To Iacopo (I forgot to say this in chapter 53's AN): While actual books are very rare, fairy tales, like historical facts, can be transmitted orally. I'm confident that the oral culture in the Districts is very developed, maybe even close to what it is today in Africa. People just learned again to commit things to memory rather than write them down.
To the others: thanks for reading and reviewing. This shout out is for GreenPokeGuy for reviewing and so speedily catching up^^.
Date: Year 12, early January.
Distracted by a flicker at the edge of her vision, Mags lowered the final sewer plans and narrowed her eyes.
The workers on the roofs were making grand frantic gestures with their arms.
The green-eyed woman broke into a run.
Soon, the workers' hollers reached her ears. "Fire," a man bellowed. "Smoke, smoke above Sickleport!"
Mags snapped her head North. Her heart began to pound. Slivers of grey smoke stretched out in the pale sky, thicker with every passing second.
"Call Marquise and tell her to come and get us with the hovercraft," Mags ordered, grabbing Dario's wrist.
"The two crafts are for emergency situations," the man said, looking conflicted.
Mags struggled not to gape. "Dario, this is an emergency," she exclaimed. Homes were about to be destroyed. People could die! Finally reality seemed to dawn on the young peacekeeper's face. "Camilla, please get me Ajax on the line."
She really needed her own phone. To hell with those regulations.
Camilla was already waiting for the phone to dial and promptly handed it to Mags.
"Sergeant, we need a fire put out in Sickleport. We can see the smoke from the rooftops. I'm having Dario ask Marquise to pick us up with one of the crafts."
"It's not our sector, Mags." Ajax's sharp intake of breath caused the line to fizzle. "Do you suspect foul play?"
Ajax's question had Mags pause. No, she'd just… she'd just wanted to be where she could be needed, without really pausing to think she may not be of much use considering the situation.
But what if it had been set?
What if Ajax didn't agree to come unless she said she suspected something?
"Yes," she said firmly, "I think something's on."
A flash of raven hair near the lightning-crossed gates had her bring her fingers to her mouth. Mags let out a sharp whistle, causing Esperanza to whip towards her.
Her sister had never been on a hovercraft. Now was as good a time as any.
"I'm sorry," Esperanza panted as soon as she had arrived, "I didn't –"
"There's a fire in Sickleport. We need to go."
The fourteen year old's demeanor changed completely. "Right, why are we still here?" She exclaimed.
Good point.
Engines roaring, Marquise arrived within a minute on the amphibious hovercraft, Legend besides her at controls.
"Dario, take transmissions," Ajax ordered.
"So you're all pilots too?" Esperanza whispered, taking slow steps to the passenger seats, as if afraid to fall.
"All those who have a bit of brains and ambition either train in weapons control, transmissions or piloting," Marquise replied with a smile, steering them towards the crescent-shaped bay above Creneis.
"Strap up," Ajax said, his brusque commanding tone completely at odds with Marquise's cheer. "We're taking a dive."
A dive?
Mags' stomach flew to her throat as the craft lurched and dropped.
"What's happening?" Esperanza gasped. Her lips frozen into an awestruck, terrified smile.
"The reservoir can hold a metric ton of sea water, that fire's about to meet its match," Legend said gleefully, as the craft's tail cut into waves.
The second hovercraft was right behind them.
The engine's roar was nothing compared to what the reactors gave to compensate the added weight. Mags hugged herself, afraid the vibrations would tear off her limbs.
Why had she wanted to go?
"Good thing we use another model for stealth, mode, hey?" Marquise shouted over the din, her eyes sparkling as if she was having the time of her life.
But then , there was no craft, sea or airborne, that woman hadn't learned to steer. Mags swallowed, begging her queasy stomach to acknowledge Marquise wouldn't let them crash. Mags liked her feet firmly on the ground, where they belonged.
She felt a slight pressure on her arm and grabbed onto Esperanza's outstretched hand.
The sisters shared a rueful grin.
The warmth fled Mags' face as soon as Sickleport, with its huddled wooden houses, narrow streets and parallel piers, came into view. Her fingers dug painfully into her seatbelt.
