There's no need for you to come forward on your own. If Lisiewska digs you up then he digs you up, but there's no need to contact him. Donna had decided to not come forward yet. According to Livia, Conrad Lisiewka was planning to write a group biography of various on-location managers and engineers. She wasn't sure yet how much emphasis would be placed on Donna's role.
Donna wondered if it would even be a good idea to release anything at all. If Lisiewska found documents labelled 'Donna Blues Papers', it was likely that he'd notice that there were things missing, and the archive would be able to point him to Livia. On the other hand, personal papers were the first place a historian would look when writing about a person. Finding nothing would just make him switch gears and start looking for people to interview.
Release the harmless stuff as instructed and keep the rest for later. If pressed, refuse to speak to him. You are not legally obligated to talk to historians.
This would have to do for now. Donna sighed and hid the paper, feeling utterly exhausted. Trying to manage the situation with the historian and the papers through notes to Livia was an ordeal. It was easy to say that she did not want attention, but anything she could think of could lead to an explosion in this climate. That morning, news of another hate crime had been splashed over the front page of the Capitol Daily. A guest worker had been assaulted in broad daylight.
Donna wondered how long this could go on for before it exploded. They had already started speculating on how it could happen. Riots? Strikes? Trying to analyze the situation from four newspapers and whatever scraps of news the guards shared or smuggled in for them was nearly impossible, but they still did it. She picked up a piece of paper from her table and wondered if she should discuss it with Dad or if it would be too upsetting for him, especially with the way everyone was moving out of the house at the same time.
Under 'Ask about Aulus' plans', she tentatively wrote 'the news'. She could prompt him and see how he reacted, and then go from there. At the top, she added 'Livia'. Her parents knew nothing of her correspondence other than the fact that she sent in clandestine letters for them from time to time, but if something truly major was happening around the papers, they would have found out.
"How's it going?" Donna asked. "Is everything fine with the moveout?"
Dad shrugged. "It's fine. Too quiet for my liking, but fine." Besides him and Mom, only Octavius remained in the house, aside from Inky, of course. Cass and Marcus lived with Cynthia now, and everyone else had their own place, in one way or another. Mom and Dad couldn't have been happy with the fact that everyone preferred to live with four roommates than with them.
"How's the volunteering going?"
Dad launched into a lengthy monologue about how the blood donation rules had been relaxed slightly, resulting in queues of teenagers who really wanted the free snacks and little awards. "Some of them even wear weights under their clothing to make their body mass index high enough," he said, shaking his head.
"It's nice that they want to be helpful." Donna remembered how, in her university days, the campus had been plastered with posters calling on students to donate blood, bone marrow, and organs, claiming it was their patriotic duty. Even something as selfless and personal as giving your kidney to a stranger had been turned into a badge of loyalty to the regime. "At least they're doing something that will be good for others."
Dad chuckled. "Good for others, yes. But now we've got teens getting in trouble because the police sees them staggering home and thinks they're on something, when in reality, their blood pressure is too low. It's somehow become a fad in the neighbourhood. Everyone who's cool has a little pin on their jacket."
Donna wished she could go see it for herself. She tried to picture the blood donation centre, with suspiciously skinny teenagers lying on cots and Dad walking around offering snacks and handing out pins. "What are the pins like?" she asked, trying to make her mental image more detailed.
"Here's mine," Dad said, taking out his keys from his pocket. From the keychain dangled an enamel pin in the shape of a small drop of blood with the number '30' on it. "That's for whole blood. There's ones for one donation, three, five, and then it goes up by fives until fifty. After that, it goes up by tens. Your mom has a similar one."
That seemed like a very smart incentive system, even if it was hard to turn something that could happen three of four times a year at the absolute maximum into a game. Donna did a quick mental calculation. It would take a woman thirty years to get to a hundred whole blood donations. In twenty-five years, she would be able to give seventy-five to eighty or so, depending on how much she pushed it. "If I had been allowed to donate blood in here," she remarked, "I would have been able to leave this place with more than twice that."
