Part I: Chapter Six

I furrow my brow. "Are you seeing someone else?"

"A friend," Eve replies. "She's taking me to a party. You could join us if you weren't so set on leaving."

A strange blend of anxiety and exhilaration courses through me. "What kind of party is this?"

"A party like those from before the war. Before the NPAR. A gathering with drinks, cigarettes, and other illicit substances. A party filled with loud, forbidden music. A party where people dance and make love..."

My pulse quickens. "An illegal assembly?"

"Exactly."

"But... you could get arrested for attending one of those."

"I know. Sam, I believe life loses its meaning if we can't truly live it. I wish you'd come with us. I didn't invite you because I doubted you had the courage... yet."

"It's not entirely about courage. What if we can’t trust these people?"

"They have just as much at stake as I do if we get caught. There's always a risk, but these events are discreet and well-organized. Are you interested in coming?"

"Maybe I'll stick around for a bit and meet your friend. Then I'll decide."

"Okay."

We sit and chat about the music played at these underground gatherings. I often catch news reports whenever the police manage to raid one. Those caught are arrested, and contraband is seized — drugs, alcohol, forbidden music, and more. These busts make headlines, as the New Puritans love to highlight what they consider abhorrent behavior. I've even penned editorials criticizing the attendees. Organizers sometimes face severe penalties depending on their past convictions.

I don't know how these illegal gatherings are planned and kept under wraps, but Eve appears to have a wealth of knowledge about them, and her confidence is contagious.

As we debate the merits of early 21st-century dance music, I spot a woman stepping out from the shadows nearby, first walking along a path and then crossing the lawn toward us. She looks about Eve's age but sports shorter hair. When she sees me, she smiles and addresses Eve.

"So, this is the infamous Sam Wright?"

I feel awkward. "Um... hardly infamous."

"Eve's mentioned you quite a bit. I can see the appeal... Awkward, flustered, charmingly repressed in that British way."

"Yes, well, as much as I'd love to stand here discussing my merits as a quintessential Brit..."

"And of course, the legendary British sarcasm," Eve interjects. "Sam, meet Sarah. She's also a teacher at our school."

I shake Sarah's hand. "You teachers are quite the rebellious bunch."

"Rebellious? Because we dislike being told whom we can meet? That we can't enjoy a drink? Or because we resist being dictated to about what music we can listen to or what books we can read?"

"I suppose there are many secretly rebellious folks, not just teachers," I respond.

Sarah laughs. "Oh, you're spot on about teachers. We’re thoroughly subversive. Eve and I strive to instill common sense and critical thinking in our lessons, but we must tread carefully to avoid parental complaints."

"Maybe the next generation isn't as lost as ours," Eve muses. "Time will tell in twenty years or so."

"Anyway, are you coming to this party or not?" Sarah asks. "Be careful how you answer, Sam. I've got twenty bucks riding on this."

"Did you bet I'd go or not?"

"I'm betting you'll come. Eve's hard to resist."

I turn to Eve. "You placed a bet I wouldn't come?"

"Well, I want you to join us, but I didn't think you'd be bold enough for something like this yet."

A wave of impulsiveness sweeps over me, leading to what feels like a significant choice.

"I'm going to the party."

Eve raises an eyebrow. "You are?"

"It’s a matter of principle now. I can't let you win that bet."

Sarah chuckles. "I already like this guy."

"Splendid," I say. "Off to an illegal assembly we go. Um... which way?"

"We'll head back to Newton Street," Eve instructs. "Just follow me."

"Do you really think they’ll let him in?" Sarah queries.

"I’ll vouch for him. Besides, Roger owes me. He won't want to upset me."

Sarah smirks. "Looks like you're in for a wild night, Sam Wright. The online editor of Badger News Incorporated at an illegal gathering. Scandalous."

Eve leads us across the lawn, out of the park, and back onto 26th Avenue West. The streets are quiet, but I can hear distant cars and police sirens. The thrill of breaking the law in such a bold way churns my stomach, yet I feel an exhilarating rush. I've never before felt the high of such blatant rebellion.

