Interview With the Mockingjay -- Chapter 11B

In which our hero -- backed by an unusual supporter -- battles for his right to freedom of the press

The meeting hall is set up like a vast lecture hall, with hundreds of chairs and little desks facing a center table. A TV crew has cameras set up to make a video of the proceedings for the official record. Sam and his pals sit down up front, setting up their screen and laptop computer. They move quickly and without fuss. Their presentations on construction progress are obviously a regular feature of the Town Meetings. Everyone takes a copy of the meeting’s agenda as they enter the hall.

Katniss and Peeta are sitting in a far right-hand corner of the upper deck of the auditorium, and have a small table in front of their seats, with glasses of water. District 12’s two most famous citizens and Hunger Games winners rate special treatment, obviously.

At the desk in front of the hall, Meredith sits next to Ron Davis. She breaks out her briefcase and starts placing papers on the desk. I notice that she and Davis do not greet each other. Two clerks sit next to Meredith.

Davis bangs a gavel on the table, and announces, “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, fellow District 12 neighbors. How are you all doing tonight?”

Various answers come back as a roar, variations of “Doing fine, Commissioner.”

Davis grins broadly. “Glad to hear it. District 12! Best District in Panem!” I am seeing a very different commissioner from the man who yelled at me in the police station. This Ron Davis is a cheerleader and a man of the people. He clearly knows how to play them.

Meredith reads from her agenda. After some legalistic preliminaries to bring the meeting to order, she says, “Tonight, we are switching our usual order of business, to accommodate an action item placed on the agenda by the Commissioner.” She turns to Davis and nods.

Commissioner Davis rises from his seat and accepts a cordless microphone from an aide. “Good evening. As most of you know by now, this afternoon, a reporter from the Capitol…”

The word is greeted by boos and hisses in the audience. Davis smiles. “A reporter from the Capitol, Charlie Allbright, of the Panem Times, and his photographer, Ace Archer, arrived in our District today.”

Archer pulls out his camera and starts moving around to take pictures. At the very least, we’ll have a story about the Town Meeting. Davis ignores my cameraman, but the people in the audience stare at him and at me.

Davis walks around the front of the lecture hall. “Now, I think you all know that Mr. Allbright and Mr. Archer violated two of our Town Ordinances when they came here. They didn’t check in with my office, and they went right up to our beloved Katniss Everdeen…” He nods toward Katniss, and she sips her drink.

“…Our beloved Katniss Everdeen and started interrogating her. Now we’re all learning about the new notions of freedom of the press, and freedom of speech, and right here, we’re enjoying other new freedoms, right to free assembly and to petition for the redress of our grievances.” Davis looks right into the eyes of some of the attendees.

“And we’re learning about petitioning for the redress of our grievances right here,” he continues. “And while we’re learning about these rights, we do know about the Capitol! We know how they’ve starved us for 75 years, they’ve taken our children, they’ve tortured us, whipped us, beaten us, and then they bombed our District into rubble! And since the rebellion, since the war, the Capitol has come here, saying they’re going to rebuild our District. And what have they done? They’ve filled us up with 3,000 construction workers, who have spent the last seven months building facilities mostly for themselves! And what have we District 12 residents been doing? We’ve been going back in the mines, doing double shifts, just like before the war!”

Audience members nod, applaud, and cheer. Sam Horn and his construction crew look pale and embarrassed.

“So, we know about the Capitol! And we have grievances against the Capitol! We want to know when the Capitol is going to build our new homes and shops! We want to know when the Capitol is going to compensate us for the losses we’ve suffered! We want to know when the Capitol is going to get us out of the mines and get us those safe and high-paying jobs in the medicine factory they promised us! We want to know when the Capitol is going to ask us, the residents of District 12, just how District 12 should rebuild itself!”

More cheering, and supportive yells. I look over at Katniss and Peeta. They glance at each other and back at Davis. I see Greasy Sae and Thom in the audience, too.

