Chapter 12:
Still Free
The green hills of Dublin county gradually gave way to the outskirts of the city. Renee, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, stared out at the devastation the Party had wreaked on her city. The train passed mere shells of buildings with their roofs open to the sky. Decomposing corpses lay among the ruins, and the people who passed them without a glance were little better. The beginnings of freedom Renee had seen before the bombing were gone without a trace. The people's faces were grey and closed, with no hint as to the activity inside. Starving children played idle games with pieces of rubble. As the train pulled into the station, the destruction was overtaken by the pristine Party quarters and downtown.
Disembarking from the train, Renee and Constance walked through the merchant streets, where the bombing had been kind. Before, the streets had been less than respectable, filled with tiny stores selling anything and everything. The "free market," the Party called it. Now, they were overflowing with homeless proles too impoverished to buy a train ticket elsewhere. Starving whores offered themselves to passing Party members, and many children openly begged for money. Constance found the address Andrew had given her, a safe house owned by a COR member who could put them up for the duration of their stay.
"Wonderful. A pub," she said.
They were standing outside a rather decrepit-looking pub with a peeling sign proclaiming it to be "Sullivan's."
"It might be better," said Renee. "No one notices if someone goes in and out of a pub often. Same cannot be said of a store."
With Constance grumbling behind her, she opened the door and stepped in. The inside of Sullivan's was not much better than the outside. Even in the late afternoon, it was gloomy and stank of alcohol. However, it was empty, except for the man behind the bar. Renee laid her hands on the bar, wishing she could have done so in another time, another world, when all that approaching a bar meant was that you wanted another drink.
"Uh..." she said intelligently. However, it did attract the man's attention.
"Yeah, comrade?"
Renee breathed a sigh of relief. The COR had taken to using the Party's own form of addressing one another to camouflage their own form of identification. Hopefully, any Thought Police operatives thought the proles were merely copying the Party. Hopefully.
"I'm looking for Shadow, comrade," she said, using the countersignal.
A smile broke across the man's face.
"You've found him. And who would you be?"
"Phoenix and Artemis. I believe you received a CORCOM from Prospero?" Renee barely whispered the codes, out of habit and a little bit of fear.
"Just this morning. Must've taken the train before you two. You'll be wanting a room, then, ma'am?"
Ma'am, she thought. He used the old title of respect when addressing her. Ma'am. Short for "madame," which meant "my lady" in some Eurasian language. An antique show of respect from a time beyond her memory. A title for capitalists and aristocrats. And revolutionaries. A signal that here was someone she could trust.
She looked at him for a fraction of a second, flashing his features so that they burned into her memory. He was older than she was, her mother's generation. He would remember the time of capitalism, before the Party. He looked like someone's grandfather, an old person upon whose knee a child would love to sit on to hear stories of the time they could never remember. She wondered if he had any grandchildren.
"Yes, a room would be lovely."
He led them up the back stairs to the floor above the pub. The dim hallway branched off to three rooms: a bathroom, a bedroom, and another room that contained a woman the same age as Shadow, spreading blankets on the floor.
"This is my wife," Shadow said, not naming her. She smiled, and fluffed up a pillow.
"I'm sorry we can't give you ladies beds, but -"
"We understand," said Constance. She smiled at Renee. "We've not been sleeping on much better out at Baile Saoirse."
"Worse, actually. Thank you, I know this is a terrible risk," said Renee.
"No trouble at all," said Shadow's wife.
"The least we can do," said Shadow with a smile. He put his arm around his wife, leading her from the room. He turned on the threshold. "You're welcome down in the pub all the time you're here, ma'am." With that, he left his commanders, shutting the door.
Renee breathed a sigh and leaned against the wall. She slid down, sitting against it. Constance sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Renee reached up and took Constance's hand, leaning against her friend's shoulder.
"Did you see it?" she asked.
"Yes. I did," answered Constance.
"What did we do? How could we do this?"
"We didn't. It's not your fault, and don't you dare start that again. We're here to find our families and get out, that's all. You don't have to do anything else. Serenity said she'd take care of Dublin for us. We have to take care of Ireland, do you understand? Dublin's her responsibility."
Renee nodded, though the empty feeling in her stomach did not fade.
"Good," said Constance. "Now, we'll have something to eat, then we'll go down to the pub. Tomorrow, we'll go out bright and early to find our families."
She reached over to Renee's bag, where she had packed food from Baile Saoirse. Uncertain of the state of food distribution in Dublin, they had brought some of their own. They ate very little, since neither had much of an appetite.
