Chapter Text
The question read “what are the Capitol’s contributions to the districts?”
Euphemia Trinket, now a sixth grader and about to graduate from first school, began writing the answer as soon as she read it. This test was easy.
The word ‘capitol’ in ancient progressive societies was defined as the physical building where the congress of the time met. It’s close to the word ‘capital’, which holds a more similar meaning to the
nowadaysdefinition of administrative center. As per definition, the Capitol’s contributions to the districts includesadministration of products and final goods. While some districts provide a single product to the economy, the Capitol exports plenty of services it is specialized on like banking, legal, education, and security.
Additional to this,the Capitol is in charge of the infrastructure of the nation, meaning that housing, roads, and public buildings in all the dependencies of Panem are possible thanks to the professionals formed in the Capitol.
The teacher of this class was strict. While the questions from the test were straightforward, Euphemia knew that enumerated lists never sufficed. It was important to know how one thing connected to the other. The teacher had slipped the questions of this test. It made everyone excited since it was his first time EVER helping them.
“If I were to ask about the Capitol’s contributions to the districts,” he had said, “I would expect something like this." And then wrote it all on the board.
Administration means ensuring there is enough for everyone. The Capitol secures wood for District 2, electricity for 8, electronics for 1… The education it provides helps other districts with shortcomings like infrastructure: the University of the Capitol is the sole third school with the career of architecture and urbanism. Our people have designed the roads of 6 and the library in 3.
"Listing every contribution would take you more space than the provided. Think wisely about your summary while also stating the importance of this variety. What’s the meaning behind the Capitol’s buildings and the many services in exchange for wood? Buildings and plenty of services in exchange for grain… Etc.”
In the end, out of 5 possible points, Euphemia had gotten only 3. The teacher had crossed out all he had disliked and left a note in red indicating key points she had forgotten about.
“security = intangible benefits (e.g. respect, production continuity) lead to-> tangible results (e.g. private property, availability of necessities)”
Another note read she “had to improve her redaction and employ agreeable synonyms”. The word nowadays was crossed out and substituted by present.
It had been her hope to get the highest grade. In this class she was required to perfect the skill she would need the most in her dream job: eloquence. The easiest way to train yourself on remembering sequences was by writing again and again. It helped visualization too. Journalists were the most refined while speaking. She wanted to be the journalist in the fashion segment of the Flickerman late-night show. For every important occasion, they would give their impressions live and know the story behind every curve, line, and color.
Art museums had their appeal, but the most amazing art was to be found on TV. Or at least that’s what a 12-year-old in the Capitol thought while rushing to her house after school to watch the 44th Hunger Games’ Tribute Presentation.
This idea resisted years of a parent’s insistence on a career in banking. There was a familial need to eliminate the uncertainties of life, but she knew her gowns were meant to be prettier than her mother’s. Communications persisted as her specialization of choice in the Second Academy. She would only have to wait one year for the perfect starter job to have a vacancy: Project Coordinator in the Capitol Network.
Joan Everheart, aside from having the most iconic surname, had been the top project coordinator for the past 5 years. With her brother being a high couturier, she had received the benefit of exclusive tailor-made outfits, which made her stand out despite being behind the actual stars during programs and red carpet interviews. The next year, during the vespers of the Hunger Games, every program fought to interview her.
It had felt unprecedented.
During her fifth year, Joan found love with the top producer of the Capitol Network and, together, they welcomed a lovely pair of twins: Ever and Heart. They would carry her husband’s surname, but hers would always and forever be split between her daughters. It made her the giver of life and the giver of their sole evidence of uniqueness.
When the draft for a Capitol Couture photoshoot showed her twins wearing matching replicas of one of her dresses, she had to speak up. "I have a commitment to my daughters' own individuality". In a society where twins were treated as one and the same, Effie thought the whole story to be quite admirable. We are all unique but, despite their manners and good taste, some people in the Capitol tended to forget.
Still, the greatest importance this gorgeous tale of children and individuality held was in the opening of a most coveted job. And Effie was more than confident to make it: she had made sure to take an extra etiquette class and all. Many women thought being pretty and fashionable was enough for the auditions, and while, yes, it was important, it had been evident to her that the role involved diplomacy skills, class, and etiquette.