Davis continues. “Now, this is a Town Meeting, not an election rally…”

The audience laughs.

“But I can tell you that when I am elected this District’s Mayor and Senator, the Capitol will hear from me…and that means they’ll hear from all of you!”

More applause.

“So, what has the Capitol done now? Have they sent us coal miners to relieve our workers? No! Have they disciplined the drunken construction workers who get into fights and urinate on our property? No! Have they moved ahead on building our new homes? No! What have they done? They’ve sent us a reporter, from a daily newspaper in the Capitol, and he says he’s here to tell the story about District 12!”

Davis points at me, and everyone looks at me. Archer gets the shot of Davis pointing at me.

“Well, I don’t think he’s here to tell our story at all! I think he’s here for one reason, and one reason alone! To tell the same old story! That District 12 is a bunch of inbred hillbillies and charming yokels. He’ll tell his readers that Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark are crazy! He’ll tell them that the Capitol is doing a great job of making District 12 safe…for Capitol residents to visit, like an old Hunger Games arena. And that we don’t count.”

Davis saunters across the stage. Meredith looks livid.

“So, I’m here to ask you tonight, as the residents and citizens of District 12, to give our answer to the Capitol, and all of its lying, wealthy…Hunger Games sponsors.” He makes the phrase sound like an epithet. “That District 12 is strong, District 12 is proud, District 12 stands tall, and we will not allow liars to come here and misrepresent us to the rest of Panem!”

His speech is greeted with hearty applause. Greasy Sae does not applaud. Neither do Katniss or Peeta.

Davis walks back to his table and hands his cordless microphone to Meredith. She reads out a resolution calling for the expulsion of me and Archer, for violating the two District ordinances, in precise, clipped language. “Any seconds?” she finishes.

Many people raise their hands. Davis sits next to Meredith, grinning.

“All right,” Meredith says. She looks right at me. “Mr. Allbright?” she asks.

This is my moment. I rise from my seat, carrying my notebook, with my scribbled speech on it. As I pass Archer, he thumps my fist. “Do it, boss,” he says.

I walk over to the main table, grab the cordless mike with one hand, and look at my speech, held in the other.

“Good evening,” I say. I look into the faces of the residents. They’ve been whipped up by Davis’s speech, but I sense that they are not his mere puppets. “My name’s Charlie Allbright, I am a reporter for the Panem Times, and I am here to do a story about District 12 and Katniss Everdeen.” I pause. “And I want you to know who and what I am, and why I’m here.”

I lean against the podium. “It’s absolutely true, I took the train down from the Capitol yesterday. But I’m not originally from the Capitol. I’m from District 2, as it happens. I guess that may make it worse, I’ll admit it.”

There is a rumble from the crowd.

“You won’t like this much, either. My father was a Peacekeeper.”

The audience reacts with mutters to each other, gasps, and expressions of surprise. They are used to the idea of Peacekeepers being celibate for their 20 years of bullying.

I smile. “Yeah, that surprises a lot of people. He was a Peacekeeper. I can’t tell you what he did in his career.” I pause. “But I can tell you this. I was never a Peacekeeper. When the rebellion started, I joined the rebellion. My father urged me to do so. He insisted that I did not follow in his footsteps.”

I glance around the room. Katniss is eyeing me closely. “I served in the rebellion and the war. I’m a combat veteran. I was a combat correspondent, and I commanded a platoon of light infantry in a unit we called the Black Devils. The official name was the 1^st Special Service Force. Some of you may have heard of it.”

People look at each other in agreement. Sam Horn watches me intently.

“I fought in a number of battles, against the Peacekeepers. Yes, I killed a number of them. I also saw a great number of my friends get killed, including my commanding officer. I know, personally, what the war and the rebellion was about.”

There is silence after I say that.

“After the Black Devils were disbanded, I fought in another unit to help liberate the Capitol. I helped to capture President Snow’s palace. Since then, I’ve been working for the newspaper. I’ve been covering the war crimes trials, reporting about the proceedings against the very people who starved, tortured, and bombed you.”

