Clove is a trained killer on the eve of the battle. Katniss is just trying to survive. What do these girls have in common that will change their destinies?
Katniss and Clove: Chapter One
There are two lists; the master list and the working list. I keep the working list close, in the forefront of my mind - reciting three or four high priority items to keep me on track. As I complete tasks they are automatically deleted from the working list and new items from the master list are transferred, and become part of my updated mantra. The working list keeps me busy and the master list keeps me focussed, I am always operating. Even my rest periods are functional, necessary recovery for mind and muscles to maintain optimal condition.
That is not the way in which I resemble a machine, I have been bred for this. Trained psychologically and physically, since I could walk, for the task that will soon be at hand. Many think it starts when glass tubes deliver us to the arena, the counting clock ticks down and we are released from our podiums like tightly wound springs. Some think it starts when we arrive publically by horse drawn chariot to the waiting public in outfits designed to link us permanently to our district. A few of may think it begins with having our name drawn out of the enormous glass fishbowl - or at the moment someone volunteers.
But I know the truth, it began before I could walk. I do not mean to imply that I have always been guaranteed a place in the arena, although I have been trained, and I have lived as though it had. What is the alternative? Children like me are sacrificed for the glory and honour of their district and the Capitol. Our families deliver us up or the powers that be remove us, as required. We earn the privilege of our existence by training, those children who are sickly, show no aptitude or sustain an injury are euthanized.
The rest of us press on as though we have nothing to lose - and in truth, we do not. I have learned to live in the day, forgetting the past and disregarding the future. Each day when I wake, I create a list of things to do; there was always daily physical training, learning specialised skills and participating in education. Occasionally there are assessments, medical or other appointments to attend.
I recite the items throughout the morning and when physical training is complete, I move on to the next task, reciting a shorter list. Each night I recognise that I have survived another day, I mentally wipe the slate clean and prepare a new list for the following day. Not new per se, it rarely deviates.
'Survived another day', perhaps a negligible concept, considering I have nothing else to live for, but even when one has nothing - one has life. People are strangely attached to life, they live as though they don't mind whether they live or die but close your fingers around their throat and squeeze - they will suddenly decide they do care after all.
And you are right - I have nothing to live for, now, but like all candidates I dream of a day where I may. They dream of winning, of having enough food, a safe home, wealth and glory. I do not. I dream of a day when I might wake with an empty mind, no list already compiled before I draw my first breath. To be free to decide whether I would like to do something or nothing at all and the opportunity to change my mind.
Until then, I can only continue to move through the activities as dictated by the list. Today I rise silently from the bed early, independent of other candidates, and begin my normal yoga routine. The others prefer to concentrate their efforts on activities likely to produce obvious, measurable results - strength and speed based training. I don't know that they are wrong.