Post by countlivin on Apr 23, 2019 4:26:29 GMT
Chapter 9: The Ultimate Price
Theoram Warrik
"You have the opportunity to save someone you love and hold dear to you. But, doing so has a very likely chance you will never come back. And there is a slighter chance that everything and everyone else you love will be gone. Would you take it? Risk everything to save everything?"
71% of readers chose to say [A. Yes.]
"Of course," Theo replied. Although Lynona had asked for hypothetical reasons, Theo knew exactly the feeling of having to choose. It felt like being dragged into a pit with your own guilt. He was determined such an incident would never occur again.
"I knew it," Lynona laughed, shaking her head. "The man's an optimist."
"Why would you expect anything less from the old war horse?" Kirt smiled. "He's been in school longer than we've even had this job. I couldn't put up with that for too long without a dash of idealism along the way."
Theo set his hand on the railing and began to limp up the steps of the museum. He had to put most of his weight on the marble stone wall simply to lift his bad leg high enough to reach the next step, but he was confident in himself. Whenever either of his friends offered their hand for assist, he would refuse it. He knew where he was going.
The three of them reached the top of the staircase and Theo leaned against the wall to peer out upon the tiled floor below. It had mementos of times long past. Before the Dark Days—before even Panem… Though not much was known about the time before Panem, anything that seeped through the cracks always wound up in this museum. It was something Theo took a delight in. He'd strolled these halls for weeks on end. He had come to memorize the names of every bust, every painting, and every collection this place had to offer. They once offered him the position of curator, but there was no chance in hell he could stray away from his goal. He knew from the very beginning he would be a Gamemaker. It might have taken him decades to achieve, but his task never left his mind. This was the first year on the job. This was his only chance to make the world right.
"So how'd you enjoy your several months as a Gamemaker, Theo?" Lynona asked him. The curiosity in her voice was evident. "You'll be handling the sponsors, correct?"
"The sponsors, yes," he replied. His mind was elsewhere.
"Quite a big job for someone on their first day, huh, man?" She patted him on the back.
He smiled, reaching his arm out to control an imaginary joystick. "Roman trusts my steady hand."
"That's not all of you the man trusts," Kirt laughed. "If any one of us had the same amount of favor he places in you, we'd be sitting pretty in our seats with income practically flying into our wallets."
Theo laughed modestly. His friendship with the Head Gamemaker had earned him quite a spot on the panel.
Lynona Williams was young for a Gamemaker, having been straight out of the Academy. She had yellow hair which came up her back in curls. She wasn't a huge advocate of Capitol fashion, but she was picky enough to put waves in every morning. They were never in the same place it seemed, moving around arbitrarily each day. Theo had known her for approximately four weeks, two of which were spent discussing the Games. She was surprised when Theo told her he had volunteered a jungle as the setting for the arena. She was less impressed with the jungle as she was with the fact it was Theo's suggestion.
Kirt Beckham, on the other hand, he had known for a long time. They'd met in the Academy when they were only separated by a five-year gap. He had thicker glasses back then. Even though there were corrective measures in place, Kirt's love of technology eventually prevailed and the optometrists gave up and settled with glasses. Regardless, the other kids picked on him day to day for his eyes. Theo took pity on the kid, knowing what it felt like to be different. He walked with him every day, making sure he got to his courses without the stinging volatile looks.
"What is the time?" Lynona asked. "She should be here by now."
"It's ten thirty-two," Theo told her, checking his golden pocket watch. "She shouldn't arrive for another eight minutes."
"Be nice to her, Lynona," Kirt said, leaning up against the railing. "Even if she's a bit late, she's got a kid to worry about. Give her some air."
"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. Any passersby might mistake Lynona's reaction for a dislike of children, but this was not the case. The woman was severely annoyed by lateness. The first time Theo had met her was when he was scolded for being a few minutes late to the first panel meeting for the Games. He had misplaced his monocle.
The woman they were waiting to meet went by the name Rhetora Flickerman. He had arranged this meeting in the museum of all places. For what, the other two did not know, but he made sure Lynona and Kirt would be there.
Theo leaned on his cane and limped to the displays in their immaculate glass cases. This one was some sort of carpet remnant singed by burn marks around the edges and rolled up onto a pole. What was visible was a bronze eagle, similar to the sigil of Panem. He read the label aloud: "The carpet on the floor of the Oval Office. District Thirteen."
"District Thirteen?" Lynona raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about them in a while. I thought the President was doing all he could to wipe that page clean from our memories."
"You weren't alive to witness the Dark Days…" Theo sighed, not losing sight of the mysterious blue rug. He assumed the reason of the scorch marks was tied to its being in District Thirteen. "There are some things you would rather wipe off the slate."
"I was only a child at the time," Kirt said. "Maybe three or four. But I remember the terror… The fear everyone felt. Let's just say I'm glad they're over with."
"How about you, Theo?" Lynona asked him, turning in his direction. Her yellow bangs flopped graciously with the movement of her head. "Where were you when they ended?"
