Sobin's Questionnaire

Right now? I live in District 12 in one of L Corporation's employee dormitories. Before this though, I lived in District 11 - Nest K - with my ma and pa. 

Nest K is... how do I put this? It's a very sterile place to live in. It's pretty boring, actually. Just the same routine over and over. Not that that's a bad thing, just stifling. My ma and pa are Feathers too, did you know? They're guards for K Corp. which, while a decent-paying job, isn't worth it if you ask me. 70 hours a week... My head hurts just thinking about it. But we make it work. 

All in all, it's not all bad.

Sure, I used to wish there was more to do, but that's in the past now.

The whole reason why I decided to apply for L Corp in the first place was for the salary. Don't get me wrong, my family isn't struggling financially or anything, but I want to earn enough so that my ma and pa can drop their jobs and live comfortably at home. My folks are getting old and I haven't really done anything worthwhile just yet. A few jobs here and there, but not really anything noteworthy.

Working at K Corp. was off the table considering I'm trying to get my folks to drop their jobs from there, and I don't really want to work 70 hours a week. Closest to me was L Corp and they were open for hire so here I am.

Do you enjoy stories?

 Do you believe in the magic of fictional worlds? Plays? Movies? Books, even?

My home is so dreadfully boring. Nothing to do. Nothing to see. 

I want to be part of the performance of a lifetime. I want to be part of the production team. I want to be front-stage and center. I want to be supporting the cast. I want to be in the audience.

Everything. Let me be a part of everything.

Let me witness is all.

That would certainly spice everything up, don't you think?

Who cares if someone dies? Who ca

Hm. I hope everyone can bow at the curtain call. We already lost one brilliant actor. I wouldn’t want to lose another.

The most defining event of my life? That's a bit of a subjective question, isn't it? But if I had to pinpoint a chapter, it would be an incident that unfolded in the earlier pages of my script.

It was a rather cliche beginning—my parents and I were on our way to watch a performance. I was eager to see it; who wouldn't be in the dullness of District 10? However, life had other plans. A car accident, a sudden veering into a ditch occurred. I managed to get myself out of the wreckage but just as I was free, my hands and arms were crushed, mangled by the tires of an oncoming truck.

The pain was... intense. But not as overwhelming as the clarity that emerged in those moments—moments teetering on the brink of oblivion. I was slipping into unconsciousness, but in the delirium, the absurdity of the situation struck me. It was like a bad comedy routine—a farce, really. I began to laugh. Laugh and laugh and laugh even as I began to feel myself fading. Death wasn't frightening in that instant anymore; it was just... another scene in an ongoing show.

And then, I woke up. Healed as if nothing happened. No bandages, no scars, not even a mark. K Corp's Healing Ampules had brought me back, reconstructed my broken shell of a body with their peculiar technology. It was at that moment that I realized: death wasn't final. It was a fleeting plot point, one that could be written out of existence at any time with the right tools.

From that point onwards, I no longer feared the inevitable conclusion of life—the world was a stage and everyone was performing. Characters come and go, and none of it matters in the grand scheme of the overarching plot. Death? A temporary setback. Life? A series of acts, all unfolding according to the whims of one's script and how it clashes against others. The rules are flexible and the narrative never really ends—there's always room for a new twist, a new act.

So, to answer your question: it wasn't just the accident itself that defined me—it was the realization that death could be rewritten, that the plot could always continue, and if it didn't... well, a performance must always come to a close eventually. In that discovery, I found a new role for myself—as both the actor and the audience.

The first two? My parents. K Corp guards, both of them. If you looked at us before the incident, you’d think we were the model family—affectionate, tactile. A picture-perfect snapshot, if you will. But that was before. Since the accident, however... The warmth they once offered? It's still there, but it's a distant, faded scene in an act that’s already passed.

In exchange for saving our lives with K Corp’s ampules, they were enlisted. Guards, part of the Wing. 70-hour work weeks. The distance that came with the job became an inevitable part of the script, and I became... an observer, not a participant.

They remain a constant in my life, yes. Always in the background. But they're no longer part of the narrative I choose to engage with. They're not central to the story anymore, just echoes from a scene I no longer wish to revisit.

As for a third... there isn't one.

Taking inspiration from your response, I built one of my own for the question. What do you think?:

Hm… it’s rare for me to revisit the early acts, but perhaps recalling a few opening lines might prove fruitful a perspective. Most of the early chapters are what you would expect—setup, exposition, and familiarizing myself with the setting I'd been born into. 

I have already described my parents in a previous question, but if you insist on a reprise: both are no longer in the narrative I actively engage in. However, they are constants—retired stagehands, you could say. They were the ones who shaped my foundation, but, As of now, they are nothing more than sketches in the margins of my script; influence present but distant. 

Education? Sufficient. The question of fitting in or not is irrelevant in the face of everyone performing on their own stage. You may be an actor in one play, simply an audience member in another—and occasionally, neither at all. Witnessing the storylines others write and craft for themself is a privilege only a few have, really; one I hadn't had the chance to enjoy in... quite some time, if at all, until arriving here.

Love? Romance, I suppose is what you're referring to. I've witnessed it before—all kinds of it. There is the clean and light sort that my parents have, there is also the kind that actors- characters cannot escape from, or there is the sort that drives them to do things they otherwise wouldn't. I've heard throughout the years that it's some kind of...force. Something that makes the plot turn itself over and under itself, tilting the axis of the story irreparably. From what I recall, I've never experienced such a thing.

I've had curiosity burn in me at the sight of something or someone intriguing, but never to the degree others have described what romance to be like. I've seen many get trapped in its web, tangled willingly even as the spider came out of its perch to feed its gluttony more and more. Changes them, make choices, all because of 'love.'

It's similar to a subplot, isn't it? Something the main narrative occasionally touches on, but not the driving force of the plot on my stage. Maybe that is how it had always been—some things are not meant to be at the center of a stage.