Cable Bridge

Pausing at the airlock before you, it’s no accident that the wall of the hallway leading up to it is lined with twenty-four glass door lockers. Individually labeled by tribute - from District One to Twelve - you find your own name and a custom tailored space suit hanging neatly within. Just your height. Just your size. Trusting your gut, you suit up before holding your watch to the keypad of the airlock. The door whooshes open with a howl as the frigid wind of an arctic landscape sucks at the air all around, nearly pulling you over the edge where part of the ship has broken away and fallen into the ocean thousands of feet below. For the first time, realization hits you that the spacecraft is teetering on the edge of a fractured ice shelf and you can’t help laughing at the irony of this being the only place in the arena where it’s possible to see the stars. The airlock closes behind you with an unsettlingly chipper series of beeps; the only way to go is forward. A terrifying bridge of sparking electrical cables stretches out before you, swinging in the open air, connecting this small ledge to a promise of safer footing on the other side. Gigantic icicles hang from the cables, occasionally breaking off with a startling CRACK in response to the weight of your footsteps. The magnetized boots you wear are the only way it’s possible to hang on in some spots. The sheer wall of ice beside you glints with both beauty and danger, as if it has been keeping all kinds of secrets with the desperate hope of one day sharing them with you.