CHAPTER 17 - GROUNDWORK
Bliss woke well before Afflatus, with a new sense of purpose. A fire had been lit in Bliss' chest, igniting the corrosive, flammable emotions that had built up over the years. She had a plan in mind, and the tenacity to try and execute it. If she played her cards right, she might be able to find Afflatus some answers. After the girl's life had been turned upside down and she was left adrift, at the very least, she deserved to know why.
Bliss looked over at Affy's sleeping form, face squished up against pillows, drooling. How the girl still looked effervescent, Bliss would never understand. Rays of sunlight shone over her face, illuminating the perfect skin. Bliss was sure housewives of all ages sought the technology the Capitol inflicted on Afflatus. At the very least, it took very little time and effort for Afflatus to get ready for the day.
It took about an hour in the mornings for Bliss to put herself together enough so it didn't look like she rolled right out of the stone age, matted hair and all. She wasn't jealous, though, knowing the attention Afflatus faced.
A look of relaxation, bordering on peace, formed over Affy's features. Bliss stole a few extra moments to take the expression in before getting ready to leave, so rarely did she see Afflatus truly calm.
Bliss silently left the room, careful not to wake her friend. Violet and Harlem were absent. She checked herself before she made her next move: the training centre apartments were monitored via audio only- no visual. As long as Bliss said nothing traitorous, she should be alright.
She crept towards the avox corridors, internal spaces and tunnels the slaves traversed for their duties, in order to stay out of sight as much as possible. The victors were instructed to leave the areas alone.
Bliss took a deep breath, and pushed through the narrow door leading to the corridors.
Grey concrete walls greeted her. She flinched. It reminded her of the holding space she was kept in before being raised up into the Games arena. No one was in sight. She wound through a claustrophobia-inducing hallway, until she found a kitchen. The avox assigned to the D7 apartment shot to their feet at the sight of her, perturbed at her presence in the slaves' corridors.
Bliss prepared to speak, but before she could make a sound, she was cut off immediately by the avox's waving hands. They pointed to their ears, then the walls. The Capitol was more paranoid than Bliss thought, bugging the quarters of people who couldn't speak.
The Avon made a writing motion, then a motion to follow them. Bliss followed directions.
They wound through concrete tunnels, a network within the walls of the Training Centre. Bliss focused on her breathing, maintaining calm, although the tunnels were anxiety-inducing. The soles of her feet and palms of her hands tingled with trepidation, so rarely was she bad.
The pair crept carefully, borderline silent, until they reached a small alcove with a metal rack full of cleaning supplies and a small, uneven table with two crates on either side. The avox motioned for Bliss to sit on one of the crates. She remained silent, not daring to utter another sound until she was back in the D7 apartment.
The avox reached to the back of a middle rack, and retrieved a metal bucket. They placed the bucket on the floor beside the table. Inside, was a small pad of paper, a stubby pencil, a candle, and matches.
After the avox placed the bucket on the floor and Bliss got a look at what was inside, they paused and studied Bliss. They didn't have to be communicating with her, and appeared to be ascertaining her intentions.
Bliss unfolded her hands from where they wound tight in a ball in her lap, palms up on her knees, eyes flicking between the avox and the floor, a sign of submission and respect. After a moment, the avox settled on the other crate.
They took out the supplies and lit the candle. Bliss nearly jumped when the match caught flame, roaring to life. She manually relaxed her muscles. The avox wrote lightly on the pad, as to not leave indentation on the next page.
The avox presented Bliss with a piece of paper, reading, Hello, Bliss. We must keep this conversation short. Why do you need to speak with me? (Burn this note and place it in the bin).
Bliss read the note, and did as she was told, holding the corner of the paper over the candle, letting the flames envelope the thin material, then dropping it into the metal bucket. It went out almost immediately, more like flash paper than notebook paper, leaving only a wisp of smoke.
Her resolve faltered, now that this was really happening. Her rage and pain spurred her decisions so far, and although she was being careful, she was inherently putting the avox at risk even by communicating with them. Guilt cramped her stomach.
She wrote back, Thank you for seeing me. I'm sorry for putting you in this situation. I need help- information. If you're unable to provide anything, I completely understand. Bliss slid the notepad and pencil back.
The avox read it quickly and burned the note. What do you need to know? Don't give me any extra details.
Bliss took a deep breath before she wrote treasonous words. The avox tensed, ever so slightly. She wrote back. Is it possible to find the collection of information that the Capitol uses to keep track of the Victors?
In what way? The avox seemed confused.
I imagine there's files- hard copies or digital copies. I would like to know where those files are kept. Bliss clarified.
I understand. I will see what I can do, but I can't make any promises. The avox wrote back.