"I was born right into the middle of the war," he replied. "When they ended, I remember being in class. Someone shouted into the room that it was over, and everyone poured out into the streets… There were cries of hallelujah, and parties for nights on end."
"Sounds wonderful," she smiled, expecting the same reaction from the two of them. She didn't get one.
Kirt shook his head. "Everyone was simply glad they could go to sleep at night without the rain of bomb fire above their heads."
"Though that last day, before the call was made to drop the warhead on Thirteen, President Revarius Snow was shot in the head by a rebel," Theo went on. "Have you ever wondered why our President today was so young when he first came into office?"
"I have wondered that, yes," she said.
Kirt shook his head. "It's because is presidency is nothing less than a monarchy."
"Then why don't they just call him the king and be done with it?"
Theo nodded. "Frankly, because I think the word 'President' sounds better in the man's head."
It took about half an hour, and Theo kept glancing at the clock. Rhetora was late. He had specifically called for this meeting at ten forty in the morning. Twenty minutes had passed since that deadline. Kirt and Lynona were becoming visibly antsy.
"Are you sure you said today?" Lynona asked. "Maybe she misunderstood and thought the meeting was next week."
"No one misunderstood. She'll be here within the hour," Theo replied, watching down on the curator. He couldn't overhear, or they would be finished. This museum was built long ago, before the Dark Days, and was one of the few places in the Capitol where their voices weren't monitored. He would have called the meeting in his apartment, but that would have been overly suspicious.
She frowned. "Well the hour just started again. I don't know if I can wait here that long, Theo. I was going to meet with Adette after this and go to that fashion show in our quadrant."
"Fashion has no say in this matter," Theo struck back, seriously. "You may leave if you wish, but I urge you to stay."
Kirt tugged lightly on her arm. "Lynona, please. This must be important if the man took all this time to prepare."
"Kirt is correct," he added. "What I'm going to share with you today will be very valuable, and very volatile should anyone hear who shouldn't. I've chosen you three because you have the most open minds. But if you have any objections, say them now, and you're out. Because after I tell you, there will be no going back."
"God…" Lynona sighed into her palm. "This is serious, isn't it?"
Theo turned away again. He could never keep eye contact with anyone for longer than a few seconds, always feeling guilty for some reason. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
As soon as he was done, he heard the unmistakable cry of Rhetora's son. Why did she bring the kid? I told her to come alone… Theo peered over the railing and found her there on the lower level, speaking briefly with the curator. She had a mop of pink fluffy hair atop her head that matched her son's. "Oh, come on, you!" she shouted angrily. "Just stop tugging on my arm for one second!"
"I don't want to go to the museum! We always go to the museum! Why can't we go to the movies?"
"I already told you—"
"Excuse me, miss…" the curator said, with hidden frustration. "If you cannot contain your child, you'll be asked to leave. This is a quiet place for the observers."
"I'm so sorry, sir. It's just—" she started.
"Hey, hold on a second," Kirt called down to him, leaping into action. He quickly rushed down the steps. "Mr. Plato, are you really going to keep this child from his learning because he's being too loud?" "He's distracting the visitors."
"With utmost respect, look around you, sir." Kirt gestured to the rest of the museum. Theo and Lynona began to climb down the staircase to meet them. "We are the only visitors here."
Plato was stunned, but sighed and waved a hand of dismissal. "You can stay as long as you can keep that boy under control."
"Thank you," Kirt replied. The five of them found their way back up the stairs to their alcove beside the shredded rug from a dead nation. "That was a close one," he said.
"Caesar, honey, you can't be so loud." Rhetora turned to her child, who looked up at her with a twinkle of greed in his eyes. "This is an important meeting. I'll take you out to the shooting range afterwards if you can stay quiet and act like a good boy, okay?"
"Okay…" Caesar pouted. Theo knew the boy well enough to know that he threw these tantrums on a regular basis, but only because that's what he was taught by those around him. The lad was impressionable to say the least. "The shooting range and the demolition show?"
"I already told you," she replied sternly. "I never bought the tickets to that."
"Alright, Rhetora, if you're done with all that, let's get down to business," Lynona shrugged in a loud whisper. The four adults sat upon a stone bench along the wall behind a painting of a dignified man in a top hat. He wore all black, a plain style which hadn't been seen since before Panem. Caesar slumped down on the wall next to it and immediately pulled out a hand held gaming device. "I'm sure we'd all like to know what Theo called us here for. Care to shed some light?"
"Yes," Rhetora added, pulling her eyes with heavy liner away from her son and to the conversation. "What's the big problem?"
Theo sighed and eventually worked up the will which he had been saving since he'd first heard of the Hunger Games. It was though the first bit of his plan was beginning to fall together finally. "I need your help with an ideal..."
"An ideal?" Kirt repeated, intrigued.
"I guess you could say I've become obsessed with the prospect of life returning to the way it was when he was around." Theo pointed to the portrait and read the name underneath: Abraham Lincoln. "I've called you three to this meeting because each of you have something I need to make this ideal a reality."
"You rehearsed this, didn't you?" Kirt asked.