We cross to Newton Street and walk silently for about five minutes. Sarah keeps glancing at me and grinning, seemingly amused that a law-abiding citizen like me is with them. I don’t see what’s amusing. I’m fully capable of breaking the law, just like they are.

Eventually, Eve guides us along a weed-filled path toward a condemned apartment building on an overgrown lot. The building looms dark and quiet, its windows boarded up. Signs warn against trespassing, and as we reach the shattered entrance doors, our feet crunch over broken glass.

"The party is here?" I ask.

"Shh," Eve replies.

We step into an empty concrete lobby filled with broken elevators and piles of damp carpet. A musty smell lingers as we navigate through a door with rusty, squeaky hinges and descend concrete steps into the basement. At this point, I can faintly hear distant thumping music and the sound of a crowd. It’s a sound I haven't encountered in decades.

I can hardly believe this is real. The surreal nature of my situation feels dreamlike. How did I get here? Am I merely experiencing a mid-life crisis? Or is my recklessness a direct result of living under the NPAR for so long? Surely, it can't be that simple. Many individuals here have no issue complying with the law and adhering to the New Puritan rules, no matter how ridiculous they might seem.

We approach a set of heavy double doors. Two burly men in leather jackets stand guard, armed with tasers. They nod at Eve and Sarah, seemingly recognizing them, but frown when they see me.

"Who's this guy?" one asks.

"He’s been vetted," Eve replies. "I vouch for him."

The men scrutinize me, their expressions skeptical, but eventually nod. "Alright."

We enter a concrete area with tall pillars and faded lines on the ground, likely once a parking garage. Eve guides us to a metal trapdoor. The music grows louder.

Eve lifts the trapdoor, revealing another staircase. We descend further beneath the building, and my excitement mounts. At the bottom of the stairs, we pass through another set of doors into a vast, cavernous space with a high ceiling. A wave of people sways on a massive dance floor, illuminated by strobe lights. The booming music from the early twenty-first century hits me like a freight train, overwhelming my senses. I haven’t experienced music this loud in over twenty years.

I take a moment to absorb the incredible scene. What strikes me first, as I struggle with the sensory overload, is the attire of the attendees. The men wear casual jeans and T-shirts featuring slogans or images that would land them in trouble if worn above ground. More notably, the women are dressed in a way I haven’t seen since before the Second Civil War, except in banned magazines or illicit materials. Miniskirts, leather boots, crop tops... I had forgotten how enticing these could be. Of course, back then, I was desensitized to their allure. Now, they appear strikingly bold.

The women dance, sway, and press against the men, and some even dance with each other. I also notice some women aren’t women at all but men in makeup. Many of these individuals may be gay, bisexual, or transgender. In the NPAR, homosexuality is punishable by death. Anyone suspected of or admitting to same-sex attraction must undergo compulsory Corrective Psychological Treatment (CPT), a brutal form of therapy that has left many depressed or suicidal. The government refuses to acknowledge the failures of this system, and stories of its shortcomings are routinely suppressed. Regrettably, I have played my part in burying such stories.

On one side of the dance floor, I spot a DJ spinning vinyl records of forbidden music. On the opposite side, a bar serves contraband alcohol — whisky, gin, vodka, wine, beer, cocktails... I see couples kissing and touching each other intimately. Some brazenly slip into small side rooms with a green light above the door. Once inside, the light turns red. It doesn’t take a vivid imagination to guess what occurs behind those doors.

This display of revelry and debauchery feels almost biblical, and I half-expect the ground to open up and swallow these shameless sinners. My reaction surprises me, highlighting how much the NPAR has altered me. Back in England, I would have been unfazed in a nightclub.

