An Evening At The Bar

Later that evening, and after work was finished, Ludwik got dressed into something more casual and made his way over to Sokolowski's. He knew where he was going; he had been to that bar place a few times in the past, though usually alone, never really with his co-workers before. It was good that he could walk over there, given he didn't have a car. One of the benefits of living in the big city, I suppose. 

He set out to arrive at the exact time Zofia set up, six o'clock sharp. Along the way, he passed by various pedestrians walking at this hour, more than usual. That wouldn't have been an inconvenience for Ludwik, had there not been so many of them. But it was something he knew he had to deal with. He was well aware how densely populated Tarnozow was. 

A nice short walk led Ludwik to the place in question. The sign hanging above the tavern saying "Sokolowski's Bar And Restaurant" all but confirmed it. From the glass panes near the entrance, he could see quite a lot of people eating and drinking together, something that made him anxious. I really wasn't hoping for too many people to be here tonight. Granted, it's Friday night, so it's not surprising, but still. Ludwik could only hope it wouldn't be very loud here tonight.

He entered inside, noting the vintage style of the bar's furniture and atmosphere. Near the walls he could see high round tables and stools set up, with other patrons sitting at them. There was also a group of men playing pool near the back. The bar felt near deafening. The music playing combined with the chatter of patrons and clinking of glasses made Ludwik feel out of place, and uncomfortable. You'll pull through, you'll be fine. Desperate to get away from the noise, he searched around for any sign of Zofia. 

"Lud, over here!" He almost didn't hear her, but the mention of his name caught his attention. He turned to find her seated at the bar front, near the serving station with an abundant amount of alcoholic beverage bottles organized behind it. He noticed that she was dressed more casually as well. She had the same dark, long orange skirt, but sported a light blue button-up shirt, and her long hair was down instead of tied up. I kind of like those soft curtain bangs on her more than the pony tail. 

"You made it exactly on time," Zofia said, pleasantly surprised. "I was almost worried you wouldn't show up." She gestured him to sit down. 

"Well, I like to be punctual. Not too early, not too late," Ludwik admitted. He took a seat right next to her.

She greeted him with a warm smile. "It's nice that you're here." She briefly looked around the bar, before returning her attention to Ludwik. "You know what you want to get?" 

"I, uh, I think I do," Ludwik responded, slightly unsure. I'll go with what I usually get here. A nice Polner beer. Gabon beer tastes far better than Yorgish beer. 

She nodded in response. "Good. Then let's order when the bartender is done." 

Zofia ordered a drink of light vodka, while Ludwik ordered a Polner beer. Zofia got curious, narrowing her eyes and giving him a smug smile. 

"A Gabon beer, huh? Wasn't expecting you to like that brand," she said in a teasing manner. From the way she was looking at him, Ludwik figured she wanted to know more. 

"I just like it," he defended, not wanting to go into full detail. "It was a part of my family tradition." 

Zofia raised her eyebrow, sounding less smug and more interested now. "I figured you might have been Gabon. You're pretty tall, and your name sounds more Gabon than Yorgish. Plus, it would explain your… preferred timing." Ludwik didn't say anything back, hesitant to respond to her. Zofia's smile vanished, concerned she may have said something wrong. "Ah, I didn't mean to assume you were or anything, I just thought it would explain a lot-" 

Ludwik chuckled, giving her a soft look to reassure her. "It's fine. I know what you mean. If it makes you feel better, you're partly right. I'm only half Gabon." His tone changed to something more melancholic. "But I don't really like to talk about it." Gabons are not entirely accepted in Yorgish society. Not to the point of outright hatred, but there is a small sense of hostility. 

Zofia could tell Ludwik was bothered. "Oh… so you are…" Desperate to switch the subject, she jumped to the first thing that came to her mind. "I mean, it could be worse," she stuttered a bit as she spoke. "You're still better off than if you were Siegish, or worse, Nosharmian. I don't think you could even work at a Yorgish newspaper if you were Nosharmian. So there's that…" She nervously chuckled. 

I suppose she's right. Nosharmians living in Yorgáryn have it far worse than Gabons. The reason was both cultural and historical. Yorgáryn harbored a deep hatred for Nosharm long before the Worsata Party or the first Yorgish republic was founded. Both Gabosloza and Nosharm received large possessions of the Yorgish-Wolnan Commonwealth after the Yorgish Partitions a few centuries ago. While the Gabon occupation was not exactly kind, the Nosharmian occupation treatment was far more brutal. Yorgish people under the Gaboslozan Imperium were far better off. Gabosloza gave their portion of Yorgáryn their independence diplomatically. In contrast, a war had to be fought in order to make Nosharm give up their portion. It had been over a hundred years since Yorgáryn was reunited, and yet the scars and hatred were as present as ever. 

The hatred towards Nosharmians rose tremendously by the time the Worsata Party formed. Discrimination and segregation policies towards them were passed once they took power. One notable policy was the Chevotov Act, legislation passed seven years ago that denaturalized Nosharmians from basic Yorgish citizenship, or in the words of the act, denaturalize anyone deemed "undesirable" or of "questionable loyalty toward Yorgish interests." It prevented Nosharmians from getting jobs as teachers, doctors, positions in the government, et cetera. That wasn't even mentioning their treatment in the ghettos. 

