Winston sat in the bed that was in a room above the store run by Mr. Charrington. He had rented this room to have a safe place, where he could get away and be with his love Julia for just a little bit. He looked at Julia with a feeling of contentment as she sat in the corner preparing tea, although the water had gone cold. Down in the courtyard, a woman was washing clothes while singing a drabble of a song, one of the pieces of garbage produced by the Ministry of Truth every day, but somehow this one had outlasted the Hate Week Song.
Slowly Winston rose from the bed and stepped over to the window. As he looked down at the singing woman, Julia moved beside him.
"Look at her," whispered Winston. "Despite all her years of toil and labor, she's still beautiful, in her own way."
He looked at Julia lovingly, but before he could go on, they were both startled by a buzzing noise that seemed to come from a nightstand drawer near the bed. Cautiously, Winston walked to the nightstand and quickly opened the drawer. Inside there was a small black object, which was making the buzzing sound by vibrating on the wooden bottom of the drawer. Warily, his hand trembling, he picked it up. As if sensing his grip, it snapped open, causing him to jump in surprise. Julia moved beside him, and they saw two speakers on opposite ends of the extended object. Winston put the top speaker to his ear and listened.
"Mr. Smith."
Winston's head jerked back as a voice came from the object. It was apparently some sort of telephone, although it was unlike any phone that Winston had seen.
"Yes," he replied uncertainly.
"Do you know who this is?"
"Yes." There was no denying who Winston was talking to. That voice was heard by every person in Oceania every day, a voice heard and reviled. "Goldstein."
"That's right. Now, the Thought police are coming for you. I assume you are not surprised. In fact, I believe you have been expecting them for a while. Nevertheless, we need you Smith, so you will need to get out of there. If you're wondering how they knew, there is a telescreen behind the portrait of the chapel on the wall. Don't run downstairs, Charrington is a member of the Thought Police."
Winston felt the beginning of panic to form within him. He could know instinctively that everything Goldstein had said was true. Glancing at Julia with a concerned look, he asked, "What should we do?"
"Go to the window and open it."
Winston walked over to the open window with Julia.
"Now, jump out the window, and go into the courtyard. One of my people will meet you there."
Winston held the phone to his ear as Goldstein's voice was replaced by silence. He snapped the phone shut and put it in his pant pocket.
"Julia, they are coming for us. We have to get out of here, and to do that we need to jump out this window. I'll go first, then you jump and I'll catch you," said Winston as an iron determination to cling to life formed within him.
"I will follow you wherever you go," replied Julia calmly.
Winston nodded and got out onto the window ledge. Before he made the jump, it occurred to his preoccupied mind that the woman's singing had stopped. It was then that he realize dhow high he was. He was only on the second story, but it felt like a long way down. Gazing back at Julia, he marshaled his courage and stepped out into thin air.
Down he fell, slamming into the ground with only a dead hedge breaking his fall. Pain flashed through his head a she heard something snap. He sat there for a second as he recovered his breath, then pulled himself to his feet and looked up at the window ledge.
"Come on," he said, holding his arms out.
Julia nodded in acknowledgement, and stepped out onto the ledge. Straightening, she was illuminated in the glow of the suns rays, casting her as an almost holy figure.
"Julia," whispered an awestruck Winston.
That image was shattered a second later by the ringing sound of a gunshot, and Winston's awe turned into horror as a bullet erupted from Julia's left breast. Silently, she crumbled, limply falling off the ledge and slamming into the ground below with a sickening thud in an action that seemed to take an eternity to the shattered Winston. He screamed as she fell, and crouched down to try and find a sign of life, anything at all, but it was obvious that Julia was dead.
He closed her eyes as he was wracked with sobs. Looking up at where Julia had stood, he was shocked to see Charrington there with a pistol. Goldstein had told him that Charrington was with the Thought Police, but seeing him there, that kindly old man who gunned down Julia in cold blood.
Any further weeping was was interrupted by what happened next. Behind him came an godawful noise, like a cross between ripping and a gunshot, and he whirled around to see the singing woman from before with some sort of rifle, shooting at the window. Looking back at where Charrington was standing, he was astonished to see the man moving at inhuman speeds, almost dodging bullets. But that wasn't possible...was it, though Winston.
"Smith, get a move on," yelled the woman in a cold voice. Winston looked back at her like a deer in headlights. She could tell his emotional reserves were gone and he would crash any second unless she acted fast.
"Damn it," she muttered, as she pulled him away from where Julia lay on the ground. Throwing him away, she yelled at him, "Unless you want to end up like her you run."
Winston looked at her, scared out of his wits, then took off running. The woman fired a burst at Charrington, then followed after him, while the Agent fired after her with his pistol.