Since childhood, Capitol has taught that manners are above all. This society was to be founded in respect: for private property, for your superior... And the courtesy of eating without letting the other see what is going down your throat. What sets them apart from animals is elegance in treatment, eating, and presentation. Otherwise, they might as well walk naked and shoot each other with arrows.
Those crimes… Those crimes were not the Capitol way.
***
The waiting room for the audition was intimidating. Some girls were distinguishably envious, while others exuded the arrogance of high-ranking Capitol circles they were not included in. No one there was. This job was an actual job, meaning influential families tended to avoid it.
Effie Trinket had watched most of the TV programs released in the last ten years or so. She had grown obsessed. The only thing she had never tuned in for was the entirety of the Games. Like many, she tended to watch only the beginning and the end (the televised part of the Victory Tour, for example). Still, like everyone, she understood the need for them.
The audition process began with an interview.
“Miss Trinket… Is that right?” said the Network representative, “It’s a… Curious… Surname.”
“Really? My family is quite extensive,” the smile was on, “If you have ever heard of another Trinket, it's likely I don't know them!”
A blatant lie.
“Right. Well,” the representative took out a paper, “if you wish to abstain from participation, this is your time to indicate so, since, as per Capitol law, once the recruitment process starts, candidates give an implicit agreement to their employment following the current conditions of the post. Do you wish to continue?”
So… Wordy! Her face went from confusion to worry, then back to confusion, and concluded with fake understanding. There was no need for warnings; the possibility of being the next Joan Everheart sounded too appealing to say no.
“I do wish to be a candidate.”
Nodding, the representative placed a paper in front of the other and grabbed a pen. Without looking at her, he started:
“I will proceed with the questions, the first part being about your understanding of Panem’s history and its relationship with the Games.”
Measures of patriotism were not odd in the job search process. Having a goal and a deep understanding of history was what kept the machine running smoothly. She had to retell the events from the very origins of Panem, which always made her proud. Her progress was evident. There was comfort in knowing she was on par with the people on TV. Even her parents had said so. Her development in the Second Academy had been recognized by all her peers to the point that she gained the “upcoming star” award. Star.
“Alright,” he wrote something on the paper, “what is your understanding of the reason to keep the Games for 50 years?”
This was the question. Here laid the difference between the faction of the shallow —who considered it to be exclusively entertainment— and those with national pride... A true recognition for the sacrifices of the past and the bravery of the families who rebuilt the country as it rests today.
“The people of Panem must never forget the days of darkness brought by war.” Effie started, “True reminders of horror aren’t supposed to be pretty and, while a death is always painful, many more would die if a war ensued. Children are supposed to be innocent, so we must be vigilant when their upbringing makes them violent. Keeping yearly games is useful to confirm if such issues persist.”
But it was true that the meaning of the games had changed. Her father had told her, way back, that everything was more solemn when he was a child. He preferred the current version.
“I would say that what is of utmost importance is… To avoid fragmentation and to include the districts in the customs of the Capitol. The Hunger Games are one more cultural export we provide. We show our manners, our clothing, our way of speaking, and the happiness our help can provide them. It is a show of what their people could be if they were to wholeheartedly welcome the values of the Capitol. As seen in the Caesar Flickerman show!”
He frowned. What had there been to frown about?
“What would you say the Hunger Games mean to the districts?” He had asked this without reading. She wanted to ask back what this had to do with the project coordinator post.
“Well,” her voice was airy… The early signs of panic, “it is a reminder of all the Capitol’s contributions to them. The efforts for reconstruction in their own cities and… Isn’t the tesserae hope?”
“Are you asking me?”
“Of course not!” she laughed. “What I’m saying is… That it should mean the balance of a system. For them.”
Her ending was abrupt, and her last sentence lacked cadence. One idea had no thread with the other. She had messed up a little, but this was no time for self-indulgent stress. This had been the hardest part.
What followed consisted of a small jury in charge of evaluating the participants’ poise. Walking, table manners, taste in clothing and food… As well as a few questions regarding the Capitol’s booming businesses. They had to know who all the frequent sponsors of the network were to avoid insulting anyone while lobbying for… Something. And it was imperative to keep tabs on good complementary advertisers for network projects. It was an ever-changing topic. The Hunger Games might be once a year, but it does tend to have a strong impact on viewership trends. The job implied many meetings, dinners, and balls. The most exhilarating part for Effie.
