The Party

Author’s note: The Party is a fairly short story, written in the late 2010s, when the idea of MetaStructure was beginning to take shape. It takes place in the early 1990s and features three young friends who are about to have a party they won’t soon forget. I may say more about it one day, but for now, I’d prefer to leave it as a surprise and let you guess how this story ties in with the rest.

 

Tom opened the door and stood up straight, hands on hips in a pose not unlike Superman’s. The toothy grin on his face resembled the one he had in the same place and pose about a year earlier. It was the day after he had lost his virginity.

David and Bruno were sitting at the coffee table in the living room. They were playing Blood Bowl, the board game that had taken up most of their free time for the past two months.

They looked at their friend, who was still standing in the doorway. They were half annoyed at him for interrupting their game, half intrigued by his posture.

Tom didn’t move. He tried to widen his smile.

Bruno finally spoke:

“What?”
“Guys…”
“…”
“What? Will you spit it out?”
“Guys,” Tom repeated. This time with a shorter pause so no one would interrupt him again and ruin the effect he was trying to achieve, “We’re invited to the Party tonight!”
“Cool. Whose house?”
“Roll the dice, it’s your turn…”
“No… No, no, no… No, my friends!” Tom took that half-paternal, half-professorial tone that made him sound like a minister of some pre-war government, and that he liked to use with a grin when he was pretending to be condescending. “This is not just a party at someone’s house… Ha! Ha! Ha! You’re way off! No… We are invited to THE PARTY!”
“Wait… What?… The party?… The Party!?”
“Yes! The Party! The Party!”
“Holy crap!”
“Yes!”
“How did you do it?”
“Yeah, how did you do it? Oh, fuck!”
“Well, I was at Alain’s and there was his friend Didier from high school, I don’t know him too well, apparently he knows some people from the Party and he invited us.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes, just like that. I didn’t ask any questions, I just said yes.”
“When is it? Tonight?”
“Yes, tonight, you didn’t hear, he said it when he arrived…”
“Oh fuck!”
“Exactly: oh fuck!”

After a few seconds of silence, Bruno spoke again.

“Do you think there will be hot chicks?”
“Of course there will be! What a question! But I’m not sure they’ll want you!”
“…”
“Do you know if we need to bring anything? Do we have to pay at the entrance? How does it work?”
“You have to bring something… I think…”
“No, no, you have to pay… At least that’s what I heard.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“No.”
“Guys, why don’t we ask Alain? He’s been there before, right?”

The Party… It was one of the most mythical events in this university town in the south of France, where the three young men, barely out of their teens, had been studying for almost two years in the early 1990s. No one knew the origins of the Party. Not where it started, not when. Not to mention how it had lasted so long.
For the first few hours, it was a party like all the others that spontaneously spring up on weekend nights. A party that lasted an entire weekend was a little less common. But it still didn’t quite enter the realm of the extraordinary. The fact that it continued on Monday was much rarer. This one just never ended.
The details were unclear. In the beginning, it moved from apartment to apartment to avoid problems with landlords, neighbors, and authorities. Then came a time when it settled in an apartment of rather imposing size. Then it spread to the whole floor, then to the floors above and below. Eventually, it took over a good part of the building that has housed it ever since.
No one knew the exact details of how it happened. Was the mysterious owner of the building the equally mysterious organizer? Or was there rent? It must have been substantial. Was there some other, more obscure arrangement? In the absence of a clear answer, wild stories began to circulate. But people interested in the matter were not the kind to ask too many questions.

Newcomers to the city heard about the Party fairly quickly. Its reputation had spread to all three of the city’s campuses, but few people knew where to find it, and even fewer knew how to get an invitation.

 

Its location was the subject of much discussion. Supposedly, it was somewhere in the heart of downtown. Many students, especially freshmen, had spent hours trying to find it. At one point, Tom and David made it a personal challenge to find it. It took a good four nights before they moved on to other things that weren’t necessarily more constructive, but clearly more fun than wandering the city’s streets at night in vain. They did run into some people returning from the Party once, but they couldn’t get any useful information from them. No matter how hard they tried, the building remained out of their reach. Finding its location wouldn’t have made any difference anyway, they wouldn’t have been able to get in. Still, finding the Party was the most realistic thing they could hope for when it came to approaching this nocturnal Holy Grail.

