conversation.) One lightening bolt contains one hundred billion volts of electricity. The copper wire the brilliant man has created maintains its starting condition after more than twenty four billion volts.

Didgitex: How is our precious Wire?

Beetee: Terrified of every new day. The paranoia is getting worse with the news.

Didgitex: Tell her Didget's going to work for it. What is the stance?

Wiress was one person who knows the real me. She was my strength when I was young and when she started to be over taken by the paranoia I stepped in to save my friend. Wiress was an enigma. Most see her as being out of her mind, but the part of her old self is still in there and when it shows through it always leaves me amazed. though she faces criticism I would do anything for that crazy woman.

Beetee: With.

Didgitex: Tech?

Beetee: On the way.

Didgitex: Eye her.

Beetee: Always.

Didgitex: May the power be returned.

Beetee: May the truth be seen.

The program is exported and destroyed, just in time too. The handle jiggles and someone knocks on the other side.

"Hello. Open up!" The voice is that of a woman and it is more than a bit annoyed. I check everything over one last time before rising and walking to the door, flicking the lock and pulling it open.

"I'm sorry, I suppose the lock was triggered again." My face is split in a large smile and the brunette dressed in the same outfit as myself stands scanning my face, trying to place me.

"Your name?" Her voice is gruff for a woman.

"Didget Pex, Ms. Lumen." Studying the area's people and building architecture are two of a pair for this job. "Your hair looks quite slick today."

She blushes at the compliment and hides her face a bit most likely used to being the boss and beating down people giving her only poor feelings from staff. "Yes, well, thank you, Ms. Pex. On your way."

"Have a sparking day, ma'am."

If ever your plan doesn't go with your point, turn up the charm and your free. I continue down the hall to the main factory area, clip board in hand. I sketch and write about the buildings layouts of windows, doors, and machines. Then take the population, count of production and last views of the workers. This is the common data taken from the factory districts.

There were windows lining the top of the walls hitting the ceiling. Two doors one entrance to the work area and another to the hall leading deeper in the factory to the higher rooms. The population rests around 2,300 assembly line workers. The rest of the building hosts another few hundred. And this is only one of the twelve factories district three houses.

The working conditions aren't as brilliant as they once were, but in total they are treated as the workers the Capitol needs. One thing that always bothers me when I visit district 3 is the people's demeanors. They are nearly as robotic as the machines they make. Every movement is calculated and precise, along with every word and emotion. But their choice to act like this keeps the Capitol off their backs until they are back in their housing units.

That's where I first encountered Wiress. She told me the trials of her games in her times of clarity and it's hard to believe she stayed lucid as long as she did. Through the loss of who she was could also be from a rare genetic disease affecting short term memory, making conversations difficult and new inventions impossible to create alone. That's why she has Beetee though. Beetee was Wiress's mentor and at the ages of seventeen and twenty-five the games were real, but impossible to change. When she returned Wiress and Beetee had the discovery of their lives, their families were gone. Snow didn't like how Beetee and Wiress performed during the games and showed his displeasure by disposing of their loved ones, they only had eachother. Over the years they took care of eachother and friendship grew. Even through Wiress's struggle of staying in the moment there was always one person keeping her in the moment, Beetee.

No matter how close the people of this district are to my heart my third stop is complete, time to move on.


R&R and Follow!

DECEMBER DANIELS