The results were to be provided a week after the auditions. Seven days filled with retrospective: how many girls did she remember there to be better dressed than her? Had there been anyone she had recognized? The more time passed, the more she feared the results. Even more so since her usual mood had become interesting after her little excursion with the 12th District for the past games.
There was a pair of tormented kyanite eyes that insisted on coming back right before her naps. She couldn’t help but worry. There was nothing to hold against the people from 12: their low number of victories —or even spots in the top 10— were only a reflection of disadvantaged abilities. However, there was no positive emotion behind the consistent reminder of Haymitch Abernathy. He had turned into a brute with no sense of decorum in the span of a month. From all the previous Victors, there had never been one so unaffected by Capitol customs as he. Encountering once again such characters did cast a shadow on what otherwise seemed to be an opportunity. Even if the encounter happened once a year.
When speaking to her mother about her planned career path, she reinforced her worries.
"I love your optimism honey, but you might have to deal with unaccustomed peoples, so be careful. We don’t want another experience like last year’s."
Her family didn’t need any of it. Such worry would be unwarranted if only the job didn’t have a bit of Games in it.
***
The letter was in her hands. Her fulfilled destiny, she was sure. Not one, but two seals that she had always hoped to see in her life: the government’s and the Capitol Network’s. Those rejected didn’t get both. But she knew… She always knew she had done enough. Whatever happened next would be no worse than getting only one seal. Her smile was guaranteed to stay on for years, but it could even be bigger, so, to avoid further delays, she opened the envelope and started reading.
Dear Ms. Trinket,
It is our immense pleasure to deliver the news of your certain integration to the selective group of Hunger Games’ escorts as aide to District 12.
Her smile dropped more than she imagined.
For the time of your employment, you will count with logement in the luxurious tower of the hills and all your needs will be provided for by regime chefs and personal trainers.
Her smile came back. The tower of the hills had exclusive shops available only for residents. It was where some of Panem’s celebrities lived, including popular Victors working in the Capitol. She had only heard of the luxury in the bedding, kitchenware, and, most excitingly, the technological closet. Now she would do more than hear about it. She would see it and use it.
Please contact the number on the bottom of the page before two weeks' time to organize incorporation and start your duties expediently. We are eager to welcome you to our team.
Congratulations on your most hard-earned position.
She ran downstairs to give notice. It was a calling her family recognized as a duty since the position of District 12 escort was not something people could apply for. Their stiff smiling faces wondered about Drusilla. A most unexpected development that would surely be turned into an opportunity by the Trinkets.
As soon as three days had passed, she found herself residing in a place more luxurious than what she had called home. These were exciting times indeed and, as informed by her point of contact, the communications with the mentor of her assigned district would be restricted to correspondence until the time of preparation for the games —only if it happened to be truly necessary. For now, she was to attend a series of reunions meant to address escorts’ questions and concerns, the reunions being drinks in a café with a logistics coordinator for the Capitol Network who, in her case, bore the name of Heath Gallostar.
She was struck by the beauty. Of his outfit.
A hairy long sleeve collared shirt with cream, black, and caramel became the object of her desires. It was thinly fuzzy but kept no resemblance to any being’s fur. The color pattern was almost messy and it kept reminding her of the first art made by humans. As if he was daring the Capitol to bring maximalism to depictions of simpler times. She had certainly never seen someone sporting something like that. And then, his blush… An intense red occupying the front of the cheeks, connecting them with a hint of peach on the bridge of the nose. She had seen that trend. Hadn’t decided what to think of it.
“Effie Trinket, yes?” He already had a drink in his hand.
“Yes,” she smiled, “glad to meet you. I haven’t ordered but I see you have—”
“I don’t like this place, can’t understand why the Network insists on it.”
“Should I not order, then?”
“No, please,” he extended a hand, “by all means. I’m sure you haven’t tried anything from here, wouldn’t want to rob you of the pleasure.”
Galostar gave Effie a look and decided she was ten or eleven escort salaries away from finally seeming like she could afford this place. The hidden meaning of the pleasantry went past her as his face looked kind enough not to distrust.
“The Network covers everything,” he pointed.
After glancing at the menu for a couple of minutes, she still couldn’t decide. Heath Gallostar was on his fourth long gaze when he decided to speak once again.
“This is supposed to be a Q&A so please don’t hesitate to ask anything that crosses your mind.”
