Chapter Text
I left that gloomy building after eating half the bread. I couldn't control my hunger until I reached the halfway point, at which I decided to save the rest for Sarah, tucking it deep into my backpack. I had strong hopes of finding her. Nothing else occupied my thoughts.
I ran between blocks of buildings under the sun, which was blazing that day. A false sense of calm lingered after the terrifying night we had endured. Unlike the previous day, this time I had woken up much later, likely due to the lingering effects of the mist. The bright side was that I felt much more rested, and my stomach was clearly grateful for the food.
I found the tallest tower in the area and cautiously entered. It didn't seem like anyone was there, but I couldn't let my guard down. High places might already be occupied by other tributes who had the same idea as me: climb up to get a better view of the arena.
Fortunately, after several minutes of climbing silently, I confirmed the building was empty. Once I reached the top floor, I approached one of its windows.
The sponsors hadn't sent me water. That could only mean one thing: water must be nearby. Katniss had told me how Haymitch never sent her water because she was close enough to find it herself. That gift, she had explained, served as a double clue.
From the heights, I scanned the arena with my eyes. First, I carefully observed the city to create a clear mental map of its layout. The section of tall, modern buildings where the Careers were moving their supplies. The area where I had spent my first night. Below that, a residential area full of houses. And beyond, an industrial zone that lay behind me.
Then I turned my gaze to the right, toward the forest. From this vantage point, closer to it and at a considerable height, I could see it much better than I had from the other parts of the arena I had visited. It was dense, abruptly cutting off the city and bordering only the circular plaza where the Cornucopia stood. The trees seemed to vary in height and hue depending on the area, far from being a homogeneous forest, just as the city had distinct neighborhoods.
I lamented my lack of knowledge about different kinds of trees and vegetation, though I doubted that knowledge would have been useful from this distance.
My eyes returned to the Cornucopia, searching intently for the spot where my platform must have been. Since Sarah had appeared on the opposite side—where I hadn't seen her—I calculated the approximate area where she might have fled into the forest. My estimation might not have been exact; I myself hadn't fled in a straight line. But for now, it was the only lead I could follow.
The forest was so vast. There was only one way to follow Sarah's possible path: by heading back toward the Cornucopia. Entering the forest from another area and attempting to estimate distances could lead me astray.
I searched for signs of water. I noticed some clearings in parts of the forest, but nothing beyond the treetops was visible. The forest extended beyond what my eyes could reach. If there was a lake or river, I couldn't see it. But if Katniss hadn't sent water, it meant I could find some. And if she had urged me to find Sarah, it must mean that water was more accessible wherever she was—or so I interpreted it. Unfortunately, in the Games, you often have to rely on assumptions.
Dinner is tense. Although the victor from District 3 is a pleasant man, we never seem to find a topic that can flow naturally into another. Peeta's remarkable social skills help us navigate from one topic to the next, along with Haymitch's anecdotes collected over the years with our guest.
But I can't shake the feeling that something is off. Something strange about this visit eludes me. My intuition tells me there is more to this than meets the eye, though I can't pinpoint what or who is behind it.
"Do you remember that time Woof forgot his speech in the car?" Haymitch recalls, causing Beetee to laugh.
"And ended up speaking for thirty minutes with no connection between his points?" our guest adds, laughing.
"That was my fault, without a doubt," Haymitch says. "I shouldn't have invited him to drink."
I don't follow the anecdote at all. Something about Beetee catches my attention. After placing his glass on the table, he runs his hand over a small silver ring. The movement is nearly imperceptible, but it strikes me as odd.
At first, I chalk it up to my paranoia. But a few seconds later, the lights in the Victor's Village flicker and go out with a buzz.
It isn't unusual in District 12. The city isn't always lit, and blackouts are frequent, though less so in the Village compared to the town—or especially the Seam. Yet, this one feels different. None of the people at the table seem surprised, but a heavy silence settles, illuminated only by the fire from the candles.
Haymitch breathes beside me, relieved.
"That wasn't a normal blackout," I say, lifting my gaze. "Am I wrong?"
My eyes fix on Katniss, who is serious and silent. She looks at me when she notices my gaze locked on hers. At first, she doesn't react. She stares at me, serious.
But in the end, she nods, moving her head slightly.
Returning to the streets, I moved swiftly but cautiously, darting across roads until I found another hiding spot where I could pause and check for the absence of other tributes nearby. I was approaching the Cornucopia and the forest—both of which were more hostile territories for me.
I was getting used to the city, which, though terrifying, was familiar ground. More controllable.
The forest was likely the domain of tributes more accustomed to being among trees. And the Cornucopia was, by definition, the Careers' territory—or so it had been in almost every edition of the Games.
But in this one, supposedly, the supplies had been moved to one of the tallest towers. Drusus, the boy from District 2, had been guarding the area the day before, but perhaps he had already joined the others for the hunt.
Even so, my mind imagined his face everywhere. If they had left him alone to guard everything, it meant he was certainly a formidable enemy.
I had observed him in the training center. There wasn't a weapon he didn't know how to use—or at least, he had wielded them all with incredible mastery.
