Chapter 2:
Transformed Utterly
November was often considered the worst month of the year. Food was always scarce, as were other necessities, such as warm clothing or shelter. The ever-present war with some Asian power (Eurasia at the moment) always heated up in November. In bitter humour, some would say that the bombs were dropped to keep the freezing populace warm. Worse, the grey twilight extended to all hours of the day, giving Dublin a pale, washed-out look.
Newly invigorated by her revelation, Renee scrubbed her section of the Ministry of Truth as if Big Brother himself was coming to inspect. She arrived at home the same time Constance did, just as everyone else woke up. Constance had dubbed it the Vampire Cycle. Renee had no idea what a vampire was, but she assumed it was some sort of nocturnal animal, just like the prostitutes and Ministry employees. Once inside the flat, she grabbed Constance and sat her down on the bed.
"I have an idea."
This did not gain much support from her tired roommate.
"Renee, it's seven hundred, I had two very demanding customers, you've been scrubbing for six hours, what kind of idea can't wait until we've at least eaten?"
"The kind of idea that makes the Irish great."
"Now, how would that be? I don't want a debate over Irish history at seven hundred, you know. I do want coffee."
"Make the coffee, then, but listen to me, Stance!" Constance obeyed her friend and set a kettle on their tiny stove. "Are you listening to me? Good. For eight hundred years the Irish have been a conquered people, right? What has changed in this century? We got our independence at the beginning. Then the bloody Party took over, and we've been back where we started this century: oppressed. Hell, the group oppressing us hasn't even changed! It's still the bloody English! But we can take what we fought for back. It took us three hundred years last time, but the notion of freedom lasted for three hundred years before we had it realized. What's wrong with us now? Do we really forget what our ancestors fought so hard for so easily? The Party tells us we're better off than before, but don't you think we can have a better life than this? I don't care what it was like before, we can make something better than now. And you have to admit, life today is shit."
Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words to express her idea. Constance stared at her over the coffee cup.
"What do you want to do, Renee? Join the Brotherhood?"
"Remember how my mum talked about the IRA? They were famous because what they did everyone knew about! The Brotherhood sits on its ass and lets the Party throw shit at it. Have you ever heard of what the Brotherhood has actually done?" Constance shrugged.
"Party members on the telescreens. All those confessions. Not to mention, having the notion of freedom, which is pretty damn subversive."
"Tell that to anyone on the street. Mum used to talk about it all the time, remember? And besides, all those confessions, have you ever seen proof that what they said they did actually happened?"
"You'll end up dead if you try to start something like this."
"Then I'll die a martyr, and people will remember why I died." Constance sat down.
"You have a fucking death wish."
"No. I'm just willing to die. Besides, I'm not sure that this world is really worth living in."
"When did this all happen?"
"Right when you mentioned that I liked Yeats because he was republican."
"Do you think you can pull it off?"
"For a while. The Party bastards never care what's going on down here. Until we start attracting attention, we'll be safe."
"What constitutes attention?"
"In my book, blowing things up. What do you think?"
"I think you're fucking crazy. I think you've got delusions of grandeur because of that name you so proudly wear. I think you'll be dead before Christmas. If you pull this off, I think you're a fucking genius who deserves that name."
Renee smiled. Not for the first time, she admired the realistic perception of her best friend, roommate, soul sister. She enveloped Constance in a huge hug.
"Will you help me?"
"Isn't that part of the arrangement? We share everything?"
"Right."
"So, how do you figure we'll start?"
Renee smiled.
Winter passed as the planning stages of Renee's rebellion progressed. She enlisted their neighbours, Andrew O'Neill and Thomas Lawrence into her inner circle. Andrew was surprisingly quiet, but excellent for delivering covert messages. Thomas, who lived down the hall from Renee and Constance, proved himself by making solid suggestions, and had the added bonus of working inside the Ministry of Plenty as a chef, which was perfect for information gathering. Andrew's skill brought more people in, but only close friends of the four original members. The first official action of the new resistance would take place in March.
"First thing we need are the prostitutes on side. Stance, can you manage it?" Renee looked around the table. They were sitting in Andrew's flat, the largest of the three in the house.
"I'll talk to them. I don't think they'll like losing money, but they're certain to have fun."
"Sorry, but they're not the ones we're worried about having fun. It's the customers."
