Saros Stargazer Pt. 2
People rush around everywhere. The air is stiflingly hot. It feels like the room is drowning in human body heat.
Saros watched the confusion with his small, darting eyes. His hand absentmindedly strokes his freshly shaved face.
A makeup artist hurries over. "Don't touch your face," She chides and applies more powder to the 15 layers that are already on Saros' face.
"On air in 2 minutes." A voice calls from somewhere and the room descends into chaos.
Saros shuts his eyes, dreaming of his quiet study, of his girls' faces. He had hardly seen them since they got here. He missed them.
A fashionable man sits in the seat across from Saros. He glances up with a look of disdain and almost regret before looking at his papers again. Someone comes and fiddles with Saros' microphone, but he is lost to the rest of the world. All he wanted was to be at home. Suddenly, he was blinded by lights and the room was quiet. Someone counted down and the man across from Saros perked up.
CH: Hello, this is Charles Hensen, and welcome to today's special coverage of the Hunger Games: Pregame Rush. Today I have with me our arena specialist Saros Stargazer. How are you Mr. Stargazer?"
SS: Quite well. And you?
CH: I'm doing very well, that you sir.
CH: Now, Mr. Stargazer, can you tell us what you specialize in?
SS: Well, I'm a meteorologist. A weather specialist. I work to help predict the forecasts for the people of Panem.
The notes that Saros had memorized beforehand flashed through his mind. He could feel sweat forming in all the wrong places. His mike felt like it was falling off. He wanted this to be over.
CH: That's wonderful Mr. Stargazer. And, although you can't tell us about the arena, maybe we can guess that it has something to do with, well, the weather?
Saros snorted.
SS: You'd have to pretty dumb not to guess that by now.
Laughter filled the recording studio. Saros tried not to roll his eyes.
CH: Mr. Stargazer, what prompted you to be a meteorologist?
SS: Well, my love for the rain. Everyone seems to hate it, but I've always been fascinated with it. I decided to study the weather when I was about 10 years old.
CH: From such a young age. You really are extraordinary Mr. Stargazer.
Saros wondered if anyone else could hear the fakeness in his voice.
SS: Yes. I married another meteorologist when I was 27 and we had twin girls, both of which are more concerned with boys than they are about the forecast."
More fake laughing.
CH: :laughing: Well Mr. Stargazer, for how little you talk, you are quite humorous.
SS: Some people refer to me as a ray of sunshine.
Fake laughter.
SS: That, or I'm considered a raincloud, gray and melancholy.
Laughter. Were his ears bleeding? Could people see how fake this was? Sars was being himself, but he was probably the only genuine thing the people of Panem had ever seen on tv before.
CH: Mr. Stargazer, let us get back to the Hunger Games. How did you feel being the one that the Capital picked for the job of Arena Specialist?
SS: First, I was horrified. No one ever told me that I was of any interest. I was horrified to think that anyone wanted anything to do with me. Especially that red-eyed man. Then, I was flattered, of course. I could not be happier. My girls are getting the experience of a lifetime while I get to do what I've always dreamed of, create weather.
CH: How very interesting Mr. Stargazer. Please elaborate.
SS: What I can say is that it is my job to create weather conditions in the arena. That is all that I'm at liberty to say.
Saros was getting the feeling like the interviewer was trying to goad him into spilling a secret. He wasn't falling for it.
CH: What would you say to the tributes who are about to go into your arena, Mr. Stargazer?
Saros sighed and looked straight into the camera.
SS: Be prepared. Sometimes the best way to face your fears is to face them head-on. Anything is possible in that arena. Watch your step kids.
The interview cut off and Saros stood up quickly. He had to leave or his head might explode. His microphone fell off his shirt. People tried to stop him. Words. Voices. So many. He just wanted to be gone from here.
A young man pushed through the crowd. A guard of the president.
"Mr. Stargazer." He grabbed his wrist and pulled him through the door. No one followed into the hallway and it went very quiet.
Saros sighed heavily. "Thank you, young man." He could not be more relieved to be gone.
The man nodded and Saros glimpsed a bit of red hair. "Of course. You should go now. I can hold the Crows off for a bit."
Saros blinked. "The Crows?"
"The reporters, makeup artists, techies, fans, etc. Us guards call them the Crows."
Saros nodded. "How fitting."
The man laughed. He had a nice laugh. "You did well, Mr. Stargazer. Go get some rest."
Saros turned down the hall. He didn't think he'd ever been more relieved in his life.