The Greatest Fear
Note: I do not own the Orwell novel 1984. I do not claim to own any part of it. * * *
I land face down on the hard, cold floor. As I lie there, I keep my eyes down. I refuse to raise my eyes, for I fear what will meet them will be the ultimate fear. To be expected that it would be my ultimate fear. This is the place that legends are made. This is the omega, the edge, the breaking point; more frightening than the most horrific nightmare man ever dared to dream, and more lonesome than the last night of a convicted man. This is the end and the beginning. This is 101.
101. How I have feared this number in itself all of my days. Strange that one that was so brave as myself on the outer walls of this room could be so feral and animalistic as to fear what has always been within me. Ah, how 101 will whither the wills of the best of men! It's almost beauty, in a demented way. Though it is a terrible place, one cannot help but recognize the utter, awe-inspiring, magnificent, simple genius that has made its mark here.
After what seems what is days on end, I finally concede. The lure is too great, the possibilities far too many. It has gotten inside my head, consumed me, bored holes through me, until I simply cannot stand it any longer. I must know what is in this room. There is no way I could have kept it up forever.
With great humiliation, I open my eyes at last. It cannot be worse to know my greatest fear than to not know. I am prepared to see anything, anything at all. There is no fighting Room 101; it will not go away, no matter how hard you want it to. In a way, I almost feel relieved, as though a burden has been lifted from me. Now, I can truly say that I know my deepest, darkest fear.
And I look. I try to analyze, try to understand. But I can't. It's simply beyond me. It's so simple, and yet, it is genius. Who would have ever thought of this? I wonder who or what let them know that this is my deepest fear. How could they tell? How could they possibly know?
This room is empty.
Now, I know that I am truly not fearless.
For in the room being empty, they have tapped upon my greatest fear. I will tell you what my greatest fear is; explain to you how an empty room is the epitome of everything I have come to dread.
A person who did not understand would look in here, and when they saw nothing but a young girl sitting in an empty room, they would think me fearless. But that is not the case. I am only human. My fear is right here in this room. My fear is being totally alone; alone in the midst of nothing, with nothing to relate to; an absence of anything I can recognize. Soon, the dark recesses of my mind will start to fill in the emptiness of this room, and that in itself will be enough to bring me to concede. How genius. They know that nothing they could put in this room could frighten me enough, but they also know that the human mind can imagine things more horrible than actual reality can allow. It's incredible how much they know of me. Genius. I don't even know who my torturers are, and they know the one thing that will defeat me.
I don't know how long this will go on. True, I know my mind will eventually begin to deceive me, but how long will that take? You see, I've never touch with reality entirely before, only partially. My friends and compatriots could always help me before it even got started. But now, there's no one to help me. There's no telling what sort of horrific images I will dream up. I don't know what to do now. I have no choices.
This is what I fear the most. Now all I can do is wait. Wait for the horrors to come and ravage me.
* * *
I have no idea how long I have been here. I no longer care. There is no running from the demons I have created.
How ironic, to know that the things I point at and scream; the visions, the devils, the horrible things coming to swallow me whole, the ever malevolent blackness; that all of them are simply the furtive, futile imaginings of my own strained mind. Oh, what gods are these that appear before me in such robes of the finest gold and halos of the brightest light only to vanish and appear again as phantoms of the darkest hour! Who am I now, a simple wretch writhing on the floor of an empty room?
I cannot bear it much longer. The time has come for me to admit defeat. As long as they can make the devils leave me be, I will bow to their will. At least I know that I can begin somehow to live when I come out again. I can begin again, somehow. But it is hopeless to continue to fight an enemy that is truly not there. Where or when the demons came I no longer care.
" I will do it." I cry out. " I will do anything you want. I am surrendering."
In less than one minute, the door handle turns. A woman and two men in white uniforms enter the room. The two men set down two folding chairs and leave the room almost immediately.
" Sit" the woman commands. I obey her. I will do anything she says as long as she helps me.
The woman sits in the other chair. In an act of pure habit, she flips her hair: long, bodied, wavy, auburn hair. Self-conscious, I feel at my own hair, which has become a tangled mass of wavy strands of brown and black, and I remember my question.
" Will you help me?" I ask her in a small, pitiful voice.
" Quiet!" she snaps, setting a small, hand-held tape recorder in her lap. " I'll help you if you're obedient. And now you have to do what I say."
