I get dizzy when I think of all the ways we try to hide our maladies [OPEN]

[capitolprivilege]

Who| Stephen and anyone who isn't actively participating in the break-in!
What| A big, big party to celebrate the soccer match, and also to celebrate Stephen being much less of a disgrace than he was. This is the party that made it into Celebrus, people. The Capitol elite is invited, and so is anyone involved with the Games! ...except for the people Cyrus crossed off the guest list behind Stephen's back.
Where| An event hall in the Capitol
When| Backdated to the Binding plot, the night of the break-in.
Warnings/Notes| Capitol gilding-over of atrocious things. Disney-ified portrayals of the Districts. Avoxes being used as furniture. And what you bring with you.

For having such a short time to plan it, Stephen and Porrim have really outdone themselves. The event hall is round, with a hallway leading to a large, circular, central room and smaller rooms ringing the outside. The main area is half ballroom, half dining area: the dance floor is off to one side, large enough to accommodate anyone who wants to dance, but with the lights low enough to make it feel intimate and un-intimidating even if only a few feel like dancing. The translucent mist that whirls around the area helps with the intimate atmosphere without impeding visibility badly enough to make dancing difficult. The other half of the room is round tables, kept clean and refreshed with food by wait staff who will bring the guests just about anything they ask for. The wait staff are all perfectly groomed, polite, and in possession of their tongues.

The decor is soccer-themed, but soccer as it would have been imagined by the ancient Greeks. Marble statues of athletes (clothed or half-clothed or with strategically carved folds of cloth) are tastefully placed around the low-lit room. The Greco-Roman aesthetic characterizes the whole room: carved pillars hold up the sound system and the tables, embossed vases whose figures are animated adorn the tables as centerpieces, and the wait staff is dressed in sporty chitons and peploses. It's Classically classy, but the sports imagery and the popular dance music that's muted enough in the dining area to allow people to talk make it informal enough to be comfortable.

At even intervals around the center room are twelve doors. Each one has a Roman numeral on it. Step through any one of them and it will take you to a recreation of the corresponding District that's both full of real props and holographic images. The technology isn't as good as Gamemaker illusions and certainly doesn't feel as real as the dream tech, but it can be interacted with, even if it doesn't "feel" real. You can "pick up" a dandelion in District 12 and blow its seeds away. You can run a hand through the water of a District 4 beach and pier and watch the ripples spread. Each District room has comfortable seating, themed food, and appropriately-dressed wait staff; there are even cast members re-enacting District life around the dining areas, giving each room a sense of authenticity. It looks, sounds, smells, and tastes like the District it's imitating, just -- better. Cleaner.

Oh, also, those who participated in the soccer game and won will be given laurel crowns made of solid gold.

District One is a balcony of a manor house, overlooking a perfect view of manicured gardens. You're not outdoors, but it sure feels like it. The tableware is sparkling gold, the chairs made of silky fabric that is a joy to touch but doesn't seem to stain, and being there will make you feel like a prince or princess.

District Two is clearly built into the inside of a mountain. There are broad, open windows, of course, letting in plenty of fresh air, and the walls and floor and ceiling are impeccably carved, but it's all made of natural stone. Outside, down in the valley, you can see Careers and Peacekeepers training.

District Three is a charred husk no, not at all, that would be tasteless. Three looks like Tron: Legacy. Glowing LED lines run through the walls and furniture, and it all looks so clean and spotless it can't be entirely real. The tables are angular, unnatural, and around the dining area are color-changing glow pools.

District Four is a broad pier that juts out from a beach into the ocean. The sand is real, but the water is not -- don't worry, you won't ruin your clothes if you fall in! The sun is setting, painting the sky beautiful colors, and there's no mistaking that sea-salt smell. Off to the side, attractive fishermen and fisherwomen work to bring in the seafood the Capitol enjoys so much. Rough-hewn but splinterless wooden tables and comfortable canvas chairs are on the pier, with an awning above to keep the sun off. Part of the pier is made of glass, so you can look down and watch the tiny fish as they swim around.

District Five is a power plant, but an elegant one. Lightning crackles across the walls and ceiling, leaping between metal rods in a dazzling display. But don't worry: it's not real. You can touch it if you want. It'll cling to your fingers for a few seconds before sparking out. The hum it makes is quiet and unobtrusive white noise.

