Disclaimer : don't owe anything in this story. well, I don't own the
characters, I made up the story though. duh. Okay, don't sue, etc.
A/N: I absolutely love the book 1984 by George Orwell. I think that man is
a genius. Okay, yeah, so it's the best book ever (which is quite
contestable), so I decided to write a little blurb about my favorite
character in the book. He had a really small part and people probably
wouldn't even remember who he was, but he was the best prisoner in the
Ministry of Love.
I guess you could say that human's greatest fault would be the fact
that we are communal. that we desire almost more than anything else, to be
accepted, to be a part of something, to call our own, to belong. I know
that it's my greatest fault; this need to belong and to call my own.
That's why I'm here today, in the Ministry of Love. The thought police has
nothing on me, besides the fact that I have this need to help people with
the secret hope that I will be accepted. Could they really blame me for
I guess I'm jumping the gun a bit. I'll start from the beginning.
From the way I look, chinless, toothy, and pouch-y cheeks, you would never
guess the life that I have led.
My childhood was like that of many of my peers, but the only difference is
that I can clearly remember it. I can even remember facts that happened
before I was even born. It was the lasting effect from my parents. They
remembered every detail of their lives before the Party and Big Brother
came. Yes, there was such a time. A time where it wasn't as hard. They
often said that they took it for granted. It was a meager living for them,
and when the Party came, I guess you could say life got better, but the
lies just compounded. My parents were part of the Inner Party. How they
achieved that great status is quite beyond me. My mother also tutored me
at home. I was never good at being a Spy, but my mom taught me how to act
and what to say and respond. I don't think the Party suspected anything.
Because of this dual teaching, I began to think for myself. The Thought
Police would have had a party if they ever saw into my brain.
That's a lie, too. The Thought Police was a sham. They couldn't
read your mind. They could interpret your body language. It was simply
that. I should know. In my early twenties, I was hand chosen to become a
Thought Police member. I went through the training. I stated all the lies
that they wanted me to state. I swallowed and threw back up those lies. I
had to make them believe me completely, and they did. They never suspected
anything. They never thought that through all my actions, through all the
lessons they had taught me, I was a rebel. I was leading a rebellion
against them. I was no Goldstein. He was false. He probably was working
for the Party anyways. I am not sure if he ever existed. Even I
questioned it sometimes.
The Thought Police isn't a squad. That wouldn't be too effective in
spotting people. It would be the complete opposite of subtle, it would be
offensively obvious. I was placed in the Outer Party. It wasn't a
punishment, supposedly, but I know that they trusted me enough to let me go
completely under cover. I even turned some people in to the Ministry of
Love. however, of course, those people were those gullible ones, that if
you even planted a small suggestion in their minds, they would think it
true. So if I told them they were thinking thoughts against the Party,
they immediately believed it to be true and grabbed onto that fact, and
lost their lives for it. They were actually one of the few people who the
Party would have made as models for us all.
I was demoted further, if you want to look at it in the social status
kind of way. My job was the traverse the proles' living area and spot the
Outer Party members that would get away to do. "things." I have seen
things that Room 101 would not even compare to. These proles are filthy,
and some acts should just not be watched. at all. ever. I didn't become a
prole, not like "Mr. Charrington"; but I become one of those Outer Party
members who needed to get "some." So, in this position as well, I took
control of the situation.
In the meantime, I was able to take control of another situation.
How was I going to lead this rebellion against the Party and still come out
squeaky clean? Then it hit me; I was with the proles many times, and I
knew places that Big Brother didn't know even existed. Now, I could smell
a Thought Police miles away and I can see one from even farther, so I was
never worried that a "Mr. Charrington" would infiltrate my plans. I set up
a school for the proles under ground. My whole setup was underground. It
was practically impossible to keep one over ground, so I did with what I
had. I taught the proles how to read and write, but most importantly, I
taught them history. I taught them justice and human rights. This was
going to be movement that the likes of Big Brother had never seen. I
called it the Brotherhood. It was mine. I called it my own.
Sorry so short. and a little off, and not too exciting, but school just
keeps getting in the way. hopefully, I'll write a better one, but the next
chapter will be coming up. Hehe, maybe I should just double space it. (
really though, I feel bad cuz it's so short.