Her eyes left the menu.
“Of course, well…” She rushed to call a waiter. “What would you say is the most difficult part of being an escort? What should I look out for?”
Heath Gallostar spoke, but she barely paid attention; her focus was on getting a waiter, although, out of respect, she didn’t let it show. That had been the first thing that popped into her mind; the answer was of little consequence, or at least his opinion of it. How would he know? He was clearly a face. A PR person, marketing strategy, etc. The real knowledge would come from actual escorts. A question he could answer occurred to her.
A waiter finally came, and she rushed to point out the dish and drink of her choice. Gallostar continued talking.
“And so… I would say it’s not much of an extenuating job.”
“That’s great!” Effie said, “And how is the environment between escorts?”
“In what way?”
“Do they tend to get along?”
“Of course not, Ms. Trinket. Everyone wants their tribute to win. It is true, though, that there has never been a rift concerning escorts of the lesser districts. I would guess you are safe.”
Oh my, she thought, he truly speaks what he thinks. Lesser districts. Many thought like it, but saying it in such a way was… Unashamed. It was her first sign to tread carefully.
“Safe?”
“Only a word I chose. All is done in the spirit of sporting competition.”
“Of course,” she made her smile bigger, her cheeks a little tired by now, “and what cautions does District 12 itself merit?”
There was a brief change in his countenance. He took a sip of his drink, hers was placed on the table. It was pale pink with neon green dots.
“Well, that depends on how you address situations. If Hay-bitch gets out of your control, everyone will remember. You won’t get fired but… Maybe there will be no other place for you after those long 15 years of work.”
Trying to conceal surprise, Effie opted to drink some of the radioactive galore. It helped, for it was delicious, but when had the 15 years been decided? The white of her makeup now matched the liveliness of her future.
And then there was that other thing. The nickname. She would detest to be mocked like that. There were no words she could say. Or wanted to. Heath Gallostar’s blush looked uglier by the minute.
“Have you ever been to District 12?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Had he not done his research? She’s not here by chance. This was most likely a result of her stellar —and accidental— work. Heath Gallostar had forgotten the mandatory courtesy part of the first school’s curriculum.
“People in twelve are the most miserable and they will try to convince you the Capitol is at fault for that. You are not ready for what you will see but I’m told you are a citizen of strong beliefs. You are important, if I may say, you are even more instrumental than any of the other escorts,” his gaze was now sturdy.
Her dish arrived. A small chicken with vegetables meticulously arranged. It could be a painting, which made her smile.
“I miss the days when I was impressed by this chicken,” he said.
She hadn’t noticed the consistent stare on her.
“I’m sorry but some of these comments—” she was about to speak her mind.
“No, I apologize. My family is very progressive and authenticity is one of our cornerstones. If our mood is foul, we tend to say our intrusive thoughts out loud. It’s a psychological thing. On a good day, I’m sure, people don’t have complaints but the past weeks have been rough.”
That made her sympathize.
“Oh no, don’t apologize on my account, please,” if someone felt guilty, she had been taught to relieve them from it. After all, apologies were intentions of good will.
She turned her eyes to the chicken again. She had eaten chicken, obviously, and plenty of times too, but this one just looked pretty. Pretty like that shirt, pretty like this place. With a bite, the harmony of the colors was disturbed and gave space to the highest joy her mouth had perceived in years.
“As I was saying,” started Gallostar, “the Capitol picks its District 12 escort with the utmost care. Most escorts don’t have to play diplomat but you sure will, so, believe me when I say: being picked for this position is the highest honor President Snow can bestow on Effie Trinket.”
“Was I picked by President Snow?”
He smiled.
“Of course! All escorts are. But he does pay special attention to District 12’s. That’s why the contract is for 15 years… There aren’t many people who fit the bill,” he paused, his eyes going with an exaggerated brand of gentleness, “I’m told you might as well be the Capitol’s speech person!”
That was the biggest compliment she had ever received. All that work, studying her sentences and her words, second-guessing what came out of her mouth incessantly during her formative years… All led to recognition. And it felt good. Effie Trinket was, then, ready to help in the Capitol’s mission of tightening the lasso with the farthest of its dependencies. A place in need of much help. A place to which she would definitely contribute: a noble pursuit her younger self wouldn’t have imagined.
Fashion and taste for everyone!