Chapter four:
I do the whole thing over again.
It's not exactly the same of course, but the next day is very similar. Just less distinctive. I get up, check the messages on my pad, and head to Studio 2. I say some more bold statements, and pose dramatically in front of the wall. Their machinery whirs and Menissa tells me which direction to swing my hips in.
After we finish for the day, I eat rations in the mess hall, while Edwin stares at me from across the room. I count how many fingernails he chews off so that I can tell him tomorrow.
I go back to my room and power up my Jedi master. "I let you off easy last night," Thea tells me, "I was feeling pleasant because of your whole chastity experience. Now, I really think we should try the meditation on your head thing."
I think it takes a few days for my ears to stop pounding.
It doesn't take long for my new job to become routine. Menissa does try shake things up with the recording process, though mostly just with my wardrobe. Along with reading and improvising different anti-Empire messages and anecdotes, I wear all kinds of outfits, from rough homespun tunics to opulent colorful gowns, once a mini-skirt and sports bra combination. ("This one's for the troops," Menissa says. Edwin chews his thumbnail till it bleeds.)
Outside of work, I spend my time by myself. I take to bringing my food to my room just so I can avoid the dull roar of conversation of the mess hall, not to mention the approach of any young soldier eager to shake hands with the Chosen One. In a way it reminds me of my time in college on Coruscant, only there I was expanding my knowledge rather than simply regurgitating it. School was interrupted by Osca's war against my unsocial lifestyle, along with a string of seductions of boys who looked like Perrin. Since I'd gotten here I'd hardly thought of Perrin, and Osca was far away. I've kept my eyes peeled for any Rebel Alliance girls who looked like her, but none have met my standards.
Every night I meditate myself to sleep under Thea's direction. I've gotten much better at sitting still, but I gradually start spending more and more time in the gym so that I can shorten our breathing sessions. Working out seems much more useful than meditation. I've always been in pretty good shape; beating up gang members and tributes is good exercise. Even when I was a student on Coruscant, I made sure to go running and eat well (which is good because I drank a lot). Still, I think I'm getting into better shape now than I have ever been in my life. It befits the Chosen One, I expect.
Even as I slip into routine, I recognize and condemn it. Routines make you comfortable, and that can cost you your life. It's almost a relief when I walk in to studio #2 to find Fenric already up in front of the wall, flexing his biceps for the recording device.
"Let's get some more oil on those," Menissa calls to a makeup artist.
"What?" I ask Edwin.
"Oh, hello," he says, "Didn't you get the memo?"
"What memo?"
"Sent you a datapad message a minute ago," he says. "We don't need you today. We're shooting some stuff with Fenric."
"But I'm the Chosen One…"
"Of course you are, but you're not the only tribute. Menissa wants to get even more details to the story. That's just the way she rolls. The story is the most important."
"And I thought these were supposed to be informational."
"History is only storytelling too," says Edwin.
"Did Menissa tell you that?" I ask.
"I rephrased it," he said defensively. "Anyway, we don't need you today. But…"
"But?"
"But today is a very special day."
"Many happy returns."
"Oh, it's not in my honor-"
"Wish them to Menissa then."
"All of us deserve them," says Edwin, "Today they're showing the first commercial. They're going to hack into the Imperial airwaves and show it across the Empire. I helped complete the editing myself. It'll be spectacular."
"When?" I ask. He seems disappointed I don't have further commentary.
"Dunno," he shrugs. "Our technicians are working on the Imperial holonet as we speak. I'll give you a heads up though. They're going to be showing it all across the Krayt, but I'll probably be in the mess hall near your quarters."
"Kay," I say, "See you."
As I leave the studio behind, I realize that my day has just opened up in a big way. I don't have much of anything to fill it with. So I jog to the gym and do a few sets, before taking a shower at least three times as long as regulation suggests. I figure now that I'm feeling nice and loose it's time for some more sitting around in my quarters.
"Where would you like me to kneel this time?" I ask Thea, as soon as she flickers into existence. I lie on my stomach on my bed beside the holocron.
"As a matter of fact, I think we may have moved beyond that," said Thea.
"Did I graduate?" I ask quickly. "Have I found my inner peace and calm?"
"Nope," says Thea. "You haven't found anything. I just don't think this meditation thing is working for you. Under other circumstances I'd keep forcing it, but if what you tell me about your Jedi-less situation is well and true, you don't have all the time in the world. If I do what I can here, I can pass on the finer points of meditation to another learner in time."