The fire was so high! A house had to lay trapped under the inferno, devoured by dancing flames and spewing incandescent sparks from the chimney. Small flames licked the neighboring roofs, seeking out weaknesses, anything that would catch.
Red and yellow, natural fire, Mags reasoned, trying to silence her hammering heart. Easy to beat, nothing like the green flames, nothing to fear.
"Move out of the way, idiots," Legend cursed as Marquise dove towards the burning building.
The crowd of aghast onlookers scrambled for cover when the hovercraft's warning horn resounded, seconds before wide jets of water were sprayed around the fire, drenching the walls and roofs of the nearby houses.
"Why didn't you aim at the fire, Legend?" Mags blurted, her eyes stinging from its harsh brightness.
"That house's gone," the stout peacekeeper replied. "We have to stop the spread before we drown the source."
Mags swallowed, her head giving a weak nod. Esperanza's hand squeezed hers, and she wasn't really sure who was holding onto who anymore.
"Luck is with single-room shacks like theirs, it's easier to put out the flames than when they're eating at beams on the inside," Legend said as he directed the second run of blasts.
"Mags, Camilla, unstrap and get down after the next run," Ajax said. He put a small device behind his ear. "Stand by for further orders, Esperanza," as the raven-haired teenager made to move. "You and the rest of the squad will come down when the fire is extinguished. The other squad will secure the crafts."
"Yes, Sir."
"Hover Two, do you copy?" Ajax said, tapping slightly on his ear piece.
Mags hurried down before Ajax had finished giving orders to the hovercraft tailing them. She found one of the villagers staring and headed towards him.
"We've had fires before," the rugged white-haired man said, revealing a gap filled mouth. "Help never came so fast."
"We have some sharp eyed workers on the roofs of the Academy," Mags replied with a forced smile.
Except it shouldn't have happened. Villages were left alone, for better or worse, as long as they met the quotas and came up clean during inspection patrols, but Sickleport had had its own squad of five, led by Sergeant Pike. They'd been patrolling since that horrible execution the year before. Why had the alarm come from Creneis? Surely they didn't care so little as to let a fire go unchecked.
"Who did that house belong to?" She asked the old man, compassion choking her words.
Everything, everything a family owned, in the deep of winter… She desperately hoped there were no casualties.
"Lucino Little and his folk," he said, wrapping his moth-eaten scarf tighter around his neck as a wet cough wracked his wiry frame. He spat on the ground. "Bad business, had it coming, poor lad."
"Mags," Ajax called sharply.
Mags grasped the man's arm, a frown darkening her gaze. "What do you mean?"
Had Ajax's guess proved true?
"He's a proud man. You know how it is," the villager muttered, his tongue darting nervously on his cracked lips. He freed himself from Mags' grasp with surprising nimbleness, walking away as hastily as his knees allowed him.
"Don't get that close to foreigners unless you've assessed the situation, Woman," Ajax growled, his breath hot on her neck. "Why did he run away from us?" he said, sharp suspicion darkening his tone.
Because you're a peacekeeper. You should know…
"I think you may have been right, Sergeant," Mags said. Her throat already burned from the ash and stench.
Finding Little was quick. People had moved away from the man as if he had the plague. Odd. When a tornado had struck four years before, everyone had been quick to help the families who had lost everything.
Mags' lips tightened into a thin line. People were afraid.
Afraid of what? Of who?
Two children clung to the stricken woman by Little's side, the youngest had yet to have his first school day and the eldest was in her mid-teens. Their eyes were riveted on the soaked charred remains of their house, tears of shock running down their faces.
Many emotions warred on Lucino Little's face, but Mags couldn't name surprise as one of them.
Painfully, Mags' muscles clenched as anger seeped into her limbs. If it had happened again, then this would be the last time. She tolerated so much, tiptoeing around the Capitol, pretending abuse was a fact of life, but not this, not ever again.
She forced a small reassuring smile on her lips as she turned to the youngest Little. This she had learned from peacekeepers: a children's truth could be fantasy, but they did not spin elaborate lies.
