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The bright lights of the corridor were already giving Pix an headache when he stopped in front of the large white door: the Head Gamemaker’s office. His anxiety over the meeting would have convinced him he was in the wrong place if it weren't for the polished silver plaque in front of his eyes: “Amethyst | Head Gamemaker”. He was a few minutes early, as was polite to be when meeting with someone arguably more powerful than the President of Panem. Inside he could overhear someone talking.
“… any questions?”
“With all due respect, I don't see why we have to do it this way. It's so expensive and complicated. And it's not even guaranteed to work…”
“Because of authenticity. You can’t fake these things! It needs to be true. Raw. Emotional.”
“So we can’t just pull a Xisuma? That worked out pretty well if you ask me.”
“We will if we have to. We are prepared to take that step. But I won’t allow my legacy to be of someone who was lazy or cuts corners. This Quell will be the most spectacular yet! It will go down in history as a masterpiece of science and entertainment! Now go, I have things to do.”
“Yes ma’am, thank you.”
Steps came quickly towards the door and Pix stepped back from where he’d been leaning towards the door to hear better. The door opened and Pix recognized the person coming out, Ciel, one of the more promising Gamemakers in training and apparently the only one not afraid to speak out to Amethyst, unlike him.
“Hi Pix! Have a good day, I’ll see you soon!”
“Hi Ciel, enjoy the rest of your day.”
Pix watched them disappear across the corner and knocked on the Gamemaster’s door.
“Come in Pix.”
He slowly walked through, poking his head in first before fully heading in, back straight in false confidence.
“Good evening Amethyst.”
“Come in please, I just need to go over the last few details for the training.”
“Yes, how can I help?”
“First of all, I don't think you should be in the training rooms, at all. The dynamic you develop with the Tributes during the interviews is unique because you only get to meet them for three minutes. We shouldn't lose that.”
“I wholeheartedly agree.”
“So, who will be doing your vices?”
She asked with a hint of annoyance. Pix hurried to answer, already prepared for the question. He had hoped he’d be allowed in the training rooms to satisfy his own curiosity, but he too did believe that it wasn't a good idea, from an entertainment point of view.
“I’ve enlisted the help of two very competent filmmakers, whom I worked with back in my University days, you may know them as they worked on several Capitol programs: Sloy and Lyarrah.”
“Indeed I do know them, fantastic work on their exploration of District 13, I thoroughly enjoyed it. To be honest I’ve always been so curious about 13, since childhood, and that movie really scratches the itch for me!”
Pix nodded knowingly and made a mental note to let his friends know about that when he saw them for dinner later that night.
“Onto the second matter, how do you plan to spin the narrative in our favor?”
“What do you mean?”
“Right, you wouldn't know. Not like you’ve ever seen it.”
“Seen what?”
“During the training days, the Tributes are living like in limbo, stuck between life and death. They make friends, allies, sometimes they even fall in love, but they know that in a few weeks all but one of them will die. Sure showing them being together and training will garner more attention and sponsors. But how do you make sure these kids don't convince the Capitol that the Games are bad just by existing peacefully?”
“I- I don't even know how they would go about that.”
“Why do we need the Games, Pix?”
“As a reminder, so that we never repeat the mistakes of the past.”
“Yes, that. It is a warning for the Districts about what the Capitol can do. We will always win, and they will always lose. But that’s not all.”
Pix stared at the Head Gamemaker sheepishly, that old fear and anxiety creeping back in as her eyes bore into him. A flicker of disappointment crossed her face as she spoke up again.
“The Life Games are proof that there is no society without the Capitol, without Panem. How brutal and violent are we if there is no order? We become savages. The Districts may believe themselves innocent, victims even, but they cannot deny that they need us when even their children become capable of incredible violence once they are not under control. They are animals.”
“I agree that they are different from us. But I’ve met them, all the Tributes of the past ten years. They are still people, terrified, innocent children. Some of the Victors become basically Capitol, with how well they fit into our society.”
He didn't know where the courage to speak up came, but Pix couldn't stay silent. Sure they needed the Games. He knew that, but to say all those kids were killers was outrageous, they were survivors. Amethyst’s reaction confused him; she smiled, a cold calculated smile of someone who knows they know better.
“You say that, but you have seen those same “terrified innocent children” turn into cold blooded murderers. Especially the Victors, think of that sky-blue princess from District 8 waltzing his way through the Capitol, he killed, what? Five people during his Games? No matter how much they pretend. The Districts cannot be without the Capitol. Without Panem. So let me ask you again: how do you plan to keep the status quo?”
He swallowed dryly. The words caught in the back of his throat. The image of every Tribute who’d ever told him they could never take a life when they first became a killer flashed before his eyes, Scott front and centre of his memories. He took a breath and focused on not letting his voice shake.
“The footage will not be aired live. We will edit it and spin the narrative how it best serves us. Once the Games start we will use the footage to our advantage. Comparing what they say and do in training to their actions during the Games, paint them as liars without a moral backbone. Nothing more terrifying than the thought of even a 12 year old District kid being capable of lies and manipulation.”
“Very well then, you may proceed with the project. I’ll see you again.”
She waved him off and Pix sighed a breath of relief as he left the room, glad he had said the right words. Walking up the stairs his fingers hovered over the call button, he wanted to hear from FWhip, talk through his thoughts, but ultimately he chose to put his phone back in his pocket. First he had to clear his head, then he’d talk to him.