I look at Meredith. She is giving me a warm smile. Archer snaps a photo of me.

“Ace Archer is my photographer. He’s a good one, and he’s not from the Capitol, either. He originally hails from District 1.”

Archer waves nervously at the audience.

I walk around the stage area. “Now, what Commissioner Davis said is partly right. I am here to do a story about Katniss and District 12. I didn’t check in when I came here, and I did start talking with Katniss without anybody’s permission. In my defense, I didn’t know that was illegal. If I had known that doing was breaking the law, I would not have done it. I do my job in an ethical manner.”

I look at my notebook, and go on speaking.

“Which brings me to my next point. I am not here to tell lies about District 12. I am not here to misrepresent you, or Katniss Everdeen. I came here with a very simple order: tell the truth. I’m not here to make anyone look bad, not here to harm anyone, least of all Katniss Everdeen. I’m about rebuilding, not destroying,” I say, looking at Greasy Sae. A smile flickers across her face.

“Your Commissioner has indicated that you feel that the Capitol is not listening to you, that they’ve shoved you back in the mines, and that they are still mistreating you.” I pause for effect. “That’s the story I want to bring back to the Capitol when I leave here. I can put that story before the entire nation. And if you let me, I will.”

The only sound is the shuffle of papers and feet.

“I’m here to interview Katniss Everdeen. The entire country knows her name, but not her story. Many people have used her to send messages to inspire the rebellion. I want to tell her story. The entire nation was inspired by her to win the war. The entire nation needs to be inspired by her to win the peace.”

I circle around in front of the seated residents. “I’m not here to harm Katniss Everdeen. I’m not here to make her look bad, and I’m not here to make her look crazy. I’m here to tell her story. I want to make that clear. Katniss’s story. Not my story, or my version of her story. Katniss’s story.”

I walk back to the table. Davis fumes. I sip some water, and resume my speech. “A lot of you are concerned that I’m invading Katniss’s privacy. Well, you have a right to feel that way. And maybe she doesn’t want to tell that story. But I think that decision is up to Katniss. A lot of people have been using Katniss in the Hunger Games, in the war, and I think its time we let Katniss decide for herself what she wants to do.

“Katniss and I agreed that I’m going to cook dinner for her and Peeta and my photographer tomorrow night at her home.” I look back at Meredith. “Your Business Administrator wangled herself an invitation as well.” She looks down at the table and laughs.

“I’ll be honest with you…Meredith and I have a relationship.” I look back at her. We smile at each other. “I didn’t know she was even here until I got here.” I look back at the audience. “So, I have another very good reason not to write unfavorable things about this District and its residents. I kind of have a vested interest in it.”

The audience laughs. I wait until they’re done.

“So, I’m going to finish this up by re-stating what I said before…I’m not an ogre. I’m about rebuilding, not destroying. I’m here to tell the truth, not to make anyone look bad. I’m here to tell Katniss’s story. I think that decision should be made by Katniss herself, and I think that discussion should be between me and her. All I want from you is an opportunity to write about what’s really going on in District 12, and make my case to Katniss, in private, and let her decide whether or not she wants to do this story.”

I gaze around the room.

“That’s all I’ve got,” I say. “Thank you for your time and for hearing me out. Whatever happens, I’m damned glad I got a chance to come here and see how strong you are in the face of so much adversity.”

I walk back to the table, and hand my cordless mike to Meredith. She beams at me, and gives me a thumbs-up. Davis has his jaw on top of his hands. I see Archer out of the corner of my eye, and he’s giving me a thumbs-up, too.

I turn around. The audience is silent, pondering what I’ve just said. I return to my seat, and cup my mouth in my hand. I’m shaking and nervous. I can’t believe what I’ve just done.

Davis grabs the cordless mike, and says, “Does anyone want to comment on what we’ve just heard?”

“I would,” says a thin voice in the upper corner. We all turn to look.

