I quickly make it clear to most of District Thirteen that while I've agreed to one final speech, I don't particularly like it Eventually they decide that there's little point in asking me to work with anyone except for Kilo, the only person who I make any effort of acting nice to. He's overjoyed at this, diligently asking my opinion on proper lighting, backdrops, and costumes for the speech. He has no sense of style- his technical background really shows. But I humor his responses, mainly so I can get at what I really want to talk to him about.

"So," I say as casually as I can, "you don't really believe that your parents were killed all that time ago by rebellion sympathizers, do you?"

Kilo cringes visibly. Part of me is a little surprised that he just doesn't tell me to mind my own business. But every successive time he comes in to see me, his mood is always just a little brighter. I've had time to think about why. I think that his decision to betray the Capitol was a heavier one that even he fully realizes. He wasn't a sympathizer with the rebellion until he found out about his sister. Until that happened, he was one of the guys who helped to find and execute traitors. No matter how valuable he is, this won't endear him to the rebellion, and whatever friends or acquaintances he had before the war will either be dead or hate him forever by the time this is over with. I'm probably the closest thing to a friend he has right now. Considering I practically just met him it's kind of pathetic. But then again, I'm in the same situation.

"Well," he says, "it always seemed logical, so I did believe it in the past. I know it's probably not true, but whatever happened to them I'm not going to find out about it now, so it's not worth worrying about."

At another meeting I ask him about President Snow. My speech contains multiple references to the man, but I know little about him except what he looks like and the fact that he's a generally horrible person. I act as if the context of President Snow matters in my speech, but I know full well that nobody knows or cares anything about Snow except the two facts I'm already aware of.

"You said he helped you," I say, having to swallow my words for the next part. "Is it possible that he's not as bad as everyone says he is?"

Kilo fidgets uncomfortably. I can tell that I've struck a nerve. Before he found out about his sister, he probably defended Snow to anyone who spoke badly of him.

"I think," he says, carefully considering this question, "no, I don't think. I don't think people are completely evil, even Snow. He was nice to me. He really was. He would have kept being nice to me, I think, if the rebellion hadn't happened, if I hadn't found out anything."

"But didn't you tell me once that he only wanted you for your technological skills?"

"He did, but, I mean," he says, biting his lip. "I really don't know what would have happened to me if my sister hadn't told him what I was good at. When my parents died, we didn't have any family left. There weren't any friends either, for that matter. Not everyone in the Capitol has a good life, you know. There are slums, people who have trouble getting by. That could have been me."

There are plenty of directions for this conversation to go, but I have to steer things toward technical matters when I'm convinced that the guard at the door to my room is looking at us. I'm probably just being paranoid, but there's plenty of technical ground for us to cover.

"So," I say, "the session's going to be recorded, right?"

He nods. I certainly suspected as much. There's no way they would trust me with a live feed. "There's enough going on, though, that they won't expect anyone but me to actually mess around with the footage before submitting it for final approval. You don't need to worry about any of that."

"I don't have any idea how most of that stuff works, to be quite honest. Would you mind explaining it to me?"

Kilo's eyes light up. He immediately goes into a full technical explanation that I don't understand and I doubt anyone else would either. Whatever else Kilo may be I don't think he's an egotist. He probably is the most technologically capable man left in Panem. I doubt he's just regurgitating information from some technical tour. He's likely explored every single aspect of the system whenever he's had the opportunity out of sheer curiosity.

In the last meeting we have before it is time to do the recording, I finally ask him the big question.

"What are your plans for the future?"

"Well, by the time we're through, the country is going to be destroyed. I'm sure they'll have plenty of use for someone like me."

Now it's my turn to wince, though I try not to show it. "No, I mean what about you personally? Everything you've told me about your life is how you've been doing things for other people. Are you fine with that being the rest of your life? Only this time, you're answering to different people instead?"

He shrugs. "Such is the fate of the technologically gifted. We come up with the ideas. We don't know how to implement them."

"Why do you take that for granted?" I ask. "The history books says that we used to live in a great civilization, until one day, a bunch of non-thinking scientists created weapons so powerful they destroyed nearly everything on the planet."

"Technological process is inevitable."

"Then why do we need you anyway? Are you just a fancy? Or are you Kilo Jennings, a man with freedom of thought?"

He sighs. "Peeta, I really don't know where you're going with this."

