[Stephen looks relaxed and at ease. It's not the first time, after all, that he's stood in front of children and told them why their death sentence was a good thing. His smile isn't genuine, but it's a very, very convincing fake.
He's also perfectly groomed. There's no glitter, and the shimmer is limited to the lining and lapels of his suit-jacket. The piercings up and down his ears are small, and the makeup is understated and tasteful.]
Hello, everyone. Some of you I know, some of you I don't, but just about all of you talked to my brother, Cyrus Reagan, last month. I'm sure he had a lot to say to you about responsibility and reciprocation. He always seems to have a new way to say follow the rules, doesn't he?
Yes, he is like that all the time.
[A flash of a grin, which quickly fades.]
But we Escorts are pretty guilty of that, too. It's an easy job for Tributes to resent. You give us your lives in the Arena, and then when you come back, here's your Escort, asking you to do more. We're always making you get dressed up, smile for the cameras, go here, go there -- it's not fun.
We know that.
But part of growing up is doing things that aren't fun. No one wants to eat their vegetables -- until they realize that it's the candy that gave them the bellyache and made them cranky all day. No one wants to wash behind their ears, until their hair starts feeling disgusting and their friends tell them they smell weird.
[He makes a face, a sympathetic wince.]
That's when you start to remember who told you to eat your vegetables and wash up in the first place. I know we have some aliens here who were raised in a different way, but for most of you, that'd be your parents, or your guardian, or whoever was responsible for taking care of you while you were growing up. They told you to do a lot of things, didn't they? Some of them, you didn't understand at the time. Some of them you still might not understand. But there was always a reason.
[A breath, a further sobering, a gentler tone.]
Sometimes, when you didn't obey, you were punished. You might have resented that, too. But the truth is, no one likes punishing their children. Seeing them sad, seeing them angry, is hard. But a good parent is patient. A good parent knows that a child acts out because they're too young to understand why the rules are the way they are, and knows that one day, that child will grow up, and will understand, and no one will need to be punished anymore.
[Acting out is childish, Stephen is saying. Be grown-up. Be part of the system. Even if you don't understand it yet, pretending you understand it and obeying it is cool.
Of course, there's another side to the parent-child symbolism, for the sharper-minded. If the Capitol is like a parent to the Tributes, one day, the Tributes are going to have to grow up. One day, they won't need the Capitol anymore.
But Stephen means the former. Of course he does. Why wouldn't he?]
Some of you understand already. It is the very rules we ask you to follow that have made Panem, well, what it is today. It works like a well-oiled machine -- in fact, I've always thought of District Six's transportation industry as the wires and the pipes that ensure that each part gets what it needs. But it's not just Panem's efficiency or stability that makes it great. Panem is beautiful. From the lush fields of the Districts to the shining skyscrapers of the Capitol, Panem is living proof of what the human race can achieve -- with the right set of rules to give it focus.
[Stephen gives a smile that's a little shy -- the shyness lends it sincerity.]
I'm proud to call the Capitol my home, and it's always been a private hope of mine that one day all of you will come to think of it as yours, too.
So, in that spirit, I'd be glad to answer any questions you all might have. I might not know the Capitol in quite as much detail as Peacekeeper Falxvale, and I'm no minister in Snow's cabinet, but I can certainly tell you a thing or two about more ordinary life in the Capitol, and I also know a thing or two about what it's like helping to represent a District in the Hunger Games that you aren't from.
no subject
He's also perfectly groomed. There's no glitter, and the shimmer is limited to the lining and lapels of his suit-jacket. The piercings up and down his ears are small, and the makeup is understated and tasteful.]
Hello, everyone. Some of you I know, some of you I don't, but just about all of you talked to my brother, Cyrus Reagan, last month. I'm sure he had a lot to say to you about responsibility and reciprocation. He always seems to have a new way to say follow the rules, doesn't he?
Yes, he is like that all the time.
[A flash of a grin, which quickly fades.]
But we Escorts are pretty guilty of that, too. It's an easy job for Tributes to resent. You give us your lives in the Arena, and then when you come back, here's your Escort, asking you to do more. We're always making you get dressed up, smile for the cameras, go here, go there -- it's not fun.
We know that.
But part of growing up is doing things that aren't fun. No one wants to eat their vegetables -- until they realize that it's the candy that gave them the bellyache and made them cranky all day. No one wants to wash behind their ears, until their hair starts feeling disgusting and their friends tell them they smell weird.
[He makes a face, a sympathetic wince.]
That's when you start to remember who told you to eat your vegetables and wash up in the first place. I know we have some aliens here who were raised in a different way, but for most of you, that'd be your parents, or your guardian, or whoever was responsible for taking care of you while you were growing up. They told you to do a lot of things, didn't they? Some of them, you didn't understand at the time. Some of them you still might not understand. But there was always a reason.
[A breath, a further sobering, a gentler tone.]
Sometimes, when you didn't obey, you were punished. You might have resented that, too. But the truth is, no one likes punishing their children. Seeing them sad, seeing them angry, is hard. But a good parent is patient. A good parent knows that a child acts out because they're too young to understand why the rules are the way they are, and knows that one day, that child will grow up, and will understand, and no one will need to be punished anymore.
[Acting out is childish, Stephen is saying. Be grown-up. Be part of the system. Even if you don't understand it yet, pretending you understand it and obeying it is cool.
Of course, there's another side to the parent-child symbolism, for the sharper-minded. If the Capitol is like a parent to the Tributes, one day, the Tributes are going to have to grow up. One day, they won't need the Capitol anymore.
But Stephen means the former. Of course he does. Why wouldn't he?]
Some of you understand already. It is the very rules we ask you to follow that have made Panem, well, what it is today. It works like a well-oiled machine -- in fact, I've always thought of District Six's transportation industry as the wires and the pipes that ensure that each part gets what it needs. But it's not just Panem's efficiency or stability that makes it great. Panem is beautiful. From the lush fields of the Districts to the shining skyscrapers of the Capitol, Panem is living proof of what the human race can achieve -- with the right set of rules to give it focus.
[Stephen gives a smile that's a little shy -- the shyness lends it sincerity.]
I'm proud to call the Capitol my home, and it's always been a private hope of mine that one day all of you will come to think of it as yours, too.
So, in that spirit, I'd be glad to answer any questions you all might have. I might not know the Capitol in quite as much detail as Peacekeeper Falxvale, and I'm no minister in Snow's cabinet, but I can certainly tell you a thing or two about more ordinary life in the Capitol, and I also know a thing or two about what it's like helping to represent a District in the Hunger Games that you aren't from.