Big Sister

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Unobtainable Database

ERROR: MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND. TRY AGAIN?

YES/NO

Matthew scratched his neck and stared at the screen. The bluish glow covered his face in the darkness of his room. The curtains were drawn, cutting off the city lights from the night outside. He hesitated and then hovered over "YES", clicking it.

ERROR: MESSAGE FAILED TO SEND. YOUR CONNECTION MAY BE WEAK. TRY AGAIN LATER

Huffing, he leaned back in his desk chair. He wore only boxers and a loose stripped shirt, rolled up at the sleeves. His mousy hair, tied back in a loose pony tail, spilled out to his face. He pushed it back and waited for a minute. Everything seemed to be fine. His connection was at its peak, the program was virus-free, his computer was brand new—so what was the problem? He frowned and leaned forwards again.

Maybe the issue was not with his computer or connection, but with the content of his message. He scrolled back up to view the box of text.

I would like to alert you about the recent issues we've been having within the company. Most of these consist with our database…

There was absolutely nothing harmful. It was a letter of suggestion. Everyone permitted it. So why did it shut down on him? His brother sent this message, with the same exact ideas but to a different company. The company accepted it and, wouldn't you know it, improved. Matthew considered a typo somewhere in his message. No, it was impossible. He had checked over it at least ten times since writing it the day before. He knew how strict these things could be, so there was no shirking his work.

Again, he reread the entire message. He didn't find a single mistake. He even went as far as to fix some of the formatting. This time, confident that it would get through, he went back and clicked "send". Hey, at least this time the error message didn't pop up.

What did pop up, however, nearly gave him a heart attack.

BIG SISTER HAS BEEN ALERTED

"Shit…" he muttered and stood up, slamming his lap top. He went over to the window and parted the curtains, looking down the streets. No one stirred. It was nearly one am, after all. A blue patrol car slid by every once in a while to catch any stragglers. If you were awake and inside, it was fine—do what you want. But if you were awake and you happened to be outside then you'd be taken to the patrolmen and women. Straggling was not a crim. It was more of a naughty thing to do. If you were caught you'd be admonished and then sent home.

There were worse crimes to commit, after all.

Big Sister had a list pinned up in every office of all the crimes. It was separated into three columns: the no-no list (like straggling or petty theft), the bad list (stealing a car or TV), and the punishable by death list (murder, intense violence).

Most agree that Big Sister had perfected society. She had worked out all the chinks, it seems. She put everyone in homes, she cut off all violence against what people could not control about their bodies, and she allowed autonomy for people within their homes. Everything seemed to be perfect. The streets were sparkling clean, buildings had been remolded, and the sky was visible in the nighttime. No one had seen the sky before her reign.

Yet there were some people who did not like her. Matthew, for example, opposed her. He never would openly admit his hatred and dislike of the society. But it was there. The hatred burned in him like a forest fire. It never really leaves, it only peters out sometimes, ready to spring back and attack.

The moon hung overhead, ready to rip the sky with its weight. Matthew propped his elbows on the window's white, polished ledge and continued to look out. He stuck his legs out behind him, one ankle over the other. On the tall buildings there were pictures of Big Sister. She looked down with a kind expression. It seemed to suggest that she loved her subjects and cared deeply for them. The picture did not show her features or hair color or even her appearance. It seemed to be a very general picture of a woman in orange and blue colors.

A whirr suddenly cut the silence that hung in the room like a tarpaulin. Matthew jumped and whirled around. The laptop, still shut, had come back to life. Its screen's like leaked out from the corners, like smoke spilling from a container. He approached it timidly, sitting back down and pushing the lid up.

BIG SISTER HAS BEEN ALERTED

The message was still stamped on the screen. Matthew had a sick feeling that it might ooze blood at any moment. He scratched his neck again and exited the office room, going to the kitchen. This was his apartment, a square, even room. But it was not really his. Everyone seemed to have the same sort of room. This was just another duplicate. Hockey posters hung on the walls. There hasn't been a hockey game in years. Big Sister said that it was too violent.

In the kitchen, another duplicate out of a thousand, he dug through the fridge. Rows of packed and labeled food stood there. A box of pancakes he had made this morning took up the lower shelf titled "leftovers". He opened one of the drawers, hoping to find a drink. Alcohol rations were given only on Fridays. It was a Wednesday.

