"Is this a new family photo?" Dr. Chu asked, gesturing at the photograph of Donna's family and the cat they had recently been gifted. "I don't think I've seen it before."

"I just got it today," Donna said. She inspected the ball she was holding, looking for weaknesses. Every so often, the balls would tear and she'd need to get a new one. The one she was fidgeting with right now was white. "There's a whole backstory to this," she prompted, smiling.

Dr. Chu peered over her clipboard. "Do tell!"

Seizing the chance to change the topic to something lighter, Donna began telling the story. "For New Year's, a friend of mine got our kids a cat." Donna had written clandestinely to a few of her old friends, and they had agreed to chip in. "Dem tried to send me a picture, but since we're only allowed photos of family members, it got confiscated. I wrote back, said to send in a family photo, with someone holding the cat. That worked."

She picked up the photo, looking at everyone's faces. The younger kids were, of course, practically unrecognizable. Every time she got a photo of them, she had to re-learn what they looked like. And Dem's hair was now threaded with white strands, about as much as Donna's. Her parents looked the same as before.

"Can I see the photo?" the psychologist asked. Donna handed it over. "The cat is very cute," she said. It was indeed very cute, a small ball of black fur lying on Laelia's shoulder. Rather appropriately, its name was Inky. "And so are the kids. Who are they, exactly?"

Donna leaned over to see the photo. "In the middle, that's my parents and husband," she said, pointing them out. "Sitting to their left is Donna, she's fourteen. On my husband's lap is Octavius, he's four. Next to my mother is Lars, he's eleven. The one with the cat is Laelia, she's six. And the one standing next to Lars is Aulus, he's eight."

"They've grown so much since the last photo," Dr. Chu marveled. "Do you still have it with you?"

"No," said Donna. "Remember, I'm only allowed five photos, so I get rid of old ones regularly. They're in the storage room." At this rate, she'd have an entire album's worth of photos upon release.

Dr. Chu clapped a hand to her forehead suddenly. "I completely forgot to wish you a happy birthday!" she exclaimed, shaking her head. It was indeed Donna's fortieth birthday.

"It's no problem," Donna rushed to assuage her. It was flattering, though, that the psychologist remembered her birthday. "I forgot it myself."

At the end of the session, Dr. Chu gave Donna a book in a plain cover. "This is the book Aurelius and Mallow wrote about your trial," she explained. "I thought you might be interested." Before Donna could voice her concerns, the psychologist explained, "I'll be back the day after tomorrow to pick it up." That was still a bit risky, but Donna was willing to chance it.

"In that case, could you please hide this somewhere, and give it back in two days?" Donna handed the psychologist one of the books from the table, which she hadn't started reading yet. "We're only allowed to have five at once." Dr. Chu placed it in her bag. If only Donna could have used the psychologist as a letter-carrier! It would have been so easy for Dr. Chu to pass her extra paper. The risk that the psychologist would simply go to the administration and get Donna banned from writing forever was too great, however.

Dr. Chu got up, putting away her clipboard. "I will see you in two days!" she said. "And happy birthday!" As she left the cell, Donna sat back on her cot and began to read the book. It was called Twenty-Four Cells in Lodgepole: A Diary of the Trial of the Key Criminals. Lodgepole Municipality wasn't even in the Capitol proper, but its Justice Building had been the only one to survive the fighting, so it had been chosen as the site of the trials. The covers of the book were plain grey, but the inside cover and the first page had two photographs - of the building surrounded by rubble, and of the twenty-four defendants sitting in the dock. Donna found herself immediately. In the photo, she was talking to Theodosius.

She went through the first row, identifying each and every one. Then the second. Most of these people were long-dead, but as Donna studied the photograph, she could almost hear their voices. Slice looked like she was trying to melt into the low wall. Donna barely ever thought about the woman. What was she doing now? Was life in the regular prison system very different from life in the Inter-District Supermax Prison?

Donna forced herself to stop staring at the photograph and start reading the actual book. She immediately paused when she got to the dedication, though. The book was dedicated to 'everyone who will not be able to read this book because of the actions of the people featured therein'. Donna turned the page with more force than necessary, and read the acknowledgements, where Drs. Aurelius and Mallow (how had they decided whose name would be first? Did they decide to stick with the alphabetical order everyone had gotten accustomed to?) thanked their teams, the people who agreed to be interviewed by them, everyone else who had worked on the trials, their families, and each other.

The introduction went back to being unpleasant, as the two explained that to understand a criminal does not mean to condone them or their actions. Donna read the two sentences about herself, feeling like she hadn't been supposed to be able to do so. It was odd, to read about yourself from the point of view of someone else, almost like an out-of-body experience. It was hard to wrap her head around that the Donna Blues Aurelius and Mallow wrote about was actually herself.