" What do you want me to do?" I ask.
" I want you to read this aloud," she hands me a paper. " Make it sound natural. If you mess up, we start over again."
I look over the paper and nod.
" Good, she answers. " Start when I hit the record button."
I read thus:
"I am a former dissenter from the Party. I have admitted my crimes and I have been rightly punished. Now I see the errors in my ways, and I have repented justly. I throw myself upon the mercy of our just and sovereign Party. I now see the utter stupidity of my actions. Just a few days ago, I considered myself a member of an underground group whose main purpose was to overthrow the Party. Since then, I have been reeducated, and I have been shown the foolishness of my former ways. Now I know that no one can defeat the Party, and that no one will ever be able to tarnish the utterly magnificent power of Big Brother; the wise, powerful, sovereign leader of all. His leadership will shine forever over us, bringing us peace, lighting the path, and epitomize the pure, brilliant spirit of the true comrade. I ask now that I may become a productive member of His great society again. I swear today that I shall never again turn my back upon the Party, and I will never again doubt the awesome power of Big Brother. May He live in the heart of the comrade for the rest of time."
The woman hits the record button again, and the tape stops whirring.
" Good," she answers sharply. " Now I'll help you."
" There," she places a large pink pill in my hand." Eat it. It will make the hallucinations go away. Now, you stay here. Your things will be brought to you. You'll go home today."
She leaves the room without another word, taking the tape recorder with her and leaving the chairs.
I take the pill in my hand and put it in my mouth, chewing viciously, a burst of bitter tasting powder attacking my taste buds. Anxiously, I wait for the medications to have effect.
But now another symptom has sunk in. Guilt. I praised a government I despise and condemned those who were my allies. I've completely obliterated any hope of overthrowing the tyrannical Party. I renounced all of my core beliefs. And for what? Medication. I gave it all up for a medication to make the hallucinations stop. Strange how quickly we will betray ourselves when the need arrives.
It's no matter. There was no way for me to fight it. I have tried and I failed. What I cannot control I cannot fight. Perhaps the Party really is right. Perhaps there is no way to defeat the tyrannical rule of the Party and no way to sway the ever-watching eyes of the Big Brother.
THE END.
Note: I do not own the Orwell novel 1984. I do not claim to own any part of it. * * *
I land face down on the hard, cold floor. As I lie there, I keep my eyes down. I refuse to raise my eyes, for I fear what will meet them will be the ultimate fear. To be expected that it would be my ultimate fear. This is the place that legends are made. This is the omega, the edge, the breaking point; more frightening than the most horrific nightmare man ever dared to dream, and more lonesome than the last night of a convicted man. This is the end and the beginning. This is 101.
101. How I have feared this number in itself all of my days. Strange that one that was so brave as myself on the outer walls of this room could be so feral and animalistic as to fear what has always been within me. Ah, how 101 will whither the wills of the best of men! It's almost beauty, in a demented way. Though it is a terrible place, one cannot help but recognize the utter, awe-inspiring, magnificent, simple genius that has made its mark here.
After what seems what is days on end, I finally concede. The lure is too great, the possibilities far too many. It has gotten inside my head, consumed me, bored holes through me, until I simply cannot stand it any longer. I must know what is in this room. There is no way I could have kept it up forever.
With great humiliation, I open my eyes at last. It cannot be worse to know my greatest fear than to not know. I am prepared to see anything, anything at all. There is no fighting Room 101; it will not go away, no matter how hard you want it to. In a way, I almost feel relieved, as though a burden has been lifted from me. Now, I can truly say that I know my deepest, darkest fear.
And I look. I try to analyze, try to understand. But I can't. It's simply beyond me. It's so simple, and yet, it is genius. Who would have ever thought of this? I wonder who or what let them know that this is my deepest fear. How could they tell? How could they possibly know?
This room is empty.
Now, I know that I am truly not fearless.
For in the room being empty, they have tapped upon my greatest fear. I will tell you what my greatest fear is; explain to you how an empty room is the epitome of everything I have come to dread.
A person who did not understand would look in here, and when they saw nothing but a young girl sitting in an empty room, they would think me fearless. But that is not the case. I am only human. My fear is right here in this room. My fear is being totally alone; alone in the midst of nothing, with nothing to relate to; an absence of anything I can recognize. Soon, the dark recesses of my mind will start to fill in the emptiness of this room, and that in itself will be enough to bring me to concede. How genius. They know that nothing they could put in this room could frighten me enough, but they also know that the human mind can imagine things more horrible than actual reality can allow. It's incredible how much they know of me. Genius. I don't even know who my torturers are, and they know the one thing that will defeat me.
