4
The 71st Hunger Games were uninspired. Plutarch and Seneca sat together and watched the action play out. Even the color commentators were having difficulty inspiring interest, and the Head Gamemaker was not looking good on camera.
"See that?" said Plutarch as the Gamemaker fought to excuse the dull and mechanical inevitability of the onscreen killings, "This guy gets all this publicity, he's in such a high profile position, and he can't deliver."
"He's been doing it for ages. He's out of ideas. All those guys are really old." said Seneca.
"You should apply for the position." said Plutarch.
"Yeah?" asked Seneca, "And what could I do?"
"I don't know. Juice it up. Get some action going."
Plutarch looked at Seneca, "You know what? You should really do it. You should apply. You've got the connections, and you've proven your ability as an administrator. We can get a bunch of guys together and brainstorm some ideas to get the Games going again. Revitalize them. Rejuvenate them. It's mostly stock stuff anyhow, which is part of the problem. The Reaping, the parade, the interviews... they're all fixtures. The arenas are laid out four or five years in advance. Head Gamemaker is largely a caretaker position – the on air face of the Games – and this guy is past it. A Head Gamemaker who actually had some input, who worked to make the games better, who showed some spirit: that would be a real innovation. Let's do it!"
Seneca looked at Plutarch quizzically, "Are you serious?"
"Why not?" asked Plutarch. "Look at you. Look at that job. I can see it now: 'Seneca Crane, Head Gamemaker'! You'd be the darling of the media. You'd shine!"
It took a year. Plutarch gathered friends together and took on Fulvia Cardew as secretary. They hammered out a bunch of ideas and handed them off to Seneca. Seneca's family was pleased by this sudden burst of ambition, and applied themselves to making it happen. Proposals were made, negotiations took place, 'donations' changed hands and Seneca Crane was in place as Head Gamemaker in time for the 73rd Hunger Games.
The Games were the greatest success in years. 'Revitalized' and 'rejuvenated' were key words in all the coverage. A smiling Seneca Crane received accolades from the press and public. President Snow offered his warmest congratulations in person. And in the shadows, at the back of all the photos, were the smiling faces of the newly minted Gamemaker, Plutarch Heavensbee, and his indispensable assistant, Fulvia Cardew.
Seneca was on top of the world, and the run-up to the 74th Games was a stroll down the red carpet. Arena construction was on time and under budget, and Plutarch had come up with a real zinger for an ending – wolf-like mutations with physical characteristics of the fallen tributes. The geneticists were on board, their preliminary work complete. All they needed was DNA from the tributes to complete the job. The public would love it.
There was a minor hitch when one of the long standing stylists died suddenly of a stroke, but this turned into another golden opportunity. A competition was staged for a new stylist. Capitol citizens followed it avidly and, in the end, voted their choice to be a young and untried designer named Cinna D'Aqille. Seneca, and certain others of the Gamemakers, weren't entirely happy with the selection. Cinna's appearance was toned-down, drab, by Capitol standards. Most stylists pushed the outer fringes of fashion. There was some concern that his appearance showed a slight disrespect for Capitol values, but his design portfolio had been undeniably amazing. Cinna, the very soul of deference, accepted graciously and begged for assignment to District 12, that losing albatross of a district that every other stylist dreaded. Another score for Seneca: he was able to slot Cinna into the schedule with hardly a ruffle to the feathers of the other stylists.
"I confess," said Seneca to Plutarch, "that I dreaded his appointment. Those stylists are such a bunch of preening divas that I was imagining a rebellion in the ranks."
Plutarch laughed and said encouragingly, "Just as well that didn't happen, but I'm certain you would have handled it brilliantly."
The traditional Reaping Day Banquet in the Capitol saw all the Gamemakers, stylists and prep teams gathered together for their annual display of dedication and camaraderie. Behind the scenes, it was a bloodbath: a brutal bout of trash talk and personal denigration. Under the guise of friendship, they pumped each other for tidbits on costume design and strategy. This Games' chosen tributes showed neither more nor less promise than those of previous Games. The highlight was a twelve year old from District 11. The District 11 stylist immediately became the focus (and target) of envy for everyone in the room. Such young tributes always tugged at the heartstrings of the public. A stylist could rise high through the proper management of such a gem. There had almost been two twelve year olds selected, but a volunteer from District 12 had spoiled that bit of fun. Still... a volunteer from District 12 was unprecedented in itself (never mind the selfless sister of a reaped tribute), and that made the new man, Cinna, a target as well. But in the end, each stylist left the banquet secure in the certain knowledge of his or her own superiority.