Bliss teared up with relief as she read the note. The interaction wasn't going sideways. The avox wasn't going to report her for treasonous questions. Thank you, so so much. You have no idea how much this means to us.
The avox took longer to write back. They hesitated several times, then kept adding information. We might, actually. We don't just clean up after the victors, we're tasked with cleaning up the victors, themselves. Taking them home after punishments and assignments, making sure they are fit to be presented to the world. The Capitol offers no real support, of course, and doesn't give us any training on how to handle the aftermath of their abuse. But I think that's the point. The disadvantaged trying to help the disadvantaged. Nobody can escape. The information revealed more than the pace of a usual conversation, but they had decided to trust each other and had limited time to communicate.
I had no idea. Other than Bliss witnessing the avox helping Harlem home the other night, she'd never seen the avoxes helping victors. But she supposed that was the point. The Capitol's logic appeared to be keep the undesirable spectacles out of sight, out of mind.
It wasn't always this bad. But as soon as the Capitol discovered punishments and assignments as a means of both economic gain, and control over the victors and districts, regular quality of life for victors vanished. The avox wrote.
Money over humanity, the way of Man. Bliss summarized.
The way of the Cabal. The intoxication of power and control. I like to believe there's more to mankind. The avox confessed.
Bliss didn't know how to reply, right away, in the face of what little hope the avoxes had. What did one say to such a statement?
The conversation had gone on to long, though. The avox passed her a final note with a time to meet back in the alcove- later that day, before the Victor's Party in the evening. Bliss burned it, then the avox packed the supplies and hid the bucket at the back of the middle shelf.
As they wound their way back up to the D7 apartments, Bliss reflected on their communication, and the ritual involved. Burning each other's notes seemed to indicate a level of mutual respect, a mutual keeping of secrets. She was so grateful to the avox for taking the time.
Before Bliss pushed through the door to the D7 apartment, she offered her hand for a shake of thanks. The avox took her hand and shook. The contact of their skin on Bliss' sealed her resolve to move carefully. She wasn't the only person at risk. Bliss met the avox's eyes, nodded, then returned to the apartment.
…
Sunlight forced itself into Afflatus' retinas, her thick lashes not doing enough to block out the infuriating rays. Bliss'd opened the blinds before she left her bedroom earlier, and now Afflatus stewed in frustration and pain.
If the sun hadn't woken her up, though, the nausea surely would have.
Afflatus was brutally hungover. She'd lost count how many bottle of wine she drank yesterday, and combined with the painkillers and sleeping pills, her suddenly sober brain felt zapped and empty and dysregulated. She popped a painkiller and dry swallowed it before crawling to the bathroom.
Her whole body was violently shaking from alcohol withdrawal. The painkiller was doing little to ease the symptoms. She was cold and hot and feverish and clammy. The sensation made her want to bash her head against the wall, it might offer some relief.
Afflatus lay in the fetal position in front of the toilet, waiting for the nausea to overwhelm her. The cold tile under her skin only intensified the shaking.
Panem, she was pathetic.
Her guts clenched, and she couldn't even bring herself to get on all fours before the vomit spilled from her lips and pooled on the floor in front of her. The smell of it made her vomit again. Afflatus became trapped in a cycle of being too hot, too cold, shaking, and vomiting. It was cyclical, once it started, it didn't stop.
She wondered how many pills it would take to kill her fast enough that the Capitol wouldn't be able to revive her. It would have to be a substantial amount. Painkillers mixed with sleeping pills, for sure. Alcohol would help, another central nervous system depressant. She'd have to double or triple what she consumed yesterday, and take it all at once, and then she'd be free.
The fantasy about the release of death was intoxicating. She'd never feel sick again. She'd never be punished or humiliated again. She'd never be raped again. Dying was absolute, finite, irreversible. The last piece of autonomy and power she had.
If she was dead, though, she'd never be able to talk to Bliss again. She's never be able to experience another moment of Lustre getting his just desserts, the look of conceit wiped clean off his face. She's never see the beautiful lakes in the D1 victor's village. She's never speak to her parents again, tucked away in a cabin on one of the lakes, as far away as Afflatus could situate them. She wouldn't be able to keep them safe.
But she'd be free.
Hot tears trailed over the bridge of her nose, off the side of her face. She was so selfish, but the freedom was more desirable.
…
Bliss entered the D7 apartment through the avox corridors, and nearly stopped Harlem's heart. He looked at her with searing intent, but jovially asked her if she'd like to accompany him for a walk- his tone of voice for the microphones, of course. The look in his eyes implied she didn't have a choice.
She followed Harlem out of the apartment, and they wound through the streets until they arrived at the park he took her to last time. Once they could speak with relative freedom, Harlem wheeled on her.