"I just think it's worth thinking about. If you're fine with being remembered as 'Technological Genius', that's fine. I just think you could be something more. All I'm asking is that you think about it."

Part of me feels like a manipulator for getting close to Kilo like this. But at the same time, when I look at his eyes while he mulls over what I'm talking about, I get the impression that this is the first time anyone has ever asked him these questions, and that he's never thought about it himself. I wonder how many men like Kilo are still working for Snow right now, who are able to rationalize it the same way he used to. Maybe this is why the Capitol was so cruel to even the victor tributes. They expected complete obedience. But none of us, when it came right down to it, no matter how much we wanted to, could avoid remembering the horrible things we've had to do.

It's a very quiet march down to the lower levels where Kilo is going to take my final recording. It's the smallest studio they have- only a few people can be in there at once. It's going to be me to make the recording, Kilo to process the technological processes, and a couple of soldiers because it's now basic operating procedure to have soldiers follow me wherever I go. Right before we enter the room, I make one simple remark to Kilo.

"Do you think your family would be proud of you, where you are right now?"

"Oh, definitely," he says strongly. But as we wait for the soldier to open the door, he bites his lip. "Well, maybe, at least, I think so."

Me, Kilo, and one of the soldiers enters the room while the other waits outside. Nobody is there, and the set's already been put up. It's a very simple arrangement by my specific request. In the outside room, there's nothing but a couple of old chairs and the recording system, which Kilo is working to activate. The soldier who came in with us moves to unlock the door. I watch him carefully as he fumbles the keys. He finds the right one out, and finally unlocks the door. Right at that instant when I hear the mechanical click, I make my move. With a quick rush, I hit him as hard as I can in the back of the head and grab his gun as he gets down. With another quick movement, and my adrenaline pumping, I take a chair and jam it under the knob of the outside door right as the other soldier realizes something's gone wrong. He starts pounding the door demanding to be let back in. It's at this point that Kilo looks up from the monitor and sees what's going on.

"What the- Peeta! What are you doing?"
Mentally, I know that I have to stick to the plan- that I need to point the gun at Kilo. But in spite of everything I've been working for, I find that I just can't do it. It would just be another lie. I put the gun down on the console, where Kilo can easily grab it.

"I think I can do it," I say. "I think I can stop the war."

"Are you insane!" he hisses in a loud whisper, as if he thinks anyone can hear him in here. "They'll kill us both!" he cries, stopping to wipe his rapidly sweating brow, "they'll blame me and say it was my idea. No, they'll blame me anyway. Have you any idea what you've done?" His anger is palpable, and I can see him eying the gun. But as he stares at it, his eyes widen.

"You really meant it, didn't you? You're trying to get yourself killed, but for what? Whatever you're planning, it won't work!"

"I don't care," I say, stubbornly. "I'm tired of being a toy in the Games. Not the Hunger Games, not anymore. All this," I say waving my arms around. "Katniss never wanted to marry me. Snow threatened her into doing it. The plan was that I was never going to find out, that everyone was going to pretend it was a happy ending. Snow did the same thing to you. It just took you longer to find out about it."

My face is feeling wet. I realize I hadn't meant to tell him this. I didn't even tell Delly these kinds of specifics. But I don't care who I confide in right now, not when it's going to be over soon. Kilo tries to be rational.

"We're going to get Snow soon, once this propo is finished. Then it will all be over."

"People will die from this attack that don't need to!" I yell. "Don't you get it? This is just a part of Snow's ego trip! For all of us little ants to get ourselves killed trying to take him out! I will not give him that satisfaction! You told me the Capitol doesn't trust Snow anymore. I think we need to give them a chance. If they give up Snow, there's no point in continuing the war."

Kilo is still staring at the gun. The fact that he hasn't done anything yet is the only thing that gives me hope. I start up again.

"Maybe I am crazy for wanting to die. But tell me, Kilo, just what do you have to live for?"

He starts blinking furiously. Before he can come to any accord we hear a loud crash. I turn around. There are more soldiers out there now, and it sounds like they have some kind of battering ram for the door. Then, almost as quickly as it started, it stops. I see a current lightly cracking up around the door.

"I can give you ten minutes, maybe fifteen," Kilo says, furiously typing away. "But we're both going to be dead by then, anyway. This better be the speech of your life."

I smile, nod my thanks, and head in. I take a seat quickly, and don't take too much note of my bearings. I've spent enough time preparing. Now, I need to speak.