So they had finally come to kill him, only he was not dead.
Winston Smith still breathed.
He found himself in a strange world though, one where the very fabric of reality seemed to be crumbling.
His surroundings began melting and so too did he.
Winston would scream but his throat had already disintegrated.
From the distant plane of the 13th Reality, Mistress Jane had watched in barely concealed amusement.
It seemed that there were more than just 13 simple realities, why in a reality thousands of realities seperated from her own, she had stumbled across a world in the clutches of a totalitarian government. A world she knew would be trivially easy to dominate...