District Six is lovely, if Stephen does say so himself. It's a series of luxuriously-furnished train cars, with realistic-looking, picturesque scenery rushing past that reflects the geography of all twelve Districts. The floor hums gently; it feels like you're really moving. In one of the train cars can be found one District 6 Mentor, Linden Lockhearst -- usually. He's been part of the party's marketing: he has promised to, at this party, disprove fortune-telling completely. Come talk to him! You'll be surprised at what he can tell you about you. ♥

District Seven is a tree house! It's about a hundred feet up in the crisp, pine-fresh air, affording a gorgeous view of the surrounding forest. Birds sing, deer frolic below, and stunningly attractive lumberjacks can be seen going past, hard at work. They're also very attractive. Look, Stephen and Porrim planned this party -- what did you expect? Go watch the lumberjacks. It's worth it.

District Eight is artistic. It's divided into sections, almost mazelike, with walls made of cloth, but it's kept from feeling claustrophobic by the fact that the ceiling -- also made of cloth -- looks like the sky. No, really. Clouds are scudding across it, blown in the same direction as the light breeze that flows through the room, keeping it from feeling stuffy. The cloth walls are similarly illusory: touch them and they feel real, but projected onto them are broad plains with great lakes not too far distant. The chairs and tables are all cloth and wooden frames.

District Nine is grain. It's hard to make grain interesting, but Stephen's given it his best shot. This is the room with the most open-air feel. Grain, amber waves of it, as far as the eye can see. There's a trick to this room: walk out into the grain, and you won't hit a wall. You're on a moving sidewalk that responds to you, and the holograms will bend to give the illusion of distance between you and the tables in the crop circle in the center of the room. D9's bigger on the inside.

District Ten doesn't have real farm animals. Goodness, no. Too unpredictable, and the smell would detract from the Old West charm of this room. The door leads out onto the expansive porch of a ranch house, where the tables are. It overlooks paddocks of horses and fields of gentle cows. Two or three playful but impeccably trained herding dogs are the only real animals here: they are impeccably clean and will only approach if you call them over. Their handlers in cowboy hats and jeans aren't far away, keeping a watchful eye. Somewhere, Wyatt Earp wants to die.

District Eleven is an idyllic orchard. The apples can be picked and eaten. You won't be punished for stealing food, because you're from the Capitol! Ha, ha. The wait staff is dressed as sexy farmers, with straw hats and coverall-shorts and plaid shirts artistically tied up, talking in easygoing drawls. It's all very charming, like it's right out of Song of the Goddamn South. This is some unfortunate fucking shit.

District Twelve is probably the most ordinary out of all the rooms. The feel is of small-town Appalachia. Coal miners with impressive arms can be seen going to and from work along dirt tracks that wind between the little houses, a man plays a banjo and sings a little ways off, and pine-covered mountains rise in the distance. The food is rustic but delicious: warm baked bread, goat cheese and strawberries, roast goose with herbs -- you wish you lived in this dystopia.

Oh, and one more thing... In the main room, there are statues that are dressed more classically. Togas, chitons, flowy robes, bangles, sandals -- they're holding trays of food, trays of drinks, baskets of bread and fruit, all classically beautiful, all with -- very realistic-looking hair and eyes, now that you're thinking about it -- oh god they're moving. Cyrus Reagan has been involved in the planning of this party from the start, and he's BUTTED IN put a few of his own touches on it without talking it over with Stephen. Hand-picking Avoxes for their looks, dressing them up, and commanding them to stand perfectly still so they can be the tables, he felt, fit the theme perfectly.

Comments

[currupted]

Cyrus frowns. "The--?" A second, and then it hits him-- his expression clears, and he grins. "Ah. You mean the Avoxes."

He glances over his shoulder at the nearest one, standing about ten paces away - made up to look like marble, eyes blank, weight balanced on one hip and the opposite arm wrapped around a full breadbasket. There's a barely-noticeable tremor in its knees.

"Magnificent, aren't they?" Cyrus says. "I wasn't sure there'd be enough time to condition them to stand still - you know how jumpy they can be." Offhand, not even needing to wait for agreement. "I didn't want it to look sloppy. But their handlers assured me they'd be able to do it, and I have to say, I'm impressed."

