To the future, To anyone:
This morning I awoke to the most horrid sound you could ever hear.
The screeching of my telescreen then waking to the shrill voice of the slave driving
workout master. My bones ached with stiffness and a feeling of
brittleness, I could not touch my toes so the workout master made me try
harder with unbearable pain I touched my toes but doing so started a bad
coughing fit and I felt and thought as if I was going to fall over and die
right there. This mornings workout was some what harder for me than
other mornings, for the night before I was unable to sleep through the loud
sounds of bombing coming from my telescreen. The workout now over I
stand there in my thin faded boxers, sweaty, out of breath and tired.
Getting to work
would be no easy task.
Walking down the desolate streets covered in ash and
rubbish, the wind picking up dirt making small twisters close to the ash
covered ground. No one to be seen, scurrying along the streets to the
ministry of truth passing by shoddy buildings covered with boards and posters
of Big Brother. There are four major parts of our government the
Ministry of Truth, Ministry of Piece, Ministry of Plenty, and the Ministry of
Love. The ministry is of love most protected, 2 miles of barbed wire, tanks,
and troops guard it all the time.
At work my and everyone else's cubicles consisted of a
small telescreen, a speakright, vacuum tubes and a dark black pipe that leads
to the furnace (that's where waste paper goes). When I arrived at my cubicle
there were already three tasks for me. Two were as easy as eating soup with a
spoon, but the third was harder and would take some serious time and
concentration (I put this aside for last). The first two tasks were edits to
the Newspeak on a couple of generic ads done quickly I now moved on to my
third and final task. This third task was to rewrite an unjust article
that doesn't comply with Big Brothers point of view or general interests or
even the history provided by him. I enjoyed rewriting this article making
a story about a young man that created a lot of revolutionary weapons to help
Oceania in its battle for piece. Chairs are moving by my cubicle by the
time I finished with the article, this must mean it almost time for the two
minute hate.
Today's hate was different from other days the atmosphere of
the crowd was different somehow more aggressive more intense. The hate
started a picture of Goldstein the great traitor was flashed up on the humungous
telescreen the picture became transparent and showed soldiers fighting children
being burned alive and soldiers marching out of the screen submachine guns drawn
and firing. The crowd went ballistic shouting coward, traitor, and even
bastard. The hate ended, the mass crossed their arms in the Ingsoc sign and started chanting B-B, B-B, B-B repeatedly for another two minutes getting
louder and louder.
I slip into the door of my housing building fast but not fast
enough to keep the dust from following me in. The lift was out again as it
was on most occasions so I had to use the stairs, but for me this was torture my
Varicose ulcer was flaring up and the itching was unbearable. Once at the
top of the stairs I walk to my hole in the wall and start writing in my diary
which you are reading.
I have a recurring dream where I am in a lush field with my
mother and sister. I miss my mother and my sister I am extremely lonely
(which might be why I am writing in this diary). My mother died for me
when I was a young boy I thank her for every moment I am alive (which might not
be too long). what was that noise
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
Down With Big Brother!!
My neighbor is calling for me, she must need my assistance so
I close with this:
I don't know why I am writing in this book, for the past or
the future or maybe for entertainment to keep me from being lonely. But
I do know that if I get caught then I will get vaporized and this book will be
burned so if I never get to write in this again I would like to say "don't
repeat the same mistakes we made be free and live life to its fullest"
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Big
Brother Is Watching You!
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Big
Brother Is Watching You!
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Winston Smith
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Big
Brother Is Watching You!
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