"More than once." Theo laughed. "I need to know if you're on board."
"I'm in," Rhetora replied immediately.
"As am I," Kirt repeated.
Lynona was baffled by their responses. "How can you guys sign onto something when you don't even know what the hell it is?" Caesar looked up in bewilderment at the curse word, but she waved him off. "What are you talking about, Theo? I'd really like to know before I wrap a blindfold around my head and fumble through the dark."
Theo stared at various black and white tiles on the ground. "I'm going to put a stop to something... Something that has been continuing on for far too long."
"Just spit it out," Lynona punctuated.
Theo made sure his voice was a whisper before replying. No one was around to hear but the old curator, yet he wasn't taking any chances. He looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm going end the Games."
It stunned them into silence. Even Caesar seemed astonished, hearing the conversation. His game read a game over screen and the beeping shut off. Rhetora was the first to break the silence, with laughter. When she met Theo's eyes though, she stopped dead. "Theo… You're joking right?"
"No," he replied flatly. "The Hunger Games and President Snow have taken too much of a toll on Panem. It's only a mere fraction of what it was when I was born."
"When we were born, it was constant chaos..." Kirt said. He sounded more confused than frightened. "People died left and right. How could you want that back?"
Theo answered the question with one of his own. "Tell me, Kirt, why you joined the panel of Gamemakers."
"Well..." The question had caught him off guard. "I joined because I thought perhaps I can provide for my family better here. Don't get me wrong, the Games are awful, but it's hard to support a family of five on nothing but selling stuff door to door."
"And you, Lynona?" Theo turned to her, expectantly. "Why did you join?"
"I mean... I don't know!" she said with a whimper in her voice. She was hyperventilating now, freaking out from the others lack of incredulity. "I thought it would be fun, maybe... I don't know!"
"Rhetora..." He turned to his right side to see what she had to say. "Why did you quit the panel last year?"
She smirked and looked down at her child to the right of her. "I was frankly tired of watching people die. I couldn't help but think, what if my little Caesar was in their place? Would I still set the dogs after him? Would I still let the twister loose?"
"Mom, I would never be in the Games." Caesar lifted his eyebrow. "I don't live in the Districts..."
"Thank you for your input, you all." Theo stood up and hobbled over to the railing over the balcony, making sure the contraption holding his bad leg didn't seize up. "You see, I've called you all here today because you three have something in common. You all hate the Games as much as I do. Even you, Lynona, though you've tricked yourself into believing they were fun. You are the only ones I can trust."
"Theo..." The stress had produced tears in Lynona's eyes. "Maybe you're right, and they need to go. What would we do? How do we single-handedly shut down the organization the entire Capitol is built upon? And maybe you're wrong. What if it doesn't work? The President would have us all executed—if not worse..."
"It's the ultimate price," Theo replied. "You're right, dear friend, except in one regard. Whether either of those scenarios comes true, we win this war."
"How can we win a war if we're pushing up daisies?"
"Because the other Gamemakers will see what we've done... We could inspire something. It's time to think bigger than ourselves." At that, Kirt seemed excited while Rhetora looked vainly interested. Lynona still looked afraid. "It's time to take a stand."
"That's funny, coming from the cripple," Kirt laughed. Theo would normally have been offended, but knew the words coming from his friend weren't meant to wound. "What I said before doesn't change. I'm in."
Rhetora nodded in agreement. "Whatever plan you have, Theo, I trust you."
Lynona cursed under her breath, careful not to let the sound reach Caesar's young ears. "How can I do this? You're asking me to risk everything... And I don't even know what I'm supposed to do!"
"Risk everything to save everything?" Theo responded. "Wasn't that what you said before? If I can agree to it without context, why can't you?"
She had lost and she knew it. She began to climb down the steps of the balcony and away from the conversation. "Lynona, wait!" Kirt called quietly, so the curator wouldn't hear. "Come back!"
"Let her go," Theo said, putting his hand on the man's chest as he tried to reach out to her. "It's a lot to ask. Honestly, I didn't even expect you two to agree to it immediately."
Kirt sighed as Lynona left the building and the glass doors shut tight behind her. "So what did we sign on for? What do you want us to do, captain?"
"I can't explain just yet," Theo replied. Rhetora stood up too so the three of them were arrayed in a circle with the painting of Abraham Lincoln. "Just know, I will eventually need both of you to accomplish this task. Just keep going on with your normal lives until I give you the signal."
"What is this signal?" Rhetora asked, growing more interested by the second.
"I will send each of you a letter when the time is right." Theo said. "I can't send it to you through the network, because they track it like bloodhounds. From now on, everything I do will be written on paper."
"What will the message be? How will we know it's you?" Kirt questioned.
"You will know it's me." Theo lifted his bad leg and began to walk around the room until it did not feel as though it were locked that way. "You will know by the way I curve my 'S.'"
"That's not a lot to go on," he complained, leaning against the marble railing.
"When you're tampering with something as complex as the human psyche, you need to know when and where to stop." Theo shook his head. "It's not just the Games. We're dancing around the mind of President Snow..."