"Bliss, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Harlem whisper-yelled. "You're stirring up trouble for no reason, and you're going to get yourself hurt because of it! You haven't been given an assignment, yet, and trust me, you need to do everything you can to keep yourself safe." She'd never seen him this angry, he was unhinged with rage and fear.
Bliss' rage swelled to meet his. "You have no idea what I'm doing, and don't you dare tell me it's for no reason!"
"You broke the rules by entering the avox corridors, doing Panem-knows-what! What do you think you're actually going to accomplish?! You're going to get hurt, and it'll be your fault." Harlem's voice was shaking.
Bliss raised a finger, jabbing at the air in front of Harlem. "Watch it, Harlem, you sound like them."
He recoiled at her words, hurt, and scoffed. "What did you just say to me?! I'm trying to look out for you-"
"I know. I know." Bliss interrupted, taking a deep breath, trying to bring her energy down. "Listen to yourself, though. You think I'm going to get myself hurt? If I get hurt, they're the ones who hurt me. It's their fault! Not ours. That's the fucking point! That's the fucking reason!"
Harlem tried to interrupt, but Bliss barrelled on.
"I feel for you, Harlem, I feel for you and Affy and myself and everyone, so much, it's going to make me fucking explode! I'm not like you, though, I'm not going to shut down and make myself small and toe the line of the Capitol! Call me young and naive or whatever! It's probably true! But at least I'm not jaded enough to fucking give up and take it! It's fucked up! If nobody does anything, it's going to stay that way! They take everything from us but our opinions and values and beliefs.
"You know they're wrong, Harlem. You know it! Don't tell me it's for no reason. Don't tell me it's my fucking fault. If you don't want to help me, don't try to stop me!" She wished she could scream, but she kept her voice at the same whisper-yell volume as Harlem, lest they be overheard.
Harlem looked like he wanted to throttle her. He said nothing else, though, shutting down into complete silence. There was a storm of emotion on his face, but Bliss didn't dare break the silence as they stalked back down the streets towards the Training Centre.
When they arrived, Bliss got off on the seventh floor. Harlem continued up to the eleventh, not looking at her, not saying goodbye. He was monumentally pissed off. Maybe Bliss had been too honest? No. She was harsh, but she didn't regret her words. She loved Harlem, and loved how he cared for her and feared for her, but she wouldn't let his fear weigh her down. She was playing with fire, but she had a hell of a good reason.
Harlem typically fell into a pit of self-hatred and beat himself down after periods of abuse. It made him smaller, more docile, which was exactly the point. She didn't blame him for it, in any way, but she would not become the same way.
They both needed time to cool off before speaking again.
…
Bliss was still worked up when she entered the apartment. She huffed over to the kitchen to put on the kettle, not noticing Afflatus sitting on the couch in the other room. She grumbled incoherently to herself as she made tea.
Afflatus ambled into the kitchen, blanket around her shoulder, looking on the verge of death. Bliss couldn't hide the shock in her face at the girl's appearance.
"That bad?" Afflatus ran a hand through her hair, self-conscious.
Bliss took a deep breath in and slowly pushed it out. She was overwhelmed. It was too much, everyone unbalanced, falling apart.
"Hey, are you okay?" Afflatus asked, forgetting about her appearance. She touched Bliss' elbow as she asked the question, and felt her friend shaking. "Bliss…"
Bliss had to keep up appearances, though, today was a vitally important day. She stepped away from Afflatus' comforting gesture. "I can't right now." Not looking her friend in the eye.
"Understood. Want to watch a shitty tv program?" Afflatus asked, offering a distraction. Bliss nodded. After her tea was made, they retreated to the sitting room.
Afflatus' presence helped to distract Bliss. They sat in a comfortable silence, staring at the tv. Bliss thought Afflatus seemed on edge, trying to hold it together so Bliss wouldn't have to clean up another mess. Bliss' thoughts were ugly, tainted with frustration. She logically wasn't overwhelmed with the states of Affy and Harlem, but she was emotionally wiped. She had nothing to offer at the moment, nothing left to give. Bliss was worn down to the bone. She desperately needed a break.
But that wasn't an option. So, she focused on her breathing and the pounding of her heart, trying to coax them into calm. She couldn't follow the plot of the drama playing, but it didn't matter. The images were distracting enough, Bliss began to reel herself in.
The Victor's Party was less than half a day away. Soon, Bliss would have to face the avox again, then get herself ready for the event. Afflatus had to pull herself together, then do the same. She'd be responsible for accompanying Lustre throughout the night.
Bliss hadn't revealed even a hint of her plan to Afflatus, but she pondered doing so, weighing the options.
Telling Afflatus might give her hope, something to hold on to, but at the cost of putting her at risk for even knowing.