"What's your name?" she said.
The shivering boy stiffened, his panicked eyes darting towards his father.
The man nodded, his calloused hand gently coming to rest on his son's head.
"Aquario," the pale child whispered.
"Where did the fire come from?"
A snort behind her made her start. "The chimney caught fire," Sergeant Pike said. "Fishermen are too stupid to think of sweeping. Or probably lazy," he amended, scorn dripping from his voice. "There's not much to do with trash like them."
"With all due respect, Sergeant. She didn't ask you," Ajax said, his voice cooler than the winter air.
"It came from the chimney," Aquario said, his voice a strangled whisper.
No, that definitely was fury in the father's eyes. A fury Mags craved to mirror, but she didn't have the luxury to let her emotions run free anymore.
Mags knelt next to the boy, hating that she was upsetting him further. "When was the chimney last swept, Aquario?"
Aquario sniffed. "Lynne swept it. She swept it when the leaves were all red. She sweeps good, cause she's skinny but strong. She gets money for it too. She can show you when she comes back from school," he promised, his voice hitching.
"Were you outside when the fire started?" Mags waited for the boy's nod. "When you're outside, do you close the door?"
"Yes," Aquario exclaimed, his lips trembling. "I always close it, Pa!" He shouted, desperately tugging on his father's woolen shirt."
"Did someone ask you to open it?"
"The responsible Lucino Little stored half the village's nets and salt in his basement," Sergeant Pike said, in the same horrible mocking tones. "This sorry lot won't be laughing anymore when they'll have to fish barehanded."
Laughing? No one was laughing. And Mags didn't like being interrupted.
Two of Pike's men were almost flanking her. Mags pretended not to see the intimidation attempt. She stood up and walked back next to her sister.
"What's this man's name?" Ajax suddenly asked, pointing at one of the tallest sailors in the crowd.
The villager paled, but Ajax simply turned away when none in Pike's squad could answer.
"Esperanza, check if the door was open or locked," Mags whispered. Her sister nodded.
"What about that man? This one? The brown-haired woman there?"
Mags blinked in understanding when she realized he was picking out those who physically stood out the most. She shot Esperanza a glance.
The door had been unlocked.
"And yet Little you know by first name?" Ajax said, his tone deceptively calm as he towered over the other peacekeeper.
Something shifted at those words. Ajax wasn't even pretending to acknowledge Pike's rank anymore. Pike's men had crowbars but Mags' guard had tranquilizer guns and in four swift strides, Marquise and Legend had them circled.
Mags's frown deepened into a scowl. Peacekeeper didn't call peacekeeper out in public. Dario's barely concealed shock was a testament to that.
Such swift action… Ajax wasn't finding this out. He'd suspected something before.
This might have been avoided. Mags ground her teeth, struggling not to let her temper explode.
"He's a troublemaker," Pike said stiffly. "Can't forget him. Every week something comes up. "
"I thought nothing came up in Sickleport," Marquise said with a small contemptuous smile. "That it was so dreadfully boring and quiet you begged to be back in Creneis."
"That was months back," Pike spat. "The winter tickled their balls into action."
"Surely there are reports of his unruliness then?" Mags said. She'd completely failed at keeping her tone bland and a child couldn't have missed the further stiffening in the accused men's postures.
"Dario, call Lieutenant Falx," Ajax said, his thin smile casting a dangerous shadow on his face. "Tell him we need the Sickleport reports where the name Lucino Little appears."
The reports held no mention of the name, but by then, they weren't surprised.
"Girl," Legend suddenly said. "Where is the money kept in your house?"
The eldest of Little's children started upon being addressed. She swallowed. "There's boxes under the bed. Third row from the top, back box, Sir, it's a lighter wood."
"Us two can go check," one of the peacekeepers, a wide-eared man in his mid-twenties, said, his hand tightening around the shoulder of the beefy man next to him. "If they've got any real saving it'll hurry the rebuilding up a bit."
"Mags will do it," Ajax said.
"Empty your pockets, Littles," Legend said. "And you too, officers."
