INTERLOCUTION
Cato was a success at the carriage ride. He wooed the crowds of the Capitol, and sponsors really did flock to him. At the residence, Alex, once again using his position, gained access to Brutus's rooms.
"Milord," Brutus said, with the bow, "what can I do for you?"
"Brutê, I can't speak too much here, so please forgive my frankness. I have come to speak about Cato; I was his neighbour some years ago, and I think I have valuable information to offer. You needn't call me you lord, but just plain Alex. May I take a seat?"
"Certainly."
"Cato is really a gentle person. Lately he presented himself as an uncivilized wreck, but he is far from that. I have never seen him hurt a person on purpose, and I doubt if he ever will."
"Forgive me, but the Cato I to whom I spoke on the train is very different from what you have described, isn't it, Enobaria?"
"Hm?" piped Enobaria.
"He always tries to please the crowd. Even if that pleasure comes from murder."
"I'm afraid that he will have to please them."
"But don't count on him to make the actual cut, chop, or slash as the case may be. He manipulates, sorry, guides professionally, very well. I can foresee him forming a strong partnership with the more advanced tributes. He is just, loyal, and caring."
"Well, that's quite what I am here for. In perhaps more unpleasant terms, I am here to teach him how to kill. But he isn't satisfied with that. There is a slight difference there, and only a very strong mind will achieve that."
"Well, the difference is immaterial to me," replies Alex, "as long as he remains unharmed in the process. What will he take as his principal companion, that is to say weapon, of choice?" Alex says so in a low voice.
"It would likely be melee of some sort, as he frankly lacks the practical knowledge of traps and so forth. Though which type I will know only after this evening."
"I just need you to do your absolute best at making him a survivor. Whether he is stylish or not isn't the point here. Though I would like to see him repeat the 3rd Annual Games victory."
"Of course."
But Brutus scratches his head for an abnormal amount of time.
"Will you refresh my memory?"
"Well, the victor of the 3rd Games basically built a house on a tree and hoarded supplies. The last competitor couldn't find him and died of an infection. Its called the 'do nothing' Games."
"It must have been boring."
"On the contrary, I have found it most amusing. Watching tact and patience win over force. Most excellent winner."
"With all the technology the game-makers now have, its difficult to see that happening again."
"Will the Cornucopia have what Cato needs?"
"That's difficult to tell. Usually they have a selection of good melee weapons.
"And what if it doesn't?"
"Then it will be sponsored. A good sword might come in a $100 or so."
"How much will a machine gun cost?"
"That, sir, will not be allowed."
"Very well," Alex says, giving Brutus and Ebonaria each a large envelop, "this will be what you might find useful. These are just the table of contents; the full volume I have in my office." Brutus and Ebonaria are each staring at $50,000 in cash.
"How did you obtain this? I mean, isn't your salary just $25,000 a month?"
"Alas, I can say no more. Lets just say that it helps one has a friend called Coriolanus. As you know, I am the Under-secretary of State, and I will do everything to make him win. I owe it to his parents. So, call me at (0) 70-550 if you need anything, just anything."
As Alex walks down the hallway, thinking about how to make Cato win, Katniss Everdeen passes by. She trips Alex and says, "Would you also give me a copy of the table of contents, please?"
"My young lady," says Alex, "I will be glad, but may I be so bold as to ask to intrude your domicile for a few moments?"
"Certainly," says Katniss.
At the room, Peeta Mellark stood up to lock the doors.
"Now milord," says Katniss in a falsely respectful voice, "forgive my poor manners, a product of your ineptitude of running the country."
"My young lady," replies Alex with a wary grin, "Government policy is not for me to comment. With that you must ask my master the Principal Secretary, who makes all the policies."
"Peeta?"
"Milord," beams Mellark, "Due to unforeseen circumstances, we saw you entering the District 2 quarters and conversing therein. Could you assist us in this terrible Game? Can you tell us what you told Brutus of 2?"
"Sir," replies Alex, "for all and all, I am merely Cato's neighbour. One is not a mind reader. Furthermore, I have not spoken to him for a very long time, and he is certainly a different person by now. Any information I give will be misleading, which will do nothing but hinder you in the Games."