After a long awkward silence, the two reporters began drinking. They slowly returned to talking about their work as they got a little buzzed. 

"Lud, do you ever feel like you're never appreciated enough?", she asked. 

"I can't help but feel that way a little. Sometimes at least," he responded honestly. I think I know where this is going. He didn't want to say anything rude in case she started talking about her problems again. It didn't happen often, but just enough for him to sense a pattern. 

"I mean, you work, and you work, and you do it so hard and without complaining and yet you're still not given the credit you deserve." She sounded slightly bitter, sighing as her expression tightened and her lips pressed into a crooked line. She let out a heavy sigh. "All because you were born different." 

"Ah. I see." Ludwik nodded, acknowledging he understood. He could tell she was talking about her own situation. He imagined it was about how women weren't often employed in positions like hers very often since the regime took power. Not that such notions didn't exist in Yorgáryn before they arrived, but one could certainly tell it was amplified.

Suddenly, Zofia lightly threw her fist down on the bar table. Ludwik's eyes widened in surprise. Zofia grit her teeth in frustration, her eyebrows furrowed. "I have to work twice as hard just to get half the recognition! And even then I don't get that much. All for my other guy co-workers to belittle me some more, intentionally or not." She paused for a few moments in an attempt to calm down. "That's not to say it's all thankless. You take me seriously, Lud." She turned and gave him a weak smile. "Sobieski recognizes my talent, at least, most of the time. It was hard enough for me to find a job as a journalist before I applied to Ya Vezde. If it weren't for him, I honestly don't think I would've gotten the job at all."

"You really think that?" Ludwik asked, disbelief present in his tone. He leaned in closer, focusing his gaze on her face. He could understand that she would have had some difficulty given the gender roles of the regime, but he thought she may have been slightly exaggerating. 

Zofia grimaced. "Believe me, Lud, I would tell you how many times I tried to make it this far. But then we'd be here all night. And I don't want to spend it all sulking." 

Ludwik narrowed his eyes at the dirty-blonde haired reporter. "Are you sure our colleagues look down on you only because you're a woman? Or is it also for your habit of digging into other people's personal lives?" I find it hard to believe that would be the sole cause of it. 

Zofia's eyebrows furrowed once more, her grimace turning into outright frustration. A not-so subtle sign that she seemed insulted by his question. She quickly turned towards Ludwik, a lock of her hair cascading over her face. One of her fists clenched. "Excuse me?" Her voice raised, making Ludwik wince and tilt back nervously. "How do you think reporters get anything done? By just asking nicely to tell us what they know?! No! You think I snoop around because I want to be an asshole? Of course not! I do it because the only way to find out the truths no one would ever say out loud is to be persistent! Come on, surely you know this, Lud." 

The male reporter lowered his brows and eyes. "When researching important issues? Yes, then it's important. When prying into your co-worker's affairs?"

Zofia lifted her index finger at him. "Okay, first of all, I haven't pried that deep into most of their lives. Second, the only times I have dug deeper was because they started it! And I never blackmailed them into doing anything!" 

"So you do it only for those who have wronged you? Or is there another reason?", Ludwik deadpanned. A part of him wanted to give her the benefit of the doubt. He wondered if there was more to Zofia's situation than she was letting on, whether it was in her favor or not. 

Zofia lowered her hand, her irritated look slowly disappearing. She stopped talking, contemplating what to say next. Unexpectedly, she moved in closer to Ludwik and whispered into his ear. "There's so many lies being spread around nowadays." She got real quiet when she said this. Though it was hard to overhear her from the commotion of the bar, Ludwik managed to do it. Her voice was far more gentle now. "And if it's not from the Worsata Party, it's from people trying to stay out of trouble. It gets harder each day to know who to trust." 

I know that feeling all too well. Ludwik looked at her reassuringly, keeping his voice down as he whispered back. "You never really hear about the good things happening around the world in the news. Unless it has something to do with the party and their efforts. Their grip on the press has only tightened in recent years." He tried to be cautious when saying this, not outright insulting the party while stating some truths anyone could pick up on. 

Zofia backed away from Ludwik. "Agreed," she replied nonchalantly, avoiding direct eye contact. 

"No, please, I've done nothing wrong!", a bar patron screamed out from the top of his lungs, gaining Ludwik's and Zofia's attention. They were so lost in their conversation they didn't see two police officers apprehending a man. Their black uniforms and their badges confirmed they were police. One of them restrained the man down on the ground, while the other kept striking him with a baton. He kept yelling about how he did nothing wrong, but it did not stop them from arresting him. 

"Let's not pay too much attention to it," the male reporter said cautiously to Zofia.. "Wouldn't want to draw unwanted attention." 

She gave him an annoyed glare. "Ignoring the problem won't make it go away," she responded dryly. 

Ludwik did not respond, lost in his thoughts. When you have no power or real say, how can you solve the problem?