where is her head // { lex }

Autumn leaves.

Winter arrives.

The Ratmas Markets arrive, and then leave; Lex leaves, then arrives in turn.

Do you ever think about how we were resurrected? I mean — not the fact that we were brought back, but the actual mechanics of it? The technology, the science. What the implications of that are.

I couldn't figure out for awhile why they'd bring us all back, that was the part that really stuck with me. If the point was to punish us (the Districts) like it always is, then doesn't sending us home alive defeat the purpose? Okay, yeah, there's the scars and the permanent damage and the psychological trauma or whatever — but that's just us (the tributes) and it's not like they send the victors home in better shape year after year.

I don't think they were doing it to fuck with people, at least not mainly. The numbers just don't make sense like that. How many people live in a given district? How few of them actually know someone who was sent off to die? How few of those were recently enough to remember or close enough to care? Double that number for the tributes going into the future, until our Games is just a one-sentence summary to everyone but us. "The 80th Games? Is that the one where they brought all the tributes back to life?" — it's still not enough people to bother resurrecting us, right? Especially when you figure all those people are already pretty fucked up by the Games already. No offense, Freckles.

I got it, though. It wasn't for us, or for that small group. It wasn't about the Games at all, not really. But think about it: You're always planning ten, fifteen, twenty years out, and the thing you're worried about the most is a violent uprising turning into all-out war. You've got big advantages in arms and ammunition and training and information and everywhere except for one thing: in a worst case scenario, total rebellion, you are vastly outnumbered. You've started bridging that gap with technology — your soldiers are made stronger, more alert, more resilient to injury and pain, but they can still die. What if you could bring them back, so long as you'd had some time to prepare? Whatever they did to us — stasis or whatever, I wish I hadn't been too messed up to pay attention — now they can reuse all of their dead soldiers that they recover in time. They were showing it off with us, making sure that would-be rebels get that message, that they're chipping away at our last advantage if it ever comes to war again. I'll bet that's why they didn't show us off too much after — it'd tip their hand about recovery, how all that still takes time.

I wonder what the limit is. There were some pretty gruesome deaths, huh? Wonder if they've still been able to bring you back if I did rip your heart out that first day. Or Faux, if Shy had hit him harder. Or if we didn't hit that rock and I took someone's head off like I'd been aiming to. I don't know. There must be a limit, right?

It's all so fucked.

You should probably burn this letter.

Yours.