"Trust me. If they have fun, they'll do it for the lower price."
"Why don't we just raise prices, then? Regular price for our stuff, double for sex?" Thomas asked. Renee smiled.
"Good one. Stance, try that. If they're having fun and making the same, they might be more open to the idea." Constance nodded in agreement. "Andrew? I need another message to Mr. Ryan. Ask him if everything's go for March."
"Right."
"And I need to know who's playing for the opening, and what. Remember that we don't want any Party drivel in there. Strictly original."
"Black market's been a bitch. It's going to cost us everything we've got to set them up."
"Don't worry about that. If we get desperate, we start enlisting them."
"Renee?" Andrew looked up at her. "Is this going to work?"
"What do you think?"
"I think Constance spoke for all of us when she said you were crazy. But I think it's a good idea. I'm just not sure whether we'll have the right effect."
"It'll have the right effect. Thought Police are going to be breathing down our necks when they find out what we've been up to. The Party's going to hear about us, which just gets us more attention. We need to teach these people that rebellion isn't just feeling something that's not allowed, it's living like a human being."
"One last thing." Thomas stopped her before she set off into a full- scale rant on the glories of humanity. "What are we, exactly? I've been asked that by people I've talked to, and I feel stupid telling them I don't know."
"I've been thinking about that, too. We are the Children of the Revolution."
"Oh." Constance raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that a little melodramatic?"
"Melodrama is good. It means showing emotion. We need to show these bastards what it's like to feel. And they'll see that in March."
Author's Notes:
Thomas Lawrence is named after leaders of the Easter Rebellion, Thomas Clarke and Thomas MacDonagh. Andrew O'Neill is named not after a historical figure, but a fictional character. Seamus O'Neill, from Leon Uris' great book Trinity about Irish history, was a writer and revolutionary. I do this because not only can I not think up original Irish names, but this story is partly a tribute to the independent spirit of the Irish republicans. Not many people recognize the oppression the Irish faced until the 1920's, and the men who fought and died for Ireland are mostly unknown by the global population. On a similar vein, the title of this chapter is also from Easter 1916 by W B Yeats.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Easter 1916 is by William Butler Yeats.
Transformed Utterly
November was often considered the worst month of the year. Food was always scarce, as were other necessities, such as warm clothing or shelter. The ever-present war with some Asian power (Eurasia at the moment) always heated up in November. In bitter humour, some would say that the bombs were dropped to keep the freezing populace warm. Worse, the grey twilight extended to all hours of the day, giving Dublin a pale, washed-out look.
Newly invigorated by her revelation, Renee scrubbed her section of the Ministry of Truth as if Big Brother himself was coming to inspect. She arrived at home the same time Constance did, just as everyone else woke up. Constance had dubbed it the Vampire Cycle. Renee had no idea what a vampire was, but she assumed it was some sort of nocturnal animal, just like the prostitutes and Ministry employees. Once inside the flat, she grabbed Constance and sat her down on the bed.
"I have an idea."
This did not gain much support from her tired roommate.
"Renee, it's seven hundred, I had two very demanding customers, you've been scrubbing for six hours, what kind of idea can't wait until we've at least eaten?"
"The kind of idea that makes the Irish great."
"Now, how would that be? I don't want a debate over Irish history at seven hundred, you know. I do want coffee."
"Make the coffee, then, but listen to me, Stance!" Constance obeyed her friend and set a kettle on their tiny stove. "Are you listening to me? Good. For eight hundred years the Irish have been a conquered people, right? What has changed in this century? We got our independence at the beginning. Then the bloody Party took over, and we've been back where we started this century: oppressed. Hell, the group oppressing us hasn't even changed! It's still the bloody English! But we can take what we fought for back. It took us three hundred years last time, but the notion of freedom lasted for three hundred years before we had it realized. What's wrong with us now? Do we really forget what our ancestors fought so hard for so easily? The Party tells us we're better off than before, but don't you think we can have a better life than this? I don't care what it was like before, we can make something better than now. And you have to admit, life today is shit."
Her voice trailed off as she tried to find the words to express her idea. Constance stared at her over the coffee cup.
"What do you want to do, Renee? Join the Brotherhood?"
"Remember how my mum talked about the IRA? They were famous because what they did everyone knew about! The Brotherhood sits on its ass and lets the Party throw shit at it. Have you ever heard of what the Brotherhood has actually done?" Constance shrugged.
