Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 1

The spring was knocking at the door already, but this cold march day delicate snowflakes were falling from the sky. Nobody expected the sun, hidden deeply behind the clouds, as gray and monotonous as buildings and streets.

These snowflakes rested on George Harrison’s coat, another adult Outer Party’s member, as he walked to his new flat. A few days ago, 25th of February, he turned 21. At this age he had to leave his family home and go to work, just like three of his siblings, to become a model citizen.

George stifled a groan. He learned properly to control his emotions and facial expressions, because even a small gesture would send a sign of dishappiness to the government and put him in a danger; everyone was watching him. Walls had ears. And even if no one could look into his thoughts, the inner paranoia made him afraid.

He had to be another cog in the big machine the Party was — a society of country called Oceania, with a three-levels hierarchy: the Inner Party, the Outer Party and the Proletariat. In fact, the Inner Party was a privileged elite, controlling everyone and washing people out of their individuality. He got a job in the Ministry of Truth, Department of Literature, creating books from a propaganda materials. His father and sister were also employed there. And that’s what his future was going to be — time filled with producing cheap, poor quality propaganda books.

Harrison knew very well that his perception of the Party, Big Brother (the leader) and the entire world was far away from general. He didn’t believe what the medias were telling him, Big Brother was like a myth. Distorted and twisted just like the rest of this government. He disbelieved in raising bars, showing them how much their lives and living conditions got better. For example, how could he be proud of overproduction of tea in their country if he didn’t taste it in years? How could he be proud of how much production of shoes has raised, when half of Oceania was walking barefoot? After all, hunger and diseases were the norm.

George caught himself on these thoughts when he was young — he didn’t feel the whole idea of engsoc, an English Socialism, idea ruling this country, he didn’t share the hatred to public enemies, his screams on demonstrations were not as loud as the others’. He immediately understood that it’s like a death sentence. So he raised used to the constant surveillance, teaching himself how to control every thoughtcrime. When other people screamed, he screamed as well. When they had to sing praises, he singed. But the one thing he couldn’t control was a treacherous feeling of the oppression and injustice.

That’s how he lived for years. Like a criminal, always fearing that one day Thought Police will come to his house and drag him out to the darkest parts of Ministry of Love.

The man felt so alone in all of this. He was a part of the six-member family, but there were no feeling between them — the Party tried to exterminate every family bonds. His parents, although good and kind people, had empty minds, blindly believing in every Party’s word. Siblings were even worse — filled with love to Big Brother, looking for enemies and spies at every turn. George knew pretty well that if he made some mistake, they would be the first to blow the whistle on him.

But what did he get from this silent act of an opposition? Their thoughts and beliefs will die with them, and the Party will stay, strong and unaffected.

Only brainwashed people with too low intelligence to realize how cruel the government is will remain. Those accepted uncritically the whole ideology, not understanding it fully. Ignorance and stupidity kept them alive, upholding the Party like strong marble pillars.

Defeated and worried by this thought, trying to push it away, not knowing what’s going to happen in the next weeks, he came back to his flat.

He moved a few streets away, to even worse quarter, filled with 19th century brownstones, where the plaster was falling off the wall together with the colors, the radiators were always cold and the roof was leaking while every rainstorm. The corridors were narrow and you could smell coiled cabbage and sweat. Posters with Big Brothers’s portrait were watching you from every wall, his eyes piercing your soul — BIG BROTHER IS WATCHING YOU, they were saying.

Harrison walked into his small flat, which contained only a bedroom connected with a little kitchen and a bathroom. He looked out of the corner of his eye at the telescreen, from which he was being watched right now. Oceania’s military parade was shown on a screen. He felt an urge to turn the device off, but he couldn’t — he could only turn it down.

After washing himself in a cold water, eating simple daily rations of food, he jumped on a bed and — tired of thinking about the next day — fell asleep.

//A/N: The fanfiction is just gaining speed — longer chapters with more action coming soon//