Winston ran, he ran as he never had before. The pain from the varicose ulcer on his leg was nonexistent as he pounded down the streets of the Proletariat Areas, oblivious to the possibility of being stumbled on by the roving police patrols that ensured the Proles stayed in their place. Behind him he could hear the sound of gunfire, but it didn't register in a mind that was at this moment totally devoted to fleeing what he had seen in the courtyard.
His flight was brought to an abrupt halt by the appearance of Goldstein's face in front of him. At first Winston's dazed mind thought that Goldstein was there in person, but he then realized that Goldstein had somehow hijacked as telescreen so it showed his face instead of the usual picture of Big Brother.
"Winston, go left," said Goldstein, his head nodding in that direction.
Winston, grasping at the plank thrown to him, took off to the left. Whenever he came to another intersection, Goldstein would be waiting at that telescreen, directing him on. He could see as he ran that he was heading deeper into the Proletariat Zones, and the buildings got even more decrepit, if that was possible.
Finally, as his limbs caught up to the labor they had been performing and his lungs began burning from all the running, he found himself at the entrance to a buildings basement. He stood there, unsure of what to do next. His silence was interrupted by the arrival of the woman from the courtyard, who was carrying her rifle with the air of a veteran.
"Good, you made it," she said, and he could only nod in response. Moving over to the door, she rapped out a secret knock, and stood there as something bustled inside. A slit opened up in the door, and whoever was behind it got a good look at the woman, then snapped it shut.
Finally, the door opened, and the woman was let inside. She motioned for Winston to follow her, then went down herself. In the basement was a small pub, serving Victory Gin, and, to his alarm, containing a telescreen. His fear quickly abated when he saw the familiar picture of Goldsteins face.
"Yes, Mr. Smith, there is a telescreen here. It is mainly for appearances though, and the Thought police cannot plug into it, which allows us to work unmonitored. Now, down to business. I am very sorry about Julia. She certainly had promise in her, and her death must have affected you tremendously."
As Winston moved in front of the telescreen the woman took over talking. "Winston, we want you to join with us, to work with us to bring down Big Brother."
Winston looked at her in confusion. "But I already swore loyalty to the Brotherhood."
Goldstein gave a small chuckle. "Oh dear. Mr. Smith, O'Brien never worked for us in any way. He, like Mr. Charrington, is a member of the Thought police, whose purpose was to attract dissenters, making them easy marks for the Thought Police."
Winston's heart collapsed in his chest once again. He had thought that O'Brien was a kindred soul, someone who understood his struggles, who knew what he thought and approved, who shared his hatred of the system that ruled them all. With the knowledge that O'Brien had never been his friend, his mind turned to the book he had been given.
"And the book?"
"A fake, written by the Thought police as part of their deception, although it's analysis of this world is correct enough for our purposes. Now I must ask. Despite everything you have seen and heard, will you still work with us?"
Winston answered without a thought. "Yes. Julia must be avenged, and O'Brien and Charrington must pay for what they have done."
Goldstein gave a rueful smile. "If only it were as easy as the conviction in your voice makes it seem. We will now administer the pledge. Talia, if you will."
Talia moved in front of the telescreen and raised her left hand. Winston raised his right hand in response.
"Do you pledge to help the Brotherhood, the true Brotherhood that is, to overthrow the tyrannical system that grips this world?"
"I do."
"Do you pledge yourself to a possible life of endless toil and obscurity, where your work may be of vital importance to the Brotherhood, yet no one will ever know your name?"
"I do."
"Do you pledge yourself to the belief that all men are endowed with certain inalienable rights, among them life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness?"
Winston paused to think about that for a second, then responded, "I do."
"Do you pledge your solemn belief that a government exists for the people, by the people, and that when that government no longer serves the people, it is their right and duty to dissolve that government?"
"I do."
"Very well," said Goldstein. "Welcome to the Brotherhood. Now, I am sure that you will want to get some rest after your trying times this afternoon. Talia will show you to your temporary quarters. If you will excuse me, I have some pressing matters to attend to. Good day, Mr. Smith."
Goldsteins face was replaced with that of Big Brother as he cut the link, a chilling reminder of their current position in this society.
Talia walked over to the dart board on the wall, and pushed in the scoring zones in a coordinated manner, causing a section of the wall to open up. Looking around, Winston realized that every person currently in the pub must be a member of the Brotherhood, not that that wasn't pretty hard to figure out, seeing as it took a secret knock to get in. He just wondered how many of them were traitors or Thought Police Plants. Talia motioned to the entrance. "Come on Smith."
Winston walked over and stepped inside the hidden room. Talia followed him as the wall swung back into place in the quiet bar, where only the sound of the telescreen was audible.
