Donna listened, scarcely daring to believe her own ears, as the director from Six explained the new rules. For an hour after dinner, their cell doors would be unlocked, though the guards would put an end to it if it got "out of control", whatever the definition of that was. She wouldn't be able to talk to Theodosius, but at least it would be easier to hand out the cookies to everyone.

"Starting today at breakfast, so right now, you will be given four newspapers. Banned information will be blacked out, and you will return them before lights-out."

News from outside. Donna couldn't help herself, she grinned maniacally. Even if half the pages were blacked out, that would still be something. The women nearly tripped over each other queueing up for their breakfast.

"This is a sign," Grass whispered. Donna paid no attention to her, waiting eagerly for the line to move faster. When she finally reached the front, she ended up face-to-face with the cart that the guards normally brought library books in on. Now, though, there were four boxes on the top shelf. A guard took a newspaper from each one and handed them to Donna, who shoved them under her arm to leave her hands free for the tray. The small glimpse of the papers she got showed that their front pages were covered with black marker, and there was a large number '9' on all of them. There would be no using of pieces of newspaper for clandestine notes, then.

Not hanging back to talk to the others, Donna practically ran to her cell, tossed the papers onto her cot, picked up the top one, and began to read it and eat breakfast at the same time. The name of the newspaper was completely unfamiliar. She glanced at the three others on her cot, and noticed the same thing there. None of them had been around before. Donna turned back to her eggs, vegetables, tea, and The World. Several articles were completely blacked out, but there was still so much, her eyes darted around the pages, wanting to take everything in at once. Just the headlines fought for her attention so viciously, she didn't know what to focus on.

An official meeting between representatives of Panem, China, Korea, Japan, and Vladivostok to discuss matters of trade. Portugal's civil war was winding down. Terrorists had blown up a religious centre in Germany, a moderate left-wing party had won the federal elections in Yemen, and Perth was suffering from a record-breaking heatwave. Donna realized she had no idea what any of this meant. She hadn't even known there was a civil war in Portugal, though it wasn't too hard to imagine, as Europe was a hotbed of endless wars. And what even was Perth? Fortunately, the article explained that it was a city-state in southwestern Australia.

Donna shoveled breakfast into her mouth as fast as possible, eager to get some time to read before going outside. After tidying up her cell in record time, she sat down on her cot, looking through the headlines of the other three newspapers as well. They were very different. While The World seemed to be focused mainly on international news, The Daily Observer was focused on Panem and especially the Districts, The Capitol Daily was mostly about the Capitol, and The Star was, once again, mostly focused on Panem. The Observer and the Star didn't get along, that much was clear from just the headlines. The population of Twelve had surpassed pre-bombing levels due to a steady trickle of immigration, and the people who had lived there before were expressing concern about the disappearance of their culture, that much was clear. The Star agreed with them, while the Observer took a more moderate stance, pointing out that, at the end of the day, everyone who lived in Twelve identified themselves with it. Donna wondered what Alex thought of all that. Maybe she could ask him.

A local politician had made calls for self-sufficiency. While the Capitol newspaper had talked about him in relatively positive terms, the two national papers had only given him a little bit of space, and the World had an entire op-ed about the futility of self-sufficiency. How was she supposed to tell which one was right? While Donna agreed in general that self-sufficiency was an illusion, was she supposed to think that this person was insignificant, or be worried enough to want to publish an entire article against it?

Donna realized that all of the newspapers were dated in the international style. According to them, it was March 3, 2361. That would take some time getting used to, though having the day and month around was very welcome. She'd never have to worry about misdating one of her diary entries again.

"Shame they didn't give us enough time to read the papers," Donna complained to nobody in particular as they headed outside, newspapers in her jacket pocket.

"You'll have plenty of that," one of the guards commented sardonically. She was right, of course, but Donna just wanted to stay in her cell and continue reading, if only for a little while.

Outside, Theodosius practically ran towards her. "Can you believe it?" he asked. Noticing the newspapers sticking out of her pocket he added, "That's smart. I should have done that." Donna took out one of the papers and gave it to him.

