Darius hadn’t been to a bar in a year, but since he was using it as a cover for his secret, why not go? People gathered at the Roxford pub to discuss the Uprising, but he never actually been a part of those discussions. He stopped at the heavy double doors made of wood. The last time he was there, he was with Eric, over one year ago. The sun was fading on the horizon and wisps of cooler air rolled all around like waves of the ocean current with promises of a frigid night. Familiar faces greeted him as he entered, making him feel antsy.
The biting cold air from outside turned into the stuffy warmth of whiskey and beer, musky cologne, and salty potato chips. Voices fell and rose within various conversational groups as he made his way to the bar to order a beer.
“Hey, Darius.” The familiar voice cut through the noisy crowd. He found it came from a stocky, slightly balding man who he instantly remembered from his previous job.
He waived his arm for Darius to join him. The man’s tie hung loose, and his brown suit jacket was hanging over the chair he sat on. Darius got a pint of his favorite dark ale and headed over.
“Hi Will, it’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Darius said when he arrived.
Will stood up with a big smile and shook his hand in an abrupt, stern motion. Darius stood a full head taller than Will, but wasn’t much leaner.
“How have you been? I haven’t seen you in forever.” Will asked as he rubbed his palm against the stubble on his cheek.
“Good, I’m working down the street. Actually, got picked up by the competition.” Darius replied before putting the glass to his lips. The cool beer filled his mouth and ran down his throat, bitter and robust.
“Oh, bigshot over at M & S now, huh?” Will teased. “That is great, man. I’m happy for you. I ended up doing a complete 180 and finished my degree. All I needed was a semester. I’m working for the Daily Mail downtown. I am not an actual reporter or anything though, accounting actually. It’s a good job.”
“That’s great, Will. The perks of Succession, huh?” Darius winked. “I take it you hear a lot of things that don’t make it to the airways then?”
Will was not exactly a friend, but he had been a close enough work acquaintance to feel comfortable talking to. Even though it had been a year since they last spoke, they fell into the same familiarity as before. Will was easy to talk to because he was a good listener. It was probably why Will was the only man in the office who knew everything that went on there, because everyone talked to Will.
“Oh yeah, all kinds of things. I could talk all night about all the drama there, not to mention the angles and the fabricated story lines. Man, if you only knew how much we are being lied to, it’s amazing. “Then he quickly changed the subject, “Oh, but let me introduce you to everyone.”
Will went around the table of five men, all of which he either worked with or had gone to college with. He introduced Darius as an old friend, which told Darius a lot about how he thought of him. Darius wondered if Will would leak actual stories to him for The Independent Nation, but quickly dismissed the idea to use anything Will disclosed as too dangerous.
“So what do you think about the new law they’re trying to pass against anti-Faction gatherings?”
Darius knew the question would reveal what side he was on. Technically, it was a harmless question to ask one’s opinion about any subject, but the danger lay in how one answered and who they were speaking to. Sympathy towards the Uprising could land oneself behind bars for months and even years, but Will knew who Eric was. He had not forgotten his sacrifice to the cause.
“I think it’s another law just to tighten their rein over the world.” Darius answered with a response that bordered the middle line of siding either way. Will nodded in agreement.
“They don’t have as tight a hold on Mexico as they do here, but then again, in any of the underdeveloped countries, they don’t really care too much about. They see them as less likely to revolt against them because of resources.” Will said, “but you know what? That is not true because they’re manufacturing guns and ammunition in Mexico and there have been raids on plants in other countries like Cuba and Guam. Can you believe it? Even fucking Guam is making weapons, but they won’t tell you that on the news. It’s a secret.” Will said, confiding a bit of truth.
He drank the last of his beer and then set the glass down on the table as he let out a muted burp. Darius took a drink as well. It was time to reveal what side he was on since Will revealed his own hand. Just sharing secrets was enough to land Will in jail or a reeducation camp. Will was an insider, and insiders got a brutal punishment for their disloyalty and treachery.
“Damn, I guess you gotta root for the underdog. At least they’re actually making weapons to fight back with.” Darius said.
A silent understanding passed between the two men that he was sure Will’s friends also understood. Will shook his head in agreement but said nothing in return.
“You guys ready?” One man asked after drinking the last of his beer.
He stood up as the others grabbed their suit jackets.
“Oh, Darius, you gotta come with us. We’re going over to Bethune city. There’s a special meeting happening tonight that I think you’ll want to be a part of.”