"Mom!" Caesar complained. "I'm bored. Can we leave now?"
"Not quite yet, honey," Rhetora told him firmly.
"But I wanna go NOW!" He began to shake his head and tried to leave. Rhetora grabbed him hard by the arm and held him in place on the balcony.
Just as the scene took place, Theo felt a buzz in his pocket. When he checked his device, he saw the text message. It was sent by an unknown number, but Theo could assume the identity. "You are being summoned to the Capital Building. Report at precisely 3:00 p.m. or corrective measures will be taken to assure your arrival."
Theo immediately became very worried. There was no way Snow could have traced their meeting. He took such care in making sure they would not be found. The museum had no sound detection in their security cameras. The curator was partly deaf. No one would be here at this time. He came to the conclusion that if there was some reason to be summoned, it wasn't because of his plan... It couldn't be. He'd worked too long for his final act to finish before it was due.
When he put the message from his mind, his heartbeat fell back into place. Mr. Plato had made his way up to the balcony and was arguing with Rhetora about the rowdiness of her child. "You will have to leave," he told her. "This place is one of knowledge and serenity."
"Please, sir? Just five more minutes," she pleaded. "I would really like to look at this painting a bit longer."
Caesar couldn't sit still. "Let me go! Let me go!"
"No. You'll have to leave now."
Theo took Rhetora by the arm. "It's okay. We're done now. We should leave."
"Well..." she sighed. "Okay."
When they left the building and emerged outside, Theo felt that it was warmer than before. It was closer to noon. Yet, Caesar still wouldn't stop complaining. "Hey, kid," Theo said to him. Caesar paid no mind. "Caesar."
When the boy turned, he scowled. "What do you want?"
Theo bent down to eye level with the boy and waved his mother off with the flick of his wrist. "Why are you so angry? What has happened in your life that you are not able to let go of your wants for more than a few minutes?"
Caesar seemed less rambunctious than before and more curious. He calmed down and Rhetora let go of his arm. "Sir? I'm just a kid."
"I know that you're just a kid, Caesar," Theo continued. "But I'm going to talk to you as though you are an adult like us. Wouldn't you like that?"
Caesar nodded. "I wanna be on TV when I grow up."
"I have no doubt that you will," he smiled. "But one thing that people on TV have to do is talk to people. They do this a lot. How can you talk to them if you're so angry all the time?" Caesar shrugged. "You see, each one of them is someone just as human as you. Each have their own lives and feelings. Everyone has something about them that's special. Every single one of them has a demolition show they'd rather be watching. I want you to remember this."
Caesar nodded. "I will, Mr..."
"Warrik," Theo replied. "You may call me Mr. Warrik."
"But why, Mr. Warrik? If those people are all grown-ups, they can go to the demolition show whenever they want. Why don't they go now?"
He shook his head. "That's because life moves on around them. If you don't take a minute to stop and observe it, you'll go your whole life without ever seeing what's really there. Go today, and instead of rushing from one place to the next, take a minute to stop and appreciate the Golden City you live in."
"Okay." Caesar smiled, and began to look around immediately. Theo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out of it a small coin. When the boy turned back to him, Theo put his hand behind his ear and pulled it out, coin displaying the head of Revarius Snow. "How did you do that?" He asked excitedly.
Theo cranked his leg and stood up firm. "You can find a lot of things around you when you look hard enough." He set the coin in the boy's hand. "Look for the good in the world. Look for the good in other people. If you search long enough, you'll find something worth discovering."
Caesar was looking at the coin all the way from the museum. Rhetora grabbed him by the hand again and led him off to the east. The wind blew softly and the birds were chirping and Theo found it amusing to watch Caesar looking around at everything he could set his eyes on. As they left, Rhetora turned and mouthed the words "Thank you."
"You're really good with him," Kirt said. "Have you had experience with kids?"
"Not much," Theo replied, honestly. "I had a daughter..."
"Had?" he asked. When he saw Theo's head slowly shaking, he knew it best not to ask. "So, Mr. Warrik, I assume if you gathered us all here today, you know exactly what you're doing. I would hope so."
Theo laughed and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He squeezed tightly, trying to send a message. They were outside of the museum now. Their conversation was being overheard by the second. "Yes," he said. He began to weave around a lie. "The museum is a perfect place to set up the study group. We will have to do this more often."
Kirt nodded his head, understanding the ruse, and followed along. "I found the dusty portrait to be quite fascinating."
"I will meet you here, next week at around the same time."
"Agreed," Kirt laughed. "Goodbye, my friend."
"Until we meet again." Theo shook the man's hand and casually turned in the opposite direction. As they walked away from each other, Theo knew his plan had begun. He limped across one block and the next, hobbled on his mahogany cane. The neon lights around him flickered, pointing to their respective stores and restaurants. He wasn't sure why he was being summoned to the Capital building, but he fought off his nerves. He forced himself to believe it would be okay.
Lynona had one thing right. There was a considerable chance they could fail. This was the first time Theo really felt as though he were gambling with death.