Bill had expressed his pleasure at the advancement of Plutarch and Fulvia. The circle Plutarch had created under the guise of brainstorming sessions was an instant network of well-placed Capitol citizens covertly opposed to Snow. Fulvia had broadened her circle as well, and her estate had become a social center of sumptuous parties and banquets (largely funded by District 13). It was an ideal location for unobtrusive meetings and the exchange of information among the many and varied acquaintances of Bill, Fluvia, and Plutarch, but the circle spread wider. Many who attended Fulvia's parties were staunch supporters of Snow, and many were not even aware that 13 existed. The mansion was opened up and refurbished, its guestrooms and out buildings bugged with microphones and cameras. Indiscreet conversations and liaisons were duly recorded for analysis by 13's intelligence community, and for future use as blackmail.
It was the Tribute Parade for the 74th Games where the first indication occurred that these Games might exceed expectations. The arrival of the tributes before the Presidential mansion was preceded by an unusually raucous wave of popular acclaim. From their position in the square, Plutarch and Seneca saw them first on the giant monitors. The crowd was enraptured.
"Whoa, Cinna!" breathed Seneca.
"He's certainly made his name." agreed Plutarch.
It was the tributes from District 12, encased in flickering flame and glowing like smouldering embers of coal. Plutarch glanced at his program: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Melark.
"Look how they're holding hands." said Seneca.
"Like a team. Another first." Plutarch's mind was swirling. Listen to that crowd, he thought, There's something new here, and we'd better not drop the ball.
That was it. From that first public appearance, Katniss and Peeta were a sensation. They were instantly the soul of these Games.
Later, as the Gamemakers sat in conference reviewing the day's broadcast, the principal question seemed clear: how would they handle this?
"It might come to nought." someone pointed out. "One or both could die at the Cornucopia."
"I'll bet that little girl from 11 doesn't die there." added another. "She'll head straight for the woods."
"I wonder if that holding hands thing was actually part of a strategy. It might have been just a reflex action. They might not have noticed it themselves."
"Everyone one else noticed it." said Seneca, "It's already a big part of the buzz. But it's a dead end, isn't it. There can only be one victor."
Plutarch sat silently, and wondered.
As the next week unfolded, the rumors surrounding Katniss and Peeta grew. It leaked out that they were indeed acting as a team, a couple. There was talk of romance... tragic lovers. The testing scores added fuel to the fire: Peeta with a very respectable 7, and Katniss with her unprecedented 11. The night of the interviews sealed the public perception. Katniss dazzled in the gown that Cinna created, and then Peeta, with his declaration of love, brought the crowd to its knees.
"As of now," said Seneca afterwards, "our biggest problem will be if they die early. How will we deal with the let-down?"
"Hopefully we'll still have the girl from 11 to fall back on. And the boy from 11 has a lot going for him as well." replied Plutarch.
As it transpired, both tributes from District 12, and both from District 11 survived the opening day. It was true that Katniss and Peeta were separated, but Katniss was proving remarkably resourceful and Peeta, now a part of the largest and strongest hunting pack, was clearly during his best to mislead them and to keep her alive.
But these were the Hunger Games, and dreams of romance weren't enough to sustain the public interest. People expected action and, when events grew dull, the Gamemakers stepped in. Katniss barely escaped their hazards, and things looked tense when she ended up cornered. And who was it who came to her aid? The child from District 11!
Katniss' escape was dramatic and action packed. Two tributes died, but Katniss got away. She got away, but then she went back into danger, back to retrieve weapons – a bow and a quiver of arrows. It almost cost her her life, but then Peeta appeared, and took what would surely prove a mortal wound to allow her time to flee.
The Games ratings soared, and Seneca was ecstatic. "This couldn't be working out better if we'd scripted it!" he exclaimed.
The adventure sustained the Games for days. Katniss formed an unexpected alliance with the girl from 11 (another crowd pleaser), and then demonstrated an astonishing proficiency with the bow by destroying the hunting pack's hoarded supplies.
Then, just as suddenly as they had soared to giddy heights of popularity, the Games slammed back down to earth. The child from District 11 was killed, and action in the arena ground to a halt. The drive went out of Katniss. She seemed despondent and uninterested. Peeta had disappeared from view and was presumed to be slowly dying. Few tributes remained for the main pack to hunt, but they showed no signs as yet of turning on each other.
"What do we do now?" asked Seneca. "We have to get the tributes back into play."
"Introduce the mutations?"
