Winston
made his way home from the Chesnut Tree Café at 18:30. He’d only gone to work for a couple of hours
that day, before finishing his tasks and making his way to the café. The victory gin’s sick stickiness seemed to be
affecting him less and less, but he found he didn’t need to rely on it so much.
Today was just a rare occasion because he couldn’t think of anywhere else to
spend his time. After climbing the stairs to his apartment,
the pain in his varicose ulcer started to flare up; but he chose not to respond
to it. He had to be at the community
center in 30 minutes, but he had come home to freshen up first. It was important he put his best foot forward
around his community members, and the stench of gin wouldn’t accomplish that.
At the community center he played a couple of games of
table tennis, losing both times, but not deterred in his enjoyment of the
evening. He understood that Big Brother
wanted him there, whether he won or lost; and there was nothing anyone could do
to make him disobey Big Brother’s wishes.
After table tennis, he made his way to the chess boards. Again he lost, but not as badly as he had
before. The comrade he was playing
against was only a slight bit better than he was, but he had been coming to the
community center regularly a lot longer than Winston had, so it was only to be
expected. On the whole, Winston
considered it a very productive evening.
At 22:00 he left by himself and went back to his home.
This time after climbing the stairs he had a little more
time to moan and groan about his ulcer; but since there was little he could do
about it, he just climbed into bed and tried to sleep. It was at times like these, with nothing pressing
at him mind and nothing to distract him, that he thought he could remember
something. He wasn’t quite sure what it
was. Maybe it wasn’t even a memory, but
his imagination. It involved green grass
and a little baby being carried by an older, care-worn women. It didn’t make him happy, it made him
discontented. Something wasn’t right
about this memory, and he had a feeling that the party wouldn’t approve of
it. He shook it off by telling himself
not to think about it. The amazing thing
was, he had so much control over his mind, that he was able to do it. Tonight it entered his mind only for a split
second before he pushed it aside.
Instead he thought about what he could have done differently during his
chess games and the moves his opponent had used to get the better of him. He’d have to remember them for tomorrow’s
game. Right before he went to sleep, he thought
about how grateful he was for Big Brother’s protection.
. . .
A coldness hit his body, as the noise of his yell hit his
ears. He was now lying on the floor next
to his bed. He looked around his room at the men surrounding him, at the head
of his bed stood O’Brien. Winston
smiled, glad to see him after such a long time. O’Brien smiled back, like an
artist admiring his work.
“And
how are you, comrade?” O’Brien asked.
“Good,”
Winston replied eagerly.
O’Brien,
now addressing his men, said, “Bind him, and take him outside.”
Winston
was heaved to his feet, and his arm’s tied behind his back. The moment he was out of the way a man
started stripping the sheets off of his bed, while another started unloading
the few clothes he had from his dresser.
Walking through his kitchen he saw men cleaning out what little he had
in the cupboards. Others were wiping
down the counters, and tables, and walls, and door knobs. Right before they walked out the door O’Brien
turned to Winston, and put a finger to his lips, telling him to be quiet down
the stairs.
After
a stealthy move down the stairs, Winston was lead to the alley beside his
building, and shepherded into a waiting vehicle. All the while Winston had a look of
contentment and of understanding on his face.
They drove through the streets toward the building Winston only knew so
well. When the Ministry of Love came
into sight, Winston knew what he had been expecting, was soon to come, but he
just nodded his head. He was just one
person, what did he matter in the pursuits of the party. He would do anything necessary for Big Brother.
By: Madison Huber
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