This is spoken with genuine pride, and with a glance at Stephen-- gauging his reaction. Noting that Stephen doesn't seem nearly as enthusiastic about it as he would have expected. "...Do you disagree?"

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"The conditioning is incredible," Stephen says with just enough carelessness to hide his disgust and horror that Avoxes were conditioned specifically for this. That they were tortured so that they would be unable to do nothing but hold baskets and trays and cornucopias that only grew heavier and heavier and heavier... "I was fooled, for a minute, until I saw one of them switch out."

He's got to be careful here, he knows. Stephen's walking a thin line: he's not sure he can convince Cyrus to have them uninstalled, and if he tries, it'll look like he has dangerous opinions. But if he doesn't say anything -- he's already given away the fact that he's bothered. If Stephen looks like he's hiding something, Cyrus will be suspicious all the same.

"It's just...having them around is kind of uncomfortable, you know?"

He seems reluctant to talk about it, but the pieces are sliding into place in his head: if Cyrus presses, Stephen knows what tack he'll take.

[currupted]

The switching out, Cyrus thinks, is particularly clever-- the handlers discreetly change them out on the half hour, so as not to tire them to the point that they can't perform. (That it's uncomfortable for the Avoxes doesn't matter at all. What matters is keeping up the illusion.)

...But clearly Stephen doesn't agree.

"Uncomfortable?" Cyrus repeats-- and it's clearly not the reply he expected. Though whether he's upset that Stephen's upset, or upset that Stephen doesn't find what he planned satisfactory, is unclear. "How so?"

He draws back a little, though he doesn't take his hand off Stephen's shoulder-- they better to look him in the face.

[capitolprivilege]

"...I keep thinking," Stephen begins reluctantly, as if he hadn't gone over this in his head a second before, "that a lot of the Avoxes we have were initially conditioned during Hsiang's time. After what happened to Victory, I can't help wondering, when I look at them, how many others might have been mistakes, or rash decisions, or victims of circumstance. There's no helping it now, of course," he goes on. "Avoxing crimes are usually treason, so it makes sense that the documentation can't be detailed." Because you don't leave treason on record where the public can access it, duh. Stephen's tone implies that they're definitely mostly traitors. "And it's fine when they're just in the background, doing what they're supposed to. It's just that looking at them here makes me wonder how many of them there are that don't actually deserve it."

[currupted]

Cyrus' smile stays on his face, but it turns... almost a little confused. He's not dismissing Stephen's concern out of hand - it's just clearly not what he was expecting to hear.

"Well," he says, slowly, I'm really trying to empathize with your problem, here-- "I did pick them myself." With a grin, and a conspiratorial roll of his eyes-- "Have you ever held auditions for Avoxes before, by the way? Don't. It's not thrilling." It's also a job usually left to someone else - he's pointing out, subtly, just how much trouble he went to to procure them.

"Anyway-- you're right. That would be unfortunate." A terrible fate for innocent, or near-innocent, citizens - seriousness enough to take his smile off his face for a moment. "But having looked over every one of them in painstaking detail - I can tell you, there's no way to tell which ones were taken in for actual treason, and which ones Hsiang just caught looking at her funny." He shrugs, rueful. "There's really no helping it now - it's not like we could reverse the conditioning even if it were possible to tell."

[capitolprivilege]

Was there a point, Stephen wonders, where he would have responded positively to the idea of Cyrus handpicking Avoxes for a party of his? It's hard to imagine, but he supposes there must have been, or Cyrus wouldn't be doing it. He forces a smile onto his face, a half-laugh, an oh that must have been terrible.

The smile also covers up the chill in his stomach: you're lying, he thinks. Avox conditioning fades with time. Maybe they'll never speak again, but everything besides the mutilation can be recovered from.

"I know there's nothing we can do about it now," he says, not missing a beat. Of course he's not asking Cyrus to look into Avox records. Doing that would achieve absolutely nothing. "It's like I said. It's just uncomfortable." He looks out over the living statues, blank-faced and terrified.

[currupted]

There's only so many records that are kept for Avoxes. It's a delicate balance, between the needs of bureaucracy and the need to make Avoxes' prior identities disappear as though they never existed.

