"That's a seedling?" Donna asked sceptically. "Looks more like a branch to me."

Theodosius looked at the small sticks in his hands, each one roughly ten centimetres long. "The buds that the leaves grow from will sprout roots-" he began to explain, before Donna cut him off.

"I know how the process works," she said, taking one of the seedlings from him. "It's just unbelievable." That a section of a twig could grow roots seemed impossible at first glance.

They were standing in a small, empty patch and trying to ignore the chilly breeze. Next to them, Rodriguez and Kadka were discussing Holder and the other Smith was helping several guards with a crossword.

"You did notice what he said, right?" Rodriguez asked weakly. Though only a few years older than the second-oldest inmate, the man who had once been Publicity Chief of the Training Centre looked much, much worse. His face was so deeply lined, his eyes looked like pinpricks of darkness at the end of a tunnel.

Kadka, formerly Head of Outreach of the Training Centre, was nearly a decade younger but still showing signs of age. "I try not to," he said. "Makes me want to weep."

"But you did hear him, right?"

"I'd have to be as deaf as West to not be able to hear him," Kadka muttered. "I'm not quite there yet." The administration was in the process of arguing over what sort of hearing aids he should be allowed and at what time of day. For now, though, he was forced to sit practically cheek-by-jowl with Rodriguez, who couldn't speak any louder than a croak.

"The guards must be, though," Rodriguez said. "How can they listen to this and do nothing? This is a disgrace." What were they even talking about? Theodosius hadn't mentioned Holder saying anything particularly strange that morning.

"What's going on?" she asked him.

"Business as usual," Theodosius said as he crouched down to plant the seedlings. Donna crouched down beside him, sticking the seedling she was holding halfway into the dirt. "There was a new warden from Eleven, and he's from the same region as the one Holder served in."

He didn't have to say anything else. Donna could imagine Holder asking the warden after various places and people as if he hadn't been terror incarnate for the new man just a few years ago. "How did the warden react?" The guards were split on Holder, some treating him like an inpatient at a mental hospital while others, mostly Thirteen, were as lax or strict with him as with everyone else.

"Looked like he was going to explode for a few seconds, then said he wasn't going to be offended by the words of someone with delays in development. Then Holder became offended, said something nobody could hear, and marched off to his cell. I was afraid he'd throw something."

Donna cringed. "Ouch."

"'Ouch' is the word," Theodosius agreed, looking at the seedlings. They were planted at even intervals. In a year or two's time, they would be replanted, and after another year, the blackcurrant-gooseberry bushes would start producing berries. Donna had tried blackcurrants and gooseberries a few times before, but never a hybrid. "This morning, one of my book requests got rejected."

"Why?" When they tried to request specific books, they would often be rejected due to containing forbidden topics. It was much easier to request something on a certain topic, and then have someone go through the public library catalogue and pick out something at random. Otherwise, there were so many forbidden topics, trying to pick out something on history was nearly impossible.

"That's the strange thing," Theodosius said. "I asked for something about the aftermaths of wars before the Cataclysm. Forbidden topic, apparently."

How could events that had happened centuries ago be a forbidden topic? There had been no Games back then. What was the administration so worried about? "Are you going to try again?" she asked. "Also, we need to water this."

"I guess I'll be vaguer next time and see how far I can push them. Do you want to ask Holder what he said to the warden while we get the hose?"

That would mean taking a long hook around the yard. "Of course," Donna said. "Let's go." They stood up and walked in the direction of Holder, who was planting radishes.

"Hello," he said, standing up. "Are you here to ask me about the altercation this morning?" he asked matter-of-factly. Donna and Theodosius nodded.

Holder fidgeted with the packet of seeds, twisting it in his hands. "I know I messed up there. I shouldn't talk to District people about the past unless they initiate the conversation."

"What did you say to him?" Donna asked.