He had his weapon out as soon as the beefy man tried to struggle out of his lankier colleague's grasp.
Mags now finally understood why the older man from One had been assigned to her team. Marquise had more than once called him clever, but this was the first time Mags really saw it. She gestured Esperanza back towards the burned house.
"This is fucked up," Pike bellowed. "I'm a Sergeant! I won't be treated like some filthy criminal. You have not one shred of proof –"
Mags didn't even look back.
The dumped sea water had soaked the charred remains of beams and furniture, but the boxes' contents had been saved. Except that most had been already removed from under the bed and opened.
"Aquario," Mags asked, going back outside. "What did they say they would do to you if you told you'd opened the door for them?"
She'd asked just to drive the point home and the panic on the child's face was worth a thousand confessions. He stared hard at the weapons pointed at his family's tormentors and squared his shoulders. "Bad things," he said, anger slowly replacing his fear.
Pike's squad were shackled in seconds. The money was found on the beefy peacekeeper.
"Come to Creneis with you family, Mr. Little, we'll settle things there," Mags said.
Ajax pushed Pike forward with unrestrained glee. "We'll make a second trip for you," he told the stunned-looking family.
Mags finally noticed that the whole village was staring at them as if they had been told the sea was fit to drink, no one daring to say a word.
"We always have unpleasant assignments ready for such cases," Ajax said, his lips curled in distaste as he filled out paperwork in the barracks .
Assignments? These men had burned down someone's home. A deep scowl creased Mags' features.
"What would happen if a regular citizen intentionally set fire to another's house, endangering a whole village?"
"Those men are not regular citizen," the Sergeant said sharply, his square jaw tightening.
"No they are not," Mags agreed, her eyes blazing. "They are district born men who were the privilege of serving the Capitol. By abusing the power given them, they not only break the law but taint the Capitol's name. They should face greater punishment."
"I too think they should be hanged, Sir," Marquise said, straightening to give herself more countenance. "It is no secret Lieutenant Falx assigned them there to discipline them and yet they took it as an invitation to take liberties with the population. They're the reason law-abiding citizen hate the uniforms, Sir."
Legend shook his head. "Nicias is an impressionable boy who doesn't think before he speaks and was punished for slandering the Lieutenant. Drunken stupidity. He's a capable lad who just lacks a firm hand and a real model. He shouldn't be hanged."
Mags paused, waiting for him to say something about the other four. An unexpected but intense sense of disappointment filled her when Legend had nothing to add. Some part of her had wanted to forgive and forget.
The perversity of the day's events suddenly weighted on her shoulders. "If you take responsibility for making something out of him," Mags said, "then he'll just be flogged for complicity."
"Mags," Ajax snapped, his voice rising. "You do not make the law."
Mags' temper flared. Hadn't they had that conversation already? How many times had Mags not interceded for her people because she needed Ajax and Falx on her side?
"Can't you contact President Achlys?" Esperanza intervened. She stood hunched, as if she wanted to flee the room's negative atmosphere and yet she had loyally refused to leave her sister's side.
"I will," Mags said after a pause. She hadn't asked anything of the President for over a year, surely that order-loving woman would see...
Asking for deaths… But not of innocents; of peacekeepers who had burned down a family's house and who knows what else. Mags had tried to limit peacekeeper abuse without resorting to violence but so little had been achieved. She would not wait another decade, standing by as people were made miserable or worse, just in the hope the likes of Pike would suddenly grow a conscience and turn their lives around.
Ajax took a calming breath. "I don't have the authority to order such a punishment and the Lieutenant would simply notified someone higher up in the chain of command."
Mags stiffly bowed her head. She hardly needed his permission but accepted the gesture for what it was.
That rich, accented voice was sufficient to make her throat go dry. "Mags, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
Achlys was very silent as Mags retold the events in Sickleport. So silent Mags almost feared she wasn't listening or worse, was quietly making fun of her.
Nervousness seeped into her tone as she struggled to make her case eloquently.
Why hadn't see talked to her mother first? How stupid of her to improvise on something so important.
