The air was thick with tension as Wiress and Beetee approached the industrial sector of District Three. "They have no choice to strike." Beetee whispered watching workers enter the buildings with their uniforms nearly in tatters.
"Some wire, sir." A small boy about eight years old approached Beetee. His clothing was in tatters and he was covered in soot. "For a quarter."
"Is this from the scrap-heap, buddy?" Beetee asked referring to the scrap heap where parts were discarded that could not be resold in various warehouses throughout the district. The boy shook his head.
"That's guarded now." He whispered. "It's from the ground."
"I'll take -" Wiress gave the boy a quarter and a nickel. She wished she could give the child a full Panem Monetary Unit, but she did not want to draw attention to her and Beetee's victor status for the boy's safety.
"Thank you, ma'am! When I'm twelve, I'll take out tesserae and won't need to sell scraps as much!" Blinking back tears, Wiress nodded and pointed to an overhang near a factory.
"You find bolts and washers. Not hot or sharp to pick up." She instructed. As the boy pattered off, she sighed. In the three years she and Beetee had been involved in the resistance, they saw the district deteriorate rapidly. Over 80% of the reaping-aged children took out tesserae. Wages had been slashed even as the average work-week increased to 60 hours. Being victors, the Teslas took in the Victor salary, and they used it to spread it across the district as much as they could. However, they had to be careful. The Capitol wanted the district citizens to see the disparity between their standard of living and the Teslas in hopes that the citizens would comply with the Capitol to earn their way to better living conditions.
"Thank you for fixing the conveyor belt." A manager said as the Teslas toured a factory. "It doesn't rattle as much, and I don't think workers will loose hands like they used to."
"Yes, it won't have to be pulled by hand at times -" Wiress began before she grimaced looking at the bloodstains on the metal floor.
"Anything to help." Beetee finished. Going into another factory, they looked at a manager's production tracking spreadsheet. "How's the system upgrade?"
"Good. Very good. Thank you for - obtaining the software for me." Beetee nodded. Requests for software upgrades or parts upgrades were sent to the Capitol and languished for months in someone's inbox until the mayor of District Three received a response. Then the factories had to wait even longer to receive the needed upgrades. In the meantime, they were expected to continue to produce goods to meet the Capitol's ever changing needs. Beetee recently began networking with someone in the Capitol to at least obtain copies of various software programs needed by the factories.
"Attention workers of District Three!" The factory managers, Wiress, and Beetee glanced at the loudspeaker in their office. They knew the broadcast from the mayor's office would be played in the assembly lines and the working areas of all the factories in the district. "The Capitol has agreed to send us the needed parts to continue our production. However, this will come at a cost. Everyone will begin working 70 hours a week. With no pay. This is to ensure production efforts -" The mayor's voice was drowned out by angry yells of workers.
"That's the rallying point. Come on!" The manager urged the victors to join him at the center of the Industrial Square which was an open space within the industrial sector.
"STRIKE! STRIKE STRIKE!" The workers chanted as more and more people filled the square. "No pay, no work, and no machines for play!" They chanted knowing this would be broadcast within the Capitol itself.
"Mama!" Wiress and Beetee exchanged glances before Wiress smacked Beetee's arm.
"I forgot Estelle had her observation hours today." Beetee muttered an apology as his wife's large eyes blazed with fury.
"Mom, what's going on? Did everyone know the mayor would announce this? This looks coordinated -" Wiress gripped Estelle's shoulders until her knuckles turned white. One look into her fifteen year old daughter's face told her that Estelle had figured it all out.
"You will get Noah from the Academy. Go straight home." She ordered.
"Mama - what about you and Dad -" Estelle pleaded as Wiress shook her head.
"You will mind -" Wiress hissed hearing the sound of Peacekeepers' cars approaching the scene. "Go!"
"Go, my star, go! We'll be fine!" Beetee urged his daughter. They breathed a sigh of relief as their daughter disappeared around the corner seconds before Peacekeepers came from the other side of the square.
