By the time Emil had managed to locate Lyra in the crowd of girls, the lavender-haired lady on stage was already a ways into her spiel. Emil really had no interest in what she was saying. He just wanted to make sure that the marble-eyed Peacekeeper hadn't been lying when he told Emil, "She'll be coming right after you. We're assembling the boys first, so move." Even then, Emil would've stayed put, despite the gun pointed at his temple, if not for the look that Lyra gave him. She had looked so wearied, as if she hardly had the energy to be glaring at him like that. She didn't say a word, but her narrowed eyes spoke loud and clear.
Why are you making more trouble for me? Just go like the man told you to.
So Emil had left the ruddy little shack. He let the Peacekeepers lead him to District 12's Town Center which, while still seeming a bit shoddy and last-minute, was a great improvement on the rubble that had been there two weeks ago. A woman with pale lavender hair was standing in front of the assembling District 12 citizens, surveying them with a look of very thinly-veiled distaste. Emil was herded into a ringed-off section full of other District 12 boys, all of them somewhere between the ages of about ten to about twenty, as far as he could tell. There was another big empty ring which was soon filled with District 12 girls of similar age. As soon as all these children were present, the woman had started speaking, while Emil looked desperately for his sister amongst the crowd. He had finally spotted her about four rows from the front, standing near the edge, arms still wrapped around her stomach, eyes on her feet. There was no way he could get her attention at this distance. Reluctantly, he let his gaze shift back to the woman on the podium. She was looking much more lively than she had before she was talking.
"… which means at long last, after these years of toil, of sacrifice, of misery, and of pain, Panem's darkest days are over. At last, we are all once again reunited under the benevolent and merciful rule of our great Capitol. Already, the seeds of healing have been planted, and have sprung up in the form of these great buildings before you!" Here she paused to gesture at the Justice Building behind her, and the Town Hall adjacent to it. Emil raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure if "great" would've been the word he would use to describe the buildings, but there was no point in arguing, even in the privacy of his own mind. The Capitol used words to taint reality in whatever way they chose. It was no use arguing against that. The Capitol would just find a way to twist your arguments back at you.
"Surely, from this day forth, we will bask in the unending bounty of Panem, led onward by our illustrious President, who will lead us with infinite wisdom and power. In his deep diplomacy and caring, he has chosen to shed kindness on the Districts, and allow them all to continue living safely under the Capitol's wing. All except District 13, which in its folly and conceit, believed itself powerful enough to overtake the Capitol, only to be crushed by that magnificent city's might. Now, it has been reduced to dust. May that be a symbol to all the scum rebels who still hold despicable malice towards the Capitol in the depths of their hearts," the woman went on, looking through the crowd with a stern expression. Emil stared back at her. Frankly, it was the most he could do to stifle a laugh. He had foggy memories of speeches like this from his childhood, but it had been so long since he was subjected to them. He wasn't sure if they had always sounded this ridiculous, or if he had simply become more aware.
"One bitter truth has come to light through these cruelest of years. Despite all the blessings the Capitol has generously showered upon the Districts, there are many selfish citizens who remain unsatisfied, not realizing that they would be degraded to less than dirt if not for the Capitol's brilliant leadership. Thus, to remind the lower citizens of the invincible power of the Capitol, our beloved President has devised a new tradition for the people of Panem."
For the first time in a long while, Emil started to feel nervous. It was obvious that this is what she had been leading up to. Whatever was coming, it was the reason behind this entire assembly, perhaps even behind his imprisonment. He hit his lip, willing the butterflies in his stomach to subside.
"It is my unprecedented honor to introduce to you, the first annual Hunger Games!"
The woman raised her arms high, as if expected a frenzied round of wild applause. When she was met with silence from the crowd, she cleared her throat and hastily continued. "To remind the Districts that the many gifts they receive from the Capitol are not free; to remind the Districts of their own brutal nature which was the true cause behind this accursed rebellion; to let us all keep in our minds that while we enjoy prosperity now, it has not come without suffering; all twelve districts of Panem will participate in the Hunger Games. From each district, two tributes — one boy, one girl, each between the ages of twelve and eighteen — will be chosen at random, and sent to the arena, where they will face the other tributes in mortal combat. Twenty-four will enter. Only one will emerge victorious, bringing wealth and celebrations home to his or her native District."
A complete hush fell over the crowd of District 12 citizens as the woman's words sunk in. Emil's heart was pounding so hard he could hear the blood pulsing past his ears. His mind was racing, trying to piece all of her words together with the events of the past few weeks. Twenty-four tributes? He remembered the other children in the prison cell, the words of the rebel from District 5. But the woman said the tributes would be chosen at random. Wasn't it obvious that the Capitol already had their tributes in mind? It was inevitably going to be him. Him, and for the female tribute—
Emil went cold. He spun his head back to face where his sister was standing. To his surprise, Lyra was not looking back at him, a horrified look on her face. She was shaking her head back and forth. No, no, this isn't happening. Tell me this isn't going to happen.
The woman on stage continued, looking satisfied with the effect she had had on the crowd. "Now, without further ado, the selection of tribute!"
Two peacekeepers, each holding a massive glass bowl filled with slips of paper, appeared from somewhere behind the podium. They placed them on either side of the lavender-haired woman. She smiled out over the crowd.
"Ladies first, shall we?"
The only sound that could be heard was the woman's hand as it shuffled through the slips of paper, finally retrieving one and slinking out of the bowl. The woman unfolded it, barely glancing down at the slip before looking back out over the crowd.
"Lyra Hago!"
A buzz of whispers swept through the citizens of District 12 like a bushfire. In the fourth row of the crowd of girls, Lyra Hago collapsed to her knees, clutching her stomach and shaking all over until two Peacekeepers pulled her up by the arms and dragged her towards the podium. Someone in the crowd screamed out, "No!" in a ragged, choked voice. It took Emil an instant to realize the voice was his own.
He hardly heard the woman call his name. He staggered onto the stage, eyes fixed on his sister, who was huddled over, still shaking. He wondered if that was what he had looked like to his parents when his father had tried to shoot him. Emil wondered if, were he to have a gun right then and there, he wouldn't do the precise same thing to poor little Lyra.
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"… and for our female District 5 tribute, please put your hands together for Jonah Rouen!"
Jonah smirked a little as she approached the stage. She had never heard applause-at-gunpoint before; it was certainly peculiar. Everyone in the audience managed to bring their hands together in perfect unison, so it sounded more like a bunch of feet trudging along on a death march, than actual applause. The announcer had some more to say after this, about honor and struggle and other words of which he could never understand the true meaning. Jonah kept her eyes fixed on the crowd, trying to looking individually at each and every person looking back at her. She wanted each one of them to see that she was not afraid.
When the announcer was done, the massive screen lit up with scenes of each other district, and their respective tributes. Jonah was unsurprised to see the other children from that prison cell all make their way onto their district's stage. It made sense now — the reason that they were sent back two weeks prior. That was the illusion the Peacekeeper had meant: the illusion that these children had been home in their districts the entire time.
The illusion that these tributes were in any way random.