"Nothing," Holder said, sounding taken aback. "Nothing." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "He said I have delays in development. They all think that! Even the psychiatrists always tell me that, as if I was just a bit slow as a child or something!" He was stuttering now, shaking from either fury or anxiety, Donna wasn't sure which. "But I'm fifty-five! This hovercraft isn't delayed, it's never taking off! How hard is that to understand?" He was staring right between them, hands clenching at the packet of radish seeds.

"Oh," Theodosius said. "Are you...alright?"

Holder looked utterly confused by the question. "Absolutely not."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Donna asked, wishing there was an easy way to extricate herself from the conversation.

"I just did," Holder said, furrowing his brows. "Look, I just want to be alone. Alright?"

Donna and Theodosius nodded and beat a hasty retreat. "I never thought of it that way," Theodosius said, glancing back at Holder as they walked away from him. "I wonder what it's like to have a mind like that - but then again, do you think he wonders what it's like to have a normal mind?" Donna shrugged. Usually she was quite good at figuring out what others were thinking, but not in situations like this.

At the taps, a more productive conversation was going on. A political debate raged among the sinks and hoses lying scattered everywhere. "I don't understand how anyone can trust any of them," Longview was saying as he squatted next to a sink to rinse out a cloth. "What's the point of making promises if everyone knows they won't be kept?"

"I think that's precisely the point," Li retorted as he coiled a hose neatly. "You have to look at it as not something they promise to do, but something they promise to try to do. It's obvious that Congress won't stand for half of the stuff any of them are proposing, but with a bit of compromise, a key element or two will still be put into policy."

Longview leaned against the pipe. "Then why talk like they will make things a certain way the second they take office?"

"For the benefit of the electorate. Nobody will vote for someone who says 'I'll try to do this thing, but we'll see how it goes'. They go for someone who says 'I will do this thing you want'."

But then wouldn't the electorate be upset that their elected officials weren't doing what they had promised to do? Donna asked that much, and Li had an answer. "They are," he said with a shrug.

Donna could see why many in the Capitol longed for the return of a strong leader who didn't have to mess around with campaign promises and compromise.

"So why promise so much," she asked, "if you know you'll just disappoint the electorate, who won't vote for you next time?" Donna felt like she was missing something obvious, which stung painfully. What was there that she just wasn't understanding?

"As far as I can tell," Li explained, "everyone knows campaign promises don't matter."

"Except here," Donna pointed out. "You think the people out there understand any more than we do? They'll feel betrayed when all their demands aren't met." Paylor had been elected less because of what she was, and more because of what she wasn't. Now that she was up for re-election, though, these things would start to matter.

Li shrugged. "Then, the next time elections roll around, people will vote for someone else. Democracies are fragile, you know, especially new ones. I was just reading about this one time before the Cataclysm when the majority voted for anti-democratic parties-"

Theodosius cut in. "Please, don't. Aren't there more uplifting examples?"

"But you still do not understand!" Li said desperately. "You think it makes sense to me? I grew up being told to obey unquestioningly! Whenever I read about all this complicated give-and-take, it makes my brain hurt. There was an interesting quote in one of my books. Someone called democracy the worst system possible, except for all the other ones."

"Huh," Longview said. "That's a good one. Anything's got to be better than what we had."

Li did not stop to consider that. "And the thing is - it doesn't really matter as much as you think who wins the presidency in the end. The Congresspeople will still do what they think necessary. The majority party doesn't just do what it wants, not even if they have an absolute majority. The line going down isn't just something the president wants." He looked around and pointed at the patch of seedlings Donna and Theodosius had just planted. "There's your democracy."

At that revelation, Blackstone, who had been standing nearby and complaining about her hot flashes to a sympathetic Grass, looked at Li, than at the seedlings, then back at Li with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Longview asked.

"It's a hybrid just starting to grow. Artificially created for a purpose, it will bear sweet berries if given the proper care and support."

That was a very poetic way to put it. Donna decided to write it down that evening and send it to her family.

"That's a beautiful way to phrase it, Mr. Li," Grass said.

Li turned slightly red. "Um, thank you. It's something I figured out when I saw the seedlings."