Donna skimmed through the first chapter. It was the backstories of the doctors and of how they got the job, and she had heard about all that before. What she had not known, however, was that they had carried voice recorders during their sessions. Several of Donna's co-defendants had felt uncomfortable at the sight of note-taking, but Aurelius and Mallow hadn't wanted to potentially miss something. Fortunately, they hadn't recorded her. The thought of a recording of her having a meltdown existing somewhere out there was almost too much to bear.

The book was formatted in an odd way, narration, segments of interviews, and snippets from the diary Dr. Mallow had kept all mixed together. It was written in third person, but many of the footnotes were in first person. An account of a disagreement the doctors had had was footnoted with I still think I was right -S. Mallow. Donna chuckled as she read it. They had both been so professional, it was strange to imagine them joking around.

As she continued reading, Donna felt the strangeness of reading about herself as if she was long-dead. The doctors had started out being unsure of whether the trial would be fair, and it showed. Donna felt a stab of anxiety when she read about Coin's death, too caught up in the book to remember that this had all happened several years ago. Now that Donna thought about it, that had been the only time when an unexpected death had led to things getting better. Everyone had walked around like on eggshells until, against all reason and logic, Coin's successor spoke out against her policies, tossed Thirteen's skeletons onto the street together with the closets, and publicly proclaimed his support for Paylor as president. It hadn't resulted in fundamental changes for Donna and the rest of them, as the trial of the key criminals was, in hindsight, already scrupulously fair, but it had made everyone feel much more confident.

Donna took one of her blank pieces of paper and jotted down some ideas. Dr. Chu would probably expect a full book review. She continued reading. Slice had told many stories about her imprisonment in Thirteen, but it turned out that they had been diminished. She shuddered at the description of the cell Slice had been confined to for months, fed only nutrient sludge. Two and a half by three by four was small enough, but Slice had spent months in a cell too small to stretch out in. The ceiling had been too low to stand, or even crouch. It had been narrow enough for Slice to have been able to touch both sides with her elbows simultaneously, and so short, she had only been able to stretch out her legs when sitting up against the wall. The light had, of course, been constantly on. Hygiene consisted of a hole in the floor. Donna felt very fortunate to have been captured at the very end of the fighting. No wonder Slice had looked so drained and pale during her first few weeks back in the Capitol.

It was clear why Slice had been unwilling to go into too much detail. It was also clear why she hadn't told the rest of them about how when she had been brought to jail, Warden Vance offered her breakfast even though it had been several hours too early, and even scrounged up a bun for her. It was, however, a shame to only be finding this out now about the person she had spent the better part of a year constantly interacting with.

Donna read on, eager to find out more about the twenty-two people who had managed to remain near-strangers to her despite everything. She couldn't help but laugh at the part where Blatt called the indictment a bad joke. She had managed to completely forget who it had been to write that. The doctors singled out Donna and Theodosius as coming the closest to honestly in their answers. Theodosius had written "Even in a totalitarian regime, people are still responsible for their actions", and Donna - " I see reason behind all of these accusations". Quite a few of them had actually been utterly absurd, but it was at least possible to see the logic behind them, not to mention that roughly half of the defendants ended up acquitted on at least one charge. Their trial had been no show trial, despite how unlikely that had seemed back then. Reading her own anxious ramblings was extremely awkward.

It was impossible to focus on the book. She felt anxious, cold and miserable. Donna put aside the book and solved a few number puzzles until curiosity drove her to continue the book.

Immediately after the chapter that introduced the participants of the trial, there was a section of glossy pages. Donna perused the photographs. Drs. Aurelius and Mallow drinking coffee and eating donut holes from the courthouse coffee shop as they looked up from a laptop screen to face the camera. The defector from the Capitol and the Rebel from a very well-off family from Eleven had made a rather odd tandem. The prosecution team from Two in a group photo. Donna recognized most of the faces. The judge from Twelve, who had actually been a clerk in Twelve's Justice Building with a passion for reading the Constitution, Criminal Code, and true-crime novels from the District's scanty library. Whenever Donna had seen her she had looked extremely overwhelmed, but she looked to be almost smiling in the photograph. Huge stacks of papers lying around a large room, and several people from the documents division working on their computers amidst the chaos or going through the piles. It must had been more controlled than it appeared in the photo, as nobody had ever complained that they were unable to get a document or another. There was also a photograph of Donna in her cell in which she looked a solid ten years younger for some reason, looking up from the electric typewriter she had been issued for a few months.