Darius thought for a moment. What the hell was a group of white men going to do in Bethune city if it were not to do drugs? Bethune was a run-down dump. Like the other Black Society cities, they were completely self-sufficient and self-serving. The idea was great on paper: a community for and by black Americans, yet they lacked pastoral fields for food production, no manufacturing, and no means to expand their territories. And the drug issue was rampant among the other 10 Black Society cities throughout the country. The Faction did not give a damn because it wasn’t a part of the original contract and they refused to renegotiate terms with the current Black Society leadership.
The cities festered crime, unrest, and illiteracy. Things like the Succession Law gave priority to offspring who had attended colleges in the aftermath of the Second Revolution, but limited the number of black applicants. It was a law that marginalized the Black Societies unprecedentedly because higher education could only be obtained outside their cities.
“Sorry bud, but I’m not the kind of guy that goes to places like Bethune city.” Darius retorted, even though he made a headway of trust with Will.
“Hey, don’t worry, we aren’t going there for drugs or anything like that, although I’d be lying if this secret meeting weren’t happening in one of the opium dens. It is one of the very few places we can meet and speak freely. Come on, you won’t regret it.” Will insisted. His beady eyes pleading his case.
Darius wanted to know more about the inner workings of the real Uprising movement. After all, he was just an anonymous small-time contributor trying to make a few ripples in the background.
“Alright, I’ll go.” He said, knowing damn well that he could not call Nora and tell her he was deviating away from the Roxford pub.
It was only 5pm, and he had plenty of time left in the night to make it back home.
“Great, you can ride with me. We are going to drive there. It’s faster than the train, anyway.”
Darius thought it was a great idea because he wouldn’t have to scan his track card for a train ride and didn’t have to drive his own car. The last thing he wanted on his record was that he visited a place like Bethune. On the car ride there, the men discussed various laws that impeded on their freedom, as if they had any to begin with. The Uprising created a ripple effect of new laws, all designed to snuff out conspirators and crush all hope of overthrowing the government.
They made it into the city of Bethune, but before heading over to the opium den, they stopped at the city Public Works department. It differed from the pristine streets of Munich Hill. Trash littered the streets and there were more stop signs than stop lights at intersections. Even the buildings seem to take on a grittier appearance, and some looked to be abandoned for decades, if not longer.
“What are we doing here?” Darius asked, looking at the white pillars and urine spotted steps of the Public Works department building.
“We need to make a donation first.” Will responded as they all got out of the car.
The rest of Will’s friends were in another car that pulled up beside them. The men walked up the steps and into the Public Works office, avoiding the fresh puddle of pungent urine. A guard stood who by the office window said nothing, but watched their every move as a black lady sat behind a glass separator in her comfortable cubicle.
“2 donations please.” Will said.
The woman put down her sandwich, wiped her hands on a napkin and made a few keystrokes on her computer. Her long, red fingernails clicked and slapped the keys in a frenzy while she chewed.
“Will you be needing receipts?” She asked, the only words she ever said.
“Yes, please.” Will responded.
He held out his arm, and she scanned it into the system. Two receipts printed, and she slid the small pieces of paper through the separator opening.
“I got you, Darius, since this is your first time.” he said and handing a receipt to him. The warmth from the paper quickly dissipated in his hand, but the sharp smell of ink lingered a little longer.
The rest of the men each took a turn, having their wrist scanned in exchange for a receipt. They took the prized piece of paper back to the car and Will drove to their destination.
“Um, what was that all about?” Darius asked.
“Well, I know it looks weird, but let me explain. The Black Society cities do not have the same restrictions as we do, so they allow the meetings to happen. People from all over come here to congregate and the movement is being shielded by them because they’re unhappy with their situation too. The donation, which is about a quarter of a point, is their way of getting people to aid their failing economy. We use the receipts to get into the meetings, but don’t worry, lots of people make small donations and aren’t a part of the Uprising movement. So it doesn’t look suspicious. It’s a win-win situation.”
Darius thought it odd that the city was capitalizing on the Uprising, but he supposed if the society was failing, then it made sense to cash in where you could. Which made sense why the opium dens were there. They paid taxes to the city. A few minutes later, they arrived at their destination in a darkened part of the city that looked like a warehouse district. It was quiet, but with lots of vehicles in the parking lot. A black guard stood outside the double iron doors and held it open for them as they entered.
“Good evening gentlemen, please wait in the lobby until you’re buzzed through.” The guard stated in a familiar tone.
He dressed like a normal citizen, wearing a puffy blue jacket and jeans. The door closed behind them and they stood in the red curtained lobby for a minute before someone came to the desk. It was an ebony skinned woman with hair combed back into a bun. She wore a long, tight red dress with a high collar and matching plump red lips. Her long eyelashes framed a set of big, round eyes and rosy high cheeks.