"We order you to disperse!" The Peacekeepers called over loudspeakers. "We order all citizens to disperse and return to their factories!"
"They will not disperse!" Beetee hollered before stepping on a platform made out of crates.
"Beetee -" Wiress gasped before her husband pulled her onto the platform.
"They will not disperse! We will not stand down!" Beetee yelled as the crowd went silent. "You treat each techological gadget like it's a toy begging for more without appreciating the minds behind it! You treat the workers like dust off your feet! WE WILL TOLERATE IT NO LONGER!" A cheer rose from the crowd even as more Peacekeepers dressed in riot gear assembled on the surrounding streets.
"Lives have been sacrificed in these factories!" Wiress yelled. "Mothers, Fathers, Children! All for what? ALL FOR WHAT? THE NEXT INVENTION THAT GETS OLD WITHIN A WEEK!" Out of the corner of Beetee's eye, he saw the Peacekeepers signaling to each other.
"WE WILL FIGHT BACK!" The Teslas yelled. It was the sign for the workers and for themselves. Wiress unsheathed a knife humming with electricity. Sliding his finger across a remote control device in his pocket, he activated an elecctrical trap where he knew Peacekeepers were standing seconds before pandamonium broke loose in the Industrial Square. Workers used improvised weapons to fight the Peacekeepers. A large squad of SWAT officers were tangled in Beetee's wire trap.
"Wiress!" Beetee gasped as his wife was pulled from his grasp by an officer seconds before a knife was driven into the weak point of the Peacekeeper's armor.
"Home! Home!" Wiress gasped. Though they knew lives would be lost, they knew their actions had reached the Capitol. The workers involved knew that risk, and they were willing to take it.
Hands trembling, Beetee unlocked the front door and opened a drawer within the coffee table. "There it is. Good job, kids." He whispered finding the key to the workroom inside.
"Both of them, Beetee - both -" Wiress asked worriedly.
"Yes, honey. Look." Beetee pointed to two sets of footprints in the kitchen. He handed Wiress the key so she could open the workshop door where her children were hiding.
"Good job, kids, good -" Wiress gasped as she was enveloped in hugs at the bottom of the stairs.
"You did everything right. Estelle and Noah." Beetee explained as he kissed his children. "We made it home safe. Let's go to sleep." That night, all four Teslas snuggled together on Beetee and Wiress' bed to block out the sounds of sirens and gunfire as the brief afternoon rebellion of the District was quelled.
"Mom? Dad?" The next morning, Wiress opened her eyes to her son gently prodding her. Sunlight was streaming in through the blinds. "I hear the TV downstairs."
"Ok, son." Beetee groaned before feeling around his nighstand for his glasses. Estelle had woken up before the rest of the family.
'MOOOOOM! DAAAD!" Her voice wafted up the stairs.
"WE'RE COMING!" Noah hollered down the stairs after running down the hallway.
"MAYOR RICHARDS SAYS THERE'S NO SCHOOL! OR WORK - OR -"
"Estelle, we're coming, you don't have to yell the entire broadcast up the stairs!" Beetee called as he and Wiress ambled down the stairs. They were too tired and worried to scold Noah who shamelessly slid down the banister. Even at age thirteen, he still clung to some childhood habits. Beetee and Wiress sat on the couch, arms around each other, with their children snuggled in their laps.
"As always with these production freezes, backpay will not be issued to workers." The mayor announced as he stood in front of the Justice Building. "Peacekeepers will patrol the streets for 24 hours, and any citizen may be questioned for suspicious activity. You are all advised to go outside for necessary business only. Imports and exports, including food, will be halted until this production freeze is lifted. This shut-down has been issued by an executive order by President Snow." Closing his eyes, Beetee sighed as he rested his head on the back of the couch. What have we done? As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. "Peacekeepers! Open up!"