"But that's our grand finale. Too soon for that."
"Start another fire?"
"Repetitious and smacking of desperation. The crowd won't like it."
Silence permeated the control room, the Gamemakers lost in a funk. A long day dragged by, a long day of inaction and idleness. The ratings for the Games were dropping precipitously, and the temper of the Capitol was turning sour. All the former promise of the Games was going down the drain... until a sudden idea hit Plutarch.
"Change the rules." he said.
"What?" asked Seneca giving him an incredulous stare.
"Change the rules. It could work. Make it so that there can be two victors if they're both from the same district."
"First of all," said Seneca dismissively, "we can't just arbitrarily change the rules, and secondly: what good would it do?"
"Why can't you change the rules?" Plutarch fired back. "You're the Head Gamemaker... so make the Games. Here's the good it does: both tributes remain from District 2 and from District 12. District 2 is noted for the ferocity and deadliness of its tributes. They'd be a killing machine if they felt secure working in tandem. And isn't District 12 the surprise of these Games? Give our lovers a chance to survive together."
"There's not that many left for a killing machine to kill," said Seneca, "and it seems likely that Peeta will die from his wound." He was obviously interested, but remained far from convinced.
"That's the beauty of it." said Plutarch. "Katniss will have no choice but to seek him out, and when she finds the condition he's in, she'll have to try to save him. The fear! The desperation! The poignancy! What a story! It revives everything. They'll be talking about these games a hundred years from now."
"What if she can't save him?"
"Oh, such grief! But it will carry us to the end."
"I still don't think I have the authority." said Seneca.
"This will be such a popular move, the people will make it so clear that this is a popular move that no one will speak against it. You'll be congratulated on your innovation, lionized for your audacity. What a master stroke!
"Look," said Plutarch, directly confronting Seneca, "the Games are stagnating, dying as we speak. Bold steps are necessary. Promising this kind of action is what got you your position."
Seneca slowly nodded. "Yes," he agreed, "yes. I'll do it."
A few calls later, and the momentous announcement was playing in the arena and throughout Panem. Almost instantly it had the desired effect. The Games rebounded in the ratings, the audience riveted to their view screens as Katniss set off in search of Peeta.
Shortly afterwards, Seneca was summoned to the Presidential Mansion. He went with the conviction that Snow could only be pleased that his Head Gamemaker was capable of such innovative action. It was a shaken Seneca who returned to the Control Center hours later.
"President Snow was furious. He asked me who I thought I was to change the rules. Well... he didn't ask so much as bellow. He lectured me on the Games: all about how they were a political thing first and foremost with the Capitol absolutely in control, and the districts subject to our whim. He accused me of caving to public opinion and showing sentimental weakness – showing weakness to the districts. I was terrified. But then a thought occurred to me and I don't know how I did it, how I managed to say anything at all, but I actually told him the situation was well in hand. I gave him the figures on the ratings to show what a difference the announcement had made, and then I pointed out that it was still unlikely that two from a single district would survive, but if that's what it came down to, all we had to do was repeal the change at the end... announce that it had been overruled as invalid.
"It didn't make him happy. He glared at me like his eyes would burn a hole clear through my head, and then he hissed that I'd better be able to make this good, and he stormed away."
A beaming Plutarch clapped Seneca on the shoulder and shook his hand. "Fantastic." he said, "This is exactly why you are so perfect as Head Gamemaker." Privately, he thought, You'd better hope it doesn't come down to Katniss and Peeta.
In the end, the only district pair left was the pair from District 12. It had taken a Gamemaker intervention to keep Peeta alive, a contentious decision but ultimately deemed necessary. The same intervention had resulted in the death of the girl from District 2. Days later, when Katniss and Peeta decided to await the end at the Cornucopia, it was obvious that the Games had only hours left to run.
A massive crowd assembled in the square before the President's Mansion. They overflowed into the surrounding streets and an electric sense of involvement and anticipation ran through them. Peacekeepers assigned to crowd control had their hands full keeping a rein on the emotions. It was an unprecedented response to the outcome of a Games.
Seneca and Plutarch stood rapt before the Control Center monitors, half of which were trained on the arena, and the other half on the city square.
The crowd went wild when the only other tribute remaining, the boy from District 2, burst onto the scene, and then gasped in astonishment at the appearance of the final pack of mutations. All three tributes raced to climb the Cornucopia. Just as it appeared they might escape the wolf-like pack, a mutation sank its fangs into Peeta's leg and savaged it. And there they were: two tributes from District 12, and one from District 2, trapped together on the island of the Cornucopia, encircled by ravening beasts. But there was to be no truce.