Getting into the Party was both very easy and very difficult. All you had to do was to be invited. But this could only happen through acquaintances and relations. You had to know someone who knew someone who knew someone…

Most of the participants spent only one night there, more rarely a whole weekend. Some stayed longer. There were rumors that a handful of guests never left.

It was also said that once you had been to the Party, you became a different person. For most people, it was just a sense of accomplishment. Of course, being known to have attended the Party did a lot for one’s social status. It opened a lot of doors in the local nightlife scene.

People also said that after going to the Party, it became difficult to enjoy other “normal” parties. Some Party veterans lost the taste for going out at night and simply stopped. Others lived only to experience it again. They did everything they could to go back at least once. It was not impossible, but it was a rare privilege. Some tried to organize parties along the same lines. Of course, all these attempts failed. Some lost themselves from party to party, falling into more and more excesses until it ended badly for them, one way or another.

The Party had a few regulars who could go at will. It was usually through them that you could get invited. Their identity was almost as legendary as the Party itself. How to become a “regular” was one of the best-kept secrets of this microcosm.

With this mixture of anticipation, excitement, and unrealistic hopes, the three young men spent the rest of the afternoon getting ready. They imagined a thousand and two incredible adventures, far-fetched encounters, and fantastic experiences until evening came. At the appointed time, they went to the appointed place. It was a simple bus stop a few blocks from the apartment they shared.

On the street, Tom told a few jokes, but the other two were much less receptive to his humor than usual. How was this going to happen? Why such a place to meet? What if it was a prank planned by Alain? He was capable of it. And even if it was a real invitation, would they be up to it? Up to what? Why had three students with few connections been given a rare chance to go to the Party without even trying? They were not even very popular in their usual social circles, so to become members of the very lucky few? It wasn’t right. Something was wrong. What if it was a trap? What if they were performing satanic rituals at this Party and tonight they were the sacrificial victims?

“Guys, let’s calm down a bit, okay?”
“Nobody said anything!”
“Exactly! No one has said a word for at least ten minutes. When was the last time the three of us were together and no one spoke for ten minutes? Our silence is deafening. So we should all take a deep breath and chill out a little!”
“Yeah, you’re right…”
“Sure.”
“What time is it?”
“Twelve past.”
“And what time did they say?”
“9 pm sharp. They are late.”
“Maybe it’s on purpose, to make sure we get there first.”
“Yes! That way they can watch us and size us up without us knowing.”
“Why would they do that?”
“I don’t know. To kidnap us?”
“Will you stop this nonsense for a minute? If they really invited us, if it’s not a bad joke by Alain, they already know a lot about us. If they wanted to kidnap us or something, do you think they’d go through all this trouble?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
“Oh, shut up, will you? Here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll wait another five minutes, and if nobody shows up, we’ll just go to the Tireuse.”
“Yeah, right! So that Marc can make fun of us for at least three weeks because we declined an invitation to the party? Or worse, if it’s a prank and he finds out, he’ll mock us for at least six months.”
“We’re not going anywhere else. Either we wait or we go home, watch a movie and never talk about it again.”
“Do you think Marc has been to the Party before?”
“Well, I…”
“Gentlemen, good evening… Sorry to disturb you.”
“Uh … Yes … Good evening…”
“I would like to apologize for keeping you waiting. Would you please get in?”

The three friends hadn’t even noticed the large black sedan that had stopped a few meters away, or the man who had just gotten out.

They looked at each other. None of them wanted to be the one to say something stupid at this moment. They got into the car without a word.

The drive took only a few minutes. If they hadn’t been afflicted with a sudden but temporary mutism, one of them would have commented on the fact that they weren’t blindfolded. It was the kind of thing Bruno would say under normal circumstances.