"We can share," she said.

Opening the paper, Theodosius muttered an absent thank-you, focused more on who had said what in Congress. The blacked-out article on the other side of it made it hard to read, but it was possible.

Behind her, Grass was complaining to Drape and Mitman. "The only good part about that Capitol newspaper is the crossword," she said. "It's overly sensationalized." Donna had only flipped through it, so she couldn't agree or disagree. All headlines sounded slightly sensationalized to her.

"Still," Drape said, "it's nice to be able to read about normal things. Maybe I'll finally be able to speak to my family on the same level as them."

"That's true," Donna said to Theodosius. "They're gonna be so shocked when we talk about current events in the official mail!"

Theodosius looked at the paper. "You think they're keeping up with all this political stuff?" he asked, trying to read about what some Congressperson had said. Half the text was blacked out.

"I'm sure Lars is," Donna pointed out. "Also, you should put that paper down before you collide with a tree." Not noticing that there was a turn in the path, he was still walking in a straight line.

Sheepishly, Theodosius folded the paper and stuffed it in his pocket. "I guess we can always rake really fast, and then read for a while."

As they walked around the path, they discussed the news. A few of the others weren't walking at all, preferring to sit on benches and read, but Theodosius wasn't going to cut short his walks for anything. They kept on walking at their usual speed, boots squelching in the mud. The guard was right, after all, it's not like they wouldn't have the time to read their newspapers.

"It's Wolf's birthday today," Theodosius said suddenly. He leaned down to her and spoke very quietly. "Someone sent him a small bottle of whiskey yesterday through the orderly, I managed to get a glimpse." Yesterday had been their checkups. "He drank the entire thing in one gulp and didn't bat an eye." He shook his head in amazement.

Donna looked around the yard. "Is he doing the mopping today?" she asked.

"Yes."

Lowering her voice to a similarly low whisper, she said, "When he's done, I'll have to give him one of the cookies. I'll give you one, too."

"Thanks," he said. "How are you even keeping your network going?"

Donna shrugged, unwilling to be open about it. At this point, it was mostly maintaining itself. Before leaving, the sympathetic guards got someone else to step in, as they were all convinced that they were her only line to the outside world. Donna didn't even feel stressed when she didn't see one of her guards around anymore.

Fortunately, Theodosius got the hint and dropped the topic.


As Donna upended the bucket of leaves onto the compost pile, a guard collided with her.

"Sorry," Donna said, turning around to face her and doffing her cap. It was an effort to keep her face neutral when she saw who the guard was, and an even greater effort to not reach for her pocket immediately.

"It's nothing," the guard said, and walked on. Donna returned to Theodosius, wishing there was a place she could curl up in privacy and read the note. She touched her pocket with her elbow, hearing the slight crinkle of paper. On her way, she paused to wish Wolf a happy birthday and slipped a cookie into his pocket. It wasn't much of a birthday present, the thirty or so cookies in her pocket didn't even make it bulge, but hopefully he'd like it.

The older man gave her a small smile. "Thank you," he said, glancing at her pocket. "Five down, ten to go."

For him it was ten, for her - twenty, and for a few of them - zero. As Donna resumed walking, she realized she was glaring at Mitman and Novik, who were pruning a tree close by. They had less than a year left in here. Their next birthday would be their last behind bars. Donna sped up, trying to force the thoughts out of her head.

"I'm back," she told Theodosius, who was raking last year's leaves from the paths between the vegetable beds with one hand while holding a newspaper with the other.

"What did Wolf say to you?" he asked as she picked up her rake and began to work close by. "Seemed too short for a normal conversation with him." Wolf tended to tell stories from his time as a Peacekeeper any chance he got.

"Thanked me," she replied, raking half-rotten leaves into a small pile. "Said he's a third of the way through, birthday-wise."

Leaning on his rake, Theodosius stared into nothingness. "Five years is a long time," he said. "Well, not five years yet, but soon."