"I'm glad to hear it," I say. "Um, master. So…what next? Something useful? Do I get to levitate things?"
"No," says Thea.
"Oh."
"We're going to develop you telepathically first. A good Jedi can feel the emotions of those surrounding them, sense their feelings and intents. Pretty cool, no?"
"Actually," I say, "I already do that."
"Seriously?"
"Yes, um, master," I reply. "It's their feelings waft of them like a scent. It can't always be identified or understood, and sometimes it's stronger than others. Still, I can tell it's there when other people seem so oblivious to how each other are feeling. Is that what you mean?"
"Yes," Thea seems a little deflated. "You must be very sensitive to the force to have that advantage despite being so untrained and generally unfocused in mental discipline."
"So what next?" I ask.
"Well…" Thea's acting the wise accomplished guru once again, her armor back up. "You can act as well as react. You can twist and shape the emotions of those around you, play around in their heads. Imagine giving somebody's brain a little push in whatever direction you want them to go? Kids on the street call it the Jedi Mind Trick."
"Is that what it's called?" I ask. "I already do that too."
"Then why am I even here?" Thea groans.
"No, no, but I can't do it, like, well," I add quickly, "A lot. I can just ease people a little, that's all. I barely realize I'm doing it, barely understand that it's even, like, a thing. I'm sure there's more that I'm missing."
"Yeah," Thea says, "I'm sure there is. But it seems like you've felt the connection already. All things are united in the force, it connects us together: all life, all substance. Practice with that."
"Being united in the force?"
"Well yes, that's what the meditation was all about. I meant the mind tricking thing though."
"Will do," I say. The power she described sounded like it had great potential. I could exploit the hell out of something like that.
"I'll give you a few pointers," Thea promises, "But they don't compare to real trial and error. Every Jedi is a little bit different, no matter what they may claim. Practice makes perfect. Just be careful. The weak mind is more easily tricked, the weaker the better. Some races are more naturally resistant than others. It you try messing in enough people's heads enough times somebody someday will be able to tell what you're doing. Odds are it's really going to piss them off."
At this point, my datapad interrupts us with a little chirp. "Speaking of weak minds…" I reach over to pick it up.
"That kind of condescension isn't becoming a peacekeeper of the Republic," Thea frowns.
"You were totally thinking it though."
"I will not lie," Thea replies.
I scan my new message. "Could we hold that lesson-"
"Aren't you forgetting something?"
"Master," I say, "May I please be excused."
"For what purpose."
"My commercial's about to air," I say. "The holo crew is all meeting in the mess hall."
"You may go, on one condition," Thea sound so much like my mother, "Which is that you put that pad down right here on the bed and link the channel so I can watch that shit too."
"You got it," I set it up, and place the pad on the bed in front of Thea. It usually wouldn't be able to link to Empire holo-channels, but today's broadcast was a special exception. Menissa had promised Coy and the entire Rebel army that it would be an inciting incident in the oncoming war. "How'd you even know I could do that?"
"You already do mind tricks in your head, I figured you wouldn't let me down," Thea says, and if my force-senses are tingling correctly I detect endearment in her tone.
I get out of there fast.
…
"Now we see the Reek at ease, meandering through the native forests of its home world. Deforestation and poaching endanger this noble beast, and we must each do our part to keep its habitat alive and thriving."
The stuffy narration emits from the speakers on the holoprojectors decorating the mess hall. The nature documentary is just one of many programs about to be rudely interrupted. I wonder how many people across the Imperial capital, across galaxy, are watching this program; beings entirely separate and different yet brought together in purpose and thought by the same images and information. That was power. No wonder the Force Games had sounded like a good idea to the Emperor. Punishing and torturing people, making examples of them, it's one thing. Put it on the holonet and almost everyone across your domain will have the chance to see it. Make it entertainment: and suddenly they'll actually watch it.
"Congratulations," Menissa says to me. She's wearing a shimmering gown with a fitted bodice and flowing sleeves. The glass of wine she holds appeals to me.
"It's your party," I say, "I just stand there and look rebellious."
"I know," she says, "This is for the people."