End of Chapter 9
Theoram Warrik
"You have the opportunity to save someone you love and hold dear to you. But, doing so has a very likely chance you will never come back. And there is a slighter chance that everything and everyone else you love will be gone. Would you take it? Risk everything to save everything?"
71% of readers chose to say [A. Yes.]
"Of course," Theo replied. Although Lynona had asked for hypothetical reasons, Theo knew exactly the feeling of having to choose. It felt like being dragged into a pit with your own guilt. He was determined such an incident would never occur again.
"I knew it," Lynona laughed, shaking her head. "The man's an optimist."
"Why would you expect anything less from the old war horse?" Kirt smiled. "He's been in school longer than we've even had this job. I couldn't put up with that for too long without a dash of idealism along the way."
Theo set his hand on the railing and began to limp up the steps of the museum. He had to put most of his weight on the marble stone wall simply to lift his bad leg high enough to reach the next step, but he was confident in himself. Whenever either of his friends offered their hand for assist, he would refuse it. He knew where he was going.
The three of them reached the top of the staircase and Theo leaned against the wall to peer out upon the tiled floor below. It had mementos of times long past. Before the Dark Days—before even Panem… Though not much was known about the time before Panem, anything that seeped through the cracks always wound up in this museum. It was something Theo took a delight in. He'd strolled these halls for weeks on end. He had come to memorize the names of every bust, every painting, and every collection this place had to offer. They once offered him the position of curator, but there was no chance in hell he could stray away from his goal. He knew from the very beginning he would be a Gamemaker. It might have taken him decades to achieve, but his task never left his mind. This was the first year on the job. This was his only chance to make the world right.
"So how'd you enjoy your several months as a Gamemaker, Theo?" Lynona asked him. The curiosity in her voice was evident. "You'll be handling the sponsors, correct?"
"The sponsors, yes," he replied. His mind was elsewhere.
"Quite a big job for someone on their first day, huh, man?" She patted him on the back.
He smiled, reaching his arm out to control an imaginary joystick. "Roman trusts my steady hand."
"That's not all of you the man trusts," Kirt laughed. "If any one of us had the same amount of favor he places in you, we'd be sitting pretty in our seats with income practically flying into our wallets."
Theo laughed modestly. His friendship with the Head Gamemaker had earned him quite a spot on the panel.
Lynona Williams was young for a Gamemaker, having been straight out of the Academy. She had yellow hair which came up her back in curls. She wasn't a huge advocate of Capitol fashion, but she was picky enough to put waves in every morning. They were never in the same place it seemed, moving around arbitrarily each day. Theo had known her for approximately four weeks, two of which were spent discussing the Games. She was surprised when Theo told her he had volunteered a jungle as the setting for the arena. She was less impressed with the jungle as she was with the fact it was Theo's suggestion.
Kirt Beckham, on the other hand, he had known for a long time. They'd met in the Academy when they were only separated by a five-year gap. He had thicker glasses back then. Even though there were corrective measures in place, Kirt's love of technology eventually prevailed and the optometrists gave up and settled with glasses. Regardless, the other kids picked on him day to day for his eyes. Theo took pity on the kid, knowing what it felt like to be different. He walked with him every day, making sure he got to his courses without the stinging volatile looks.
"What is the time?" Lynona asked. "She should be here by now."
"It's ten thirty-two," Theo told her, checking his golden pocket watch. "She shouldn't arrive for another eight minutes."
"Be nice to her, Lynona," Kirt said, leaning up against the railing. "Even if she's a bit late, she's got a kid to worry about. Give her some air."
"Ugh," she rolled her eyes. Any passersby might mistake Lynona's reaction for a dislike of children, but this was not the case. The woman was severely annoyed by lateness. The first time Theo had met her was when he was scolded for being a few minutes late to the first panel meeting for the Games. He had misplaced his monocle.
The woman they were waiting to meet went by the name Rhetora Flickerman. He had arranged this meeting in the museum of all places. For what, the other two did not know, but he made sure Lynona and Kirt would be there.
Theo leaned on his cane and limped to the displays in their immaculate glass cases. This one was some sort of carpet remnant singed by burn marks around the edges and rolled up onto a pole. What was visible was a bronze eagle, similar to the sigil of Panem. He read the label aloud: "The carpet on the floor of the Oval Office. District Thirteen."
"District Thirteen?" Lynona raised an eyebrow. "I haven't heard about them in a while. I thought the President was doing all he could to wipe that page clean from our memories."
"You weren't alive to witness the Dark Days…" Theo sighed, not losing sight of the mysterious blue rug. He assumed the reason of the scorch marks was tied to its being in District Thirteen. "There are some things you would rather wipe off the slate."
"I was only a child at the time," Kirt said. "Maybe three or four. But I remember the terror… The fear everyone felt. Let's just say I'm glad they're over with."
"How about you, Theo?" Lynona asked him, turning in his direction. Her yellow bangs flopped graciously with the movement of her head. "Where were you when they ended?"
"I was born right into the middle of the war," he replied. "When they ended, I remember being in class. Someone shouted into the room that it was over, and everyone poured out into the streets… There were cries of hallelujah, and parties for nights on end."