"Twenty percent of birthdays over and done with. Never thought I'd look forward to getting old." Donna stopped raking as well. "But are we really getting old, though?" she asked with a frown. "Not in the typical sense. We're not changing. We're not growing. We're just existing." Dr. Chu had asked Donna what she thought were the main differences between herself four years ago and herself now, and that had been the main takeaway from the conversation.

"Doesn't seem very fair, does it?" Theodosius asked. "I get the aches and pains, but none of the wisdom or experience."

Moving closer to Theodosius, Donna tried to get a glimpse of the newspaper. "Anything else interesting?" she asked.

"They're thinking of getting rid of the death penalty."

That was completely unfair. "Wait, so just because someone managed to hide for long enough they get to live?" Donna asked, gently taking the newspaper from Theodosius. She carefully read the article. "Wait, no, they're considering keeping it only for crimes against humanity. And they say this isn't revenge." She handed back the newspaper, feeling extremely disappointed.

"They're also planning to not execute minors," Theodosius pointed out.

"At least there's that." Now that was a good idea. "It's still a singling-out, though. Nobody will ever live calmly, afraid that at any moment, they could be arrested and executed." Donna paused. "Actually, that does sound good. Only fair, after all."

Theodosius took the newspaper back from her and sat down under a tree. Donna joined him. The ground was cold and unpleasantly damp. "I agree," he said. "Though I must say, it strikes me as unfair that a serial killer won't have to worry about execution, but a bureaucrat who never as much as insulted anyone will."

"Serial killers didn't keep the Hunger Games going," Donna pointed out. "There's crazy people everywhere."

Sighing, Theodosius turned the page. "You're right," he said. "Snow didn't prosper on the support of criminal elements or wide-eyed fanatics, but people like us, who dedicated all of our hard work to him."

"Dr. Chu said something similar to me." Donna confessed, shifting on the uncomfortable ground. "I had known better and still gone ahead and done it, which makes me more blameworthy than any of the others here who go on and on about how it's growing up in the regime that made them the way they were."

Theodosius met her gaze, looking at her with sadness. "I don't even understand what Dr. Chu wants from us."

"A groundbreaking paper, obviously," Donna joked. "We'll be the most famous case study ever."

"I thought that's the eyeless child," Theodosius said, playing along.

"Second most famous, then." Donna turned serious. "Does she still talk to you like she's all of the prosecutors put together?"

Looking down at the ground, Theodosius nodded. "Why is she so insistent?" he asked irritably. "I'm sick of the way she keeps on bringing up killings I first heard about during the trial. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't trade her for anything, but I just can't shake the feeling that she doesn't believe a word I say."

"I wonder what she thinks about the death penalty," Donna mused.


Propping a book on her knees, Donna took out the piece of paper, which turned out to be not a note from Dem or Livia, but an article cut out of a newspaper. Was this one of the ones which had been blacked out in the newspapers themselves? Donna quickly read the short article, disappointment at not receiving the expected note fading away at the magnitude of the news lying on her knees. The article was about the accidental unmasking of a collaborator in Five, and his subsequent arrest.

Apparently, his records had been among those destroyed during the fighting, so Dylan Powers had found it easy as anything to move to a different city (he had stayed in Five!) and start anew. Some random person from his hometown who was visiting family had identified Powers outside a grocery store, resulting in his arrest. He was now awaiting trial in Five for being a high-ranked member of the District government, accused of, among other things, of approving the lists of people the Peacekeepers were planning to execute. Powers' guards were having a hard time protecting him from angry locals.

Donna shuddered as she read the details of his arrest. She felt very lucky to have been captured by soldiers who had been warned to stay professional. Powers had been viciously beaten by several angry people who had lost family under the regime, and only the intervention of the police had saved his life.

Taking the opportunity, Donna put the article back in her pocket, got up, and pushed open her door. Usually the door locked automatically when closed, but now the guards would have to deliberately go through and lock all the doors. Donna walked over to Grass' cell and slipped inside.

It was a bit strange to be inside someone else's cell. The first thing Donna noticed was that it smelled slightly different. The photographs on the walls were also different, as were the books on the table, and the box of laundry was in a different place under the cot, but otherwise, it looked the same. Donna realized she was staring at Grass' jacket and leaned out the door. Both of the wardens were pacing around the corridor, trying to keep an eye on everyone. As soon as both weren't looking, Donna stepped back and stuffed the article and a handful of cookies under Grass' pillow.