The pub had begun to fill by the time they mustered up the courage to go down. Shadow was behind the bar, doling out beer and accepting money. Victory ale, Victory stout. Renee remembered her mother talking about her grandfather complaining that there was never a decent Guinness or Murphys to be found after the Revolution. He had disappeared when her mother had been a teenager. Her father had always told Mary to watch what she said whenever she would tell Renee and Constance about the past. Renee bit her lip and strode toward the bar.
Shadow winked at her and placed two half-litre glasses of stout on the bar. Renee reached for her pocket to pay, but he shook his head. He leaned forward, as if to push the glasses into her hands.
"Least I can do, ma'am," he whispered in her ear.
Renee pulled back so that they were almost nose to nose. He smiled.
"You'll be wanting to go in the back." He glanced at a door next to the one leading upstaires, then pulled away from her and poured another beer for another customer.
Confused, but at least distracted, Renee made her way back to Constance, who was sitting at a small table.
"Come on," Renee said. She handed the half-litre to Constance and led her to the door indicated by Shadow.
Opening the door, she found herself in a room almost identical to the front of the pub, only without the bar. It was exactly as one would expect the back room of a pub to be. However, the difference was obvious once she stepped over the threshold.
Music. Freedom songs, to be precise. This was nothing like the Warehouse, of course. It was just a few proles drinking stout and listening to quiet music. But they had kept it alive, kept the spirit of the Warehouse going.
"Take my love, take my land,
Take me where I cannot stand.
I don't care, I'm still free.
You can't take the sky from me.
Take me out to the black,
Tell them I ain't coming back.
Burn the land and boil the sea;
You can't take the sky from me.
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity.
But you can't take the sky from me."
Renee felt a lump in her throat rising. A tear rolled down her cheek as she silently toasted the singer and drank her stout. Tomorrow, she would find her family. Tonight, she would lose herself in the music.
Author's Note:
The song is the theme song from Firefly. I'm not sure of the title, but I love it. It's got a great Western/Irish feel.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Theme from Firefly is by Joss Whedon.
Still Free
The green hills of Dublin county gradually gave way to the outskirts of the city. Renee, her nails digging into the palms of her hands, stared out at the devastation the Party had wreaked on her city. The train passed mere shells of buildings with their roofs open to the sky. Decomposing corpses lay among the ruins, and the people who passed them without a glance were little better. The beginnings of freedom Renee had seen before the bombing were gone without a trace. The people's faces were grey and closed, with no hint as to the activity inside. Starving children played idle games with pieces of rubble. As the train pulled into the station, the destruction was overtaken by the pristine Party quarters and downtown.
Disembarking from the train, Renee and Constance walked through the merchant streets, where the bombing had been kind. Before, the streets had been less than respectable, filled with tiny stores selling anything and everything. The "free market," the Party called it. Now, they were overflowing with homeless proles too impoverished to buy a train ticket elsewhere. Starving whores offered themselves to passing Party members, and many children openly begged for money. Constance found the address Andrew had given her, a safe house owned by a COR member who could put them up for the duration of their stay.
"Wonderful. A pub," she said.
They were standing outside a rather decrepit-looking pub with a peeling sign proclaiming it to be "Sullivan's."
"It might be better," said Renee. "No one notices if someone goes in and out of a pub often. Same cannot be said of a store."
With Constance grumbling behind her, she opened the door and stepped in. The inside of Sullivan's was not much better than the outside. Even in the late afternoon, it was gloomy and stank of alcohol. However, it was empty, except for the man behind the bar. Renee laid her hands on the bar, wishing she could have done so in another time, another world, when all that approaching a bar meant was that you wanted another drink.
"Uh..." she said intelligently. However, it did attract the man's attention.
"Yeah, comrade?"
Renee breathed a sigh of relief. The COR had taken to using the Party's own form of addressing one another to camouflage their own form of identification. Hopefully, any Thought Police operatives thought the proles were merely copying the Party. Hopefully.
"I'm looking for Shadow, comrade," she said, using the countersignal.
A smile broke across the man's face.
"You've found him. And who would you be?"
"Phoenix and Artemis. I believe you received a CORCOM from Prospero?" Renee barely whispered the codes, out of habit and a little bit of fear.
"Just this morning. Must've taken the train before you two. You'll be wanting a room, then, ma'am?"