"Sounds wonderful," she smiled, expecting the same reaction from the two of them. She didn't get one.
Kirt shook his head. "Everyone was simply glad they could go to sleep at night without the rain of bomb fire above their heads."
"Though that last day, before the call was made to drop the warhead on Thirteen, President Revarius Snow was shot in the head by a rebel," Theo went on. "Have you ever wondered why our President today was so young when he first came into office?"
"I have wondered that, yes," she said.
Kirt shook his head. "It's because is presidency is nothing less than a monarchy."
"Then why don't they just call him the king and be done with it?"
Theo nodded. "Frankly, because I think the word 'President' sounds better in the man's head."
It took about half an hour, and Theo kept glancing at the clock. Rhetora was late. He had specifically called for this meeting at ten forty in the morning. Twenty minutes had passed since that deadline. Kirt and Lynona were becoming visibly antsy.
"Are you sure you said today?" Lynona asked. "Maybe she misunderstood and thought the meeting was next week."
"No one misunderstood. She'll be here within the hour," Theo replied, watching down on the curator. He couldn't overhear, or they would be finished. This museum was built long ago, before the Dark Days, and was one of the few places in the Capitol where their voices weren't monitored. He would have called the meeting in his apartment, but that would have been overly suspicious.
She frowned. "Well the hour just started again. I don't know if I can wait here that long, Theo. I was going to meet with Adette after this and go to that fashion show in our quadrant."
"Fashion has no say in this matter," Theo struck back, seriously. "You may leave if you wish, but I urge you to stay."
Kirt tugged lightly on her arm. "Lynona, please. This must be important if the man took all this time to prepare."
"Kirt is correct," he added. "What I'm going to share with you today will be very valuable, and very volatile should anyone hear who shouldn't. I've chosen you three because you have the most open minds. But if you have any objections, say them now, and you're out. Because after I tell you, there will be no going back."
"God…" Lynona sighed into her palm. "This is serious, isn't it?"
Theo turned away again. He could never keep eye contact with anyone for longer than a few seconds, always feeling guilty for some reason. "I've never been more serious about anything in my life."
As soon as he was done, he heard the unmistakable cry of Rhetora's son. Why did she bring the kid? I told her to come alone… Theo peered over the railing and found her there on the lower level, speaking briefly with the curator. She had a mop of pink fluffy hair atop her head that matched her son's. "Oh, come on, you!" she shouted angrily. "Just stop tugging on my arm for one second!"
"I don't want to go to the museum! We always go to the museum! Why can't we go to the movies?"
"I already told you—"
"Excuse me, miss…" the curator said, with hidden frustration. "If you cannot contain your child, you'll be asked to leave. This is a quiet place for the observers."
"I'm so sorry, sir. It's just—" she started.
"Hey, hold on a second," Kirt called down to him, leaping into action. He quickly rushed down the steps. "Mr. Plato, are you really going to keep this child from his learning because he's being too loud?" "He's distracting the visitors."
"With utmost respect, look around you, sir." Kirt gestured to the rest of the museum. Theo and Lynona began to climb down the staircase to meet them. "We are the only visitors here."
Plato was stunned, but sighed and waved a hand of dismissal. "You can stay as long as you can keep that boy under control."
"Thank you," Kirt replied. The five of them found their way back up the stairs to their alcove beside the shredded rug from a dead nation. "That was a close one," he said.
"Caesar, honey, you can't be so loud." Rhetora turned to her child, who looked up at her with a twinkle of greed in his eyes. "This is an important meeting. I'll take you out to the shooting range afterwards if you can stay quiet and act like a good boy, okay?"
"Okay…" Caesar pouted. Theo knew the boy well enough to know that he threw these tantrums on a regular basis, but only because that's what he was taught by those around him. The lad was impressionable to say the least. "The shooting range and the demolition show?"
"I already told you," she replied sternly. "I never bought the tickets to that."
"Alright, Rhetora, if you're done with all that, let's get down to business," Lynona shrugged in a loud whisper. The four adults sat upon a stone bench along the wall behind a painting of a dignified man in a top hat. He wore all black, a plain style which hadn't been seen since before Panem. Caesar slumped down on the wall next to it and immediately pulled out a hand held gaming device. "I'm sure we'd all like to know what Theo called us here for. Care to shed some light?"
"Yes," Rhetora added, pulling her eyes with heavy liner away from her son and to the conversation. "What's the big problem?"
Theo sighed and eventually worked up the will which he had been saving since he'd first heard of the Hunger Games. It was though the first bit of his plan was beginning to fall together finally. "I need your help with an ideal..."
"An ideal?" Kirt repeated, intrigued.
"I guess you could say I've become obsessed with the prospect of life returning to the way it was when he was around." Theo pointed to the portrait and read the name underneath: Abraham Lincoln. "I've called you three to this meeting because each of you have something I need to make this ideal a reality."
"You rehearsed this, didn't you?" Kirt asked.
"More than once." Theo laughed. "I need to know if you're on board."