My memories took me back to how he had pounced on the boy from District 5.
He was lethal.
After several minutes, I finally reached a building near the Cornucopia and hid behind one of the empty containers nearby.
It seemed deserted. However, there still appeared to be some objects left on the grass—not much, just things the Careers hadn't bothered to take.
I felt the urge to descend into the plaza, but the fear that they might still be nearby was stronger than my desire to scavenge. I had to reach Sarah. That was the priority.
I prepared to run toward the forest, but something stopped me.
A silhouette appeared, running, leaping up the white steps toward the Cornucopia.
The girl from District 9.
She looked desperate and hungry. Her clothes were tattered. She had come from the forest and seemed confused. Very confused. She reached the grass quickly but somewhat unsteadily, clumsily approaching an empty bag, into which she began stuffing items she found nearby.
No one came. I simply watched the girl gather everything she could before slinging the bag over her shoulder and climbing back up the steps.
In my direction.
She looked so scared. So confused. Who knew if she had seen her district partner die? I felt immense pity for her as she stumbled up the steps.
Feeling a heavy weight in my chest, I stepped out of my hiding spot, weapon in hand.
Her terrified gaze when she saw me appear stayed with me forever.
"It's not a blackout, no," says Beetee from the other side of the table.
My gaze shifts from my mentor to the unfamiliar man, unable to hide my expression of confusion.
"You're quite observant," the man says. "How did you...?"
"The ring," I interrupt him. "You did something strange with the ring."
"You have a sharp mind, Ethan," Beetee replies.
"He has his moments," Haymitch jokes, laughing.
I glare at him. Normally, I tolerate his jokes with extreme patience, but something about all this is making me nervous. Very nervous. And all I feel is frustration and anger.
"Didn't you say I'd only have one chance?" I snap, accusing him. "On the train, you said I'd only have one chance..."
"Why don't you listen before you talk, pretty boy?" Haymitch says in a slightly disdainful tone, which only infuriates me further.
"This isn't about the train, Ethan," Beetee interjects. "Not exactly."
"What is that ring?" I ask, in a tone far less polite than usual for me.
"If you'll allow me, I'll explain everything," he says calmly.
Katniss and Peeta remain silent, tense. Peeta tries to give me a reassuring smile, but I don't look at him directly. I'm too upset.
"Go ahead," I say, leaning back in my chair. "I'm all ears."
Beetee looks at the others, who nod, adjusting themselves in their seats. Haymitch pours himself another glass of wine as he finishes chewing.
"Do you know the panopticon effect?" the visitor from District 3 asks me.
"I think so," I answer. "It has to do with surveillance—how a person who believes they're being watched will behave as though they are, even when they're not."
The man smiles, clearly satisfied with my response, while I remain leaning on the chair with one arm, creating a false illusion of comfort.
"You really are very, very observant," he says again. "I told your mentors that during your Games."
"I didn't electrocute the other tributes with my wit," I reply dryly. "And I've done a lot of reading since then. There wasn't much else to do."
"Maybe you're not a technical genius," he says, "but you're sharp. Don't doubt that."
"Can we get to the point?" I ask, still uneasy but slightly less angry.
"You're correct. The panopticon effect creates a simple but effective system for the Capitol. They don't need to watch all the time, and in fact, they don't have the capacity to do so. But you can control people if fear does the work for you." He pauses, drumming his fingers slowly on the wooden table. "But what happens when you know for certain that no one is watching?"
"Like now?" I ask, my unease giving way to genuine curiosity.
"Precisely."
Beetee nods, and I glance around the dim room, my hands brushing lightly against the cutlery. I look at the floor before returning my gaze to the others. I catch a glimpse of Katniss out of the corner of my eye. She sits stiffly, tense but silent, her jaw tightening. Beside her, Peeta also looks uncomfortable.
"You finally do what you want," I say, my voice wavering slightly.
"And what do you want?" he responds.
"For the Capitol to leave us alone," I say, almost in a sigh.
"Good answer," Beetee murmurs before repeating himself, "Excellent answer, without a doubt."
"Can we get to the point?" Katniss interjects, sounding nervous.
"This isn't just a blackout, Ethan, as you've rightly deduced," Beetee leans forward, his tone low but firm. "For the next twenty minutes, there are no cameras, microphones, or Capitol eyes on us. For the first time in a long while, you can speak freely."
I feel my chest tighten. The idea of a space free from surveillance should be reassuring, yet it only makes me more alert. I can't respond to what he's saying, so I wait in silence for him to continue.
"You see... in this case, the panopticon effect has a flaw," he says with a smile. "They know they can't watch everything, but they also know we're aware, that we're afraid, that we know we're being watched. They believe that now, during this blackout, we still think we're being watched."
"And how does that help us? How did you do it?" I ask, looking at his ring. "I understand what you're saying, but I don't understand the how—or the why."
"I think you already sense the why," he says, holding up his hand to display the ring. "And you've observed the how. It's a piece of technology I've been working on for years. I helped create the Capitol's most advanced surveillance systems. But while programming them, I embedded a flaw—a flaw this device exploits."