"If people feel that even respecting the law to the letter won't guarantee their safety from the Capitol, they will grow desperate, Ma'am," Mags said. She swallowed, afraid her voice would break from stress. "If they do you'll either need to triple the number of peacekeepers or face localized rebellions that will end in bloodbaths. It's…" She hoped Achlys could not hear her frantic heartbeat. "It's like why there's a victor instead of twenty-four dead in the Games," she blurted.
A sigh of relief almost burst through her lips when the President finally spoke.
"You consider your power to be an illusion to keep the Districts tame?" Achlys said. "You always surprise me with your maturity, Mags."
Mags hated Evadne Achlys. Rubbing down the fact she was all powerful as if -
"I serve, Ma'am," she said through clenched teeth.
"Yes," Achlys whispered. "You will execute them, Mags, but in private, with you and the mayor and you as sole civilian witnesses. My media team will go there and broadcast it in an appropriate fashion."
Mags blinked. She almost had Achlys repeat before she realized she had been given permission.
"We'll keep them in the cells until we receive your instructions, Ma'am."
The line died, and Mags realized her eyes stung from unshed tears of fear.
Once again Achlys believed her goals and Mags' coincided. Once again Mags wondered if she wasn't the greatest fool of them all.
A murdering fool. The wide-eared Nicias's relatives were the only ones with a chance to ever hug their son again.
The silence was heavy.
Mags wanted to talk about anything but the day's event. Not for the first time, she wished to have all the responsibility stripped away from her. She wouldn't save anyone, but she wouldn't have to kill.
A detail caught her interest as she walked home with her sister. "What were you saying sorry about when I called you over this morning?"
Esperanza blanched, making a good impression of a sea gull which had swallowed a live crab.
"Angel?"
"I thought Solal had gotten to you," she muttered, distress misting up her eyes. "I thought I was in trouble."
Mags wrapped an arm around her sister's waist, concerned. Darvi Solal? That quiet, serious student? Something worth crying over?
Esperanza got only that emotional about two subjects. Mags -who right now wasn't in any danger- and boys.
"Did he turn you down?" Mags said, heavy skepticism in her tone.
Darvi Solal. A seventeen year old from Orythia, gifted with a remarkable memory, dexterous fingers and a rare seriousness for his age. He was one of Mags' prize students but he was barely as tall as Esperanza, angular, almost physically weak with full lips and small blue eyes. He was a world away from Cay, Ford and their like.
"He's not your type," Mags said. Darvi was neither funny, nor sociable, nor handsome, Esperanza's tastes couldn't have changed that much in so little time. And she didn't flirt that directly either…
"My type was rather shallow until now, I'd better fix that," Esperanza replied, now defensive. "But I swear I didn't flirt. I didn't play with my hair or anything," she said angrily. "I just sat next to him and tried to be friendly. We'd talked a bit already and I thought we were okay and then it's like he hates me or something."
"Maybe Ford, being the bitter little boy he is, disguised slander as friendly warning. I'll have a talk Darvi and publicly shame your ex if necessary," Mags said earnestly, "and you'll sort things out with Darvi."
She wouldn't have such nonsense poison the atmosphere of her first class of students.
Esperanza's nodded, a weak smile twitching her lips, but soon, her eyes were shimmering again.
Mags just held her as they walked home, waiting for her to be ready to speak. What could Darvi possibly have said? Her sister had been called a collaborator, promiscuous and worse without reacting like this.
Esperanza finally took a sharp breath. "Darvi told me to fix up my daddy issues with someone else if I felt like playing. It's like…" The raven-haired girl lowered her eyes. "You knew Dad and you never even wanted to date before Kyle…" Her lips began to tremble. "Is there something wrong with me, Mags? Because it's true that I don't like being single, but if that means I date the wrong boys all the time, well -"
Mags missed a step. She suddenly felt like slapping Darvi, slamming her head against the closest solid surface, and cursing their father for having died before Esperanza had even learned to walk.
She settled for cradling her face in her free hand. "Right, let's get Mama and make some tea."