Dad smiled sadly. "Maybe once you get out, you could start donating. I think we have your old donor card lying around. I remember you used to donate regularly when you were younger."
That had been decades ago. "Well, it was my patriotic duty," Donna said awkwardly. "But then I was pregnant or nursing half the time, so I had to stop." She glanced down at her list, wondering where to take the conversation from there. "And how's the community centre going?"
For the next five minutes, Donna had to sit and nod along as Dad described in detail the academic and personal successes of what felt like every teenager in the neighbourhood. She glanced at the clock, waiting for him to slow down so that she could get a word in.
"How's Livia?"
Dad paused, looking at her with raised eyebrows. "Everything's fine. Did something happen?"
Donna shook her head. "No. Just wondering. How's Mom? And everyone else? Especially Aulus."
"Your mother is fine," Dad said, relaxing slightly. "That husband of yours is also doing fine, as is Alex. So are Donna, Daeho, and Sooyen." He sighed, hunching over slightly before straightening out again, and Donna began to worry. "Lars and Primus are getting married next year."
The first thing that went through Donna's mind was irritation that they wouldn't wait for them to be released. "That's great!" she said. "I look forward to seeing the photos." She remembered that the two of them hadn't gotten along as children. How things had changed over the years. "When's the wedding?"
"As soon as Lars finishes his residency." He smiled. "Impossible to believe, isn't it? I remember how they wouldn't speak to each other for months when they were little." Donna didn't, though. All she had to go off of were letters. She only knew what Primus looked like because Theodosius had shown the photos to her. "Oh, don't look so gloomy!" Dad said, trying to cheer her up. "I'm sure you'll be out just in time for Aulus' wedding."
That was not what the issue was, but Donna did not recall Aulus having ever been in a relationship serious enough to be worthy of mention in the letters. "Why is Aulus getting married?" she asked.
"It's looking like he will at some point. He broke up with his girlfriend of two years a few weeks ago." That made marriage even less likely; Donna waited for Dad to explain his logic. "Now he's dating around again. Keeps on dragging people in to meet us for dinner, each one worse than the previous. The last one broke up with him because he said his parents would force him to choose between them and Aulus." Donna wondered if that was because of her or because of the neighbourhood they lived in. Given the sort of people her son spent his time with, though, she had an unpleasant suspicion it was the former. "I'm beginning to think that torturing us with conversations about affordable housing and equitable hiring practices is a test he puts prospective significant others through."
"Why not take them to meet Dem?" Donna asked, confused.
Dad shrugged. "Maybe he wants them to meet a real revanchist?" He chuckled quietly. "That husband of yours is the next stage, for those who didn't run away after meeting your mother and I." He exaggerated, of course. Mom and Dad were no revanchists - back in the day, they had been among those who had disapproved silently.
"And what about the political climate?"
"It makes it all worse, if that's what you're asking. I've had Aulus' dates try to pick a fight with me and be shocked when I agreed with them. I don't know who they expected, but it certainly wasn't your mother and I."
Donna knew who they expected. Someone who could have raised a person sentenced to twenty-five years in prison for crimes against humanity. "How did he react?" she asked, wondering why Aulus was doing such a thing and whom he was testing. Maybe he wanted to see if his dates were capable of being civil with his grandparents. Or maybe it was the other way around.
"I don't know." Dad placed his hands on the table. "He just sits there, calm as anything. A true lawyer."
"Not yet." Aulus was finishing up his final year of law school. "And how is that going?"
"Studying hard." Dad smiled. "Wants to work in workers' compensation." Donna imagined him representing workers suing one of her old colleagues.
"I'm not surprised," she said. "And the others?"
"I haven't heard from Laelia in a while. Octavius is doing well. At least someone isn't running away from us."
His tone made Donna feel ashamed of her absence, and it hadn't even been her choice. "I wish I could be there," she said.
Dad smiled. "I remember someone working round the clock to pay for a tiny apartment."