"Thank you very much," Grass said quietly.

She was sitting at her table and writing a letter. Noticing that, Donna felt awkward again, this time for intruding. "Is this a bad time?" she asked, edging towards the door.

"Oh, no, no, not at all," Grass insisted, putting down her pen and glancing around the cell. "Did you want to ask me something?"

"Yes," Donna said, leaning against the door frame. "I just couldn't catch you alone today, and I wanted to ask you what you think of this sudden rule change."

Grass tapped her chin. "I've been doing some thinking about that. It's completely long overdue. We were never sentenced to solitary confinement, after all. It does seem rather strange, though, that they swung so far in the other direction. We could be talking about absolutely anything right now, and they'd never know."

"Clearly they're not intending for the silence rule to be followed, if they're not at the very least adding more wardens to the cell block," Donna pointed out. At all times, there were two wardens, always from different Districts, in the cell block itself, as well as two at the main entrance and one - in the chief warden's office, where they were supposed to monitor the cameras that showed if someone was approaching the prison. In reality, the office was more of a lounge for off-duty guards and wardens where they spent their time playing board games.

"True," Grass said, leaning forward in her chair with a loud creak, "but I was thinking about something else. They're always worried about alleged plots to break us out, but now they're letting us talk freely one-on-one?"

"You're saying they've got the cells bugged?" Donna asked, trying to fend off a rising panic. If that was true, that meant that she, and ten separate guards, could be severely punished at any moment.

Fortunately, Grass shook her head. "If that was so, half the guards would have been fired by now. I think they're trying to lull us into a false sense of security."

"But for what point?" Donna asked. "Also, approaching." She waved at the warden, a tall woman from Three, who shot her a suspicious look and kept walking. Once she was safely past, Donna nodded to Grass.

"We'll have to wait and see."

"I suppose we will," Donna said. "And hand those out, please," she added in a whisper before leaving the cell and heading towards Kim, who was trying to persuade Drape to read the book she was holding. Next, she went all the way down the corridor to where the other Smith was arguing with Cast. Cookies handed out, Donna went back to her cell and closed the door behind her.


"This is blatant targeting!" Grass complained the next morning. "It says a lot about their priorities that a grey bureaucrat is a bigger threat to them than a serial killer."

The article about the death penalty had made its rounds, and the response was predictable.

"Surely they won't go that far," Vartha pointed out. He, Donna, and Theodosius were carrying a sack of fertilizer to the future potato patch. Li was carrying a second one. "After all, they're becoming less and less harsh with their sentences. Even the Districts are stopping the executions."

"It still looks strange, doesn't it?" Donna pointed out. "Even the littlest cog in the machine will theoretically be in danger of execution, and only them."

Shifting the sack from one shoulder to another, Li wondered out loud if this was because of everyone who had fled.

"I don't think they'd have such a huge debate because of just Stonesmith," Donna said.

"No, not just her," Li elaborated. "Like with that story about Powers. I was talking to Grass-" when had he managed to do that? "-and she said that they're going to use this as a stick to prevent anyone from opening up about the past, so that they can all pretend it never happened. Personally, I think she's undervaluing the foreign element. If the law gets passed, it will be interesting to see how it affects relations with countries where so-called Games criminals are suspected to be."

"Probably not by much?" Vartha said hesitantly, visibly straining under the weight. "I don't know much about politics, but it doesn't seem like anything will change for them in that situation. They're in danger now, and will remain in danger."

"But what about the targeted approach?" Li pointed out. "If the world knows that we, and only we, are in danger of the noose, that says a lot about Paylor's priorities."

They reached the patch and tossed down the bags, sighing in relief. Donna stretched her back, glad to be rid of the weight. "It's nowhere near decided, though," she said. "I think it's a little bit early to speculate about anything other than motivations."

"That's an excellent point," Li said. "What sort of motivations would this Congressperson have in calling for the abolition of the death penalty?"