"That's okay," Mellark utters, "we just want to know a bit about Cato. You know, any information on his weakness will help us."
"And if I do not tell?"
"Then you do not exit."
"Very well. I will do my best. Firstly, his name is pronounced cah-taw, not cay-toe, after Cato the Elder, of Rome."
"I suppose that's useful, don't need to exchange cards or embarrassment in the arena."
"Secondly, his house is right next to the city square."
"Well, he won't be needing to know that. Will he, Peeta?"
Chuckles from both side.
"Thirdly, he can speak Latin and Greek."
"No dice. English's the language in the arena, second only to force."
"Fourthly, he is a very nice person. Always 'please' and 'thank you.'"
"Of course. Thank you."
"Fifthly, he gets $2 in pocket money every Friday."
"Ah," pronounces Mellark, "no chance of that in 12. My shop makes a measly $2 per week."
"How much must I tell you?"
"Well, you could either tell us some useful information quickly, or you could waste the entire night with us. Your choice."
"Well, you haven't defined what is useful to you, and would that not be quite demanding on one? One isn't a mind reader!"
"Oh come on! You are the Permanent Under-secretary! You know perfectly well what is useful to us. What are Cato's strengths and weaknesses?"
"As I have said, I have not studied him lately. Any information I give will likely be misleader or…"
"Just tell us the d-mned thing already!" interjects Mellark.
"In all honesty I don't know."
"Well, two tapes, one of your conversation with him on the train, one at the gents' room, stand against you."
"His principal strength is his strength," confesses Alex, "that he tries to force his way through every obstacle. However, it is also his weakness, in a manner of speaking."
"How can we exploit this weakness?"
"Alas!" says Alex, "I can say no more. It were already inappropriate that I have divulged thus far. To say further is improper."
Peeta stands up and throws open the windows – at the top story. A great frown surfaces on Peeta's rosy forehead.
"Well," said Peeta, "isn't his lordship slightly accident-prone lately?"
"Yes," replies Katniss, "I suppose his lordship will need a bit of fresh air. And a spot of free-fall fun as well."
"Alas," exclaims the lord, "I need not your solutions. Do you realize that Cato is merely sixteen? What complex strategy will he have walking into the arena? He has nothing but his physical constitution to depend on."
"Yes," reply both, "but what will he do when he captures one of us?"
"Alas," sighs the lord, "you know what."
"Alas," shouts Katniss, "perhaps the lord really needs some air!"
"Alas," squeaks the lord, "when the chips are down, what more than sorry defeat? But to go to a better place, pastures new, and the land with no sorrows?"
"Now we're getting somewhere."
"Yes, we are."
"How is he going to capture us?"
"That I truly don't know. I have suggested unto him that he ought to try 'masterly inactivity,' which he has declined. He intends to do much more."
"How much, and how?"
"Must I describe these things in the same detail he gave it to me?"
"Directly."
"This is not for faint minds."
"Out with it, sir."
"Well," shouts the lord in inexplicable rage, "he intends to, and I do quote, making no guarantees whatsoever, and not in any particular sequence, 'make them bow to my awesome power before I tie time up on a tree, executing them by slicing their flesh in small pieces, and the SALT, ha ha, and dragging out their intestines and digging out their hearts or splitting their skulls or personally rip them apart' in his words! Is this what you want? Cato is my friend, and I am distressed enough that he has these disturbing thoughts. The most rigid and impenetrable secrecy on this intention is required."
"Of course," smiles Katniss, "milord. You had been so resistant towards the real cruelties of these Games. It is nice to get it out isn't it?
"Oh, my dear Hawthorne."
"Did you just say 'Hawthorne'?"
"Yes. "
"Do you also know Gale?"
"Who in the name of Coriolanus Snow is Gale?"
"Gale Hawthorne, my friend."
"For goodness sakes," shouts Alex in exasperation, "I meant Nigel Hawthorne, the comedian. Now, may I go?"
"I thought we are in the HG world?"
"We are. But I am the greatest fan of Sir Humphrey in the HG world!"
"By all means, depart, milord."
Walking out the thresholds of the District 12 rooms, Lord Caelum can't be more confused: who really is Cato? The silent boy who reads Plato, or the bloodthirsty, sadistic killer?