Ma'am, she thought. He used the old title of respect when addressing her. Ma'am. Short for "madame," which meant "my lady" in some Eurasian language. An antique show of respect from a time beyond her memory. A title for capitalists and aristocrats. And revolutionaries. A signal that here was someone she could trust.
She looked at him for a fraction of a second, flashing his features so that they burned into her memory. He was older than she was, her mother's generation. He would remember the time of capitalism, before the Party. He looked like someone's grandfather, an old person upon whose knee a child would love to sit on to hear stories of the time they could never remember. She wondered if he had any grandchildren.
"Yes, a room would be lovely."
He led them up the back stairs to the floor above the pub. The dim hallway branched off to three rooms: a bathroom, a bedroom, and another room that contained a woman the same age as Shadow, spreading blankets on the floor.
"This is my wife," Shadow said, not naming her. She smiled, and fluffed up a pillow.
"I'm sorry we can't give you ladies beds, but -"
"We understand," said Constance. She smiled at Renee. "We've not been sleeping on much better out at Baile Saoirse."
"Worse, actually. Thank you, I know this is a terrible risk," said Renee.
"No trouble at all," said Shadow's wife.
"The least we can do," said Shadow with a smile. He put his arm around his wife, leading her from the room. He turned on the threshold. "You're welcome down in the pub all the time you're here, ma'am." With that, he left his commanders, shutting the door.
Renee breathed a sigh and leaned against the wall. She slid down, sitting against it. Constance sat down beside her and put an arm around her shoulders. Renee reached up and took Constance's hand, leaning against her friend's shoulder.
"Did you see it?" she asked.
"Yes. I did," answered Constance.
"What did we do? How could we do this?"
"We didn't. It's not your fault, and don't you dare start that again. We're here to find our families and get out, that's all. You don't have to do anything else. Serenity said she'd take care of Dublin for us. We have to take care of Ireland, do you understand? Dublin's her responsibility."
Renee nodded, though the empty feeling in her stomach did not fade.
"Good," said Constance. "Now, we'll have something to eat, then we'll go down to the pub. Tomorrow, we'll go out bright and early to find our families."
She reached over to Renee's bag, where she had packed food from Baile Saoirse. Uncertain of the state of food distribution in Dublin, they had brought some of their own. They ate very little, since neither had much of an appetite.
The pub had begun to fill by the time they mustered up the courage to go down. Shadow was behind the bar, doling out beer and accepting money. Victory ale, Victory stout. Renee remembered her mother talking about her grandfather complaining that there was never a decent Guinness or Murphys to be found after the Revolution. He had disappeared when her mother had been a teenager. Her father had always told Mary to watch what she said whenever she would tell Renee and Constance about the past. Renee bit her lip and strode toward the bar.
Shadow winked at her and placed two half-litre glasses of stout on the bar. Renee reached for her pocket to pay, but he shook his head. He leaned forward, as if to push the glasses into her hands.
"Least I can do, ma'am," he whispered in her ear.
Renee pulled back so that they were almost nose to nose. He smiled.
"You'll be wanting to go in the back." He glanced at a door next to the one leading upstaires, then pulled away from her and poured another beer for another customer.
Confused, but at least distracted, Renee made her way back to Constance, who was sitting at a small table.
"Come on," Renee said. She handed the half-litre to Constance and led her to the door indicated by Shadow.
Opening the door, she found herself in a room almost identical to the front of the pub, only without the bar. It was exactly as one would expect the back room of a pub to be. However, the difference was obvious once she stepped over the threshold.
Music. Freedom songs, to be precise. This was nothing like the Warehouse, of course. It was just a few proles drinking stout and listening to quiet music. But they had kept it alive, kept the spirit of the Warehouse going.
"Take my love, take my land,
Take me where I cannot stand.
I don't care, I'm still free.
You can't take the sky from me.
Take me out to the black,
Tell them I ain't coming back.
Burn the land and boil the sea;
You can't take the sky from me.
There's no place I can be
Since I found Serenity.
But you can't take the sky from me."
Renee felt a lump in her throat rising. A tear rolled down her cheek as she silently toasted the singer and drank her stout. Tomorrow, she would find her family. Tonight, she would lose herself in the music.
Author's Note:
The song is the theme song from Firefly. I'm not sure of the title, but I love it. It's got a great Western/Irish feel.
Disclaimer:
Children of the Revolution is by Marc Bolan.
Nineteen Eighty-Four is by George Orwell.
Theme from Firefly is by Joss Whedon.