"Well, now that you're not arguing with Alex round the clock, I'm sure it's much nicer," Donna fired back, and immediately regretted it. She took a deep breath, wondering why she even bothered with these visits. "Is anything interesting happening?" she asked.
After the visit, it was lunchtime. Donna's mood slowly improved as she ate the beans and rice, canned fruit, and bread with peanut butter. The tea, too, was good. She sipped it and wondered what to say to the others about the visit. Of course, Theodosius would need to be alerted about the fact that he would now have her as a sister. For some reason, the thought made her smile.
"I guess I really do like him," Donna told the lightbulb. She didn't bother trying to smooth out her face. She had precious little to smile about usually, so every chance to do so had to be savoured. With her fingertips, she touched her face, trying to feel what a real smile felt. Not a little smile of amusement, but a real happy smile. She savoured the feeling.
Congratulations on gaining another older brother, the lightbulb joked.
Donna realized that Theodosius was nearly two months older than her. While at their age, even the two years that separated her and Alex were laughable, older siblings did not let go of their lofty title easily. "As long as he doesn't try to ruffle my hair, we should be good." She wouldn't even be able to get revenge, as Theodosius didn't have anything to brag about in the hair department.
The lightbulb laughed, and Donna wondered what it meant for their two families to be related by marriage. Dem and Cynthia had always been like siblings, and her parents had treated Theodosius' children like their own grandchildren. Still, though, this would make it formal. And the thought of Lars being a family man was downright surreal. Wasn't her oldest son an overachieving teenager who only tolerated failure in himself when it came to soccer? Donna stood up and walked towards the photographs tacked to her wall. In one of them, a young man laughed as he held a soccer ball. Lars looked so much like a young Dem, it was almost painful.
When they went outside, Donna stayed quiet, trying to think of the best way to break the news to Theodosius. She hoped he hadn't already found out and was waiting to tell her. As they watered the meadow from watering cans, Vartha looked between the two of them suspiciously.
"Alright," he said eventually. "What did your father say during the visit?"
Donna took a deep breath and put down her can, facing Vartha. "You can congratulate us," she said, gesturing at herself and Theodosius. Her heart hammered away madly. "In a year, we will be siblings by marriage."
Theodosius dropped his watering can. "They're engaged," he whispered. Donna nodded, and a smile broke over his face. "That's great!"
"Congratulations," Vartha said warmly. "But isn't a sibling-in-law your spouse's sibling? I'm not sure what the word is for the parent of your child's spouse."
"Close enough," Donna said with a shrug.
Theodosius ran a hand through his hair, knocking his cap askew. "My son's getting married," he told the watering can. "This is crazy. I don't feel old enough to be a grandfather."
"My granddaughter is in grade three," Donna reminded him, "and we're the same age." They were both fifty-six years old.
Vartha looked back down at the multicoloured grasses by his feet. "A pity they won't wait for you," he said.
"They're twenty-eight, they're not going to wait seven more years," Donna pointed out.
"That's true," Vartha conceded. "And he's only your second. You'll still get to be present at the majority of weddings." His youngest daughter was deliberately prolonging her engagement by years so that her father could at least be present at one ceremony.
That didn't improve Donna's mood, but Theodosius seemed mollified. He ran his hand through his hair before adjusting his cap. "I guess I'll be your big brother, then," he told Donna.
"That position is already taken. Besides, we're the same age!"
Theodosius shook his head, smiling. "I'm still older than you."
Donna threw her hands in the air. "You're already acting like one," she said in an exasperated tone. She should have known that Theodosius could act as immature as Alex when he wanted to. "I shudder to think of what will happen when you and Alex meet." Most likely, such a meeting would involve a swap of embarrassing stories about her.
"You think that'll be allowed?" Vartha asked, sounding unsure.
"Why not? They let her son-in-law visit," Theodosius pointed out.
"But my brother is already on my list," Donna explained the issue. "They might easily say that a visitor can only visit one inmate." She picked up her watering can and resumed watering. Her arms and legs still felt rubbery, and shook slightly. Donna hoped they wouldn't notice it.
