The First Hunger Games
Sneak Peek

How?
This was the question that ran through President Smith’s mind constantly. The war was over, the Capitol had won, but not before causing mass destruction to several Districts and completely obliterating 13. The war had lasted for over a year and had almost halved the population of Panem. So, what to do? How to rebuild? And more importantly, how to make sure it never happened again?

Smith had spent as much time as he could locked away in his office, which was to say, he had been there for a few minutes. The people of the Capitol were rejoicing, wanting to see the leader who had saved them from the delusional rebels. Speeches and celebrations had lasted for days, and Smith seemed to be in the thick of it. People had lined the street, cheering with not a care in the world; almost oblivious to how much damage had been done and how many people Panem had lost. Most casualties belonged to the districts, and the majority of deaths in the Capitol had been swept under the rug.

Then there was the matter of security in the Districts. Hundreds of Peacekeepers had to be assigned to each District, more then ever before. Electric fences had been built around every District, with only one entrance. Workers had to be brought in from District 2 to rebuild the city and any damage in District 5 had to be repaired to supply power to the Capitol.

Smith walked over to the oval mirror placed above the liquor cabinet. His face was nearly unrecognisable. For the days of celebrating he was what was considered to be his ‘usual’ self. That meant his face was almost white, with gold outlining his brown eyes, as was Capitol style. Lately, he had had no time for appearances, his skin was back its natural colour, he had bags under his eyes, wrinkles adorned his forehead and his brown hair had steaks of grey.

He sighed, rubbing his receding hairline. He poured himself a generous amount of brandy and wondered back to his large mahogany desk. He had spent hours in the leather chair behind it, always plotting new ways to beat the rebels. Now he was planning ways to make sure they never returned.

How? He thought again. If we take everything from them, they will attack, no longer having anything to lose, just like before. If we give them too much they will think we are soft, that we cannot control them. They will have too much hope.

And then ‘how?’ had been diminished. Hope. Hope was the one thing more powerful than fear. But it had to be given in small doses. Enough to tell the people that the Capitol was merciful, but could control them. That their lives were property of the Capitol, and it was their choice to let them live. But ever present had to be control. For every blessing there was pain.

And this raised more questions. What were people willing to do anything for? What was the one thing they treasured beyond anything else? Crushed if they lost it and relieved if it was saved? Something that Smith both had the power to take and spare?

It was life.