Sighing, he settled with a glass of water. He drank it down. For some reason it felt dry crawling down his throat. Scratching his back, he made his way to his bedroom. He could try sending that message again tomorrow, anyway.

The bedroom was dark. It was darker than he remembered it ever being. The darkness was so complete he felt he could reach forwards and scoop up a piece of it and keep it for himself. He stepped in and once he did, he stiffened.

He was not alone in that room.

He felt eyes on him, two ice daggers digging into his flesh.

He was reminded of the poster of Big Sister outside. Whenever he passed her posters he got that feeling from her. No one else seemed to ever complain. In fact, they seemed to feel as though her eyes were warm and loving. Matthew knew it was all a decoy, a false pretense. She had ulterior motives for waging war on all those nations and gaining total control of the planet. This gentle treatment of her people was an alibi. Posters always said that she had obliterated poverty and hunger, but he didn't believe a word. All the press went through her loyal dogs. Nothing against her would ever escape.

Matthew groped in the darkness, seeking anything he could use as a weapon. But there was nothing blunt or sharp or anything even remotely dangerous. He had always left a hockey stick leaning against the wall, but it was gone. Swallowing a lump of air, he timidly entered.

"Shut the door," a voice, clear and sharp, rang out from the darkness.

Rather than risking being killed, Matthew softly shut the door behind him. He discovered that a layer of sweat had covered his palms.

"What do you want?" Matthew asked, stepping forwards.

"Just sit down on the chair, here," a man's voice said. He felt callused hands grab his arm and lead him, almost gently, to a chair he knew wasn't there before, and sat him down. "Do you want anything to drink?"

"No, I think I'll be fine," Matthew said. He tried to construct an image of the man's face in his mind. All he could collect from the darkness were fragmentary images of a tall man with gleaming, sinister eyes.

"If you need anything," he said. Matthew heard him step away. "We want you to be comfortable."

We

So there were more.

The bed sheets made a rasping sound as they slid against each other. Someone was in his bed. Someone he didn't want was in there. He swallowed again.

"I don't need an introduction to tell you who I am, Matthew," the figure on the bed said.

He imagined thin legs moving against his bed. The bed post creaked. She must have pulled herself up to sit against it. He heard something else shift in the darkness. Shutting his eyes made no difference.

"Yes, Big Sister," he said at last, pulling the words from deep inside him.

"We don't want to hurt you, Matthew," Big Sister said. He could hear her words tumble out like ice cubes, freezing him bit by bit. He imagined how she looked in his bed. He wondered if she was dressed. She probably wore her blue dress, or her gray suit, or maybe even she wore something entirely different. He only then began to wonder why they had shut off all the lights.

"If we did, you'd already be dead." The man added.

"How did you get into my house?" Matthew asked, gripping the edge of his seat. He never felt safe in the cruddy apartment anyway, but now he felt like a stranger in his own "home". It was like being in someone else's hotel room.

"You said you knew who I was," Big Sister almost laughed, "Of course we have ways to get into your home. The ways are endless, in fact. I've wanted to see you for such a long, long time. Even the deepest, darkest secrets have their way of escaping. And you know who hears them first? That's right, I do. I know everything that is happening at any time. I own the world, remember? I have eyes and ears and fingers in every piece of land. Forget that for a second and you're doomed. You know why I do this all? I do it to protect my people."

Matthew gritted his teeth. "Yeah, right. You have a plan. You have some motive for doing this all. You've been collecting all these people for a reason. You're just waiting until your puppets are complete and all polished up before you launch your final weapon."

The covers shifted again. The mattress creaked and Big Sister seemed to be running her hands down her arms. She sighed. "And what evidence do you have to support that?"

"I don't have any. I'm looking for it."

"I see…"

"Why didn't you let me send my company a letter?" Matthew said. He could have said so many different things, but his mind reverted to the simplest of matters. He was still having trouble digesting the fact that she was there, inside his room, in his bed.

"That was only a ploy to get me here as fast as possible. Don't worry, the letter has been sent. You're ideas are very good. A shame you stole them from your brother, though."

"I didn't steal them," Matthew began to argue but Big Sister cut him short.

"Hush, now. I have different things to ask you about. Namely, what's all this about an underground organization against me?"