“Hello gentlemen, welcome to the Ha House. What will you be having tonight?” She asked pleasantly with the graceful gestures of a ballerina and the smile of a porcelain doll.
Will produced his receipt. “Here you go, ma’am.”
She swept it into her hands like the wind on a breezy day. One by one, the men produced their notes of passage to her.
“Ok gentlemen, right this way. Keep in mind that this is an opium den and there may be people lounging everywhere, even on the floor. They relax wherever they feel most comfortable.” She smiled again, producing a glimpse of perfectly white teeth between crimson lips.
She escorted them towards the back, past rows of canopy bunk beds. White linen shades concealed some, while others revealed perfectly made beds with pillows of different sizes, fluffed and ready for weary heads. Faded couches set in circles with half slumbering patrons lay every which way in varying states of euphoria. An assortment of pipes and opium cluttered the coffee tables In the middle of this jigsaw of bodies. Blacks and whites were all there, mixing as if segregation never happened, and they came together to escape the misery of their existence.
The air was smokey and smelled of Jasmine incense and tobacco. The lights were low and ambient, inviting. A piano played softly in the background like a waltz out of time, a delicate rise and fall of an unearthly melody.
“Here we are gentlemen, they’re just about to get started.” The hostess stated as she led them through a red curtain into a small hallway dimly lit by yellow lights. She turned the handle of a black door at the end of the hallway that opened into a small room filled with people.
There were some chairs, but most people stood. The crowd of faces was a mix of races representing the true landscape of the region. Darius nodded at some of them who nodded back, while others were in discussions and paid them no attention. Will knew someone there already and greeted the man. Several black women occupied a corner of the room, and they chatted quietly to each other.
“Alright everyone, we’re going to get started.” said a tall, slender man of mixed Asian descent. His hair and eyes were as dark as the night, but his skin what nearly as white as snow.
“Thank you all for joining us this evening. I know many of you traveled far to get here, so I pray for your safe journeys back home. For those of you that do not know me, my name is Adan. For the rest of you, you are already like family. Let me assure you, we gather in secret and what we say here stays in this room. Our identities to the outside world must always remain hidden, but here we are like family.” Applause followed with a few sounds of positive acknowledgement.
He went on, “As our alliance grows bigger and stronger, so does the will of mankind.” I want to share with you a few things tonight.”
Adan held up a pamphlet. It was the latest copy of The Maverick, the same paper that Darius’ best friend Eric once wrote for. The same paper that Eric went to prison for.
“Friends, our allies in New Mexico are getting ready to strike.” He opened the two-page pamphlet as he held it up. “How many of you read this article? Show of hands.”
Some raised their hands, having read the article in question. Darius had not read it because it was difficult to get an issue of The Maverick where he lived. Often, he got his hands-on older, second-hand issues that were crumpled, stained with coffee cup ring marks, or with torn pages. This issue that Adan held was the latest edition put out that past Thursday.
Adan flipped the pamphlet over to read it. “In Coming Times is the title, and in this poem is a cryptic message. Some of you are already aware of the codes and some of you work on deciphering them as well I do and if you read this poem, then you know what it is really about. My friends, the time has come for us to fight. And I mean, fight. This poem is a call to arms and urges us to get ready.”
He put the pamphlet down on the small square wood table next to him before continuing, “now I know not all of you can go to war. I know many of you have families you want to protect above all else. But ask yourself this question, are they safe? Are they really safe and sound in their beds this evening or do you lie in bed each night wondering what tomorrow will bring? It’s no secret what the Faction does to people. Not to mention we’re entering a food shortage yet again.” Grunts from the crowd rose in opposition.
Adan eyed the people in the room as he continued, “The sleeper prisons, the reeducation camps, the crap history they teach our kids in school not to mention the fact that they want our own children to report us if we speak falsely against the Faction. What kind of crap is that? How can we trust our family and friends when they’re turning us against each other? The time to act is now.” He declared passionately.
At that moment, a consistent ringing started in the room. Everyone looked around, unnerved by the source of the beeping, but Adan already knew what it meant.
“Everyone, it’s time to go. That is the signal that authorities are here, and most likely it’s the GPU. Follow me out the back door, now.” Adan shouted.
He turned to exit the room via a door behind him. Everyone got out of their seats, rushing to the open door as the other entrance flung open. Gendarmerie Patrol Unit officers in riot gear approached with assault rifles drawn, but the chaos in the room of scattering bodies disobeyed the command to ‘freeze.’ Gun shots rang out in the main opium den amongst the screams of bewildered and intoxicated patrons. Someone in the back room threw a chair at the officers while another person rushed them. Some fled out of the room into the chaos of the Ha House as Darius followed the others through the back door.