The car stopped in front of a nondescript building on a small downtown street. Tom was sure he had walked past it dozens of times.

The man broke the silence.

“We’ve arrived.”
“Uh… Guys, should we get out of the car?”
“Are you stupid or what? Of course!”

The man smiled at them as he closed the car door behind them. He pressed a barely visible intercom next to the building’s entrance and whispered something into it. An electronic lock buzzed. The man pushed open the large old wooden door.

“It’s on the fourth floor.”
“Uh… Thank you…”
“Have a wonderful evening.”
“Um… Thank you…”

The elevator ride felt longer than the car ride. On the fourth floor, the doors opened onto a long, dimly lit corridor filled with people. The guests chatting by the door gave them a quick nod of greeting and resumed their conversations. The corridor did not lead to the Party. They had already entered the Party.

The large apartment took up the entire floor, certainly more. Several dozen people – perhaps as many as a hundred? – were talking, drinking, dancing, eating, having a good time. It was basically a party.

“Ah! There they are! There you are! Alain’s friends! Sorry, he’s not here tonight, but please join us! Welcome to the Party! Let me show you around and tell you what to expect! But first…”

The person who spoke to them without taking a breath and who began to fly from one room to another, making sure not to lose the three friends, was dressed in a ruffled shirt, open on top of an orange t-shirt and covered by a tailcoat. He… Was he a “he”? Probably… He wore pants. Red and green tartan cargo pants. He had a jester’s cap on his head. The kind you would imagine at the court of King Henry III of France. His androgynous face had silver make-up around his eyes and on his lips.
He seemed to know everyone and made sure they had a good time. He didn’t give his name, but some of the guests called him MC. The three newcomers never figured out if that acronym was for his name or his title.
After showing them most of the important rooms, he invited them to eat and drink as they wished. Then he disappeared as he had arrived, with grand gestures and an uninterrupted flow of words.

 

 

He had left them in front of the bar – in front of one of the bars – so they ordered drinks. These were indeed free and at will.

“Hey guys, look over there! The four blue guys. The legend was all true!”

The legend was that a few months ago, one of the most memorable theme nights in the Party’s history had taken place: The Blue Night! The word around town was that some of the attendees never left and decided to keep the Blue Night going as long as possible. They became the longest-running partygoers and true legends. The story and their reputation had spread to much of the local student population. Well, the three friends could now attest to the truth of the rumor.

One of the Blue Men passed them and ordered a Blue Lagoon at the bar. On his way back, he stopped in front of Tom. They stared at each other for a few seconds. The Blue Man’s eyes widened.

“Tom? What the hell are you doing here?”
“Uh… I… Oh my God! Gilles? Is that you?”
“Yes, it’s me. Wow, it’s been a long time!”
“We… You’re here! We were all wondering where you were…”

Tom and his blue friend then began to catch up, telling each other the latest news from the outside world and the latest gossip from the Party.
David and Bruno quickly lost interest. So they started doing what they usually did at parties: drinking and trying to meet members of the opposite sex.
As usual, Bruno was the most successful. He was soon (willingly) abducted by not one, but two lovely young women. They came from somewhere in Central Europe. And that’s about the only thing David managed to find out before he lost track of his old friend and his old friend’s new friends.

David found himself in the center of a room. Near him was a group of about ten people. They were talking and laughing, not paying any attention to him, so he took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, watching the people pass by. Did he know anyone? No. He did not seem to. He went into the next room and then the next. He finally found one that was a little quieter than most. He tried to make eye contact with some of the guests. On his third try, the person smiled back at him. They raised a glass in his direction and disappeared before David could approach. In the next room, a small, dimly lit living room, there was a purple leather sofa. A young woman was sitting there, alone. She was pretty. He took his courage in both hands, sat down beside her, and spoke:

“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“I’m David.”
“Oh yeah?… Great!…” She nodded with a broad smile.
“Yes… And you?”
“Oh yeah?… Great!” Her smile widened.
“You… What’s your name?”
“Oh yeah?… Lorene… My name is Lorene…” She continued nodding and smiling.
“Is this your first time here?” (Are you stupid or what? Can’t you say something even more stupid?)
“Oh yeah?… Great!… It’s great here, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it’s great.”
“Yes, it is.”
“And you…”

She didn’t let him finish his sentence, she leaned down, put her head on his knees and passed out.