Blackstone turned back to Grass. "I just want it to end already!" she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I've lost count of how long I've been bleeding for, at this point."

"Ouch," said Li. "When is it going to stop?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be so upset over it! It's like the ibuprofen stopped working."

Grass shook her head. "You might just be suffering from mood swings."

Blackstone took off her cap, fanning herself with it. Despite being not quite fifty, she had a deeply wrinkled face. "Great," she said sarcastically. "I don't think the dispensary has anything against mood swings."

"Don't they have a whole bunch of psychiatric medication?" Donna pointed out. "You should ask." While some of the women continued to receive the annual injection, only those who had gotten them for medical reasons. Citing a reluctance to mess with anyone's hormones unless absolutely necessary, the administration sacrificed comfort and convenience instead. How much less of a hassle would it have been to force all of the women to get injections? "I just wondered," she said, "how much money do you think the administration has to spend on pads?"

"How many people even need them?" Theodosius asked. "Not any of the military personnel. Absolutely no idea about the civilians, I'd say maybe three-quarters of the women. Less than half of you for now," he said as he gestured to Donna, Blackstone, and Grass, "but the number is going to shrink rapidly." Donna was the youngest woman inmate at forty, and the next youngest was Kim, who was forty-four. The bulk were well into their fifties.

Li looked to be deep in thought. "Huh," he said.

At that moment, several others approached them. West and Mitman were signing to each other too fast for anyone to understand, but Katz made up for it. "Did you hear about the rumours of rearmament?" she asked combatively.

"Nothing since last week," Grass asked, getting off the ground. Everyone had heard those rumours, and an update was very welcome. "Do you have news?" Theodosius slunk off in the direction of the nearest guard.

Katz relaxed slightly. "A guard told me they're considering it more seriously."

Now if only they could have been more specific. "Did they give you more details?" Li asked. Almost from the onset there had been a desire on the part of the Rebellion soldiers to demobilize, but many were still stuck in policing jobs they did not want. While the Districts had long since set up civilian police forces that were distinct from their militaries, the state armed forces were still keeping the peace in the Capitol, and anyone who had worn the white was banned from them unconditionally, unless they could prove Rebel activity in court.

"No," Katz said in an irritated tone. "I asked how it will affect us, and she just shrugged."

"I doubt it will affect us at all," Donna said. "I'm certain that they'll stress not having any connection to the past."

"That is utterly absurd!" Katz declared. "It will still be the same soldiers and officers in many cases. How can you have an army potentially march off to war when its old leaders are in prison? Two won't stand for it!"

Donna had her own opinions on what Two would and wouldn't stand for, but decided not to express them. West, however, did. She signed at Mitman at a machine-gun pace, and the older man struggled to keep pace as he translated.

"Do you think Two will refuse?" he said. "I, personally, think they have to do something. They can't go on having MP's patrol the Capitol, demobilization will have to occur at some point." West nodded emphatically as he spoke.

"Of course it will," Katz said. "And now that it will, it is obvious they're moving towards an amnesty. It's not practical to investigate every single person who volunteers, they'll have to start overlooking whole categories of so-called offenses. I'm sure that in a few years, we'll be able to get together and laugh about all of this."

Katz was correct, but she wasn't mentioning the fact that they could simply apply a double standard. Paylor herself had insisted that the nation's wounds needed to be cleaned before they could heal, which made Donna highly sceptical of claims that the Supermaxers would be amnestied. It was much more likely that everyone already convicted would remain where they were, but no new cases would be opened. Donna didn't say that, though, not when all of the former Peacekeepers, except Holder, thought the same as the burly former Head of Nine. To them, the vague and ill-formed plans of reopening general enlistment for the police and army were as good as an amnesty.

"If we do ever all get out," Li said, staring at a guard tower, "we will not get together, and we certainly won't laugh about the Supermax."

"I think it's too early to speculate," Theodosius said. He had just come back from talking to the guard. "A guard just told me that at the ministers' trial, someone officially announced that the passage of time won't make for a softer verdict."