"I hope not." Theodosius picked up his can from the ground and checked how much water remained inside. "I'd love to meet my future son-in-law."
"Same," Donna said. "On the other hand, though, at least we already know of each other. It's not like with Daeho, where they write me a paragraph once in a blue moon."
Vartha nodded. "And you don't even have to worry about the in-laws." He paused, tilting the can back up and putting it on the ground. "What do you think the press will say?" he asked.
That was one of the last items on Donna's list of fears. "The conventional press? Nothing. The far-left press? I seem to recall someone's son being a journalist for one of those newspapers. They might raise a fuss, but nobody listens to them."
"I still can't believe it," Theodosius said, shaking his head. "My son supports an ideology that supports my continued imprisonment."
"That's not exactly accurate. Plenty of people just want for us to be treated the same way as anyone else," Donna pointed out. Her son was among those people. "And doing so would mean the immediate closure of the prison."
"Yes," Vartha said, "but if you plot the voices in support of our continued incarceration on a political spectrum, they would cluster on the far left. In the Capitol, that is." In the Districts, wanting to have the lifers remain behind bars to their dying day was a non-partisan issue. Vartha picked his can back up, standing with it in his hand. "In any case, I wonder if they'll invite any of the others to the wedding. I know my kids are close with the other kids they met during visitation hours back in Lodgepole."
Donna doubted that. "Even our eldest were the youngest there by five years, at least. And I doubt they've had opportunities to get to know each other since then." Thinking about guests made her think of Livia, which made her think about the papers. The situation would have to be defused before it, as the slightest amount of attention could cause a catastrophe. Donna wished she had somebody to talk to, other than the lightbulb. Even after months of thinking, she couldn't make up her mind one way or the other, doubtlessly frustrating Livia to no end.
The dream started out normal. In it, she and Dem were strolling down a street, hand in hand. They passed through a park and past familiar-looking buildings. Suddenly, Dem took out a large sheet of paper from somewhere and handed it to her. Donna read it. It was a list of her colleagues who had been arrested. Suddenly, the realization hit her that all of them belonged to a certain category, to which Donna also belonged. Donna knew that she was next, and there was nothing she could do about it. She looked up to see Dem looking at her sympathetically. Then, she woke up.
"What was that?" she whispered, rolling over to look out the window. It was morning already, but still quite early. Her heart was beating madly, and she had a sense of impending doom. She hoped she wasn't having a heart attack. Donna stretched and sat up, taking deep breaths and feeling miserable and anxious.
At least this, she'd be able to talk to Dr. Chu about. Donna tried to untangle her feelings as she shook out stiff joints, still partially under the blanket. She wondered what the dream meant. Was it a reflection of her emotions or a distortion of an episode she had read about before? Donna shied away from accepting the answer, as it was humiliating to admit even to herself, but in the privacy of her own head, she eventually let herself think it.
She had just had a nightmare where she had been on the losing side of an intrigue back then.
Even to think it seemed wrong, almost insulting, but there was no getting around the fact. Donna raised a hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat. It had slowed down, but the anxiety hadn't gone anywhere. It was as if the emotions from the dream had leaked into her waking state.
"Maybe that's what happened," she said.
Remember how you were an intern and one of your fellows disappeared? the lightbulb asked. Now you know the slightest fraction of what it felt like to have been in his group.
"What do I have to do with anything?" she hissed. "I wasn't the one kidnapping him. You think I didn't feel worried when my colleague stopped showing up one morning?"
But did you feel like you do now? The anxiety, the terror?
"No," Donna had to admit.
And this was a mere dream, a creation of your own brain. Think about that.
Donna wasn't sure what the lightbulb wanted from her. She then kicked herself mentally for thinking that way. The lightbulb's words were her own words, she just associated them with the lightbulb because she couldn't bring herself to admit to herself that this was how she also thought sometimes. Paradoxically, it made the words easier to say, but also easier to reject, since they appeared to be coming from something else.
