【饥饿游戏】23（在线收听） |
The Training Center has a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. This will be our home until the
actual Games begin. Each district has an entire floor. You
simply step onto an elevator and press the number of your
district. Easy enough to remember.
I’ve ridden the elevator a couple of times in the Justice
Building back in District 12. Once to receive the medal for my
father’s death and then yesterday to say my final goodbyes to
my friends and family. But that’s a dark and creaky thing that
moves like a snail and smells of sour milk. The walls of this
elevator are made of crystal so that you can watch the people
on the ground floor shrink to ants as you shoot up into the air.
It’s exhilarating and I’m tempted to ask Effie Trinket if we can
ride it again, but somehow that seems childish.
Apparently, Effie Trinket’s duties did not conclude at the
station. She and Haymitch will be overseeing us right into the
arena. In a way, that’s a plus because at least she can be
counted on to corral us around to places on time whereas we
haven’t seen Haymitch since he agreed to help us on the train.
Probably passed out somewhere. Effie Trinket, on the other
hand, seems to be flying high. We’re the first team she’s ever
chaperoned that made a splash at the opening ceremonies.
She’s complimentary about not just our costumes but how we
conducted ourselves. And, to hear her tell it, Effie knows
everyone who’s anyone in the Capitol and has been talking us
up all day, trying to win us sponsors.
“I’ve been very mysterious, though,” she says, her eyes
squint half shut. “Because, of course, Haymitch hasn’t bothered
to tell me your strategies. But I’ve done my best with
what I had to work with. How Katniss sacrificed herself for
her sister. How you’ve both successfully struggled to overcome
the barbarism of your district.”
Barbarism? That’s ironic coming from a woman helping to
prepare us for slaughter. And what’s she basing our success
on? Our table manners?
“Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from
the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I
said, ‘Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to
pearls!’“ Effie beams at us so brilliantly that we have no choice
but to respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though
it’s wrong.
Coal doesn’t turn to pearls. They grow in shellfish. Possibly
she meant coal turns to diamonds, but that’s untrue, too. I’ve
heard they have some sort of machine in District 1 that can
turn graphite into diamonds. But we don’t mine graphite in
District 12. That was part of District 13’s job until they were
destroyed.
I wonder if the people she’s been plugging us to all day either
know or care.
“Unfortunately, I can’t seal the sponsor deals for you. Only
Haymitch can do that,” says Effie grimly. “But don’t worry, I’ll
get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary.”
Although lacking in many departments, Effie Trinket has a
certain determination I have to admire.
My quarters are larger than our entire house back home.
They are plush, like the train car, but also have so many automatic
gadgets that I’m sure I won’t have time to press all the
buttons. The shower alone has a panel with more than a hundred
options you can choose regulating water temperature,
pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging
sponges. When you step out on a mat, heaters come on that
blow-dry your body. Instead of struggling with the knots in
my wet hair, I merely place my hand on a box that sends a
current through my scalp, untangling, parting, and drying my
hair almost instantly. It floats down around my shoulders in a
glossy curtain.
I program the closet for an outfit to my taste. The windows
zoom in and out on parts of the city at my command. You need
only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a
mouthpiece and it appears, hot and steamy, before you in less
than a minute. I walk around the room eating goose liver and
puffy bread until there’s a knock on the door. Effie’s calling me
to dinner.
Good. I’m starving.
Peeta, Cinna, and Portia are standing out on a balcony that
overlooks the Capitol when we enter the dining room. I’m glad
to see the stylists, particularly after I hear that Haymitch will
be joining us. A meal presided over by just
Effie and Haymitch is bound to be a disaster. Besides, dinner
isn’t really about food, it’s about planning out our strategies,
and Cinna and Portia have already proven how valuable
they are.
A silent young man dressed in a white tunic offers us all
stemmed glasses of wine. I think about turning it down, but
I’ve never had wine, except the homemade stuff my mother
uses for coughs, and when will I get a chance to try it again? I
take a sip of the tart, dry liquid and secretly think it could be
improved by a few spoonfuls of honey. |
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