Chapter 5:
La Vie en Rose
If the COR had had any doubts about the popularity of rebellion, they were quashed every night anyone stepped into the Warehouse. Attendance every night had not waned in the months since its opening, and musicians were always ready to perform for the waiting crowds. Party members no longer had to be dragged there by prostitutes, but came of their own volition, out of a sense of cheating death, or just curiosity. Every night, the furtive glances on the streets reappeared as citizens and comrades dodged telescreens and patrols to come to the only social gathering that connected human beings.
Within the Warehouse, a small library had been set up with the COR- published books. Curious people lounged on the concrete floor, devouring the forbidden works of Shakespeare and the dangerous masterpieces of Dickens. The books were forbidden to leave the area, for fear of evidence appearing in the hands of the Thought Police. Fortunately, fear of theft was not an issue, since anyone caught with the literature would pay a visit to Miniluv.
The greatest problem was the Thought Police, Renee reflected one night in May. Any number of the patrons could have been their agents, and none of them would know. As a prole, they held no fear for her, unless they had discovered her activities. But her heart went out to the courage of every single Party member who literally risked their lives for a dance.
A hand on her shoulder announced Thomas' arrival behind her. He stepped up beside her, drawing a friendly arm around her shoulders. The smile on his face as he scanned the room displayed that his mind was not clouded with thoughts of the Thought Police. Contrarily, his eyes rested on a Party member across the room. Renee saw the man as well, and grinned at Thomas.
"Think he's cute?" she asked impishly.
"Do you?" he returned equally. He sighed. "Do you think he's my type?"
"Perhaps." However, to Thomas' disappointment, the young man smiled at a pretty prole girl and asked her to dance. Renee giggled. "Too bad. He's mine. But the one over there seems to be eying you." She laughed as Thomas let out a soft "ooh" of delight and sauntered over to his new friend. Her eyes returned to the young, and unfortunately straight, man now on the dance floor. He seemed to be enjoying himself; no dark thoughts seemed to cross his mind as he danced with the girl. Renee smiled to herself.
The song ended, and the Party member and the girl separated. The girl joined a group of young proles, some of which Renee recognized, and the man scanned the room for another partner. Renee was half surprised when his eyes met hers. He made his way across the room to her, smiling. Her guard up, Renee smiled back. Her dreads resurfaced in her mind, warning her of possible Thought Police infiltration, betrayal, even discovery of her alter ego Pheonix. He arrived next to her.
"Would you like to dance?"
Still smiling, Renee accepted, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. For a moment, she caught Thomas' eye as he smiled and winked. The dance was fairly fast, allowing her to avoid contact with the stranger. However, she allowed him a second dance. The singer finished the song and smiled at the crowd.
"We'll let you rest a bit, with a song from Eurasia," she said. The song started, in a language Renee did not recognize. It was slow and soft.
"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
Voilà le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
Il me parle tout bas;
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ça me fait quelquechose.
Il est entré dans mon coeur,
Une part de bonheur,
Dont je connais la cause:
C'est lui pour moi,
Moi pour lui dans la vie.
Il me l'a dit,
L'a juré pour la vie.
Et, d s que je l'aperçois,
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat."
Neither Renee nor her partner understood the lyrics to the Eurasian song, but the romance in the music seemed to erode some of the defenses that kept her from reaching out. As the song progressed, the man put his arms around her, wrapping her in an embrace that was probably more intimate than anything he had ever experienced under the Party. Renee relaxed into his arms, seeing the raw emotion on his face that could never possibly be faked. An intense longing was written across his features as he held a woman whose name he did not even know. Seeing his pain, Renee was filled with a strange sadness, almost empathy for this stranger that held her as if she were his one true love. She allowed herself to feel safe, for a little while. The last chords faded away, and the man stepped back, looking slightly embarrassed. He smiled, thanked her, then turned around and walked away from her. Renee was left alone in the crowd of people, confused and feeling very lost.
