【饥饿游戏】05
时间：2017-03-15 05:42:55
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（单词翻译）
The space gets tighter, more claustrophobic as people arrive.
The square’s quite large, but not enough to hold District
12’s population of about eight thousand. Latecomers are directed
to the adjacent streets, where they can watch the event
on screens as it’s televised live by the state.
We all exchange
terse3 nods then focus our attention on the
temporary stage that is set up before the Justice Building. It
holds three chairs, a podium, and two large glass balls, one for
the boys and one for the girls. I stare at the paper slips in the
girls’ ball. Twenty of them have Katniss Everdeen written on
them in careful handwriting.
Two of the three chairs fill with Madge’s father, Mayor Undersee,
who’s a tall, balding man, and Effie Trinket, District
12’s escort, fresh from the Capitol with her scary white grin,
pinkish hair, and spring green suit. They
murmur4 to each other
and then look with concern at the empty seat.
Just as the town clock strikes two, the mayor steps up to
the podium and begins to read. It’s the same story every year.
He tells of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out
of the ashes of a place that was once called North America. He
lists the disasters, the droughts, the storms, the fires, the encroaching
seas that swallowed up so much of the land, the
Panem, a shining Capitol ringed by thirteen districts, which
brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. Then came the
Dark Days, the uprising of the districts against the Capitol.
Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth
obliterated7. The Treaty
of Treason gave us the new laws to guarantee peace and, as
our yearly
reminder8 that the Dark Days must never be repeated,
it gave us the Hunger Games.
The rules of the Hunger Games are simple. In punishment
for the uprising, each of the twelve districts must provide one
girl and one boy, called tributes, to participate. The twenty four
could hold anything from a burning desert to a frozen wasteland.
Over a period of several weeks, the competitors must
fight to the death. The last tribute standing wins.
Taking the kids from our districts, forcing them to kill one
another while we watch — this is the Capitol’s way of reminding
us how totally we are at their mercy. How little chance we
would stand of surviving another rebellion.
Whatever words they use, the real message is clear. “Look
how we take your children and sacrifice them and there’s
nothing you can do. If you lift a finger, we will destroy every
last one of you. Just as we did in District Thirteen.”
To make it humiliating as well as
torturous11, the Capitol requires
us to treat the Hunger Games as a festivity, a sporting
event pitting every district against the others. The last tribute
alive receives a life of ease back home, and their district will
be showered with prizes, largely consisting of food. All year,
the Capitol will show the winning district gifts of grain and oil
and even
delicacies12 like sugar while the rest of us battle starvation.
“It is both a time for
repentance13 and a time for thanks,” in tones
the mayor.
Then he reads the list of past District 12 victors. In seventy four
years, we have had exactly two. Only one is still alive.
onto the stage, and falls into the third chair. He’s drunk.
Very. The crowd responds with its token applause, but he’s
confused and tries to give Effie Trinket a big hug, which she
The mayor looks
distressed17. Since all of this is being televised,
right now District 12 is the laughing stock of Panem, and
he knows it. He quickly tries to pull the attention back to the
reaping by introducing Effie Trinket.
Bright and bubbly as ever, Effie Trinket
trots18 to the podium
and gives her signature, “Happy Hunger Games! And may the
odds19 be ever in your favor!” Her pink hair must be a
wig20 because
her curls have shifted slightly off-center since her encounter
with Haymitch. She goes on a bit about what an honor
it is to be here, although everyone knows she’s just aching to
get bumped up to a better district where they have proper victors,
not drunks who
molest21 you in front of the entire nation.
Through the crowd, I spot
Gale22 looking back at me with a
ghost of a smile. As reapings go, this one at least has a slight
entertainment factor. But suddenly I am thinking of Gale and
his forty-two names in that big glass ball and how the odds
are not in his favor. Not compared to a lot of the boys. And
maybe he’s thinking the same thing about me because his face
darkens and he turns away. “But there are still thousands of
slips,” I wish I could whisper to him.
It’s time for the drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always
does, “Ladies first!” and crosses to the glass ball with the girls’
names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and
pulls out a slip of paper. The crowd draws in a collective
breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I’m feeling nauseous
me, that it’s not me.
Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, smoothes the slip
of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not
me.
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