"Doesn't it literally say that in the article?" Theodosius asked as he tore open one of the bags. "He thinks that the state shouldn't have power over life and death of the citizens, and cites his own experiences in Ten, especially incidents when the wrong person was punished for an actual crime."

"I read a book about that a while back," Donna said. "That was one of the main arguments against. Even in the best judicial system the innocent are sometimes punished, so the idea is that someone sentenced to prison can be freed, but execution is irreversible."

Theodosius straightened up, cleaning off his hands on his jacket. "Now, don't take it the wrong way, I am most definitely not complaining about the hospitality the Districts have given us, but is it really worth it?"

"Yes," said Li.

Theodosius looked at him with a sad smile. "I suppose it is, in the end. Now, could you please scatter the fertilizer?"

"Of course." Li effortlessly heaved the sack onto his shoulders and began to walk up and down the patch. The other three stood by.

"I should not have said that," Theodosius whispered, running a hand through his hair. Donna and Vartha nodded. That was another point - was it really worth it to keep someone locked up for decades when they would die in prison anyway, especially when there was no possibility of parole. As far as Donna could tell, the sole point of that punishment was to make sure that an innocent person could have their conviction overturned and be released, which just tied into the point of whether the risk of executing an innocent person was acceptable.

Continuing that train of thought was too painful. Donna looked around the yard instead, until Vartha's voice brought her back to reality. "My lawyer says none of us will be here in five years," he said.

"My lawyer says there hasn't been any movement on that front," Donna pointed out. "I don't want to be optimistic and then have my hopes be shattered."

"No, really, she says they're seriously considering reducing sentences for good behaviour," Vartha insisted.

Theodosius chuckled bitterly. "You think they'll release us?" he asked. "Thirteen's director will have a coronary. The outer Districts will rise up all over again."

"Maybe they'll reduce Yark's sentence," Donna said. "I'm sure there are elements in society who disapprove of having someone in a borderline coma practically have the noose around her neck." Feeling oddly warm, she unzipped her jacket a quarter of the way.

"I hope they do," Li said, walking up to them. "And then I'll win all the goodies." Nobody else had agreed with Li on what Yark's fate would be, which didn't stop him from being utterly convinced that he was right. He shook out the sack and picked up the other one. Donna picked up the empty sack, wondering if it was possible to tear off chunks of the thick paper without someone noticing.

"I heard that Wreath is having some success convincing the military establishment," Vartha continued.

"The military establishment isn't deciding what to do with us," Donna said irritably. Vartha's optimism made her own feel foolish. Still, though, if Wreath was having some success, that was something. "It's a step in the right direction, at least," she conceded. "I should tell my lawyer to reach out to him."

"Same," Theodosius said. "Mine's still trying to reverse the confiscation of my bank accounts. I should tell her to focus on the big picture."

Vartha agreed. "We need to present a united front," he said.

Donna tried not to laugh, thinking about the so-called "united front" she had broken at the trial together with Theodosius.

"Don't trust them with that," Li said, turning around. "They'll break it the first second they can."

Theodosius tried to assume an impressive posture and failed. "As if the others were any less self-serving, in the end," he said. "As if Dovek didn't also try to shift the blame onto everyone else."

"Oh, don't amuse my slippers, you were the ones who broke it in the first place!"

"And?" Donna asked challengingly. "All we did was what we thought was right. And Ledge, Blatt, Grass - they also were out for just themselves." Struck with a sudden idea, she went ahead despite knowing how much it would hurt Li. "We weren't some sort of gang of professional criminals, after all, or do you agree with the prosecution there? They were the ones who were the most shocked when the united front turned out to be a sham."

Li looked like he had been punched in the face unexpectedly. He turned around and continued scattering the fertilizer. When he was done, he picked up the empty sacks and walked off without saying anything. Donna, Theodosius, and Vartha picked up their rakes and began to even out the soil.

"That was a fair point," Vartha said, "even though I disagree with your premise. At my trial, everyone was falling over themselves trying to cooperate with the prosecution, so obviously there was no solidarity to speak of, but you could have just stood firm and denied everything. Especially when it seemed likely they'd kill you all outright."

