To anyone who still stands for freedom:
I woke up this morning to the shrill screeching noise coming from my
telescreen. I jumped out of bed
and threw some clothes on before standing at attention for the daily exercise.
I started coughing violently, like I always do after waking up, I was still
trying to regain my breath, when a small
women came on the
screen. It was time for our daily exercise.
While she was shouting commands at us, I started to think about what
the past must have been like, and if everything now is just a lie.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately.
I’m already dead, considering I’m writing down my thoughts, my
rebellious thoughts. It’s only
a matter of time before they come and take me away.
Then I’ll just disappear from memory, never to have existed.
Suddenly, I was snapped out of my thoughts, the women on the screen was
yelling at me. She was yelling
something about not stretching far enough.
“Watch me now,” she said, “you are perfectly capable of touching
your toes, stretch farther.” So
I took a deep breath, and that is the first time I’ve been able to touch my
toes in years.
After the exercising, I headed off to work.
As I walked out of the door a cloud of dust swirled after me.
The streets were dark, and dirty.
There was dirt, and ruin everywhere.
By the time I got to work, it was time for the 2 Minutes of hate. This is one of the most dreaded parts of the day.
It is just like a frenzy of animals, screaming and yelling at an enemy,
we are only to see on screen. But
I must yell along. To not is to
die. People become suspicious.
But as it started something different happened.
I caught the eye of a man, named O’Brien.
As the screaming started, he seemed to have the same look on his face,
as I felt. I don’t think he goes along with this anymore than I do.
Maybe, just maybe, I’m not the only one who does not agree with this
life. But I can’t be sure.
You can never be sure. Anyone
could be a traitor. Trust no one. People were starting to yell and throw things; even I got
caught up in it. But my hate was
not towards our “enemies” it was towards my life, the spies, the
restrictions, and the lies. It
was towards everyone I hate that I should be on the same side with.
Suddenly, I noticed a woman next to me.
She was staring at me with suspicion.
I started yelling louder. As
loud as I could. And this time
the hate was towards her.
After I got to work, I took a look at some papers that I had gotten out
of the pneumatic tube. The first
three messages were just routine matters, but the fourth one was important and
needed to be dealt with right away. When
Big Brother makes predictions or speaks, and it turns out wrong, I usually
have to change it to make him look right.
This time is was a recent speech written about the FFCC.
It was devoted to praising the work of the FFCC, which supplied
cigarettes and other comforts to the sailors out on the Floating Fortresses.
Comrade Withers. An important member of the inner party,
had been singled out for praise. The
only problem was, that three months later, the FFCC had been suddenly
dissolved, with no reason. So I
had to think up a new speech for Big Brother.
Something, heroic maybe, or something about another battle won, but
that might complicate history. As
I was thinking about this, I looked at the person in the cubicle by me.
His name is Comrade Tillotson. He
was crouching secretively over his typewriter.
Probably working on the same thing as me. It was not unlikely. After all the written speeches were sent
in, a committee would pick the best one.
I decided not to rewrite the speech, but to make it about something
totally different. After thinking
about it a while I decided to write about Comrade Ogilvy, who heroically died
in battle. Of course no one of
this name existed, but a few words and some pictures would bring him to
existence. This man would be a
perfect example of what a child should grow up to be, here in Oceania.
After writing it all, I suddenly had the feeling that mine would be
chosen over everyone else's.
A few hours later, I was standing in the lunch line, waiting for the
usual soup of the day. Standing
beside me was Syme. He was sort
of a friend. Or at least he was
more pleasant then most people. He
started asking questions right away. About
if I had any razor blades, and if I had seen the hangings yesterday. I said no to
both. Except the guilty fact that
I actually did have two unused razors I had been saving.
Sometimes the Party shops would run out of things for months.
He started talking about the hangings then.
He likes to talk about killings, and air raids, and things of
destruction. I think he gets a
deep satisfaction from it all. I
also think he knows that I don't. After
we got our food and gin, we found a table under the telescreen that we could
sit and talk at. After we sat
down, we started talking about the new dictionary he was working on.
As it turns out, he is actually destroying words, almost creating a
whole new language. People will
have to learn to talk all over again. It
will make thought crime almost literally impossible. There will be so few words to describe anything that, you
want be able to express your emotions and feelings, because there will be
nothing to express them with. In
fact, there will be no thought. Orthodoxy
is unconsciousness. I think one
day he will be vaporized. He is
to intelligent. The party does
not like people that are like this. I
know Syme dislikes me, and yet it is kind of nice to have him around.
Suddenly, I lady came on the telescreen.
She announced that the standard of living had gone up in the last few
years. I remembered that the rations had just been reduced.
How could they get away with such lies?
Everyone seemed to go along with it, even though just a few days ago,
the living standards were going down. So
this is how I must live. In a
world of lies, and hate. I will
not fall though. I will find the
truth.
Sincerely,
W. Smith