However, the strange experience of the evening was not over. Late in the night, Renee and Thomas were leaving together, Thomas having promised to visit his new friend Victor later that week. Renee and Thomas intended to go back to the house pretending to be a slightly drunk couple, important details to divert the attention of the patrols. However, as she headed for the door, her hand was suddenly seized. She spun around, ready to defend herself, but saw only the young Party member with the same expression of longing on his face, but this time mixed with excitement and a little fear. He pulled her away from the door, almost into a corner.
"Come back in exactly a month," he whispered. He turned to leave, but she held him back.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Michael. You?"
"Renee." The two of them were left staring at one another, uncertain. Suddenly, on instinct and impulse, she reached out, took his head in her hands and kissed him. He kissed her back, and for a brilliant moment, she felt like she had on the dance floor. Then he was gone, stepping out into the night air for a desperate trip home, and Thomas was coming up to her. He looked at her curiously, but said nothing, instead offering her his arm. She took it, and they donned the pretence of inebriation.
A thought struck her as they teetered through the streets of Dublin: Michael wasn't a bad kisser.
Author's Notes:
OvermindVI - you're right, private property doesn't exist under socialism. However, the proles in Nineteen Eighty-Four don't seem to be under the same system as the Party members. Mr. Charrington (Thought Police connections aside) rented a room to Winston and Julia, and I took the assumption that the proles have a slightly more capitalist society than the Party members. Thanks for the feedback!
For you non-french-speakers, here are the lyrics to La vie en rose in English (directly translated, so don't expect rhyming or rhythm):
"Eyes that kiss mine,
A laugh that is lost on his mouth,
Here is the untouched portrait
Of the man to whom I belong.
When he holds me in his arms
He speaks to me softly;
I see the world rose-tinted.
He speaks to me words of love,
Every day words
And it does something to me.
He is inside my heart,
Just one part of happiness,
And I know the cause:
It's him for me,
Me for him all our lives.
He told me so,
Swore to me for a lifetime.
And as soon as I see him,
Then I feel in myself
My heart that beats."
Please feel free to criticize my French.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
La vie en rose is by Edith Piaf.
Please review. :)
La Vie en Rose
If the COR had had any doubts about the popularity of rebellion, they were quashed every night anyone stepped into the Warehouse. Attendance every night had not waned in the months since its opening, and musicians were always ready to perform for the waiting crowds. Party members no longer had to be dragged there by prostitutes, but came of their own volition, out of a sense of cheating death, or just curiosity. Every night, the furtive glances on the streets reappeared as citizens and comrades dodged telescreens and patrols to come to the only social gathering that connected human beings.
Within the Warehouse, a small library had been set up with the COR- published books. Curious people lounged on the concrete floor, devouring the forbidden works of Shakespeare and the dangerous masterpieces of Dickens. The books were forbidden to leave the area, for fear of evidence appearing in the hands of the Thought Police. Fortunately, fear of theft was not an issue, since anyone caught with the literature would pay a visit to Miniluv.
The greatest problem was the Thought Police, Renee reflected one night in May. Any number of the patrons could have been their agents, and none of them would know. As a prole, they held no fear for her, unless they had discovered her activities. But her heart went out to the courage of every single Party member who literally risked their lives for a dance.
A hand on her shoulder announced Thomas' arrival behind her. He stepped up beside her, drawing a friendly arm around her shoulders. The smile on his face as he scanned the room displayed that his mind was not clouded with thoughts of the Thought Police. Contrarily, his eyes rested on a Party member across the room. Renee saw the man as well, and grinned at Thomas.
"Think he's cute?" she asked impishly.
"Do you?" he returned equally. He sighed. "Do you think he's my type?"
"Perhaps." However, to Thomas' disappointment, the young man smiled at a pretty prole girl and asked her to dance. Renee giggled. "Too bad. He's mine. But the one over there seems to be eying you." She laughed as Thomas let out a soft "ooh" of delight and sauntered over to his new friend. Her eyes returned to the young, and unfortunately straight, man now on the dance floor. He seemed to be enjoying himself; no dark thoughts seemed to cross his mind as he danced with the girl. Renee smiled to herself.
The song ended, and the Party member and the girl separated. The girl joined a group of young proles, some of which Renee recognized, and the man scanned the room for another partner. Renee was half surprised when his eyes met hers. He made his way across the room to her, smiling. Her guard up, Renee smiled back. Her dreads resurfaced in her mind, warning her of possible Thought Police infiltration, betrayal, even discovery of her alter ego Pheonix. He arrived next to her.
