The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes (The Hunger Games, #0)

by Suzanne Collins

“No district in particular. We move from place to place as the fancy takes us.” Lucy Gray caught herself. “Well, we used to anyway. Before the Peacekeepers rounded us up a few years back.”

“It says, ‘Please don’t feed the animals.’” “They’re not animals, though,” said Sejanus. “They’re kids, like you and me.” “They’re not like me!” the little girl protested. “They’re district. That’s why they belong in a cage!”

“It’s just this whole Hunger Games thing is making me crazy! I mean, what are we doing? Putting kids in an arena to kill each other? It feels wrong on so many levels. Animals protect their young, right? And so do we. We try to protect children! It’s built into us as human beings. Who really wants to do this? It’s unnatural!”

“The real problem is, it’s sickening to watch,” said Clemensia. “So people avoid it.” Sejanus jumped in. “Of course they do! Who wants to watch a group of children kill each other? Only a vicious, twisted person. Human beings may not be perfect, but we’re better than that.”

“Tell me about the Covey. What side did you take in the war?” “Neither. My people didn’t take a side. We’re just us.”

Dr. Gaul peered at Sejanus. “You’re the boy with the sandwiches. Why did you do it?” Sejanus stiffened and avoided her gaze. “They were starving. We’re going to kill them; do we have to torture them ahead of time as well?” “Huh. A rebel sympathizer,” said Dr. Gaul.

It’s supposed to be everyone’s government, right?” “That’s the general idea. Go on,” Dr. Gaul encouraged him. “Well, then it should protect everyone,” said Sejanus. “That’s its number-one job! And I don’t see how making them fight to the death achieves that.”

“But they say hardly anyone in the districts saw it, Grandma’am,” Tigris countered. “The people there don’t like to watch the Hunger Games coverage.” “It will only take a handful to get the word out,” said the Grandma’am. “It’s just the kind of story that catches fire.”

“But they’ve got a topnotch veterinarian over there. I expect she’ll be fine by the time they’ve got the Games up and running.

Apparently, the veterinarian had done her best, but her repeated requests to admit them to the hospital had been refused.

“The Hunger Games are an unnatural, vicious punishment. How could a good person like you be expected to go along with them?” “You mustn’t say that to anyone but me. It isn’t safe,” Coriolanus warned her. “I know,” she said. “And that’s wrong, too.”

“Exactly. I think that’s how she thinks we all are. Natural-born killers. Inherently violent,” Coriolanus said. “The Hunger Games are a reminder of what monsters we are and how we need the Capitol to keep us from chaos.”

“So, not only is the world a brutal place, but people enjoy its brutality? Like the essay on everything we loved about the war,” said Sejanus. “As if it had been some big show.” He shook his head. “So much for not thinking.”

“Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings.” “The mockingjay? Really, I think you’re just making these things up.” “Not that one. A mockingjay’s a bona fide bird.” “And it sings in your show?”

Coriolanus felt sure he’d spotted his first mockingjay, and he disliked the thing on sight.

Gaul could go on all she wanted about engaging people in the Hunger Games, but if practically no one in the districts had a working television, the impact would be confined to the reaping, when everyone gathered in public.

“Sounds like torture, having someone controlling your voice like that.” Her hand reached up to touch her throat. Coriolanus thought that a bit dramatic but tried to sound comforting. “I don’t think there’s a human equivalent.” “Really? Do you always feel free to speak your mind, Coriolanus Snow?” she asked, giving him a quizzical look. Free to speak his mind? Of course, he did. Well, within reason. He didn’t go around shooting his mouth off about every little thing. What did she mean? She meant what he thought about the Capitol. And the Hunger Games. And the districts. The truth was, most of what the Capitol did, he supported, and the rest rarely concerned him.

Do you think people really see Lucy Gray, or they’re just dreaming her?” she said. “Because I think they really see her. Only now, she flies like a bird.”

“It’s a mystery, sweetheart. Just like me. That’s why it’s my song,” Lucy Gray answered.

“The Covey believe you’re put on earth to reduce the misery, not add to it. Do you think the Hunger Games are right?” she asked. “I’m not even sure why we do them, to be honest. But I do think people are forgetting the war too fast. What we did to each other. What we’re capable of. Districts and Capitol both. I know the Capitol must seem hard-line out here, but we’re just trying to keep things under control. Otherwise, there’d be chaos and people running around killing each other, like in the arena.”

“Hm. So they keep me safe. And what do I give up for that?” she asked. Coriolanus poked at the fire with a stick. “Give up? Why, nothing.” “The Covey did,” she said. “Can’t travel. Can’t perform without their say-so. Can only sing certain types of songs.

Maybe my freedom’s worth the risk.”

“My family were Covey, first and last,” Lucy Gray asserted. “Not district, not Capitol, not rebel, not Peacekeeper, just us. And you’re like us. You want to think for yourself. You push back. I know because of what you did for me in the Games.”

“People have been around a long time without the Capitol. I expect they’ll be here a long time after,” she concluded.

“Hey, you found some katniss. Good work, CC.”

This elimination of the Capitol birds from the equation deeply disturbed him. Here they were, multiplying like rabbits, completely unchecked. Unauthorized. Co-opting Capitol technology. He didn’t like it one bit.

Last night the commander told me not to sing ‘The Hanging Tree’ anymore. Too dark, he said. Too rebellious, more like it. I promised he’d never hear it from my lips again.”

It was like a puzzle, which I excel at, and like all good creations, absurdly simple at its core. The Hunger Games. The evilest impulse, cleverly packaged into a sporting event. An entertainment. I was drunk and your father got me drunker still, playing on my vanity as I fleshed the thing out, assuring me it was just a private joke. The next morning, I awoke, horrified by what I’d made, meaning to rip it to shreds, but it was too late. Without my permission, your father had given it to Dr. Gaul. He wanted the grade, you see. I never forgave him.”

because music caused trouble. Yes, thought Snow. It certainly does.

She could fly around District 12 all she liked, but she and her mockingjays could never harm him again.