"Stood firm?" Donna asked. "Until the indictment was delivered, I thought they'd let me go like all the other engineers. How was I supposed to stand firm when confronted with those accusations?" She was fairly certain that the only engineer besides her who had actually been prosecuted was Nitza, whose sentence was ten years shorter than hers.

"And, in any case, the charges against us were substantiated," Theodosius added.

Vartha took offense to that, and proceeded to rehash the argument about responsibility for the hundredth time.


Donna wrote a small note to Livia and Dancer. Could you please keep an eye out on the debate on the death penalty? You might hear something that's not in the newspapers. She listened for the sound of bootsteps. Nothing. She put the scrap of paper on the blanket and got up to drink some water. Turning around, Donna realized the paper was missing.

Lunging towards the cot, she ran her hands over the blanket, trying to figure out where it could have gone. Had it fallen under her bed? She bent down to check. Nothing. Nearly hyperventilating, Donna shook out the blankets and looked through the books and papers on her table. Surely it couldn't have ended up there, but where, then, was it? Donna bit back tears as she glanced around the cell. Where was that stupid piece of paper?

Donna went through her pockets. Had she put it there without thinking? She practically performed a full body search of herself as she searched for the missing paper. Breath catching in her chest, Donna stood in the middle of the cell, willing herself not to break down completely. She needed to find the note, or the guards would find it first. How was this even possible? Her cell wasn't big enough to lose something in!

Despairing, Donna sat down on her cot, and saw the note lying right by her foot. She then immediately burst into tears.

What was wrong with her? Donna picked up the scrap of paper from the ground, vision blurry from the tears. She hid it in her sock and sat back against the wall, wishing she could lie down but not wanting to have a guard shout at her to get back up. Taking slow, deep breaths, Donna willed herself to calm down. In - out, in - out. Wow, she was really fragile. She stood up and paced for a while, breathing deeply.

Feeling slightly less like she was going to shatter into a million pieces at any moment, Donna sat down and picked up a book. She had decided to read One Hundred Years of Solitude solely because the title had grabbed her attention, and wasn't sure if it had been a good idea. Donna wasn't sure what she had expected, but it was probably not a strange, fantastical tale of an isolated village that jumped through time in perplexing ways. The language was quite opaque, and while the most confusing terms were footnoted, there was still plenty that she found herself scratching her head at.

Only having a little bit left, Donna dug into the book eagerly, wanting to see how it all ended. Half a chapter later, Donna was feeling much better, despite the way that the book drained her. She wasn't sure if she was missing something or if the book was supposed to be so confusing. The final sentence, though, hit her like a punch to the chest. Donna found herself crying all over again as she read the last few words, over and over. Then, she flipped back to the first page and began to reread the book all over again, this time with a very different perspective on the isolated town of Macondo and its strange inhabitants.


Li ended up not talking to her for a week, until Donna gave him a large bun her daughter had had smuggled in.

"Are you sure it hasn't gone bad yet?" he joked.

"The orderly literally took it out of a bag lined with ice packs."

Patting his pocket, Li smiled. "I can feel that it's still cold. How's that book you were reading?"

"Oh, I finished it days ago."

"Would you recommend it?"

"No," Donna said, searching for a good way to phrase it. "I don't think you'll like the opaque prose."

Li nodded. "That's a shame. Thank you for the bun, by the way," he said in a whisper. He walked off towards a guard, and the two went inside the prison. Alleged bathroom breaks were an excellent time to consume something forbidden.


[A/N: The last sentence of One Hundred Years of Solitude is "Before reaching the final line, however, he had already understood that he would never leave that room, for it was foreseen that the city of mirrors (or mirages) would be wiped out by the wind and exiled from the memory of men at the precise moment when Aureliano Babilonia would finish deciphering the parchments, and that everything written on them was unrepeatable since time immemorial and forever more, because races condemned to one hundred years of solitude did not have a second opportunity on earth." You can imagine how Donna interprets that last part.]