Date: Year 12, early February.
The broadcasts of the execution caused a greater uproar than Mags could ever have predicted. Not that anything changed, outwardly, people went about as normal, but the ripples…
People greeted Marquise in the streets like they had never done before. Even the intimidating Ajax got some nods. A boy talked back to a peacekeeper, silly enough to think they couldn't do anything. He was slapped hard, but another told Webster and Saran to stay away from his kid brother, and the twins, doubtless the pettiest bullies in town, miraculously did.
The status of Peacekeepers, at least in Creneis, had completely changed. Evil, alien, greedy monsters… the qualifiers didn't apply anymore and people began to see them as individuals rather than a homogeneous, hostile group.
A single hanging would not put an end to a decade of deep-rooted hate and the peacekeepers hadn't grown much friendlier, but as far as Mags was concerned, it was a revolution. People were questioning what had been ingrained by school and relatives since the war, people were thinking and seeing things in a new light and as long as people were thinking, as long as they were alert, then things could be done.
They were also beginning to think she could do anything, which was both wonderful and highly irritating.
A double-edged sword remains a sword. Mags didn't regret it.
She smiled as laughter flitted through the shut windows. Esperanza was playing with the Littles' three children outside.
The family would leave the temporary home they'd been occupying in Creneis and head back for Sickleport in the afternoon and Mags had wanted to invite them for lunch. They deserved a bit of good food and relaxation, and Mags had enough difficult history with the villagers that any chance at a fresh start was to be seized.
Mags' throat tightened when she realized Mrs. Little was gazing enviously at the furniture. "You never did tell why Pike hated you so much," she said, compassion softening her voice.
Money would give them a new hearth, but a burned home could never be completely replaced.
"People look up to our family," Lucino Little said, his speech brusque as it brought back bad memories. "My old man always kept the house open for those who had trouble and I'm the eldest, so I took up the mantle when he died." Lucino's face slowly reddened. "Pike wanted me to be his bitch," he spat. "He didn't like that I was slow to lower my eyes. He asked to kneel, I just walked away."
Literally kneel? That bastard.
"He tried to hit me, I blocked his arm. He was a coward, always." A pained whisper exited his lips. "Fought like a coward, with fire in wanted to see people down and afraid." He shrugged, his expression bland once more. "It's probably how they choose them."
"They choose those who they think will bring order. We have to make them see that bullies give only an illusion of it. The peacekeepers in charge here are coming to understand that," Mags said with a smile. "Some are worthy of our respect, but they're not the loudest. I wish that to change."
"Even decent, the power's in their hands only," Little's wife said, a resignation Mags found offensive in her hazel eyes as she stood up.
"Yes, but they won't be burning houses or intimidating girls," she said dryly.
"With hope," the woman said with a wry smile. "Never thought I'd ever see one get what he deserved."
A scowl darkened Mags' face as soon as they had gone.
"People are so cynical about it all, it's depressing," she huffed. "We're the hope gone? Can't they see we're making progress here?" She said, her face heating up from frustration. "And they're the role models, the brave couple who stood up to a peacekeeper. How many give in? How many don't even hold onto their pride?"
"Mags, when it'll be time, they'll take arms," Angelites said, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry about their attitude."
She had to believe that. She was just happy to be able to cling to her mother.
The doorbell rang.
Mags looked around, wondering if a Little had forgotten something.
Instead she opened to the balding postman, who saluted, smiling beneath his thick beard.
"Tell me that's good news," Mags almost begged. She was too tired for anything else.
"It's the Corduroy girl," the man replied gaily, holding over a blue envelope.
Mags' weariness vanished. She thanked the postman and grinned at her mother. "Esperanza, come back downstairs," she called.
Every fortnight, with clockwork precision, Glynn's letters came, full of select anecdotes with a sprinkle of cynicism. Reading them had swiftly become a family ritual.
Nested between her sister and her mother on the sofa, Mags gently opened the envelope. "Let's see what she has for us this time," she said.
She shook her head in dismay. Glynn's once neat letters were turning into a slanted scrawl.