The games required an ending, and it was the District 2 tribute who fell. Fell, but did not die. The mutations attacked, but he wore Gamemaker-provided armor, and he was a fighter. Heroic as he was, he was overwhelmed in the end, but the mutations were unable to complete the kill. Still atop the Cornucopia, Peeta was bleeding to death, and a freezing cold night had descended.
In the Capitol square, the mob was entranced. The hours dragged on and on deep into the night, but no one left. In fact, the crowd continued to grow as more and more people arrived to view the final act in these extraordinary Games. It came at last, and an odd sigh passed through when Katniss put a final end to the boy from District 2.
But now murmurs started to sweep the crowd. Spontaneous cheering erupted as the mutations were withdrawn from the scene and the final body extracted. Peeta and Katniss, that improbable team, the ill-fated lovers, were both still standing. The crowd's enthusiasm knew no bounds. Cheers broke out, people were dancing in the streets as the two victors made their way down from the Cornucopia and onto the surrounding field. Peeta was nearly dead from blood loss, but the two had finally triumphed.
"No. No. No." said Seneca. This can't happen." He was pale as a sheet.
"Remember what you told Snow." said Plutarch.
Seneca nodded, and moments later, the announcement of the revocation of the rule change was playing in the arena and across the land.
The crowd in the square became still and silent. A tragedy of immense proportions was playing out before their eyes. But didn't they know it had to happen? Hadn't it been written in the stars? And who would survive: only the one to eternally mourn the other.
The final confrontation between Katniss and Peeta touched every heart. And then Katniss made her move. In deliberate defiance of the Capitol she announced that if they could not both survive, then the Capitol would have neither. They would both die and the Games would have no victor.
A howl ripped through the mob in the square. To lose one was a tragedy, to lose both... a crime. Cries of protest filled the air. People were pushing and jostling. Fights broke out. The Peacekeepers desperately called for reinforcements as the situation deteriorated. Already, windows were being broken, fires set, stores looted as the mob took out its frustration on whatever, or whoever, was close to hand. A massive riot was was gaining momentum and the entire center of the Capitol was at risk.
"What are we going to do?" breathed Seneca, his eyes wide as saucers and his body seized by tremors. "They'll tear down the city!"
He turned his terrified gaze to Plutarch, who only looked back and shrugged.
Seneca took the only step he could think of. The announcement that the rule change would be honored and that these Games would have two victors was enough to quell the riot and turn anger to joy. Seneca had saved the city. He collapsed into the nearest chair, buried his face in his hands, and long shuddering sobs consumed him.
Two days later a celebratory party was held at Cardew House. It was the most magnificent affair yet held there, and everyone who was anyone was in attendance. The Games had been a success on an enormous scale and unbridled approval rained down on Plutarch and Fulvia. Some expressed disappointment that Seneca Crane was not present, but the sumptuousness of the affair soon drove all cares away. Bill, once again in his Ignatius Levine persona, was in deep conversation with Fulvia and Plutarch when a server rushed up, bobbing up and down, and announced in incredulous tones that the President himself had just arrived. Plutarch and Fulvia rushed to greet him.
President Snow had barely stepped through the doors when Plutarch and Fulvia were there. The President smiled benevolently at the two of them.
"Plutarch Heavensbee and Fulvia Cardew." he said, his voice fairly dripping approval. "The both of you are to be commended. Each of you is a credit to your respective families. It is such a pleasure to see the two of you back in your rightful place in the social order."
The two thanked him profusely and invited him into the house.
"No. No." said president. "Unfortunately, I cannot stay, but I did want to personally deliver a bit of news. Unfortunately, Seneca Crane will be unable to continue as Head Gamemaker. Having heard of your enormous contributions to the success of these Games, I have decided to appoint you, Plutarch, in his stead."
Plutarch looked genuinely startled and bowed deeply.
"The next Games will be very special..." continued the President, "the third Quarter Quell. I expect to take a particular interest in them, and look forward to working closely with both of you."
The room, which had fallen silent at the President's appearance, was now buzzing with low-level conversation.
The President glanced around, smiling graciously at some of the more familiar faces.
"Well," he said, "duty calls. The formal announcement will be made tomorrow. Enjoy your party."
With that he turned and walked back to his waiting limousine.
As the car disappeared down the long lane, Bill came up behind the pair.
"What was that all about?" he asked.
Plutarch replied. "Snow has just handed us enough rope to hang ourselves."