"Right," Katz said sceptically. "And who was this 'someone'?"

Theodosius shrugged. "The guard didn't say."

"Still," Katz insisted, "there's a difference between the criminals and the ordinary Peacekeepers. They'll have to stop being so harsh eventually, there simply aren't enough experienced officers in the current army." That was true, but they were clearly managing. "Did the guard say anything else?"

"No," Theodosius said, grimacing, "unless you count the fact that he apparently went out for coffee once with the Youngs." Donna cringed slightly at the name of the executioners.

"What did they say?" Blackstone asked warily.

"Apparently they are planning to switch to another job as soon as the trials are done." He shook his head. "Can't imagine what their applications will look like."

Li laughed out loud at that. "You know, we always used to joke about that if someone got badly hurt. We'd pretend to wonder what they should write down in their resume - the official squad name, or the unofficial one."

"And what did you decide?" Katz asked.

"Official," Li said with a smile. "Otherwise, if they were in favour, the employer would have assumed this was a threat and went to Snow, and if they weren't, they would have assumed it was a threat and ran for it! Either way, no job."

"In any case," Longview said in a strained tone, "do you think the trials and rearmament are mutually exclusive? I think Two will take the bait, unfortunately. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few, I understand it, but to treat one's superiors like they did?" He nodded to Katz, the only former Head Peacekeeper who had served immediately before the Rebellion and still lived. "The people of Two just aren't how they used to be."

"You don't have to tell me that!" Katz replied. "I respect the soldiers of the Rebellion like any other soldiers, of course, but they way they split the community apart is horrible." The vast majority of former Peacekeepers had moved to Two, even those who had grown up in the Capitol, and rumour had it that while the District government wasn't interested in punishing any but the worst offenders, there were constant minor conflicts. While all of these people had finished highschool in the Academy or been educated in the Capitol, they had also spent years and sometimes decades doing nothing but serving, and many struggled to fit into civilian life despite having useful skills.

Grass had different concerns. "There's certainly no way they can keep you military people in here once they permit former Peacekeepers to re-enlist." Technically, re-enlistment was already possible, but Donna got the point. "And if they're not going to investigate every single applicant, even though they could have been responsible for who knows what, there will be no justification for arbitrarily continuing to punish others who merely happened to get caught early. Either nobody is punished, or everyone is. The Rebellion won't be able to strike a balance."

"I just noticed," Donna said, "that we still call it 'the Rebellion', even though they won."

"Seriously?" Grass asked. She looked thoughtful.

"I noticed that, too," said Li. "I think we refer to it as 'the new regime' from time to time, but it's mostly 'the Rebellion', which, in my opinion, is a strange thing to call a stable government."

"Have it your way, Mr. Li," Katz said with an indulgent smile. "'The new regime' it is." Donna was about to point out that calling it that forever would also be strange, but caught herself in time. Despite Katz' hopes, Donna was quite certain that it didn't matter one jot what she or Li or Grass thought or said about anything. They could say whatever they wanted, and nobody would ever find out. Li was right. Even those like her or Theodosius or Longview would probably never speak of what had happened behind the walls of the Supermax.

The voice of Theodosius snapped her back to reality. "What are you thinking of?" he asked.

"Nothing important," she said, startled. "Just the letter my husband sent yesterday."

"Ah, that explains it," Theodosius said with a slight smirk. "I did notice you looked to be thousands of kilometres away. Must have been just a hundred or so, then." The former Peacekeepers laughed at that. Even Grass smiled.

"How are your children?" she asked.

"Doing well. My youngest is a voracious reader now. How are yours?"

"Our eldest just went on a business trip with his wife, so they left their three-year-old with my wife for a few days. The problem is, we adopted all of ours when they were much older! Natalia didn't tell me, but I'm sure it was an interesting four days."

"Yeah, they're a handful at that age," Theodosius said ruefully. "You're lucky you got to skip that part. You also missed the part where they're actually cute, though."