I'm wearing cashmere, I feel so filthy rich.
Mags grinned as she read out loud. She could almost see Glynn's self-deprecating smirk. The two of them had set up a rather straightforward code: each paragraph had a role, and the manner of writing conveyed emphasis. She quickly scanned the letter and relaxed when she counted only four paragraphs. The fifth was reserved for imminent danger, to her, to Four, or to Glynn herself.
I had always pictured District Eight as one big city. Apparently I had figured cotton grew on sheep. Peacekeeper rotations last only one year there, because the air is so filthy to breathe. No wonder Zalij's victory had speculators rip their hair out. Eight's tributes are those with the lowest predicted fitness stats, right below Twelve, Five and Three.
"Eight has farms? You never said," Esperanza muttered, thoughtful.
Mags shrugged ruefully. Eight's capital had been near the district border and the railways hadn't taken her into the territory. Speculators and fitness stats… she'd have to inquire. She didn't ponder it too long. The first paragraph was never too serious, just relating facts Glynn thought she might be interested in.
The second on the other hand…
It's amazing how a pharmaceutical drug can be turned into a recreational slow poison if you know the dosage, you'd think doctors would know better, but many believe sleep is for lesser beings and compensate with those terribly fashionable -and theoretically illegal- addictive substances.
"So many blackmail opportunities," Angelites said with an envious sigh. Her tone then grew more guarded. "If she dares to make such accusations on print, then it's no secret at all."
Yet it was still good to know.
Can you believe the hospital system is divided into 37 departments regrouped into six meta-departments which barely speak to each other? The centralized data system that has not been updated for ten years and I've spent so many hours in front of databases that I dream of them at night. And I'll dream of little else until I figure out how this monster-structure actually works. The rest of the time I run from one place to another taking notes (I'm offended none of them can read my writing).
Mags paused again. Parenthesis meant paying special attention. Capitolites struggled with cursive? Messy letters it would be.
"They're not very good at adapting," her mother commented, shaking her head slightly in dismay.
Mags smirked. Her smile fell slightly when she realized Glynn's penmanship would only worsen.
Syrianus is teaching me to type, and graciously pretending he wasn't ordered to. Syrianus has been quite graciously helping me,
'Graciously' twice? Mags' eyebrows shot up. There were no unintentional repetitions.
A delighted grin split her lips. "I'm so glad she found a friend."
"On a scale of one to twelve, with one being marriage and twelve pet fish, how does 'graciously' rate?" Esperanza piped up with an impish smile. "Cause, there's graciously, and there's graciously and… how cute is Syrianus?"
Mags snorted. "His skin is rather tan and inked shiny blue with odd symbols. He's tall and not too skinny. An interesting face, no beard, very wide cheekbones, high forehead, at least he hasn't tampered with it… Except for the teeth," Mags added with an eyeroll, "all Capitolites have perfect teeth, and that's when they don't literally sparkle."
"So that's what," Esperanza guessed, "a four?"
Mags had to suck on her cheeks to read on, choking back laughter.
- but he won't let me drag him away from his fabulous research (I thought doctors just healed people, ignorant me) so I have to go socialize on my own. They all use small words when I'm around, it's quite sensitive of them. Medical jargon is so terribly complicated.
It seemed her 'underestimate me' plan was working.
"What do doctors research?" Esperanza asked. "Cures? Why would that be so important?"
A slow hiss of frustration escaped Mags' lips. So many questions, begging for answers, but there was nothing to do but wait. At least Glynn was giving her the questions, which was more than Mags ever had had. She kept all the letters in a box, aware each of them contained a handful of pieces of a puzzle of thousands.
The three shuffled closer, their heads craning to all see the letter. The third paragraph always held anecdotes which Glynn considered very telling of the Capitol mindset, and whatever doubts Mags had had before had fled after the first couple of letters: those people were a completely different species. An insane one.
I just passed in front of a shop that sold eye-adjustments (you don't want to know).
Esperanza winced. "I really don't actually," she laughed. "Eww."
Mags would have to ask Myia without making a big deal about it.
