This is something i did for an enlish assignment. I liked it and it got 95%. But if you dont mind, id realy like to see what everyone else thinks XD
The problem in Oceania continues to increase dramatically with another 13 infiltration attempts by Eurasia this month ending in the loss of agents. We refuse to give up until big brother is stopped. 8 more of our excellent men will be snuck in next week. No threats have yet to be directed towards us but always be on alert, keep your families safe and get inside by curfew as per usual.
Stay safe and keep up the work.
The notice board above the dark grey building known commonly to the -what used to be- Russian people as the Centre of infiltration, portrays its daily update and supposing 'motivational' support. As the dictating rule of big brother continues to reign over the entire population of Oceania, another form of dictation and control rules over those whom reside within Eastasia and Eurasia. One that goes unnoticed by its workers or 'agents'. Non stop work quick breaks and less education meant things slipped through the cracks, crime rate increased and death was common early. People were dying from stress.
Long hours and endless headaches are the usual repercussions from a day in the 'Sneak System'. Fast paced high intensity and very lonely lifestyles didn't make for the happiest people. And when you have been working there fore 18 years like Dmitrii Podgornov you know that they will not go away. When the takeover of Oceania occurred and the divide between the three Lands was finalised the officials never really had much contribution to the link or coordination between the three states. Eventually a 'war' of sorts developed in Oceania and all ties to the 'dead world' as it was now called, were severed. They were isolated and according to the government officials of Eastasia and Eurasia this meant danger. They began to form cults and allegiances whose sole purpose was to gain information to the leading party operating Oceania. This is where Dmitrii resides. Chief drafting officer for the royal society of conflict. Their key job being the drafting of young, healthy ordinarily looking boys to use as spies, they send them into Oceania to try and gain insight. None have ever returned from this courageous journey across enemy lines. This may seem like they are wasting their time, a suicide mission, but although not all return home some do survive. And somehow, someway, they have been sending information back. An anonymous infiltrator has gotten basic details of the life the people of Oceania live. And Dmitrii trained these spies not only to infiltrate and gain information on their enemy, but in the art of assassination.
Dmitrii walked into the shooting range with his usual grim, tired look on his face. He was a very intimidating man. Around 32 years of age and closer to 7 feet than to 6. In Other, less dire circumstances he may have even been considered handsome. But the sneak system was secretive and strictly male. Women were a liability, any attachment to children and women were seen as selfish. If you had a chance of dying behind enemy lines, and you had a family, you were only hurting them. The terrible thing is that you barely had a choice. You were of the lower class and could not do secretarial jobs; you were allocated jobs decided upon by your application test. A test taken of every male when reached the age of 14. Dmitrii checked on all the new recruits making sure they were progressing forward at a pace that the sneak system deemed acceptable.
One by one he walked behind the young boys, holding their guns for the first time, not really knowing what to do with it, but feeling fairly powerful. He stood behind the first boy who noticeably cringed and shied away from someone with such physical and official superiority over him, even whilst wielding a gun the boy couldn't help but be intimidated. Dmitrii, having dealt with many young boys first fire calmly and routinely instructed how to hold the gun. Dmitrii at a few points had to raise their elbows or arch their backs, and each time the boys would flinch, one even squealed to the intense delight of the other boys in the room. But Dmitrii felt nothing, this was routine, these boys would be drafted at a young age usually by the age of 15, sent off to classes by aged 20 and presumed missing or dead by 25. It was harsh but it was recommended for the best to not get attached. This is why families were forbidden. As the children left Dmitrii sat in the small break room, on the small table with his head in his hands. He offcourse had to eat, although he never took enjoyment in it, no matter what it was. Today he mechanically unwrapped and ate his lunch hoping and willing the day to go by, so he could get home. Home wasn't much more than a bed, bathroom and kitchen. You lived in a dormitory of sorts with the physical trainers, nutritionists, strategists and all the other teaching staff who were part of the order. It wasn't much but it was the only place which held any remote joy whatsoever. And the reason for that was he was alone. Serene and peaceful enough to think. When working he was always busy, there is no way you can slip up in a shooting range, the result of one reverent though could be fatal. The boys were uncontrollable and didn't seem to realise that they were holding death in their hands. For lack of words they were idiots.
Dmitrii longed for those few hours at night he would get, alone in his bed just, thinking, it didn't matter what about, but thinking in general. Lately it seemed to be on his loneliness. He longed for a relationship, not purely with a female, it didn't need to be sexual, and it didn't need to be based around love. All he wished for was companionship. But contact was a very rare and uncommon condition found within the stoic walls of the centre of infiltration. But oh how he longed for it. But his routine just wouldn't allow it and truthfully he was not the easiest person to make a connection to. Set jaw and monotone voices don't make for healthy mutual conversation. If only they knew. What a mask it was. The only person who ever truly did know was Nicolai. Nicolai was a 16 year old boy who was drafted about 3 years ago. The boy came in; Dmitrii would never forget it, visibly shaking. He was nervous and shy. He was actually a lot like Dmitrii when he went through his own training. Dmitrii felt an instant connection to the boy, who it turns out, was a natural gunman. When he controlled his shaking first. Whilst in patrol one night he found the boy on the communal balcony, he was crying. It turns out he left his mother alone with 4 other children. His father died 3 days before his drafting. Dmitrii's own parents were actually in Oceania the last time he saw them, he was 12 years old and they had gone to a wedding in Europe somewhere. An acquaintance of his fathers. Dmitrii was not permitted to go and made to stay home in Siberia with his aunt. A week later came the revolution and his parents were trapped in the dead world forever. Dmitrii and Nicolai sat talking for hours on end, they had lost track of time. Eventually of course the sirens rang and combat and strategic classes began. 5 or so months later, Nicolai finished his training within the order and was sent into Canada as an infiltration assassinator. Dmitrii never heard of the boy again. As was the usual. Dmitrii thought of the boy often. Although he spent such a short amount of time together and did little communication. They understood each other and the hardships it takes to live in a world where compassion means nothing. And you work solely for the benefit of others, others you have not met nor truly care about.
The siren rang signalling the next class to come in, third years, always a drag but it was the last session of the day, too bad each session went for 4 hours...