"We want the dictatress out. We want someone who doesn't have something up their sleeve to get you out."

The past three years Matthew spent collecting people who hated Big Sister just as much as he did. The group was small, since most people feared for their lives. But those who were in his group were determined to kick her out. If they did step in some hot water, only one or two of them would actually stay. Others would flee with their tails between their legs. Matthew knew that. For them it was almost like a fun game. A rebellious teenager phase to fill in their spare time. An outlet for bottled hatred. Matthew anticipated the moment they would turn their backs and run. Their contribution was still worthwhile anyway.

"Does your brother know?" She asked softly, almost pitifully.

"No."

"Ah… Now, why do you want to overthrow me? Is it because I did what you could not do? Is it because I make people happy?"

"No, because you want to do something to us," Matthew was on the edge of screaming, but he bit it back and stared intently where she might be sitting.

She clicked her tongue. "You truly are disrespectful. You used to be such a kind, sweet child. And look at you now! You're sacrificing other people's happiness to fulfill your own wet dreams."

"It's all artificial! This 'happiness' is fake! You make us believe that it's all good!"

"But they're still happy. In the end, does it really matter where our happiness comes from? We're all bound to die, anyway. I'm going that way, too. I'll have to look for a successor soon… But that's a personal issue I'll deal with when the time comes."

The tone of her voice suggested that she had finished arguing with him. Matthew didn't feel quite ready to drop it yet.

"No," he stated boldly. "No, you're wrong. Happiness should be natural. You're trying to make the world 'perfect' to fit your goals. What's the point of living if there isn't a little suffering?"

"What's the point to living if it's all suffering?" she retorted just as boldly.

Matthew scoffed. "The monster isn't under my bed but on my bed."

Instead of being insulted, as he expected, she laughed. It sounded like the tinkling of a silver bell. In the nothingness Matthew could see that bell gleam as it swung back and forth, first slowly, and then building speed—and then all at once being cut off and drowned in silence.

"Think what you want."

Big Sister rose from the bed and passed by Matthew. She brushed his shoulder as she passed. Then, in a moment, she was gone. It was as though she had never even entered the room. Her body simply was consumed by the air, swallowed up by darkness. Matthew went to the lamp and clicked it on. The bed was neatly made as it had been before. He could faintly smell her perfume clinging to the sheets. He undressed and crawled in bed, turning the lamp back off. The darkness now was less complete. Light crept in from outside. Morning began to crawl in. No matter, he thought, Thursdays were his days off.

As he fell asleep his dreams came in bits and pieces. He remembered watching the wars being updated on the television set when he was little. He sat by his brother and they glared at the TV. This new power swept into the nation without warning. It dug its claws in and ripped away country after country. It began in the smaller countries, taking them over with sheer brute force and threat. Big Sister had followers from the beginning. What moved her, journalists conjectured, was her rough past of torture and alienation. Once the small countries were taken out and her army grew, she took over bigger and bigger countries. She took England and the rest of America's allies, enticing America to war. When this came up in his dreams, Matthew had a strange feeling. He felt as though he was personally connected with it all. As if he was the nation attacking.

Once America had attacked, Big Sister showed her biggest weapons. What they were, exactly, had been hidden by the press. Censorship poisoned everything, then. Soon Big Sister took over the rest of the world, a little at a time. It was a wonder how she didn't age.

It was also a wonder how Matthew and his brother didn't age. The program in his mind seemed to play for years, but he himself remained eight years old.

When someone questioned Big Sister as to how she could take over the world, she had once let slip that she had "an unlimited amount of time".

At first people were horrified of what she would do once she gained total control. When she proved good intentions that resembled the lofty idea of world peace, they calmed somewhat. Once she gained total control, helped by a group of rather shady looking individuals, she stepped on her podium of power and the rest played out. It seemed to Matthew that he grew up both before and after her rise to power. The feeling was strange. He asked his brother about it and his brother denied fiercely having anything like those thoughts. Matthew never believed him.

When Matthew woke in the morning, he was haunted by one particular phrase. It sounded like Big Sister's voice and it asked the question that made him hesitate.

"Am I really the bad guy?"

I do not own Hetalia

for clarification this is not a Human AU.

"Shady looking individuals" refers to the 2Ps

The final question is for you to decide

Inspired in part by 1984