Patrick Donegal- District Four male
I could not express how wrong it was that Shane looked like our father. He acted the same as he always had when he was around me. We were two normal brothers doing normal brother stuff. But anyone walking past us in the hall would assume we were father and son.
"People definitely think you're my dad," I said to him as we played a friendly game of cards.
"I know. So weird," he said.
"You find a lady yet?" I asked.
Shane's cheeks flushed. "I'm just waiting for the right one."
"It's been like twenty years," I said. "Maybe lower your standards?"
"Maybe when I grow up." Shane's smile was soft and grizzled.
"This might be the last time, you know." Tributes kept thinking if they died they'd have another chance. There were some faces in my last Games that weren't here this time. Time marches on and memories fade, even of the most beloved Tribute. Neither of us knew if there would be another week.
"Tell the truth, I still think of you as dead," Shane confessed. "Each time we're together again I think of it as a peek into heaven. And if you ever do win, then I'll think of you as back from the dead.
I didn't know what to say. It isn't every day someone tells you that being with you is like a piece of heaven.
Troy Cahill- District Two male
In a way, it was the ideal Career life. We all saw washed-up Victors who did nothing but talk about their glory days and jealously watch mentees live the life they left behind. The Tributes who got cycled into the Resurrection Games never left. We never grew old. We just kept doing what a Career was made to do. I would have been happy to win, but I didn't mind the life I had.
It was strange to be without my friends, though. I'd made a lot of connections in my time as a Resurrection Tribute. Jay, Zach, Logan, and so many more… but they weren't Careers. In a few years there would be another Games with all of them and with me the only one missing. I could only look forward to the next integrated Resurrection Games and hope we were all still favored. Or maybe one of us would be missing, having finally made it big.
Me being me, I quickly made a new friend. Patrick was a cool guy and dumb in the same ways I was, which was a golden recipe for friendship. And we both had connections to the Games, which gave us something to talk about. My mother was still back in Two training Academy students. Patrick was getting mentored by his brother, which had to be embarrassing.
"So, two allies against alliances with twelve-plus members," I said. "I like those odds."
"But none of those alliances have us," Patrick said.
"Yeah, and they've all died before. Bunch of losers," I said.
Alsace Cartier- District One male
I didn't want to talk about my last trip into the Games. I told Lyon I died in a quagmire. He could watch the tape if he wanted more.
In an irony at once excruciating and hilarious to me, I was in a Careers Resurrection Games that also included five Tributes from non-Career Districts, including one from Seven. I had seen Koa once during the parade and once again in the training room. I had never spoken to him, nor did I often think of him. I planned to have nothing to do with Koa and I wished him a good life.
"We're not going to be able to go into the Bloodbath," Lyon mused aloud.
"No, that's a no-go," I agreed. Two Tributes charging into a thronging madhouse of nearly a gross of Careers including two warring armies would not fare well. We were going to have to attack in the other direction. A tactical retreat, if you will.
"In that case, we should focus on survival stuff. It's embarrassing, but we're going to have to live off the land," Lyon said.
"I'll learn to fish," I said.
"I'll learn to trap," Lyon said.
"I'll learn to make fire," I said.
"I'll learn to make shelter," Lyon said.
"Who wants to learn to tie knots?" I asked.
Lyon paused. "Arm wrestle for it?"
Lyon Cartier- District One male
It was a philosopher's dream. I'd been to death and back. I'd seen the other side of that final question. I didn't have any answers to give, though. I didn't remember being dead. That in itself was something of an answer, though. It implied either 1. clones weren't really the original person or 2. There was nothing after death. I knew which one I hoped was true and it was hardly less terrifying than the alternative.
What if it is true? What if I really wasn't the original Lyon? Empirically, it didn't matter. I looked the same, thought the same, and acted the same. Pragmatically, an exact copy was equivalent to an original. I'd always wondered why people did so many tests to determine if a work of art was a forgery. If they couldn't tell with their own eyes, the copy was obviously just as well-made as the original. It was the same with me. I had all of Lyon's memories and would make the same decisions he would have made. I could declare myself the original Lyon or call myself a new person and claim independence. Either way I'd be doing whatever the original Lyon would have done.
Even the original Lyon wasn't the original Lyon. Bodies grow and change every minute. Every seven years we grow an entirely new set of cells. There's an old question about how many pieces of a ship you can replace before it's not the same ship. Most people draw the line somewhere, but they don't do the same for a human. Nothing at all of the parts that made me up was the same as what I was born with. Only my soul, if that was real. It was my soul that hadn't made the jump to my new body, if anything hadn't. Which brought the question of whether clones didn't have souls or if souls could be artificially created...
Daisy Stem- District Four female
I'd done my makeup plenty of times, but not like Unique could do it. She was from One. They knew everything about beauty. I sat still as she brushed powder onto my eyelids.
"For things you want to look bigger you use darker products. To make things look smaller you use lighter products," Unique said. I'd given her a fishing lesson earlier and now she was giving me a makeup lesson. She knew things other than makeup. I just really wanted to do makeovers.
"Let's do Capitol style makeup," I said. "Then we can dress as Capitolites and sneak around the building acting fancy."
No one would even have recognized us. I had ombre circles drawn around my eyes and my skin had so much bronzer it almost reflected the lights. Unique had an eye-catching evening look of blues and blacks. We paid a visit to her stylist, who was very excited to help us pick out the most audacious of outfits. I wore a hot pink dress made entirely of feathers and Unique had a two-piece ensemble of indigo fringe.
"I'm a feather duster and you're a mop," I commented as we swept incognito through the shopping center.
"I'm a fabulous Capitolite," Unique said in a Capitol accent.
"Charmed, I'm sure. Chaaaarmed," I said.
"It's too bad I died but I'm glad I met you," Unique said.
"It's too bad you have a gross stalker but I'm glad I met you," I said.
Unique Diore- District One female
Coprolitus kept a hand on my arm to anchor me from running away. Try as I might to stay away from him, he had connections, and I'd been roped into appearing at the Capitolite soiree held for potential patrons to select Tributes to sponsor.
When the evening was done, Coprolitus followed me to my room.
"Well, I think I'll turn in," I said. I tried to shut the door behind me and he wedged himself through to get inside.
"I was thinking we could have an afterparty. Just the two of us." The smell of alcohol made him even more odious than usual as he leered at me.
"At least let me put on something more comfortable," I said with a most unenthusiastic face.
"Where's my smile?" Coprolitus called after me as I headed for my wardrobe. "I'm sure I can put one on your face."
While my back was to Coprolitus I fished out the bottle I'd shoved down my dress. Leaning into the wardrobe and hidden by the open door, I took a swallow of the clear liquid.
This stuff works fast. I ran for the bathroom and barely made it before food started spewing out of me.
"What's wrong?" Coprolitus asked as he pounded on the door.
"Sorry," I said. "Something I ate must have disagreed with me."
"I'm sure it will clear up in a few minutes," he said.
I looked at the nearly full bottle. No, I think it might last all night...
Shoutout to all my homies whose parents told them if someone tried to kidnap them they should throw up.