How Dr. Chu hadn't gone insane yet from talking to her every week was a mystery. Donna tried to think of what she'd say to her the next time the psychologist visited, but it all felt weak. To say that she had had a nightmare and now knew what it had been like to be a victim back then - that would be an insult to Dr. Chu.
What had even brought on the dream? She hadn't read any memoirs lately, and neither had they talked about the past differently than usual. Donna crawled out of bed and went about her morning routine, trying to shake off the anxiety and depression. She felt like there was a huge rock in the pit of her stomach, pressing down on her.
The feeling didn't go away as the morning went on. When it was time to hand back the trays, Grass immediately noticed something was wrong. "You don't look too good," she said.
"Slept badly," Donna replied vaguely.
Hope snorted. "Maybe a sentry tried to shoot a ghost again."
"No," Blatt said as she leaned out the door, "the guard snored. I heard it, too." She shot a sympathetic glance at Donna. The two seldom got along, but complaining about snoring guards was one of the few things that united them.
Thus armed with an excuse, Donna was able to clean up and read the newspapers without having to be honest about her feelings. There wasn't anything of particular importance going on in the world, though closer to home, the malapropist-in-chief had announced that she wasn't going to run for president. This was happening on the heels of a conference where she had announced to a gathering of foreign ministers and other representatives from all over North America that 'Panem is a continent'. Even the generally supportive The Star asked why a slip of the tongue could have such an effect when the hanging of a banner in a Capitol town saying 'Free of District trash' had caused only vague platitudes.
Donna wondered what the point of everything had been when they had just ended up with anti-District sentiments all over again. It was as if amnesia was giving way to full-blown revanchism. Most of these people weren't actual Snow apologists and probably couldn't have named even one of the Supermaxers, but they still hated the Districts and claimed they longed for a return of the good old days. Donna had no idea how to separate the truly ideological revanchists from those who simply thought that smoked sausage had been cheaper back in the day, or if there was a difference between the two at all.
When Dr. Chu walked into her cell, Donna sighed with relief. She had spent the past two days thinking about the nightmare, unable to share it with Theodosius because they had never been alone that entire time.
"How was the week?" the psychologist asked, handing her a ball.
Donna immediately began to describe the nightmare, watching Dr. Chu's face carefully. It remained as calm as ever.
"Interesting," Dr. Chu said once she was done. "What do you think it means?"
"It means that I read too many memoirs," Donna muttered as she kneaded the ball. "Or maybe that a part of my brain wants to associate with the victims. Or nothing at all."
Dr. Chu shook her head. "If it meant nothing, would you be so anxious to discuss it with me?"
"No," Donna conceded. She flattened the ball between her palms. "I've heard about people having nightmares after reading history books, but never people like me."
"What do you mean by that?"
Donna leaned back against the wall, bringing her knees to her chest. "What do you think? Since when do criminals have nightmares about their crimes where they are the victim?" Just saying it out loud was bad enough, and Donna winced.
Dr. Chu tapped her pen on her clipboard. "You think you dreamt about your crimes?"
"No. I was speaking generally." She rolled the ball on her knee. "I think I used the wrong phrasing there. Most Capitolians older than thirty could have a dream like that, and it would make just as little sense. For me, though, it's worse because of my other actions." Donna could tell that this session would be one of the past-centric ones. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be alert.
"You had never been in danger of a politically-motivated arrest?"
Donna shook her head. "With my high position, of course there was the constant risk of power plays and intrigue. But since I always managed to succeed, I think it's absurd to stay in that intern mentality and talk about how scared I was when my boss was arrested." Self-pityingly, she added, "In hindsight, though, I wish I hadn't been so successful."
"You wish you hadn't been so successful?" Dr. Chu flipped through her clipboard, eventually stopping at almost the very end.
Kneading the ball with her thumbs, Donna tried to think of a good answer, but couldn't. "Had I been a hair less successful in that internship, I'd still be building bridges and sewers, not sitting here unable to as much as go to my son's wedding." She was sure it sounded stupid and selfish to Dr. Chu, but she couldn't think of a better way to phrase it.