Cyrus knows Avox conditioning weakens over time. But in his eyes, can't and won't are the same thing where the Avoxes are concerned. There is no reason that the Capitol would reverse an Avox's conditioning; it's less an outright falsehood than blithe recitation, a doublespeak detail he doesn't even think about anymore as it falls off his tongue.

"Do you think you can put up with it for an evening?" Cyrus asks, and he keeps his tone level, but the words come quicker-- he's not bothering to hide his impatience as carefully anymore. "You know. Since I've already gone to the trouble."

[capitolprivilege]

Stephen sucks in a breath. He can't win this, not now, he realizes: there's not a single reason he can come up with to remove the Avoxes that Cyrus would agree to. It sits very, very badly with him to let this go, but he doesn't see an alternative. He blows the breath out in a sigh.

"All right," Stephen says, like his own comfort with the presence of the Avoxes is the most important comfort in the room to be considered, "I can deal with it."

Maybe later he'll find a way to get them removed. He'll ask Linden about it, see if the Mentor can come up with something plausible. But until then -- oh, god, he feels so guilty about this. It's important to pick your battles, he knows, but he's choosing, right now, not to fight for people who had been and were being put through something cruel. Stephen is going to have trouble looking at them for the rest of the evening.

[currupted]

"Good." And like that, Cyrus' shortness is gone, replaced again with the cat-who-got-the-cream smile he walked in with, this momentary problem resolved and behind him.

He steps closer, even, steps up beside Stephen and puts a hand on his shoulder, letting them survey the party together. They can see most of the rotunda from here, and glimpses of the gaudy Districts through the doors. He drops his voice to speak, quieter but more warmly than before.

"Hey," he says, "Even if it's not everything you wanted-- I'm proud of you." This is an intimate conversation, one meant just for them, that not even the cameras and microphones are meant to pick up. Cyrus is practiced at looking like he's saying something less important than he is in front of observers. "This is exactly what I meant, when I asked you to... make some changes. You're doing great."

[capitolprivilege]

Everything about this has begun to make Stephen's skin crawl. Under the cool gaze that he surveys the party with, he wants to crawl away, to find somewhere to hide where he doesn't have to think about what's going on outside, or why Cyrus was late, or about Avoxes -- where he doesn't have to keep up an act around Cyrus. Where he doesn't have to listen to Cyrus talk like this.

Stephen's not sure he's ever wanted to get away from his brother more in his life. Certainly not since he got his job back and took up residence in the Tribute center again. But he keeps his shoulder relaxed, because he has to, and smiles, because that's what Cyrus expects, and doesn't give in to the impulse to run.

"I'm glad to hear that," he says, like he's coming out of his bad mood. "You know how this kind of thing goes over better than I do. I know how to throw parties, but I'm not as good at events."

[currupted]

"You never have been." It's spoken with a grin that says You know what I'm talking about. "Remember that time--!" He interrupts himself to laugh. "When we let you plan the family trip to District Four? Grandma gave you, what, fifty thousand Assi to spend on the venue. And you forgot to get it catered." Man! What an emergency that had been, right?

"Guess you're growing up," he adds, wry-- he's back to genial and joking and brotherly, like he was never annoyed. "I'll have you start planning mine next."

[capitolprivilege]

I'm twenty-eight, Stephen thinks, feeling distinctly negged. Even if Cyrus is joking, Stephen's picking up again on the lack of respect that Stephen had never quite realized was there before. He gets respect from the Tributes, he gets respect from some of the Mentors, even -- but never from Cyrus.

"If I do," he says lightly, "I'll probably skip the fog machine." A breath out, half-whistled. "I'm going outside for a breath of air. I won't be long."

It doesn't look like Stephen can't stand to be here anymore. It doesn't look like that at all.

good to finish here if you are!

[currupted]

"Sure thing." Cyrus is looking over the crowd anyway, seeing people he should really greet, long-standing acquaintances whose families he should greet on behalf of the Reagans, even one or two political allies who it would be an insult to ignore. Parties are, in Cyrus' world, just another kind of obligation, in their way.

He keeps his hand on Stephen's shoulder even as he pulls away, though, gives it a squeeze before he moves away through the crowd. I'll find you later, the brief lift of his glass says. "Stay out of trouble," is what he says, with a wry quirk of his mouth.

And they'll part ways. For now.