"I wasn't informed about the dress code," I say, trying to sound apologetic. They holo crew is wearing their best dress uniforms and formal wear. For most of them, this isn't saying much, just a few extra buttons and shinier cuffs. The Rebellion prized function over formality. Nevertheless, my workout clothes set me apart. Not the best way to keep up my appearance as the Chosen One. I should have considered that before leaving. Now all I could smell was my own sweat.
"You look perfect," Edwin joins us, peering over Menissa's shoulder.
"Oh?"
"Just like you're supposed to," he says. "Simple, laid back, definitely the Chosen One."
"I, uh, I'll be over there," I say, and head to the other side of the room.
"Hello, little girl," Zanna hisses pleasantly as I join her. Her clothes are very black and very tight. She takes a second bite out of a protein bar.
"How are those?" I ask.
"Tastes like rebellion," Zanna says.
"And how does that taste."
"Like sawdust, apparently."
"So…" I see Menissa is now chatting up Fenric. Edwin has lost interest and wandered over to look at the wall. "Fenric's been doing some spots with Menissa."
"Ooh..." Zanna whispers in my ear melodramatically, "Spots."
"Ads, like I've been filming," I say. "Have they asked you to do any?"
"Nope," Zanna bites her lip. "I'm not sure if I should feel left out or grateful."
"Neither, they'd both be wastes of your emotional energy."
"Wise," Zanna nods, "You're so chosen."
"Oh, shut up," bump her genially.
"Thank you all for coming," Menissa climbs onto a chair. "I'd like to thank everyone for-"
"No time, it's starting," Edwin calls out. Everyone focus on the holo, as the nature program disappears in a burst of simulated flames. We pan out from the flames to find ourselves looking at a gigantic sun, as the sun goes dark the view speeds in hard toward the surface of a green little planetoid. The acceleration is disorienting, as we watch the trees rush up and finally face a single humanoid, lying dead and gutted on the forest floor. A female Twi'lek teenager. As soon as I recognize her I realize Menissa's done her job well. It's Rayne. The people will eat this up.
I see myself, a hologram of myself, come into view, standing over Rayne's corpse, dressed in the same outfit I wore during the seventy-fourth Force Games. "The Galactic Empire calls itself benevolent," my doppelganger says calmly. "Would a virtuous government exterminate forty-nine of your children every year and call it sport? The Force Games are not a memorial, it is terrorism. The Emperor is not your leader, he is your murderer. Every day he lives the very stars are darkened; his evil stifles, ensnares and enslaves our very souls.
I watch myself look straight into my eyes. "I've played the Empire's games, but the time to play has past. My name is Kara Evenstern, and I am a Rebel. Enlist today." I am replaced by a burning Rebel Alliance symbol.
This in turn fades to an Imperial holonet error symbol.
"Wow," Zanna whistles. "You are one cheery little girl."
"What about the Jedi stuff?" I ask bluntly.
"Oh, it's coming," Menissa joins me, pumping my hand up and down. "It is so coming. We're working into it. We want to make sure people know who you are before they realize what you've become and what you always truly have been."
"I thought this was supposed to be the thing that changed everybody's minds?"
"It's the first word of a manifesto," Menissa says. "We've made so many of these miniature messages. We'll be flooding the holonet. This is just the first drop."
"You're the director," I shrug.
"Indeed," says Menissa. "That was rather good."
"I thought so," Zanna admits.
"'Manifesto'…" Menissa muses to herself "I must get Edwin to write that down before I forget."
I flinch as the holo suddenly glimmers back to life. The image of a woman stands among us. She wears an Imperial uniform. I swallow dryly. I'd hoped never to see her again.
"I am Grand Moff Trentiss," she introduces herself calmly. "The Empire does not tolerate dissension. The Empire will not allow anyone to threaten our peace and stability. The Rebel Alliance is a lie, a refuge for the vicious and the deviant. Kara Evenstern, you are not a hero. You are a coward, and we are going to allow you to prove it. You and your followers will now surrender unconditionally to us. We will be merciful. If you do not comply, your people will suffer. Six hundred citizens of Tatooine will die every hour until you obey. Once a day has elapsed, we will raze the planet. Goodbye, Kara. May the odds be ever in your favor."
She disappeared. In her stead the Imperial seal floats in midair. The sound of the Imperial anthem fills the room. It is joined by a single pair of hands clapping rapidly.
"Our commercial was good," Menissa gushes, "But theirs was spectacular."