"Party members on the telescreens. All those confessions. Not to mention, having the notion of freedom, which is pretty damn subversive."
"Tell that to anyone on the street. Mum used to talk about it all the time, remember? And besides, all those confessions, have you ever seen proof that what they said they did actually happened?"
"You'll end up dead if you try to start something like this."
"Then I'll die a martyr, and people will remember why I died." Constance sat down.
"You have a fucking death wish."
"No. I'm just willing to die. Besides, I'm not sure that this world is really worth living in."
"When did this all happen?"
"Right when you mentioned that I liked Yeats because he was republican."
"Do you think you can pull it off?"
"For a while. The Party bastards never care what's going on down here. Until we start attracting attention, we'll be safe."
"What constitutes attention?"
"In my book, blowing things up. What do you think?"
"I think you're fucking crazy. I think you've got delusions of grandeur because of that name you so proudly wear. I think you'll be dead before Christmas. If you pull this off, I think you're a fucking genius who deserves that name."
Renee smiled. Not for the first time, she admired the realistic perception of her best friend, roommate, soul sister. She enveloped Constance in a huge hug.
"Will you help me?"
"Isn't that part of the arrangement? We share everything?"
"Right."
"So, how do you figure we'll start?"
Renee smiled.
Winter passed as the planning stages of Renee's rebellion progressed. She enlisted their neighbours, Andrew O'Neill and Thomas Lawrence into her inner circle. Andrew was surprisingly quiet, but excellent for delivering covert messages. Thomas, who lived down the hall from Renee and Constance, proved himself by making solid suggestions, and had the added bonus of working inside the Ministry of Plenty as a chef, which was perfect for information gathering. Andrew's skill brought more people in, but only close friends of the four original members. The first official action of the new resistance would take place in March.
"First thing we need are the prostitutes on side. Stance, can you manage it?" Renee looked around the table. They were sitting in Andrew's flat, the largest of the three in the house.
"I'll talk to them. I don't think they'll like losing money, but they're certain to have fun."
"Sorry, but they're not the ones we're worried about having fun. It's the customers."
"Trust me. If they have fun, they'll do it for the lower price."
"Why don't we just raise prices, then? Regular price for our stuff, double for sex?" Thomas asked. Renee smiled.
"Good one. Stance, try that. If they're having fun and making the same, they might be more open to the idea." Constance nodded in agreement. "Andrew? I need another message to Mr. Ryan. Ask him if everything's go for March."
"Right."
"And I need to know who's playing for the opening, and what. Remember that we don't want any Party drivel in there. Strictly original."
"Black market's been a bitch. It's going to cost us everything we've got to set them up."
"Don't worry about that. If we get desperate, we start enlisting them."
"Renee?" Andrew looked up at her. "Is this going to work?"
"What do you think?"
"I think Constance spoke for all of us when she said you were crazy. But I think it's a good idea. I'm just not sure whether we'll have the right effect."
"It'll have the right effect. Thought Police are going to be breathing down our necks when they find out what we've been up to. The Party's going to hear about us, which just gets us more attention. We need to teach these people that rebellion isn't just feeling something that's not allowed, it's living like a human being."
"One last thing." Thomas stopped her before she set off into a full- scale rant on the glories of humanity. "What are we, exactly? I've been asked that by people I've talked to, and I feel stupid telling them I don't know."
"I've been thinking about that, too. We are the Children of the Revolution."
"Oh." Constance raised her eyebrows. "Isn't that a little melodramatic?"
"Melodrama is good. It means showing emotion. We need to show these bastards what it's like to feel. And they'll see that in March."
Author's Notes:
Thomas Lawrence is named after leaders of the Easter Rebellion, Thomas Clarke and Thomas MacDonagh. Andrew O'Neill is named not after a historical figure, but a fictional character. Seamus O'Neill, from Leon Uris' great book Trinity about Irish history, was a writer and revolutionary. I do this because not only can I not think up original Irish names, but this story is partly a tribute to the independent spirit of the Irish republicans. Not many people recognize the oppression the Irish faced until the 1920's, and the men who fought and died for Ireland are mostly unknown by the global population. On a similar vein, the title of this chapter is also from Easter 1916 by W B Yeats.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Easter 1916 is by William Butler Yeats.