"I'm in," Rhetora replied immediately.
"As am I," Kirt repeated.
Lynona was baffled by their responses. "How can you guys sign onto something when you don't even know what the hell it is?" Caesar looked up in bewilderment at the curse word, but she waved him off. "What are you talking about, Theo? I'd really like to know before I wrap a blindfold around my head and fumble through the dark."
Theo stared at various black and white tiles on the ground. "I'm going to put a stop to something... Something that has been continuing on for far too long."
"Just spit it out," Lynona punctuated.
Theo made sure his voice was a whisper before replying. No one was around to hear but the old curator, yet he wasn't taking any chances. He looked up to meet her gaze. "I'm going end the Games."
It stunned them into silence. Even Caesar seemed astonished, hearing the conversation. His game read a game over screen and the beeping shut off. Rhetora was the first to break the silence, with laughter. When she met Theo's eyes though, she stopped dead. "Theo… You're joking right?"
"No," he replied flatly. "The Hunger Games and President Snow have taken too much of a toll on Panem. It's only a mere fraction of what it was when I was born."
"When we were born, it was constant chaos..." Kirt said. He sounded more confused than frightened. "People died left and right. How could you want that back?"
Theo answered the question with one of his own. "Tell me, Kirt, why you joined the panel of Gamemakers."
"Well..." The question had caught him off guard. "I joined because I thought perhaps I can provide for my family better here. Don't get me wrong, the Games are awful, but it's hard to support a family of five on nothing but selling stuff door to door."
"And you, Lynona?" Theo turned to her, expectantly. "Why did you join?"
"I mean... I don't know!" she said with a whimper in her voice. She was hyperventilating now, freaking out from the others lack of incredulity. "I thought it would be fun, maybe... I don't know!"
"Rhetora..." He turned to his right side to see what she had to say. "Why did you quit the panel last year?"
She smirked and looked down at her child to the right of her. "I was frankly tired of watching people die. I couldn't help but think, what if my little Caesar was in their place? Would I still set the dogs after him? Would I still let the twister loose?"
"Mom, I would never be in the Games." Caesar lifted his eyebrow. "I don't live in the Districts..."
"Thank you for your input, you all." Theo stood up and hobbled over to the railing over the balcony, making sure the contraption holding his bad leg didn't seize up. "You see, I've called you all here today because you three have something in common. You all hate the Games as much as I do. Even you, Lynona, though you've tricked yourself into believing they were fun. You are the only ones I can trust."
"Theo..." The stress had produced tears in Lynona's eyes. "Maybe you're right, and they need to go. What would we do? How do we single-handedly shut down the organization the entire Capitol is built upon? And maybe you're wrong. What if it doesn't work? The President would have us all executed—if not worse..."
"It's the ultimate price," Theo replied. "You're right, dear friend, except in one regard. Whether either of those scenarios comes true, we win this war."
"How can we win a war if we're pushing up daisies?"
"Because the other Gamemakers will see what we've done... We could inspire something. It's time to think bigger than ourselves." At that, Kirt seemed excited while Rhetora looked vainly interested. Lynona still looked afraid. "It's time to take a stand."
"That's funny, coming from the cripple," Kirt laughed. Theo would normally have been offended, but knew the words coming from his friend weren't meant to wound. "What I said before doesn't change. I'm in."
Rhetora nodded in agreement. "Whatever plan you have, Theo, I trust you."
Lynona cursed under her breath, careful not to let the sound reach Caesar's young ears. "How can I do this? You're asking me to risk everything... And I don't even know what I'm supposed to do!"
"Risk everything to save everything?" Theo responded. "Wasn't that what you said before? If I can agree to it without context, why can't you?"
She had lost and she knew it. She began to climb down the steps of the balcony and away from the conversation. "Lynona, wait!" Kirt called quietly, so the curator wouldn't hear. "Come back!"
"Let her go," Theo said, putting his hand on the man's chest as he tried to reach out to her. "It's a lot to ask. Honestly, I didn't even expect you two to agree to it immediately."
Kirt sighed as Lynona left the building and the glass doors shut tight behind her. "So what did we sign on for? What do you want us to do, captain?"
"I can't explain just yet," Theo replied. Rhetora stood up too so the three of them were arrayed in a circle with the painting of Abraham Lincoln. "Just know, I will eventually need both of you to accomplish this task. Just keep going on with your normal lives until I give you the signal."
"What is this signal?" Rhetora asked, growing more interested by the second.
"I will send each of you a letter when the time is right." Theo said. "I can't send it to you through the network, because they track it like bloodhounds. From now on, everything I do will be written on paper."
"What will the message be? How will we know it's you?" Kirt questioned.
"You will know it's me." Theo lifted his bad leg and began to walk around the room until it did not feel as though it were locked that way. "You will know by the way I curve my 'S.'"
"That's not a lot to go on," he complained, leaning against the marble railing.
"When you're tampering with something as complex as the human psyche, you need to know when and where to stop." Theo shook his head. "It's not just the Games. We're dancing around the mind of President Snow..."