"Would you like to dance?"
Still smiling, Renee accepted, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. For a moment, she caught Thomas' eye as he smiled and winked. The dance was fairly fast, allowing her to avoid contact with the stranger. However, she allowed him a second dance. The singer finished the song and smiled at the crowd.
"We'll let you rest a bit, with a song from Eurasia," she said. The song started, in a language Renee did not recognize. It was slow and soft.
"Des yeux qui font baisser les miens,
Un rire qui se perd sur sa bouche,
Voilà le portrait sans retouche
De l'homme auquel j'appartiens.
Quand il me prend dans ses bras,
Il me parle tout bas;
Je vois la vie en rose.
Il me dit des mots d'amour,
Des mots de tous les jours,
Et ça me fait quelquechose.
Il est entré dans mon coeur,
Une part de bonheur,
Dont je connais la cause:
C'est lui pour moi,
Moi pour lui dans la vie.
Il me l'a dit,
L'a juré pour la vie.
Et, d s que je l'aperçois,
Alors je sens en moi
Mon coeur qui bat."
Neither Renee nor her partner understood the lyrics to the Eurasian song, but the romance in the music seemed to erode some of the defenses that kept her from reaching out. As the song progressed, the man put his arms around her, wrapping her in an embrace that was probably more intimate than anything he had ever experienced under the Party. Renee relaxed into his arms, seeing the raw emotion on his face that could never possibly be faked. An intense longing was written across his features as he held a woman whose name he did not even know. Seeing his pain, Renee was filled with a strange sadness, almost empathy for this stranger that held her as if she were his one true love. She allowed herself to feel safe, for a little while. The last chords faded away, and the man stepped back, looking slightly embarrassed. He smiled, thanked her, then turned around and walked away from her. Renee was left alone in the crowd of people, confused and feeling very lost.
However, the strange experience of the evening was not over. Late in the night, Renee and Thomas were leaving together, Thomas having promised to visit his new friend Victor later that week. Renee and Thomas intended to go back to the house pretending to be a slightly drunk couple, important details to divert the attention of the patrols. However, as she headed for the door, her hand was suddenly seized. She spun around, ready to defend herself, but saw only the young Party member with the same expression of longing on his face, but this time mixed with excitement and a little fear. He pulled her away from the door, almost into a corner.
"Come back in exactly a month," he whispered. He turned to leave, but she held him back.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Michael. You?"
"Renee." The two of them were left staring at one another, uncertain. Suddenly, on instinct and impulse, she reached out, took his head in her hands and kissed him. He kissed her back, and for a brilliant moment, she felt like she had on the dance floor. Then he was gone, stepping out into the night air for a desperate trip home, and Thomas was coming up to her. He looked at her curiously, but said nothing, instead offering her his arm. She took it, and they donned the pretence of inebriation.
A thought struck her as they teetered through the streets of Dublin: Michael wasn't a bad kisser.
Author's Notes:
OvermindVI - you're right, private property doesn't exist under socialism. However, the proles in Nineteen Eighty-Four don't seem to be under the same system as the Party members. Mr. Charrington (Thought Police connections aside) rented a room to Winston and Julia, and I took the assumption that the proles have a slightly more capitalist society than the Party members. Thanks for the feedback!
For you non-french-speakers, here are the lyrics to La vie en rose in English (directly translated, so don't expect rhyming or rhythm):
"Eyes that kiss mine,
A laugh that is lost on his mouth,
Here is the untouched portrait
Of the man to whom I belong.
When he holds me in his arms
He speaks to me softly;
I see the world rose-tinted.
He speaks to me words of love,
Every day words
And it does something to me.
He is inside my heart,
Just one part of happiness,
And I know the cause:
It's him for me,
Me for him all our lives.
He told me so,
Swore to me for a lifetime.
And as soon as I see him,
Then I feel in myself
My heart that beats."
Please feel free to criticize my French.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
La vie en rose is by Edith Piaf.
Please review. :)