"You wish you hadn't been hired for the Games?" The psychologist's pen hovered over the paper. Donna stretched and kneaded the ball, avoiding looking at her.
"Had I made different choices, I wouldn't have been myself," Donna explained. "And I don't like the idea of not being myself." She stared at her hands as they squeezed the ball over and over. "But it would have been better for everyone had I not been myself."
Dr. Chu wrote that down. "You don't think that someone else would have simply done your job?"
"They would have done it," Donna said with a nod. "Not I." She paused to wipe tears from her eyes. She had just directly admitted that her present circumstances were her own fault, and the realization stung. "Are we allowed to receive visitors who are on someone else's visiting list?" she asked in a thick voice.
The psychologist smiled. "Indeed you are. By the way, congratulations on your son's engagement. I'm sure you and Theodosius are very proud, as are your spouses."
Donna coughed several times to clear her throat. She was surprised that the psychologist let it go so easily, but perhaps she was content with what she already had. "Theodosius is very happy to have a baby sister." She pressed her thumbs into the centre of the ball. "Alex is doubly happy to have two siblings he can tease now."
Dr. Chu laughed. "One would think that, at our age, our siblings would be capable of showing maturity."
"Alex and maturity are like a Venn diagram made of two circles that don't touch."
Dr. Chu laughed again and wrote something down. Donna took a deep, rattling breath and sat up straighter, thinking about what she had just said. It still felt wrong to her to say that she wished she hadn't been herself, but not doing so felt like an insult. She remembered the fear she had felt in that dream, and shuddered. Maybe her subconscious had taken Dr. Chu's words to heart.
Tell the archives you have no intention of releasing anything before I get out, Donna wrote, hoping Livia hadn't already started the process. All of the truly important things are already in there, after all. No need to do anything in this political climate. Is Lisiewska aware of the papers you have?
Donna decided to put an end to that back-and-forth. Trying to figure out if a document was benign or not from inside a prison cell was too difficult, and she was in no mood to be honest.
Have you lost your mind? I did as you asked, of course, but Rafi had a hell of a time trying to think of an excuse that wouldn't raise suspicions. Lisiewska was and remains unaware, so I'm sure you'll be thrilled about that. Why are you going back-and-forth like this? Do you not understand how much effort it costs me to deal with all your nonsense on top of my job? And Rafi's not your secretary anymore, for you to toss out demands and expect they will be fulfilled tomorrow. If not for our old friendship, I'd have given up on this long ago. Think about that next time you want us to turn on a dime and work round the clock. By the way, several publishers are interested, so I'm sure you're thrilled about that. I look forward to you pretending you wrote all that stuff after getting out.
Donna's first instinct was to crumple up the paper and flush it away, but it was blank on the other side, which meant that it could still be used. Instead, she reread it, trying to figure out what was going on.
The news about the publishers was excellent - she had been waiting for months to hear back from them - but it was overshadowed by the rest of the letter. Livia had never been so harsh in her messages before, and Donna wondered why she was in such a bad mood all of a sudden. If the work was too much, shouldn't they have said so back when she was sending in several pages a day for transcription? Maybe they were just tired after so many years, but then again, she wasn't enjoying any of it, either.
My only sources of news besides you are four censored newspapers and whatever the guards deem interesting enough to tell, Donna reminded her. Of course I have to change my opinion every time you report mood swings. It's the only thing I have to go off of. And we'll deal with the publishers when it comes to it.
The rest, she had no idea how to answer. Donna leaned back against the wall, wondering if maybe she had done something wrong. No matter how hard she thought, Livia just seemed completely unreasonable to her.
A/N: Donna is asking Livia to do the impossible - you can't purge an archive, even a small one, like that. The only way to get rid of all incriminating material would be to destroy everything and hope that other archives don't have copies.
The slogan 'free of District trash' is an adaptation of the German 'auslanderfrei' [free of foreigners], the 1991 un-word of the year. It came to prominence after the Hoyerswerda riots, where neo-Nazis attacked immigrants and guest workers.
Next chapter, we're going to time-travel from 1991 back to 1965.