"You win some, you lose some," Donna summed up his words. Although, hadn't she also missed the vast majority of her children's lives, always in the office or on location?

Grass nodded. "That's a good way to look at it," she said. "Both ways have their ups and downs. Although I must say, Mrs. Blues, that I could never give birth five times."

"It's not that hard," Donna said with a shrug. "A very unpleasant experience, but you get a cute baby at the end, so you don't mind going through the process again. I had very easy pregnancies, though. My coworkers often said they envied me."

"Lucky for you you lived in the Capitol," Li pointed out. "Back in Two, poor women couldn't afford any kind of prenatal healthcare or professional help during childbirth or anything at all. I was shocked when I found out that in the Capitol, women never die in childbirth, not even the poorest ones." He stared at the ground, twisting his hands. "To be completely honest, I thought of the Capitol mothers as lesser in some way because of that, as if the fact that they didn't have to suffer to have children meant they weren't real mothers in some way. Stupid, of course. A woman shouldn't have to risk her life to have a child, that's completely absurd. I was also shocked to find out that well-off families where both spouses worked tended to have something like four children. That's not something we had in Two, either." The former Peacekeepers nodded.

"That's because it was an entire thing," Theodosius pointed out. "All that propaganda about why we needed to have more kids wouldn't have worked if pregnancy and childbirth was a dangerous process. Remember, Snow's very approach to the Capitol and the Districts were different." In the Districts, contraception and abortion had been strictly prohibited, despite the fact that this had forced women to give birth even if it put their lives at risk. People had managed to find ways around the prohibitions, of course, but finding out that pregnancy and childbirth had been a life-threatening process in the Districts had shocked Donna deeply during the trial. Perhaps that was because this was one of the few things mentioned that she had actually had experience with.

Li shifted from foot to foot. "I need to keep that in mind," he said. "I saw the external things, the visible ones, not the undercurrents. Children were a status symbol for you, weren't they?"

Struggling to hide her extreme irritation, Donna didn't answer. "I suppose that is one way to put it, yes," Theodosius said, cringing. He, too, did not appreciate the implication that his children were just a status symbol for him.

"Sorry."

"No harm done," Grass said. "As Mr. Coll said, that is a reasonable conclusion for an outsider such as you to make." The richer people tended to have many children because they were able to afford them, as did a small minority of the poor, who did it to pretend that they weren't as badly off as it seemed. Generally, however, the amount of children rose with the income.

Shaking his head, Li sat down on an upside-down bucket. "Still, I lived for so many years in the Capitol, and I'm still finding out completely obvious things about it!"

"Don't worry," Grass said, leaning towards him slightly. "We know nothing about Two, after all."

"But you never lived in Two," Li pointed out. "I lived in both, and I don't understand both." He sagged, dropping his face into his hands. "I feel like one of Cotillion's abominations. Like a hybrid with the worst of two worlds."

Longview crouched down next to him. "That's not true," he said consolingly. "You understand it well enough to explain it all to us. Not like the civvies," he joked. "They go about it the wrong way."

"Thank you, Mr. Longview," Donna said sarcastically. Suddenly, she remembered that the seedlings still hadn't been watered. "Could you please pass me that hose?" she asked, gesturing to the coil that lay by his feet.

"Here you go."

Watering the seedlings was a quick job, but Theodosius still followed her towards the patch, hose unwinding behind them. Donna gestured to the group to open the taps, and cold water poured out of the hose. Theodosius put a bare foot over a tiny hole in the hose from which a thin but powerful trickle of water was spurting "It'll be interesting to see what grows from this," Donna said contemplatively, putting her thumb over part of the hose to increase the water pressure and have the stream go farther.

"Almost makes me hope that Katz is wrong and they don't release us," Theodosius joked.

Donna chuckled, even though rumours of release were nothing to laugh at. "Shh," she said, putting the forefinger of her free hand over her mouth. "The administration might hear!"

