Ten years later…

Evey Hammond bolted up from her bed in a cold sweat. Her breasts were trembling with the rest of her body, and her eyes were full of tears. It was the nightmare again, one which had plagued her for the last ten years.

It was always the same dream. She would be sitting in a field of grass, the sun setting over the city of London. The birds were chirping, the flies were buzzing, and the trees were blowing in the cool wind. Suddenly, the ground would shake beneath her, and the roar of an engine would be heard in the distance. When she turned to face it, there was the British Army in all its glory. Evey would sit and stare in confusion, and then overhead she would hear jets rush through the air, followed by a loud explosion upon the soldiers. A thick cloud of smoke would cover the Army, and Evey would cough as though the smog had just penetrated her throat. As the smoke settled, she would see perhaps the most horrifying sight of her life: skeletons in army outfits, their bodies fixed perfectly upright as though nothing had happened. And from there, a familiar voice would echo into her ear: "Hello, Ms. Hammond!"

And before she could name the voice, Evey would wake up in a pool of sweat and tears, shaking with fear. She never understood the dream, but she knew that she wanted it to end.

Ten years had passed since the destruction of the Parliament Building and the subsequent ousting of the Norsefire Party, and since then the country had fallen largely on hard times. Labor was down, inflation was up, and poverty was at an all-time high. Evey had chosen to continue her work at the British Television Network, which somehow managed to survive the dying economy. And she had married a fairly wealthy man who once worked with the government, and was now a producer of the nation's most popular television show. Eric Finch sat up next to Evey, awakened by her sudden reaction. He stared into her eyes, fully aware of what had happened. Still, with the common concern of a husband who pretends to be somewhat unaware, he asked her, "What's wrong, love?"

Evey clutched the blanket tightly, ready to burst into tears. "Oh Eric," she sighed, "I had that dream again. I don't understand it Eric, I just don't…" Finch took his wife into his arms and caressed her gently. She buried her head in his arms and sobbed like she had never sobbed before. Finch held her tightly, fearing for the safety of his wife. He did not understand her dreams, but he feared that she would one night snap and murder both of them in a crazed effort to understand it for herself. "Evey darling," he whispered, "maybe you should go see a doctor or a specialist to help you understand the dream."

Evey knew that her husband meant well, but she hadn't seen a shrink in seven years. For three years, she had seen perhaps hundreds of therapists about her nightmare, and none of them could conclusively tell her what type of problem she had. She had heard phrases such as "post traumatic stress disorder," "generalized anxiety disorder," "major depressive disorder" and others over a thousand times already, and she was now thoroughly convinced that the psychiatric community did not understand what it was doing. Hell, one psychiatrist actually suggested that the source of her nightmares was her husband! This particular therapist diagnosed Finch with erectile dysfunction, while, Evey had heard, the same man had been unable to bring even his secretary to her climax. The nerve of some people!

Finch knew as well that his wife had a problem with psychiatrists; she never hid her feelings from him nor any man. The British Publishing Corporation had named Evey a "poster girl for British feminism," something which Finch actually viewed as a source of personal pride: his ability to love and live with an outspoken feminist like Evey was the envy of his personal friends who always claimed that they saw nothing wrong with feminism, but insisted on remaining in control of the household. Still, he feigned unawareness to express his heartfelt concern for the wellbeing of his wife. Finch continued to hold Evey tightly in the glow of the moonlight, their souls merging as one in a symbol of their undying love. The lives of ordinary Britons, Finch knew, had been changed forever by the events of one November fifth, ten years ago tomorrow. Some had changed for the better, and some…for the worst.