Peeta is rising to his feet. An assistant dashes over to him with another cordless microphone, and Peeta takes it.

Everyone turns toward the baker, who hobbles for a moment on his prosthetic leg, and then stands up straight.

“State your name,” Davis says from his table, sounding ritualistic.

“Peeta Mellark,” comes the answer, “and I just want to say that I agree with Mr. Allbright. I think we should let Katniss make her decision on whether or not she wants to be interviewed. And I think its time someone told our District’s story. Maybe if people in the Capitol know what we’ve gone through and what we’re going through, things will get better for us.”

Everyone stares at the blond baker.

“A lot of stuff has been told about us. This guy wants to know what we think, and he wants to hear it straight from us. I think we should talk to him.”

He looks down at Katniss. She smiles up at him. Maybe there is something going on here between them, I think.

Peeta looks back at the stage. “Besides, I want to try those venison fajitas.” He sits back down.

Everyone looks back at me. Commissioner Davis looks flushed. Meredith covers her face with some papers.

Then I hear the sound of clapping. I look to the source, and it’s Greasy Sae, applauding Peeta’s little speech – and mine. Other hands start joining her, and suddenly the entire audience is applauding.

Archer snaps a photo of a grim-looking Davis, then returns to his seat next to me. “Either we’re staying or he’s going to kill us,” Archer says.

The applause goes on, and finally stops. Davis grabs his microphone. “Anyone else want to speak?”

Dead silence in the hall.

“Then we’ll take the vote. All in favor of expelling Mr. Allbright and Mr. Archer?”

A few hands go up. Meredith counts them. Fifteen or so.

“All opposed to expelling the reporters?”

700 hands shoot up in the air. Meredith tries to count them, pointing her pen at the crowd, but Davis stops her, grabbing her hand. “Don’t bother,” he says, lowering her hand.

Davis slouches back in his chair for what seems to be the longest time. Then he rises slowly, a smile drawing across his face. “Well, I am the servant of my people, and they have spoken clearly and almost unanimously. So, I am at their service. Mr. Allbright, Mr. Archer, welcome to District 12. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

He bows slightly to us. I rise from my seat. “Thank you, Commissioner,” I say. “We’ll try not to get in the way.”

Then I sit down. Meredith is beaming at me. Then she looks down at her agenda. “All right,” she says. “Moving on to the next item on our agenda. Mr. Horn’s latest report…”

She is cut off by a vast audience groan, as Sam and his crew set up their laptop computer and their screens to give their report. Obviously the residents have heard him before, and they are not satisfied with the speed of the workers’ efforts.

Meredith whacks her gavel. “While Mr. Horn sets up his gear, why don’t we take a 10-minute break,” she says.

I crumple in my chair, exhausted. “You won this one, boss,” Archer says to me.

“I feel washed out,” I say. “That’s it. I’m done.”

“Yeah…you want to bail out?”

I rub my eyes. “We can’t. We have to cover the Town Meeting, and file a story on it.” I climb out of my seat.

“Where are you going?” Archer asks.

“I have to thank some people,” I say. I dodge through the milling residents, some of whom are trekking to a refreshment stand, others to the bathroom, towards Katniss and Peeta at their table.

The baker and the Mockingjay are quietly sitting there. Katniss is reading the meeting agenda. I extend my right hand to Peeta. “I want to thank you for what you did,” I say.

He accepts my hand. “I think it would be wrong to silence you,” he says. “Katniss and I know a little bit about sending messages to the public.”

“I haven’t decided yet whether or not to let you interview me,” Katniss says, not looking up. “But I don’t think the Commissioner should stop you from doing stories about the District. I’ve had enough of powerful people abusing their power.”

“Well, thanks all the same,” I say. “And we’re still on for the fajitas.”

Katniss looks up at me and smiles slightly. “I don’t want to miss those,” she says. “And I want to hear about you and Meredith…as well as your war.”

“You’ll get plenty of both,” I say.