"But that would require them to actually do what we want," Theodosius pointed out. He gestured at Longview to turn off the tap, and the stream of water turned to a trickle which quickly stopped.

They walked back, Donna coiling the hose as she went. Her hands became wet and dirty from the hose, and she washed them off in one of the sinks as she listened to and watched the group discussing the weather. West was complaining about the temperature, and Katz was trying to convince her that it was borderline hot, which it most definitely was not. Donna tried to follow the conversation and wash her hands at the same time, the result being her trying to find the soap without looking, as her eyes were glued to the conversation. She ran her hands over the inside of the sink, trying to find it.

Her left hand finally found the slippery bar. Donna quickly washed her hands and dried them off on her undershirt. Then, she and Theodosius rejoined the conversation, on the lookout for guards ready to give them more things to do. The two of them had spent the last few days lugging heavy sacks all over the place, and were ready for a lighter day.

Despite the protestations of West and Katz, the day was actually quite nice. It was pleasantly cool and overcast, and while the wind made the bare soles of her feet, wet from the ground, feel cold, it was the better alternative to staying in shoes. It wasn't so warm that she was irritated by being unable to roll up her trouser legs higher, but still warm enough that exposing skin felt pleasant.

The conversation switched to spoken language. "I'd say it's nice and cool," Mitman said. West glared at him with mock irritation and made an incomprehensible sound, adding with her hands something Donna couldn't catch. Mitman repeated his words in sign language.

"If it was sunny, it would have been better," West signed.

"If it was sunny, it would have been hot," Katz pointed out, shaking her head in an exaggerated motion.

Theodosius butted into the conversation. "I'm not looking forward to summer," he said out loud, drawing the attention of everyone except West. "If this is hot, then we'll boil to death in a few months."

In spring, it was hard to imagine summer's heat, and in the fall, it was impossible to imagine just how cold it would get.

"It's not hot yet," Katz pointed out. "It's very warm, though."

"It is not even close to warm," said Longview, who had spent years in Eleven. "I would say that it is cool."

"We can all agree that it is overcast, though," Grass chimed in. Her quiet voice cut effortlessly through the conversation. "At least, I hope we can."

Li leaned against the wall. "That's why we're not talking about the clouds," he said. "If we all agree, it's not much of a conversation, is it?"

Longview took up the challenge. "Do you think it will rain soon?" he asked, pointing into the distance, where the clouds did appear to be darker.

Glancing at the clouds, Katz shook her head. "No," she said, "even though it's long past time we had some rain. Those aren't rainclouds."

"But what if they become rainclouds?" Blackstone asked.

"That's not something I can predict. Ask the guard for the weather forecast."

Back in her cell, Donna reread the note Livia and Dancer had sent her. It contained a brief description of what people in the Capitol thought about the upcoming elections. As always, they had completely misinterpreted her words, assuming she knew more than she actually did. Donna had no idea what the names of any of the candidates were, other than Paylor, and she only knew what sort of issues were being discussed in society from the guards.

Apparently, the Capitol was deadlocked on the issue of restitution, which was the most contended issue in speeches and debates. They had managed to elect a mayor with strong Rebellion credentials under the intense emotions of the time, but now they were mostly concerned with moving on and letting the past be the past. Some town councillor, left unnamed in the letter, made a very strong appeal for continuing restitution. What the rest of the town hall, and, indeed, the Capitol government thought was left without comment, though Livia had at least mentioned that there were bitter debates raging everywhere, from the newspapers to social media. Only a small minority were so keyed up, though, most didn't even want to think about politics.

What the Districts thought of all this was also left unclear, so Donna took out her diary entry and added a quick note, asking them to explain the situation there. The guards tended to be less willing to talk about the Districts than about the Capitol, which made it even harder to find out what was going on there. Livia had, however, described the situation with the people of the Wilds, for which Donna was grateful. They would be allowed to vote in the national elections, and they would also be allowed the same amount of representatives at the national level as everybody else, though they would not have an equivalent of District-level government. It looked like a very elegant solution. How many hours of arguing had gone into it?