Yet something about this place feels distinct from the clubs I visited in my youth. Here, there is an unusual sense of unity in defiance — a collective urge to shed the oppressive restraints imposed by the New Puritans, indulging in forbidden desires to an exhilarating and dangerous extreme. Such a sense of camaraderie was absent in the clubs I frequented two decades ago, which were filled with shallow narcissism. Here, I sense that people aren't merely intent on sinning; they are determined to live.

As I take in this atmosphere, I notice Eve and Sarah undressing beside me. A part of me is taken aback, and I feel I should look away, but Eve catches my gaze and grins. Beneath their long, regulation dresses, she and Sarah wear short skirts and fitted tops. Eve extends her hand, signaling for me to give her my coat. I do so instinctively and watch as she and Sarah head to a nearby cloakroom. Moments later, they return.

"What do you think?" Eve shouts above the music.

"Overwhelming," I reply.

Talking above the music proves nearly impossible, so Eve gestures for us to head to the bar. I follow, feeling bewildered, exhilarated, and anxious. I glance around, wondering if the main entrance is our only exit. I assume it is. If the police raid us, everyone here would be arrested, and escape would be futile.

Concerns about being caught weigh heavily on my mind as Eve and Sarah order cocktails. I opt for a beer, and as I bring the bottle to my lips, I realize I haven’t tasted one in over a year. Occasionally, I’ve obtained drinks on the black market when feeling particularly daring, but today, I’ve been utterly reckless.

The beer is refreshingly delicious. I smile, and upon noticing my reaction, Eve laughs. She and Sarah whisper to each other, sharing a private joke I can’t overhear. The lively atmosphere feels intoxicating, and I begin to worry less about the potential police discovery of this hidden gathering.

For a few moments, we linger at the bar, drinking. Alongside the beer, the three of us share shots — another activity I haven't done in years. I feel like the teenage rebel I never was, as if I’ve entered a parallel reality and transformed into someone else.

Eventually, Eve grabs my hand and leads me toward the dance floor. I can’t dance, but the pulsating music calls to me, and I can no longer resist. I probably look foolish, but I don’t care. In contrast, Eve and Sarah exude an effortless coolness. Their movements, while alluring and undoubtedly illegal, carry a surprising grace.

We dance for nearly an hour. The alcohol hits me hard, and I feel entranced amid the strobe lights, as if I’ve stepped into another dimension. After a while, Sarah begins dancing with another man. They draw closer together. She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him in, and they start kissing. His hands roam her body. I am amazed by their boldness, then I remember how commonplace such displays were before the Catastrophe and the Second Civil War.

Eve keeps casting glances at me, her eyes glinting mischievously. I know she desires me. I’m acutely aware of being seduced, and a part of me feels apprehensive. Yet, at the same time, I am exhilarated in a way I have never known.

On the dance floor, Eve approaches me. She caresses my face, and despite the heat and sweat surrounding us, I shiver at her touch. I don’t resist as she gently kisses my lips, waiting for me to respond with feigned coyness. It’s futile now. I’m ensnared and couldn’t escape even if I wished.

I kiss her back. The world around me spins. I had forgotten how this felt. A fierce desire ignites within me. I feel her arms encircle me, drawing me closer, exploring my body. I reciprocate, no longer concerned that we stand in the midst of a vibrant crowd.

Before long, Eve pulls away and motions toward one of the side rooms. Anxiety washes over me, but I wonder when I might have another chance like this. Her parents will return, making it much harder for her to sneak out. After tonight, I will need to visit her church and seek approval from her parents and the New Puritan elders if I wish to pursue a relationship with Eve.

But at this moment, I simply want to be with her.

I nod to Eve. She grins and leads me away from the dance floor into a side room marked by a green light above the door. We enter, finding ourselves in a cramped space with a small bench, some towels, and cushions. It’s a shabby, dingy setting for what we plan to do, but we don’t care.

Eve shuts the door and presses a button next to it, changing the light from green to red. She leans against the door, looking at me with an irresistibly alluring expression.

The sheer audacity of our actions astonishes me. It has been years since I’ve done anything like this, yet there’s little awkwardness beyond some clumsy attempts at removing clothing that make