Before the trial had even started, she had been asked by various individuals, both military and civil, to describe her work in as much detail as possible, from how Arena forcefields had been constructed to how emergency defenses had been built up so quickly during the assault on the Capitol. Unwilling to suffer through her longhand or risk giving her a computer, they had managed to dig up an electric typewriter somewhere. She had spent hours typing away, eager to explain all that she knew. Donna stared at the photograph, realizing that she remembered that exact day. Next to the typewriter, barely fitting into the photograph, were a large cup and two slices of bread. Donna remembered how they had once been given bread together with their nutrient sludge. Consuming both at once had been a terrible idea, as the loaf bread absorbed the thick sludge, creating an extremely strange texture that was impossible to choke down.

Donna decided to remind Theodosius of that. If she had to remember the nutrient sludge, Warden Vance, and guards blasting Don't Lock Me Away late at night, so did he. She chuckled at a photograph of a fifteen-year-old soldier with a radio, and stopped laughing when she saw a shot of the corridor, guards at every cell. It was bad enough now, when anyone could look into her cell at any moment and guards could burst in whenever they pleased, but at least she wasn't under constant surveillance anymore. Donna had forgotten it, but seeing the photograph reminded her all over again.

The anti-suicide measures, ironically, had been extremely damaging to mental health. Whenever Donna had been in her cell, someone was always watching her through the peephole. When she slept, she was poked awake with a stick whenever her face or hands were hidden from view, even though it was so cold in there for a while, not being able to keep her hands under the blanket made sleep impossible. They couldn't go anywhere without being cuffed to a guard, they were strip-searched every time they were taken to wash, and multiple guards were present whenever she talked to her lawyer or family.

Why had Dr. Chu even thought this book was a good idea? It was a fascinating read, but Donna didn't want to be reminded of these things only a few years after they had happened. Or maybe that was the point? Perhaps Dr. Chu wanted to know how she would deal with a reminder of all these things. Donna put down the book again and went to drink some water. She paced around the cell, thinking. Then, she splashed some water on her face.

It was strange, to read the words of dead people. Donna could almost hear them speaking sometimes, complaining about one thing or another or telling stories. To Drs. Aurelius and Mallow they had been research subjects, but to Donna, they had been coworkers and rivals. Some of them she had met with regularly for years, others she had been introduced to for the first time at the trial. Everything was just slightly off. The doctors had done a very good job in analyzing everyone's mental states, but from time to time Donna was slapped with the reminder that they hadn't really known them. Although, could they really be blamed for it? It would take someone who had been in those circles for years to write accurately about them.

Donna sat back down and continued reading. Every chapter or so, she had to get up and walk around. When the lights turned off it took her a long time to fall asleep, and she woke up when it was completely dark outside. Even when her eyes adjusted, it was still impossible to read. Irritated, Donna tried to fall asleep again, but it was impossible. She tossed and turned, thinking. Should she write a clandestine letter about this? But why? To tell Livia and Dancer that the book was accurate? Maybe. A part of her also wanted to write about what the trial had been like for her, but how could she do it without access to her diary entries from back then?

In any case, it was a moot point. Donna simply didn't have enough paper to write something substantial. She had asked the sympathetic guards, and both had replied that it was too risky. Until that changed, there would be no real writing for her.

"So, how was the book?" Dr. Chu asked as she hid it in her satchel and gave back the library book. Donna put it back on the table.

Donna stretched the ball, running her fingertips over the little balls. "Interesting," she said. "More accurate than I expected."

"And what did you expect?" Dr. Chu predictably asked.

Why had she even said that? "Uh, I'm not sure," Donna said, fidgeting with the ball. "I guess what the media was saying? I know it's dumb to think that they would have been influenced by the media when they saw us every day, but still." She shrugged, staring at her hands.

Dr. Chu tapped her pen on her clipboard. "What sort of effect do you think the book had?"

How was Donna supposed to be able to answer that when she had no access to newspapers? "How am I supposed to know?" she asked, frowning.

"I asked you what you think," the psychologist pointed out.

Squeezing the ball, Donna wondered if anyone had even noticed that the book had come out. As far as she could tell, Panem wanted to forget any of the Games criminals even existed. "I don't think it had much of an effect," she said. "The sort of person whose misconceptions it could have corrected probably doesn't want to read about the topic."

"Actually," Dr. Chu said, "it's an international bestseller. You're correct about how it had done in Panem, though."

Donna hadn't even thought about other countries. "Well, that makes sense, too. They're the ones who want to know more, but everyone here just wants to move on."

