Cicero had, for the first time, been completely content in Tullia's company. He'd sat for nearly an hour, transfixed by the wondrous music box, until inspiration sparked across his mind and he rushed off, albeit apologetically. A better cure fot his thumping migraine than anything the doctors could concoct. He had it. The entire theme for the Games. They were going to adore him.
He swept into the head office like some kind of sluggish whirlwind, a contented smile on his face, his mind miles away. One swish of his overly long jacket and a thousand papers were sent fluttering around the room. Everyone turned to look at him; one man turned the colour of boiled lobster.
"Some of us are trying to work!"
"Oh, but you needn't any longer!" Cicero chirped, grabbing the man by the shoulders.
"Why, has the president decided to have us all killed?"
"Quite the contrary." He released his grip and moved towards the desk at the centre of the room, slamming his hands down on top of it. "I've got it!"
"Got what?" came the bewildered chorus.
"The theme! The theme for the Games!" He froze, relishing the suspense. "Vintage."
Silence.
"Oh dear," someone whispered, louder than intended. "He's gone mad."
"No, no I haven't. Think about it. The people, they'll love it. The opportunities it presents... they're immense! We could have some real fun here."
"With all due respect," the man from earlier cut in, his skintone now resembling ham. "No one wants to spend their time trawling through history books. We're already behind schedule."
Cicero scowled, his brows furrowing to create little ridges all down his forehead. "I'll get people in to do research. You just need to do what you're paid for! You're supposed to be the greatest your fields have to offer, you should know about this." He glared at them all. "Shouldn't you?"
The chorus this time was willing, even inspired. You could practically hear the cogs whirring in their heads. It would be wonderful, impossibly archaic. They could make something so pretty and quaint that it would make murdering children look the very height of civilised. He was visibly shaking with excitement. Now, for the research team, it was time to fall back on some family ties.
Vita promised she'd arrive within the hour, if only to shut him up. Her cousin was like an overgrown labrador. But one of those with a part of their brain missing. All the time they were growing up, forced together by a family who liked to project the illusion they were "close-knit", he'd teased her for her fascination of what had come before. And now he'd rung her up, babbling that he needed an expert in it.
She strode into the room and stopped in front of the desk, hands on her hips. The space itself was very strange, like something out of a showhome. Who knew that blank walls could be so overwhelming? But they were, because they were too blank, free of any pockmarks and perfect to the point where they didn't look real. If you let your eyes unfocus, the blur at the edges of your vision closing in, it looked like a complete lack of space. The luminosity made you feel strained.
"Come on Ci, what is it that's so urgent?"
"Hang on a second," he held his hands up, palms facing her. "Haven't you got something to say to me?"
She frowned. "No?"
"I think you do." Cicero looked offended. "About some big news, perhaps?"
"Dear, what are you talking about?"
His face fell about a hundred feet. "Did nobody tell you all?"
"No. Just spit it out for god's sake."
"Oh, right..." he faltered for a couple of seconds. "I've been made head gamemaker."
"Wow!" Vita rushed to hug him before he went off in a sulk. "Congratulations, I had no idea."
"Yeah, well I guess they didn't think it was important enough to mention," he mumbled darkly.
"That's because they're old and miserable, take no notice. Now, what do you need me for?"
"It's for the Games you see, I want you to assemble a team of your finest nerds."
She let out a little laugh. "And why is that?"
"For a research team. This year, the arena, costumes, everything, they're all going to be based off of things from the past. I really think it has some good entertainment value."
"You're right. Although it will be no doubt hurt me to see everything be made wildly innacurate."
"Yeah, the audience won't exactly care for the intricacies. But you can get some people to do it? It'd be good pay."
"It had better be. I'll ask around, see who I can get together. You owe me though."
"Of course, no debt will go unpaid," he chuckled at her retreating back, hand clasped to his heart.
The Capitol didn't believe in history. Why would you ever pay attention to the past when it was so inferior to the glorious city they'd built up? Until now, apparently, when they'd run out of new ideas for the Hunger Games and had to return to the old.
I was trying to sew but I pushed the blunt end of the needle through my finger so I gave up and wrote this instead. I don't know if I made this clear in the last chapter but District 4 isn't really part of the Careers at the moment. Mainly because I like the ageing drunkard victor type but also because I think it would be interesting to have a smaller Career pack, it might level the playing field out a bit. Again, hope this wasn't too dumb and stuff, link to the form is on my profile.