He looked for a reaction from some of her friends or someone… Nothing. He remained motionless for several minutes. Despite the noise in the room, he could hear her snoring. No one seemed to see them, despite his pleading looks. He waited a little longer. Then, as gently as he could, he took Lorene’s head in his hands and laid it on the sofa, slowly getting up at the same time. He walked away.

He looked for Tom but couldn’t find him. (The?) MC appeared out of nowhere, but he was gone before David could call out to him. The young man tried to join in a few more conversations, each time to no avail. Despite a few polite looks and smiles, no one seemed interested in what he had to say. He realized that the feeling was often mutual.

And about an hour into the Party, he found himself alone on a small couch, sipping a vodka and orange juice in another quiet, uncrowded lounge on the top floor of the huge apartment. A small group of people chatted quietly three meters away. He didn’t even try to engage them in conversation.

David had been invited to the Party. He was there. He was at the Party! How many people would have agreed to do things they would later regret just to be in his shoes? He had been given this unique opportunity and… He was bored to death…

He didn’t really like where this was going. Either he was going to have a few more drinks, get even more bored until he finally left the place and went brooding in the deserted streets of the city. Or he would sit there and drink until he couldn’t remember the rest of the evening (he would just go home on autopilot and collapse on his bed until late afternoon). He was still hesitating which way to go when someone came and sat down next to him.

“You could drink something more sophisticated. Screwdrivers are fine for student parties, but not here.”
“Huh? I beg your pardon.”
“Anyway, your glass is almost empty. Come with me. We’ll find you a more appropriate drink.”
“But I… Okay, whatever, why not?”

The man was in his thirties. He had well-combed brown hair. He wore a beige suit without a tie. He was a little overweight, but not fat. He had a smile that could only inspire confidence. David noticed that his face was slightly asymmetrical.

“I’ll have a Manhattan. And for you?”
“Uh… I…”
“Nicolas, another Manhattan for the young man, please. He doesn’t know what it is. It’s time to educate him.”
“But I…”
“But what?”
“No, no, nothing…”
“Id.”
“What?”
“My name is Id. And you are David, right?”
“Uh, yeah. How did you know that?”
“I heard about you.”
“Oh?”
“Yes.”
“Who told you about me?”
“That is not important now. We have other things to talk about and important things to do. Let’s start with the most important of all: drinking these cocktails!”

Nicolas, the bartender, brought the two drinks. They toasted and drank.

“So how is the Manhattan? Isn’t it the best cocktail of your life?”
“Uh, yeah… It’s good.”
“You’ll see, you’ll drink others that are just as good, if not better. You look like a Dirty Martini kind of guy. Personally, I prefer the Extra Dry. We’ll try them both next, and you’ll tell me what you think.”

Id was right. That first Dirty Martini was a revelation for the young man. They drank and talked. They talked and drank. They talked about mixology, but also about many other things. Things that David could hardly believe. Things that made him dream, that intrigued him. Things that were dangerous and appealing. David drank in Mr. Id’s words for hours. He was captivated, hypnotized. Something happened. Something clicked. Mr. Id revealed things to him that he could never have imagined, and yet they seemed so obvious, almost familiar. They talked late into the night.

Bruno had one of the best nights of his life. Tom had a pretty good time as well. Neither of them was quite the same afterwards.

Neither was David.

The two friends did not see him again for a long time. Their next meeting was to be years later. But before the night was over, they were told not to worry about David’s departure. Bruno was too busy for that anyway. And so, Tom didn’t worry when he saw his friend get into the elevator with a man in a beige suit that the Master of Ceremonies called Taulier.

 

The Beginning…

 

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