"What do you think about that?"

"I certainly can't blame them," Donna said.

"But do you think it's a good idea?" the psychologist insisted.

"Do you really think I can be considered an authority on the subject?" Donna snapped.

Dr. Chu adjusted her kerchief, unfazed by the outburst. "I simply am curious to know what you think."

"Well," Donna said angrily, "if they want to approach it this way, then by all means they should be able to do it."

"And what of the fact that there are people who do not want to avoid having this conversation?"

Was Dr. Chu trying to drive her insane? "They are also justified in their opinion," Donna said, clenching the ball in a fist.

Tap, tap, tap went the pen. "But you do not have your own opinion?"

"No," said Donna, not elaborating any further. Dr. Chu didn't say anything, either.

Not having anything else to add, Donna stayed silent, and the quiet dragged on. Eventually, Dr. Chu accepted that Donna wasn't going to add anything else. "Why?" she eventually prompted.

"Because they are both right, in a way," Donna said. "What happened - it shouldn't be forgotten. It can't be! But I don't blame the Districts for focusing on rebuilding and wanting to move on. Moving on doesn't necessarily mean forgetting."

Dr. Chu wrote something down. "Are you recording this verbatim?" Donna asked warily.

"No," the psychologist answered. "The occasional phrase, yes, but also general impressions. Were there some things written down in the book you'd have preferred to not appear in print?"

"Well, yes," Donna said. "Of course, they were right to publish it, but reading about my own meltdowns is just embarrassing." She had actually skipped a few sections, unwilling to read anyone's reaction to the IGR testimonies.

"Are you worried about how you will be perceived by others?"

Unless all of the inmates got access to the book, it wouldn't have any sort of effect. Plus, Dr. Chu wasn't mentioning something. "I think the information that was revealed by the trial already did that," she said acidly. "If anything, finding out I have a family will make them

more sympathetic towards me."

Dr. Chu held up a hand. "Now, hold that last thought, we'll come back to it later. What I want to know first is, are you aware that there are many people who view you in a positive way?"

Donna struggled to imagine how anyone sane could follow the trial and come away thinking about her in a positive way. She doubted that the average person could have listened to her testimony in an unbiased way after the prosecutor's scathing statement. And even when she had done well on her cross-examination, most of the press had called out the prosecutor for being "too weak"! "Did they even follow the trial?" Donna joked.

"They did," Dr Chu replied. "Some people believe you made a good impression, or even that you were unfairly convicted."

Donna dug her thumbs into the ball, trying to figure out a way to process the last part of that. She had always insisted that her sentence was just, and not only because it would have been foolish to complain. A small part of her had been willing to treat the matter cynically, in an attempt to gain favour. It made sense that some people would have been inclined to think favourably of her in light of that, but to take it to the extreme like that?

"I think they're more optimistic than I am," Donna said. "Look, you know I'm not delusional. Barring an extremely serious change in society, my odds of getting out of here early are practically nonexistent." Her friends were monitoring the situation for her, and they all said that it would be pointless to press for clemency now. "I, of course, wish I didn't have to be here, but I am." Donna squeezed the ball, watching the seam threaten to burst. "Some fringe voices won't change anything."

"And what if they stopped being fringe?"

That way lay madness. "I will not speculate about that," Donna said, trying to hide her irritation. She kneaded the ball furiously, feeling her heart rate speed up. "I'm not going to beat my head against the wall."

Fortunately, Dr. Chu backed off. "That is a very reasonable approach," she said. "Now, let's come back to something you said before. You think that finding out about your more personal life will make readers of Aurelius and Mallow's book be inclined to show sympathy towards you."

"Of course," Donna shrugged. She paused for a moment, letting herself calm down. "If we're not monsters on the telescreen but normal people with families, it's harder to hate us like some do."

Dr. Chu nodded along. "There were some criticisms of the book, that it quotes too heavily without debunking what is said."

"But the point of the book is that it's about us, what we thought and said when one-on-one with a mental health expert! It would have been strange if it didn't quote heavily."

"I mostly agree," Dr. Chu said. "This is not something someone should read if they want to get a basic understanding, but the fact remains that taking out a single book from the library is much easier than digging around the Web, reading articles. It's too soon for truly comprehensive books."

Donna imagined a shelf of truly comprehensive books on a library somewhere, an entirely new subcategory just for her and the rest of the Games criminals. "I don't want to be remembered," she found herself saying. "Not like this." The fact remained, though, that this book was famous all over the world. Decades from now, people would read about her, and that prospect made Donna want to fall through the floor and cease to exist. "I never wanted to be famous, you know."