I don't know how long this will go on. True, I know my mind will eventually begin to deceive me, but how long will that take? You see, I've never touch with reality entirely before, only partially. My friends and compatriots could always help me before it even got started. But now, there's no one to help me. There's no telling what sort of horrific images I will dream up. I don't know what to do now. I have no choices.
This is what I fear the most. Now all I can do is wait. Wait for the horrors to come and ravage me.
* * *
I have no idea how long I have been here. I no longer care. There is no running from the demons I have created.
How ironic, to know that the things I point at and scream; the visions, the devils, the horrible things coming to swallow me whole, the ever malevolent blackness; that all of them are simply the furtive, futile imaginings of my own strained mind. Oh, what gods are these that appear before me in such robes of the finest gold and halos of the brightest light only to vanish and appear again as phantoms of the darkest hour! Who am I now, a simple wretch writhing on the floor of an empty room?
I cannot bear it much longer. The time has come for me to admit defeat. As long as they can make the devils leave me be, I will bow to their will. At least I know that I can begin somehow to live when I come out again. I can begin again, somehow. But it is hopeless to continue to fight an enemy that is truly not there. Where or when the demons came I no longer care.
" I will do it." I cry out. " I will do anything you want. I am surrendering."
In less than one minute, the door handle turns. A woman and two men in white uniforms enter the room. The two men set down two folding chairs and leave the room almost immediately.
" Sit" the woman commands. I obey her. I will do anything she says as long as she helps me.
The woman sits in the other chair. In an act of pure habit, she flips her hair: long, bodied, wavy, auburn hair. Self-conscious, I feel at my own hair, which has become a tangled mass of wavy strands of brown and black, and I remember my question.
" Will you help me?" I ask her in a small, pitiful voice.
" Quiet!" she snaps, setting a small, hand-held tape recorder in her lap. " I'll help you if you're obedient. And now you have to do what I say."
" What do you want me to do?" I ask.
" I want you to read this aloud," she hands me a paper. " Make it sound natural. If you mess up, we start over again."
I look over the paper and nod.
" Good, she answers. " Start when I hit the record button."
I read thus:
"I am a former dissenter from the Party. I have admitted my crimes and I have been rightly punished. Now I see the errors in my ways, and I have repented justly. I throw myself upon the mercy of our just and sovereign Party. I now see the utter stupidity of my actions. Just a few days ago, I considered myself a member of an underground group whose main purpose was to overthrow the Party. Since then, I have been reeducated, and I have been shown the foolishness of my former ways. Now I know that no one can defeat the Party, and that no one will ever be able to tarnish the utterly magnificent power of Big Brother; the wise, powerful, sovereign leader of all. His leadership will shine forever over us, bringing us peace, lighting the path, and epitomize the pure, brilliant spirit of the true comrade. I ask now that I may become a productive member of His great society again. I swear today that I shall never again turn my back upon the Party, and I will never again doubt the awesome power of Big Brother. May He live in the heart of the comrade for the rest of time."
The woman hits the record button again, and the tape stops whirring.
" Good," she answers sharply. " Now I'll help you."
" There," she places a large pink pill in my hand." Eat it. It will make the hallucinations go away. Now, you stay here. Your things will be brought to you. You'll go home today."
She leaves the room without another word, taking the tape recorder with her and leaving the chairs.
I take the pill in my hand and put it in my mouth, chewing viciously, a burst of bitter tasting powder attacking my taste buds. Anxiously, I wait for the medications to have effect.
But now another symptom has sunk in. Guilt. I praised a government I despise and condemned those who were my allies. I've completely obliterated any hope of overthrowing the tyrannical Party. I renounced all of my core beliefs. And for what? Medication. I gave it all up for a medication to make the hallucinations stop. Strange how quickly we will betray ourselves when the need arrives.
It's no matter. There was no way for me to fight it. I have tried and I failed. What I cannot control I cannot fight. Perhaps the Party really is right. Perhaps there is no way to defeat the tyrannical rule of the Party and no way to sway the ever-watching eyes of the Big Brother.
THE END.