I walk down through the people and bump into Greasy Sae, who is coming towards me. I reach for her hands and take them in mine. “I want to thank you, too,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” she says. “Commissioner Davis fights for us, but sometimes he gets over-excited.”

“Does he really have your best interests in mind?” I ask. “He seems like he’s promoting himself.”

“Both,” Greasy Sae says. “You did good,” she says, squeezing my hand. Then she moves past me.

Finally, I head down to the big table, where Davis is talking with two aides, and Meredith is getting her agenda straight for the rest of the evening.

“It’s going to be a long night,” she says. “Are you staying for the whole thing?”

“I have to,” I answer. “It’s a story. Can we get together after the meeting?”

Meredith smiles sadly. “I’d love to,” she says, “But I’m going to be exhausted when this is done. Meet me at my office tomorrow morning, around 10 a.m. I’ll give you a tour of the District.”

“I want to be with you,” I croak. “I’ve missed you so much…we need to catch up…”

Meredith strokes my left cheek. “I missed you too, fair man. But we’ve got jobs to do first.”

I grasp her hand in mine. “I know…I just don’t want to lose you again, dark lady.”

Meredith smiles sweetly. “You won’t.” We lean forward and kiss each other, in full view of the entire population of District 12.

Commissioner Davis and his aides are also staring at us. The Commissioner wears a defeated expression.

I offer him my hand. “What I said holds, Commissioner,” I say. “I’m not here to do a hatchet job on your District. I’m here to report the truth.”

Davis grudgingly accepts my hand. “Don’t fuck with us,” he says. “Don’t fuck with the Mockingjay. You follow?”

“I follow,” I say, not sure what other answer to give.

Davis nods vigorously, and sits down at his table, and starts pawing through the agenda with Meredith. I notice their tones and body language toward each other is clipped, formal, and distant.

One of Davis’s aides, the woman who ran around with the mike, a typical District 12 young woman, with olive skin and dark hair, gives me a studious look, as if she’s appraising me.

“I’m Linda,” she says. “Linda Morrison. Commissioner Davis’s aide.”

“Nice to meet you, Linda,” I say. “You look like you have something on your mind.”

“No, nothing huge,” she says. “I was just thinking…” she points at Meredith and then at me. “You and the BA look good together.”

I chuckle. “Several people have said that today,” I answer. I pat her on the shoulder, and return slowly to my seat, passing through the residents, who are returning to theirs as well. Some of them pat me on the shoulder, others offer me their hand, or mutter, “Nice speech.” I feel too tired to feel triumphant. At least nobody says, “You and Meredith look good together.” The running gag is turning into a cliché.

As I walk back to my seat, moving through the desks and chairs, I have a flashback…I am walking away from one of the battles at the Bridge, having just fought behind Mark Salmon, Gus Lewis, and Kae Lyn, to rout an incoming charge of Peacekeepers. I can see the bodies of them, their white uniforms torn and shredded, blood drenching the desks and chairs, intestines and organs hanging out, dying Peacekeepers groaning in death agonies, the air filled with the acrid stink of cordite and lead, smoke drifting away.

And I see Gus Lewis standing over the scene, arms folded, shaking his head, and saying, “There is nothing half so melancholy as a battle won…except a battle lost.”

I have to tell that story tomorrow night. And all the other stories of my war. I’ve just won a battle, and it feels melancholy. I wonder if I’m up it.

Archer slumps into the seat next to mine, checking his pictures on his camera, and looks at my distant expression. “Are you okay, boss?”

I repeat Gus Lewis’s quote about the melancholy battlefield.

“Sorry, I don’t get it,” Archer says. “What do you mean?”

“I mean it might have been better if we had simply been kicked out of here and sent home,” I say.

Archer’s eyes look into mine. Then he says, “I think I get it.”

“All right,” Meredith says from across the room. “Let’s get on with the next item on the agenda…”

I sit up in my chair, flip a page in my notebook, and focus as Sam Horn gets up to do his presentation.