"Not even when you were promoted to such a high position?"

"Especially not then," Donna said, shaking her head. "The more famous you were back then, the more enemies you had. And nobody in the Districts even knew I existed! Now, though, I'm practically a household name. Sure, by the time I'm old young people will only know about me if they are interested in history, but now?" She clutched at the ball as if it was her only hope.

Dr. Chu tapped her pen. "Are you worried about how the release of the book is affecting your family?"

"What?" Donna asked, but as she thought about it, the more truth there was in the psychologist's words. "Well, I wasn't really consciously thinking about it," she said awkwardly, "but it's always in the back of my mind, so I suppose I'm worried about that, too. My oldest children are old enough to read the book, if they wanted."

"Do you think they will?"

"I doubt it. I think it would be too weird to read about one's parent like that."

Dr. Chu glanced at her watch and looked back up, not saying what the time was. "You don't think they'll get curious? I know your second-oldest likes to read newspapers."

Donna shook her head. "The newspapers don't go into the sordid details. At least not in that way. When they published sensationalized stories, they were more funny than anything."

"But they did publish overheard snippets of conversation."

"They weren't actually damaging, though. At least not to me." When the newspapers had written that Lark's lawyer actually hated their client (which they did, but still were professional enough to defend Lark so well he had thanked them at the end despite being sentenced to death), everyone except Lark had laughed their heads off.

Several days later, it was obvious that every single inhabitant of the Supermax had read Drs. Aurelius and Mallow's book. Several directors were seen prowling around the yard, listening to conversations with thunderous facial expressions. It was too late, however. The book was read, and now all they could do was to beef up the defenses in case there was a next time.

"And I thought my trial was crazy," said Vartha to Donna and Theodosius as they walked around the path, compacting the thin layer of fresh snow underfoot. "At least none of us asked to have a life sentence replaced with death." He looked confused at the very idea.

"Actually, it makes sense from Best's point of view," Donna pointed out.

"At least none of us threw tea at a journalist." It was seeming like Krechet would go down in history not for being the deputy head of the Death Squad, but for losing his temper once during lunch and chucking his tea at a nosy journalist. After that, the guards had softened up towards him. The man who had been perhaps the most hated of the lot had been offered tea at every turn for weeks.

"Now hold on," Theodosius said. "You literally had one defendant punch another when the court was in session. I think that beats tea."

"And here I was thinking Dovek reacted badly when someone's testimony reflected badly on him," Donna said lightly. "He just seethed and complained to Oldsmith." How Snow's former secretary had tolerated that was a mystery to Donna. It had been annoying enough on her end of the dock.

Vartha chuckled darkly. "I was also tempted to throttle Hatcher from time to time, but I never actually tried it." He looked around to make sure Hatcher wasn't in earshot. "That man was like an eel. Still is, probably. I can't believe he got a quarter of what I did!" Hatcher had been the head of sales while Vartha had headed the legal department, so Donna wasn't inclined to disbelieve the verdicts. "Do you think someone will write a book about us as well?"

Theodosius shook his head. "Too little attention on the subsequent trials. Maybe a few decades from now, someone will go through the files and put something together." He moved a pebble from one pocket to another, counting off a lap.

"Well, at least there's that," Vartha said with a sigh, turning himself slightly against the wind. Donna, face wrapped in the scarf the administration had just passed on to her, didn't feel the need. Vartha noticed. "I wish I had a scarf," he moaned, cringing as an icy blast hit them.

Theodosius raised his arm in front of his face but reconsidered almost immediately, hiding his hand in his pocket. He was actually supposed to have received two scarves, but they were still being debated due to their alleged high quality. "Can't you ask your family?" he asked.

"I did," Vartha said, "but it's been months, and nothing!"

"That's terrible!" Theodosius said kindly. "You know, my family's sending me two scarves. You can have one."

Vartha nearly tripped. "Wait, really?" he asked, staring at Theodosius with shocked eyes. "You'd just give me one of your scarves?"

"Why not?" Donna said. "The former Peacekeepers have a whole supply ring going." Theodosius nodded.

"I don't need two scarves," he said awkwardly, "and you need one. Makes sense to share." He hunched over, as if expecting to be insulted.

"Well, if you're sure." Vartha reached up to tuck loose strands of white hair under his cap. Despite being in his early fifties, he hadn't had a drop of colour in his hair for over twenty years, a fact he had used to conceal with dye until his arrest. "I would be very glad to have a scarf."

"You're welcome," said Theodosius, straightening up slightly. "Although, with the administration the way it is, you'll probably get it sometime around mid-summer."