"Mom!" Caesar complained. "I'm bored. Can we leave now?"
"Not quite yet, honey," Rhetora told him firmly.
"But I wanna go NOW!" He began to shake his head and tried to leave. Rhetora grabbed him hard by the arm and held him in place on the balcony.
Just as the scene took place, Theo felt a buzz in his pocket. When he checked his device, he saw the text message. It was sent by an unknown number, but Theo could assume the identity. "You are being summoned to the Capital Building. Report at precisely 3:00 p.m. or corrective measures will be taken to assure your arrival."
Theo immediately became very worried. There was no way Snow could have traced their meeting. He took such care in making sure they would not be found. The museum had no sound detection in their security cameras. The curator was partly deaf. No one would be here at this time. He came to the conclusion that if there was some reason to be summoned, it wasn't because of his plan... It couldn't be. He'd worked too long for his final act to finish before it was due.
When he put the message from his mind, his heartbeat fell back into place. Mr. Plato had made his way up to the balcony and was arguing with Rhetora about the rowdiness of her child. "You will have to leave," he told her. "This place is one of knowledge and serenity."
"Please, sir? Just five more minutes," she pleaded. "I would really like to look at this painting a bit longer."
Caesar couldn't sit still. "Let me go! Let me go!"
"No. You'll have to leave now."
Theo took Rhetora by the arm. "It's okay. We're done now. We should leave."
"Well..." she sighed. "Okay."
When they left the building and emerged outside, Theo felt that it was warmer than before. It was closer to noon. Yet, Caesar still wouldn't stop complaining. "Hey, kid," Theo said to him. Caesar paid no mind. "Caesar."
When the boy turned, he scowled. "What do you want?"
Theo bent down to eye level with the boy and waved his mother off with the flick of his wrist. "Why are you so angry? What has happened in your life that you are not able to let go of your wants for more than a few minutes?"
Caesar seemed less rambunctious than before and more curious. He calmed down and Rhetora let go of his arm. "Sir? I'm just a kid."
"I know that you're just a kid, Caesar," Theo continued. "But I'm going to talk to you as though you are an adult like us. Wouldn't you like that?"
Caesar nodded. "I wanna be on TV when I grow up."
"I have no doubt that you will," he smiled. "But one thing that people on TV have to do is talk to people. They do this a lot. How can you talk to them if you're so angry all the time?" Caesar shrugged. "You see, each one of them is someone just as human as you. Each have their own lives and feelings. Everyone has something about them that's special. Every single one of them has a demolition show they'd rather be watching. I want you to remember this."
Caesar nodded. "I will, Mr..."
"Warrik," Theo replied. "You may call me Mr. Warrik."
"But why, Mr. Warrik? If those people are all grown-ups, they can go to the demolition show whenever they want. Why don't they go now?"
He shook his head. "That's because life moves on around them. If you don't take a minute to stop and observe it, you'll go your whole life without ever seeing what's really there. Go today, and instead of rushing from one place to the next, take a minute to stop and appreciate the Golden City you live in."
"Okay." Caesar smiled, and began to look around immediately. Theo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out of it a small coin. When the boy turned back to him, Theo put his hand behind his ear and pulled it out, coin displaying the head of Revarius Snow. "How did you do that?" He asked excitedly.
Theo cranked his leg and stood up firm. "You can find a lot of things around you when you look hard enough." He set the coin in the boy's hand. "Look for the good in the world. Look for the good in other people. If you search long enough, you'll find something worth discovering."
Caesar was looking at the coin all the way from the museum. Rhetora grabbed him by the hand again and led him off to the east. The wind blew softly and the birds were chirping and Theo found it amusing to watch Caesar looking around at everything he could set his eyes on. As they left, Rhetora turned and mouthed the words "Thank you."
"You're really good with him," Kirt said. "Have you had experience with kids?"
"Not much," Theo replied, honestly. "I had a daughter..."
"Had?" he asked. When he saw Theo's head slowly shaking, he knew it best not to ask. "So, Mr. Warrik, I assume if you gathered us all here today, you know exactly what you're doing. I would hope so."
Theo laughed and put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He squeezed tightly, trying to send a message. They were outside of the museum now. Their conversation was being overheard by the second. "Yes," he said. He began to weave around a lie. "The museum is a perfect place to set up the study group. We will have to do this more often."
Kirt nodded his head, understanding the ruse, and followed along. "I found the dusty portrait to be quite fascinating."
"I will meet you here, next week at around the same time."
"Agreed," Kirt laughed. "Goodbye, my friend."
"Until we meet again." Theo shook the man's hand and casually turned in the opposite direction. As they walked away from each other, Theo knew his plan had begun. He limped across one block and the next, hobbled on his mahogany cane. The neon lights around him flickered, pointing to their respective stores and restaurants. He wasn't sure why he was being summoned to the Capital building, but he fought off his nerves. He forced himself to believe it would be okay.
Lynona had one thing right. There was a considerable chance they could fail. This was the first time Theo really felt as though he were gambling with death.
End of Chapter 9