The door read: "The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new lands but seeing with new eyes." I did my homework: The Frenchman Marcel Proust wrote this in the XXth century and that is probably one of the shortest sentences he's ever written... He also never meant changing the colors of your eyeballs, but if he'd wanted that known, he should have made a movie of his books instead of expecting us to read the monster work. Everything truly interesting ends up on TV anyway. There are 147 channels, including four on District trades. Bee keeping is so picturesque.
Mags frowned. Capitolites didn't read? They had access to XXth century literature but preferred to watch pre-chewed Capitol-approved programs?
"Achlys is cleverer than I had suspected," her mother said, disgust creasing the lines on her face. "Why need censure when everyone is convinced that if it's not on TV, it is worthless? Those fluff-brained fools."
They'd kill for such books and the Capitol just let them go to waste. Typical.
Esperanza poked her sister's arm. "What's a Frenchman? Some kind of artist?"
Mags shrugged. "What does 'picturesque' even mean, Mama?" she asked.
Angelites gave them an apologetic smile. "I don't know, children. I suppose district trades are made to look glamorous... Tell Glynn to use small words, Precioza." A dramatic sigh exited her lips. "Your pretty little friend is turning into a snob."
Mags laughed. Poor Glynn, already subconsciously altered by the Capitol.
Is it normal for Plutarch to want a signed photo of me to put in his room? I don't really know what to expect since twelve year olds look eighteen over here. Thirty year olds also do look eighteen, does that mean pre-teens look thirty? That's highly disturbing… Heavensbee senior is in charge of hospital maintenance, he tells Three which machines they want fixed or replaced and he even seems honest. I shamelessly used your name to guilt trip into cooperating with me (Plutarch is such a little king in that household, it's crazy. They do whatever he asks), I hope you don't mind.
Plutarch –first name use- had Glynn's stamp of approval. 'Heavensbee senior'… That was much less promising but not too bad. Mags hoped Glynn would manage to find people she could rely on to do Achlys' work.
"Signed photo?"
"He has one of me," Mags told her wide-eyed sister with a helpless smile. "It's a thing over there, harmless." She hoped.
I'm very happy here. I'm finally in a permanent home (the family moved out to a smaller but posher place uptown when their peacekeeper son got assigned to District One).
Mags smiled. Very happy, not just 'happy', which meant Glynn really was alright. She'd have just written happy had she been miserable and fine had she been in trouble.
Peacekeepers… so the law had passed. Capitol citizen were being sent to the Districts. What else had changed? Marquise would know.
"She didn't mention what you did with peacekeepers. She mustn't have heard," her mother said.
"Why would they scare the Homeguard by broadcasting such news?" Mags said, a cynical twist to her lips. "They badly need those numbers."
See you during the Games,
Glynn.
PS: Lucian Gemini is one very rude walking encyclopedia.
Mags chuckled heartily at that. Indeed.
Esperanza didn't seemed amused at all. "She won't see her family again until after the Games?" She exclaimed, outraged.
Mags' face fell when the full meaning of Glynn's parting words hit her.
"Eight months isolated from everyone she knows to mold her to fit their standards, then they'll let her back occasionally without fear," their mother replied, her dark eyes cool and confident. "She's a clever girl, she'll figure out they'll be much more lenient once she'll have died her hair some garish color."
"We'll put that in parenthesis on our reply," Mags vowed.
Author's note:
This is Panem. Harsh punishment is common place. 'Every life is sacred' and 'no one deserves the death penalty' are beliefs that go against everything that is taught by the Capitol (as it wants the Districts to know their lives are worth nothing). There has been a war, generations under the District system and death through accident or illness is commonplace. Basically, it's not viewed as it would be in the modern western culture. I think this is very important to understand the characters' morals and actions.
Next chapter will be the 12th Games. We'll barely even see the tributes, they're almost all about to die anyway lol. After that, time jumps will start becoming a rule.
Look out for the outtake on peacekeepers (It'll be titled 'the barracks') in "Checkmate: behind the scenes" on my profile. I'll have it up by Sunday.
Please review!^^