"I understand," I say softly. "Or I think I do."
"Let me explain it another way," Beetee says, spinning the ring obsessively around his finger, his gaze fixed as he delves into his explanation. "This tiny device temporarily interrupts signals in its vicinity. In non-technical terms, it creates a 'blind spot' in the Capitol's surveillance system. It triggers something akin to a selective blackout."
"And the Capitol doesn't realize this afterward?" I ask, though something in me already knows the answer.
"No, or at least not here, because in District 12, blackouts are common, aren't they? Even here in the Victor's Village."
Katniss crosses her arms and sighs heavily. A heavy silence falls over the room again. My unease resurfaces.
"And why?" I ask, breaking the silence again.
"For the same reason you said when I asked what you would do if no one were watching. Do what you want. Free yourself from the Capitol."
My mind races through several emotions as I hear those words, though I can't process them all. But two feelings clearly dominate: fear and hope.
"You want to start a revolution."
"Yes," he says.
"In twenty minutes?" I say sarcastically, though I wish I hadn't.
"In small, twenty-minute increments," he replies, ignoring my tone. "In cumulative twenty-minute intervals. A quiet, slow war. There's no other way. Our opponent is too powerful for direct confrontation."
"And how would it work?" I ask, curiosity overtaking my doubt.
Beetee smiles. He has my full attention now, and he's ready to reveal his entire plan. I glance at Haymitch, remembering our conversation on the train, but he avoids my gaze.
The girl from District 9 froze. She was dazed, frightened, carrying supplies recently scavenged from the Cornucopia over her shoulder. I stood there with my backpack slung across my back and my axe in hand. Undoubtedly, all the cameras were on us.
She looked at me, making a tremendous effort not to cry. She didn't try to run. She just stood there, paralyzed, before pleading:
"Please," she said in a sob. "Please, don't... don't."
I stared at her, holding the tension of the moment. The cameras were watching. My sponsors were watching. All of Panem was watching.
"I just want information," I said slowly. "If you give me useful information, I'll let you go. Give me information, and I won't hurt you."
She froze even more, but I noticed that, despite her rigid body, she exhaled shakily and swallowed hard to suppress the urge to cry. She was terrified. Terrified of me.
And I hated it.
I didn't want to make her suffer. But the cameras were watching. I couldn't comfort a girl from another district. I couldn't trust her. I couldn't let my guard down. The world was watching, and I had to act accordingly.
"What do you want to know?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Have you seen Sarah?" I asked, staring straight into her eyes. "Have you seen the girl from my district? The one from 12?"
"Yes... yes... I saw her," she said, swallowing again with her parched throat. "I mean... I saw her at dusk on the first day. In the forest."
"In which area?"
The girl pointed in the direction I had calculated Sarah might be. She looked at me, her face still filled with fear.
"About a mile and a quarter that way. No one was following her. She was fine. I saw her climb a tree. An oak," she said. "She was safe... the forest... the forest seemed safe then."
"Then?" I asked.
"This morning, a mist appeared, covering everything," she said. "I saw a tribute collapse—I think it was the boy from 11—but I was far away. I ran. But it didn't reach the treetops... if you breathe it..."
"It numbs you, I know," I said, nodding. "It happened last night in the city. If you breathe it for too long, it puts you to sleep. I don't know if it's fatal or not."
"Yes... the Careers are patrolling the edge of the forest," she said. "I saw them. I barely escaped. They've headed toward the back of the arena. It was the perfect time to check if they'd left anything at the Cornucopia. I heard them... as soon as the mist clears, they'll enter to hunt down all the tributes hiding on that side."
"Then you'd better run in the other direction," I said, lowering my axe. "To the city."
She looked at me, smiling despite her fear, tears in her eyes. Her trembling hands relaxed slightly, and she took a few hesitant steps, moving in a diagonal to avoid getting too close to me.
"Still, don't go near that section of buildings," I said. "It's where they're keeping their supplies—they might have split up. The area behind me seems clear. If the mist comes, the buildings will protect you. One collapsed last night, but there's no other choice if you don't want to fall asleep in the streets."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you, Ethan."
I was surprised. The girl knew my name. I could barely remember the names of the Careers.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Ceres," she said.
"Beautiful name," I said.
"It's common in my district," she said. "Many of us are named that."
"Thank you, Ceres," I said. "I wish you luck."
She nodded. Without another word, I ran off, avoiding getting too close to her. When I turned back, she had disappeared from the street, as if she had never been there.
I sighed, knowing I could never have hurt her. Though the cameras couldn't know that.
The scene could be framed in the light that Katniss, Haymitch, and Peeta needed to show to my sponsors. And the Capitol could focus their replays more on the threat than on the rest of our conversation.
I smiled, looking at the tall buildings whose glass windows reflected the sun. Everything could be explained as a strategy against the Careers. Or so I hoped.
So I gave the Capitol the right angle.
My compassion could be framed as strategic. When in reality, I was using strategy to hide my compassion.
After all, they wanted a show.