Голодные игры

           Juststeppingonthestagemakesmybreathingrapidandshallow.Icanfeelmypulsepoundinginmytemples.It’sarelieftogettomychair,becausebetweentheheelsandmylegsshaking,I’mafraidI’lltrip.Althougheveningisfalling,theCityCircleisbrighterthanasummer’sday.Anelevatedseatingunithasbeensetupforprestigiousguests,withthestylistscommandingthefrontrow.Thecameraswillturntothemwhenthecrowdisreactingtotheirhandiwork.AlargebalconyoffabuildingtotherighthasbeenreservedfortheGamemakers.Televisioncrewshaveclaimedmostoftheotherbalconies.ButtheCityCircleandtheavenuesthatfeedintoitarecompletelypackedwithpeople.Standingroomonly.Athomesandcommunityhallsaroundthecountry,everytelevisionsetisturnedon.EverycitizenofPanemistunedin.Therewillbenoblackoutstonight.

           CaesarFlickerman,themanwhohashostedtheinterviewsformorethanfortyyears,bouncesontothestage.It’salittlescarybecausehisappearancehasbeenvirtuallyunchangedduringallthattime.Samefaceunderacoatingofpurewhitemakeup.SamehairstylethathedyesadifferentcolorforeachHungerGames.Sameceremonialsuit,midnightbluedottedwithathousandtinyelectricbulbsthattwinklelikestars.TheydosurgeryintheCapitol,tomakepeopleappearyoungerandthinner.InDistrict12,lookingoldissomethingofanachievementsincesomanypeopledieearly.Youseeanelderlypersonyouwanttocongratulatethemontheirlongevity,askthesecretofsurvival.