Somehow getting chosen by lottery was worse than being judged for a crime you weren't aware you'd committed; at least it wasn't up to chance then. Something about her off-hand comment caught him, the off in her day part. Daniel looked her over again, guessing at her age. He did the math quickly. "...They chose children as Tributes before?"
It was hard to remain academic, neutral about one of what must be Panem's major cultural institutions, when he was talking to the sole survivor of one of their games. She couldn't have been more than a teenager, if not younger. Daniel had gone pale. And the prize she got, aside from her life, was never having to participate in the Games again, and to see the new Tributes off to their deaths.
This had to be the most honest answer he was going to get out of anyone about these Games, aside from the current Tributes. He couldn't imagine the locals he'd seen walking around in their bright colors, fans and feathers saying what she thought so bluntly. None of them carried the scars she did, physical and mental. He doubted a single one of them had ever handled an actual weapon. To them, the Hunger Games were just that, great entertainment. People stopped being people when you put a camera between them and the audience.
Daniel forced himself to unclench his hands, aware suddenly that he'd balled his hands into fists by the sharp pain in his palms. "Jesus," was all he could say at first. They'd filled him in on the Games when he'd first arrived, but the feeling he got was that it was a glossed over version. "And what if the Districts rose up? Stopped watching and stopped supporting with their industry? I mean, they have to know - even though they're not funneling their own Tributes in - that this is only another way to keep them under a heel."
no subject
It was hard to remain academic, neutral about one of what must be Panem's major cultural institutions, when he was talking to the sole survivor of one of their games. She couldn't have been more than a teenager, if not younger. Daniel had gone pale. And the prize she got, aside from her life, was never having to participate in the Games again, and to see the new Tributes off to their deaths.
This had to be the most honest answer he was going to get out of anyone about these Games, aside from the current Tributes. He couldn't imagine the locals he'd seen walking around in their bright colors, fans and feathers saying what she thought so bluntly. None of them carried the scars she did, physical and mental. He doubted a single one of them had ever handled an actual weapon. To them, the Hunger Games were just that, great entertainment. People stopped being people when you put a camera between them and the audience.
Daniel forced himself to unclench his hands, aware suddenly that he'd balled his hands into fists by the sharp pain in his palms. "Jesus," was all he could say at first. They'd filled him in on the Games when he'd first arrived, but the feeling he got was that it was a glossed over version. "And what if the Districts rose up? Stopped watching and stopped supporting with their industry? I mean, they have to know - even though they're not funneling their own Tributes in - that this is only another way to keep them under a heel."