Bliss turned to Afflatus, subtly appraising her friend. She was lost in her own world, and the expression over her face scared Bliss. It was one of peace mixed with extreme sadness. Those emotions together could fester into something volatile, and perhaps meet violent ends.
Affy could hang on for another evening, Bliss desperately hoped.
She accidentally kicked the remote off the foot table, starling Afflatus. "Sorry." Bliss muttered, picking the remote back up.
Afflatus looked dazed, broken out of her thoughts. She popped her neck and adjusted how she sat. Conflicting emotions broke over her expression, thoughts likely turned to the party this eve.
Afflatus and Lustre would be a better distraction if Affy was none the wiser to Bliss' plans, as cruel as it may sound. Affy didn't have to get back into character if she was already playing the part. Bliss hoped Afflatus would forgive her. She wondered how long it would take for the evening to devolve, for Lustre to say one too many wrong things, and cause a scene. For Afflatus to get too wasted, and draw even more attention to herself.
Bliss was banking the fallout fell solely on Lustre, as this party was a sort of right-of-passage for entering the ranks of victorhood, and thus being responsible for oneself. Blame for his actions would no longer fall on Afflatus after Lustre entered the doors of the Presidential Mansion, technically. Bliss gambled on the idea the President would follow his own rules.
Fear ate her up inside, as did Harlem's frenzied warning, but she found the courage-or stupidity- to move forward.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Afflatus asked. Bliss turned to her. The girl was studying Bliss now, witnessing her scheme in real time.
Bliss gave her a meaningful look, and raised an eyebrow. "Can you do something for me?" Bliss asked.
"Anything." Afflatus immediately answered.
"Wear something flashy tonight." Bliss said, seriously. It was a request that didn't make sense, and one that she would never usually make, but Afflatus trusted her.
Tone strong with solidarity, and maybe something else, Afflatus said, "Everyone may see it, but it'll be just for you."
…
It was time to meet the avox again. Afflatus had already left to prepare herself for the evening. Bliss steeled her nerves for what she was about to do, what she was about to ask, and pushed through the door to the avox corridors. She closed it silently behind her.
Bliss wound through the tunnels without the assistance of the avox, navigating the space. Having Bliss meet back in the same spot instead of offering the guidance a second time could have been another test of respect and fortitude, in its own way. In these tunnels, they were equals, and Bliss had to be smart. She was to pull her own weight.
She arrived in the alcove, on time. The D7 apartment avox sat on one of the crates, waiting. They nodded upon her arrival, Bliss did the same. The avox retrieved the same metal bucket, and they began their communication ritual again, with the flame of the candle.
The avox looked ready to get down to business, but Bliss motioned to ask for the notepad first. The avox gave it to her.
Thank you for seeing me. Our conversations mean a lot to me. Bliss slid the notepad back.
The avox read the note, nodded, and burned it. They wrote back, The President keeps hard copies of his "Victor Files" in a library suite attached to his office.
Bliss eyes widened as she burned the note. She thought for sure she'd have to find a way to sneak out of the mansion and around the Capitol, and realized in the moment that was actually delusional. But with the Victor Files already in the mansion, she just had to navigate the space without being caught.
It may be the most heavily surveilled building in the Capitol, but the Files were within Bliss' reach. She had to try and view them. The burning intent in her eyes seemed to translate perfectly fine without her needing to pass another note.
The avox wrote back, There's a plan in place, if you're willing.
'If you're brave enough," was the intent behind the message. Bliss nodded again, then burned the note.
The avox began writing. Maintenance avoxes have been cleansing the Presidential Mansion for weeks now, in preparation for the party. The President's personal quarters are included in the cleansing. We've timed the cleansing of the library to take place during the victor's party- his personal quarters are not expected to be completed before the even begins. If you're able to meet an avox through the kitchen corridor at exactly 10:15pm, they will escort you to a tunnel behind the library where the Victor Files are being cleansed. There's a blindspot in the cameras leading to the avox corridors in the kitchen. Before you leave the sightline of the cameras, make it look like you're searching for something to eat or drink. Make it convincing. You will have five minutes to look at the Files before you will be escorted back. Memorize every detail of this note before you burn it. I have to leave right now. Put the bucket back in place.
The avox slid the note across the table, then swiftly departed. Bliss turned her attention to the note.
…
As Bliss stepped back into the D7 apartment, Harlem was waiting for her. His anger was gone, sadness pooling in his eyes. He looked like the wind had been taken out of him, and Bliss feared she was to blame. She wouldn't take back what she said, though.
They stared at each other. Harlem opened his arms, and Bliss immediately crossed the space and accepted his hug. They held each other tight, in apology; with respect and understanding for one another.
"I wish I was more like you." Harlem whispered into her ear.