As he entered the secret room, Winston was surprised to see that it was empty. Without looking back, Talia moved over to one of the corners, and reached down. Grasping a hidden seal, she lifted up part of the floorboard which had looked to Winston like concrete. She explained as she placed it down off to the side.
"With the Though Police bring so strong, we have to take multiple precautions. If we make it extremely hard to get to the actual secret base, they may give up before they reach it," she said as Winston walked over to her.
Looking into the hole, he saw that there was a short drop down, but there wasn't anything that looked like a ladder. Talia saw the train of his thoughts and mot5ioned to the side of the hole. "The ladder is drilled into the side of the hole here."
Leaning over further, Winston could see the holes in the wall that were used as ladders. Sighing, he clambered down the hidden ladder and looked down the tunnel as Talia closed the panel above him and climbed down as well. Winston, his adrenaline gone and exhaustion hitting him, followed after Talia as she led the way down the tunnel.
They emerged into a large common area, with bare walls, and some chairs and tables scattered around it. There were multiple tunnels leading into the chamber besides the one they had come out of. Talia pointed at each in turn as she rattled out where they led.
"Armory, command center, bunks, kitchen, showers."
Winston looked around in astonishment. "How did all this get built?"
Talia smiled. "It was all like this when we found it. We think it was a place to shelter guerrilla fighters if the Nazi's ever invaded during the Second World War. Do you remember that war?"
Winston's brow furrowed as he wracked his brain. "No, I remember the Revolution and the nuclear bombings, but not any war before that."
Talia shook her head. "Sorry for asking. The nuclear bombing and the Revolution were part of a different war. Though, with what the Ingsoc Party has done to history, it's a miracle that people still remember what day it is.
"Well, I'm sure the Party would like to destroy that too."
"Of course. Fortunately, people like you are here to stop them. Now, I suggest you get some sleep. We don't need you crashing, and you'll have a lot to do in the morning."
Winston nodded wearily and started towards the tunnel that Talia had pointed out to him earlier as leading to the sleeping areas. Before he entered the tunnel he looked back at Talia, who was standing near the middle of the room watching him.
"Talia," he asked. "How long have you been part of the Brotherhood?"
Talia looked surprised by the question. "Nine years. Why?"
"I just need to know what kind of devotion to this I'm going to have to match." Winston turned away and walked down the tunnel, leaving Talia standing there with a shocked expression on her face.
Goldstein's eyes snapped open as the metal plug connecting him to the ship's computers relinquished its hold over his mind.
"Welcome back sir," said his operator as he moved the chair back from it's recline into a sitting position.
"Thank you Iceberg. It's always good to wake up in the real world once again," replied Goldstein as he rose from the chair. He walked around to the bank of monitors that projected the Matrix, which was currently looking at the sleeping Winston.
Iceberg walked around him and sat down in the operator's chair. "So, this smith guy. You think we'll need to keep him in the Outer Circle?"
Goldstein frowned. "I don't know yet. I think we need to give him some more time to recover his mental and emotional strength. The knowledge that the world he lives in is a computer simulation designed to keep humanity in chains could destroy him."
Iceberg nodded in understanding, and redirected the image on the screen to the Ministry of Truth in London. "So, what are we doing next?"
"I think it is time to take the fight to the Thought police for once. We have been in hiding long enough. They need to have their feathers riled up. And although we cannot kill the thought police, we can do something even better. We can make them afraid." He frowned for a second as he thought of what they could do to show the thought police they were still a going concern. They hadn't done any major operations in a while, and he bet the Thought Police thought they were afraid to act. "Well, have Talia show Winston the ropes when he wakes up. And send a runner to contact Jigsaw. We'll need his help on this one."
"Right sir," replied Iceberg as he put the headset on and started typing on the keyboard in front of him.
Goldstein exited the Matrix room, as the crew called it, and walked through his ship towards the bridge, his mind contemplating actions they could take against the Thought Police. Taking a moment to rest his mind, he reached out his hand and brushed the interior side of his ships hull. He was one of the oldest captains in the fleet, having been with the Resistance from the beginning, and both he and the Liberty Bellshowed their age. He had been through a lot of good fights against the Machines, and while his ship was battered, it was not broken, not by a long shot.
Stepping onto the bridge, he checked the radar to make sure that the other ten ships in his fleet were still there, then settled himself down in the Captains chair for some restive meditation. He liked to come up here to relax, since the Liberty bell felt like home to him, even more than Zion did.
As he leaned back with his eyes closed, he broke into a smile. An idea had just flitted int his mind, a good thought of what he could do. He sighed to himself. Yes, this was where he belonged. He wouldn't give it up for anything else, not even if he could go to a utopia.
