The stars, with their ageless twinkling, have a way of dragging Mercury's thoughts to the remnants of the old world. Amid the endless inky blackness above, he wonders if the Americans of the past envisioned their nation succumbing to what Panem is now. They weren't a great people, but Mercury gives props to them for not making reality television where kids murder each other. At least, he doesn't think they did.
His hands glide through the water, breaking its stillness, and he bobs gently on his back. The dam serves as his sanctuary for contemplation—a place where the endless darkness envelops him, and his thoughts echo undisturbed. In winter, the water is way too freezing, but the summer water blankets him in its perfect, cool embrace. While many kids play in the dam during the day to escape the relentless heat, nighttime grants Mercury the freedom to let his mind wander. Here he's allowed to think beyond energy production and the games. Occasionally, he'll encounter couples seeking seclusion for their trysts, prompting him to roll his eyes and retreat to the mayoral villa.
Running his fingers across his pruney palms, he decides he's been here long enough. Swimming to the walkway, he pulls himself out of the water, the cold metal handrail biting into his thighs. Clothes clutched in his hands, he tiptoes off the site and behind one of the pumping stations near the wall, slipping into his clothes. Shoes, however, remain in his hands; damp clothes are one thing, but wet feet in socks are a discomfort he refuses to endure.
A nocturnal chill runs down Mercury's spine as the night air whispers. Tension hangs in the air, reserved for three distinct occasions— the Reaping, the Hunger Games, and the Victory Tour. Peeta Mellark and the District 12 team are just weeks away. It's challenging to summon much care when neither Norris nor Mia made it far. Mellark appears amiable, charismatic, and handsome; the district will offer their obligatory respect before attempting to bury the memories until the reaping revisits them in six months.
Mercury kicks a pebble of concrete across the ground, its impact against a brick wall reverberating as it spins a couple of meters away. As he walks, he takes a few more strides, sending the pebble farther down the path. A distant alarm punctuates the air from the smokestacks piercing the sky. On most nights, the settlement streets buzz with activity; workers populate the area, socializing with neighbors on their day off. The air alight with chatter brighter than any of the light they provide across the country. Tonight, the deserted streets amplify the siren, five times louder than usual in the absence of the daytime buzz.
Mercury's not sure where to spend the rest of his night, but his feet take him toward the lookout where you can see the solar farms. Panels stretching across the desert sand as far as the eyes can see. He's seen them dozens of times, but they look cool at night with all of the stars beaming down on them from above.
In the darkness, it's impossible to see the windmill farms, but during the day they stand clear and tall from this lookout. Before his dad was elected as mayor, Mercury's family were situated in the Blue Sector, where all the hydroelectric plants are. Not far from here. He always wanders back when he needs to think.
Mercury's heart pounds in his chest as he approaches the villa. It all feels dystopian. Jilted streets, wailing sirens. There's a tad more activity around his home. The government precinct never sleeps. He keeps low, a shadow against the night, gliding past the windows with silent grace until he reaches the tree looming next to the roof. With nimble fingers and practiced skill, he scales its sturdy branches.
Upon reaching the roof, he pauses to catch his breath. The moon casts a gentle glow upon the scene below, illuminating the sprawling estate with its light. Once inside, he sheds the remnants of his journey, slipping into his pajamas with the ease of a seasoned performer. Settling onto his bed, he immerses himself in the pages of a well-worn book as he waits for the morning sun to break the horizon. 'The Shining Guide into Panem" is a thorough encyclopedia of the country and its history. Despite its extensive information, Mercury gets the sense there's a lot the book doesn't cover. The section describing how the Capitol came to run the country is vague and leaves a lot to the imagination. All it implies is that the Capitol had the most resources, so they were a "natural fit" for leader. Given that the so-called "Illustrious City" needs thirteen districts to do their work for them, it sounds uninformed.
As dawn breaks, the district stirs from its slumber, the desert heat seeping through the walls like a relentless vapor. He's reminded of the poisonous fog from the Quarter Quell a couple of years ago. Mercury flicks on the ceiling fan, a futile attempt to ward off the oppressive warmth. After roughly thirty minutes of bustling activity downstairs, his parents finally depart for work. Hearing the door click shut, he tiptoes downstairs, prepared to kick-start his day. Russ arrives in the kitchen mere moments after Mercury, just a split second behind. His brother's curly hair is matted to one side of his head. Mercury's would be the same, had he actually slept. Their mother's wild hair was passed down to both of them. Mercury's spent probably half of his teen years in front of the bathroom mirror trying to keep it tidy.
"Enjoying your escapades as of late?" Russ asks. "I heard you come in this morning."
"I don't go anywhere crazy, just the dam. I like to think when I'm out there."
"At least someone in this family does." He says, buttering a slice of bread. I don't think either of them has a thought between them to rub together."
Russ is talking about their parents who, for some reason, have decided to remain in a loveless and argumentative marriage, prompting a knowing glance from Mercury. Russ doesn't bother hiding his lack of shame. They settle at the table with plates of buttered toast as Mercury switches on the television. The usual Capitol propaganda fills the screen, luring Mercury into a mindless stupor. News of a former District 1 victor's run-in with the law grabs his attention. Russ makes a noise.
"They'll only give him a slap on the wrist," he says.
Mercury shrugs. "Who cares? It's not our problem. Nikola Madden's been terrorising District 5 for thirty years, you get used to it."
The brothers fall back into silence.