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

by Suzanne Collins

Everyone had learned to despise waste. It was creeping back into fashion, though. A sign of prosperity, like a decent shirt.

As if controlling one element of his world would keep him from ruin.

A tendency toward obsession was hardwired into his brain and would likely be his undoing if he couldn’t learn to outsmart it.

People had short memories. They needed to navigate the rubble, peel off the grubby ration coupons, and witness the Hunger Games to keep the war fresh in their minds. Forgetting could lead to complacency, and then they’d all be back at square one.

“Well, you know what they say. The show’s not over until the mockingjay sings,” she said.

“One look tells you ours have had more food, nicer clothing, and better dental care,” said Dean Highbottom. “Assuming anything more, a physical, mental, or especially a moral superiority, would be a mistake. That sort of hubris almost finished us off in the war.”

Why bother pinching pennies when the dollars had fled long ago?

Back when this had been North America, not Panem.

The heat and humidity turned the air to some state halfway between a liquid and a gas, and he could not confirm if he was inhaling or exhaling.

“We pour money into our industries, not into the districts themselves,” said Sejanus. “The people are on their own.”

“You know what I won’t miss? People,” Coriolanus replied. “Except for a handful. They’re mostly awful, if you think about it.” “People aren’t so bad, really,” she said. “It’s what the world does to them.