I don't know how long I've been doing this, I don't know. I don't how old I am. I don't know. I used to, I guess I just stopped caring years ago, and soon after I forgot.
I've stopped counting the Games, too.
There's one that's about to begin. The Careers this year are impressive. Especially the girls. Frigg, Harper, and Alyssa. Frigg is small, capable of hiding well, and flawless with the knives. Harper is highly adept with the bow and arrow, and hand-to-hand brawls. I'm pretty sure Alyssa is mentally ill, and she does what she likes with any weapon she can find.
This year the Careers have separated. Ardor has joined what appears to be an Anti to the Careers. An "Anti" is what I call when I group of Tributes join together, and act as the Career's Careers. As in, they train with "gusto" during the days that they're allowed to, and seem as formidable an opponent as possible to the Careers. Using all their strengths together and salvaging and saving their resources. Like the Careers, except groups like these are formed as a force against said Tributes. Annex, Cliff, and Xeropaga had formed an Anti in the very second Game. Before that, in the very first, the Tributes were all too nervous to form any groups at all.
And by "about to begin," I mean the Tributes are walking to the tubing, ready to be lifted up into the Arena.
"Hey, Nimbus," I say to the Gamemaker's desk's computer system, so named because it is nimble and quick, "What Game is this?"
"57th, Gamemaker Z." The computer's voice is pleasant and deep. Soothing.
"I'm 76!?"
"Yes, Z. Don't worry, the new Panemian lifetime is 200 years. You are no exception. You are not going to die anytime soon, Gamemaker."
"That's not what I'm worried about!"
The computer lifts up a mirror. Apparently I'm easy to read. I look the exact same as I did 57 years ago, when I was 19.
I sigh.
"Alright Nimbus," I look into the screen, "Let's do this."