Disclaimer: I do NOT own the story, characters, names, and themes of 1984; they are all copyrighted to George Orwell and not me. The following characters, the High Priests, and my ideas about how Neo-Bolshevism will work out are the only things which belong to me.

"Ah, Squanda Squad 35, good to have you guys back. Mission's a success, I presume?" the gatekeeper of the cameflouged Eurasian base asked as he entered in the security code to let the squad proceed through the titanium blast doors.

"Thanks to our dedication and teamwork, yes, Private-Brother Sanios," Sergeant Oishizu smiled at the man as she and her troops passed by him and entered the barely-lit passageways to the underground facility. The tunnels and crisscrossing paths were all strange and new to everyone in the squad except Johnson. As a Disciple of Bal Or, he grew up in a commune built underground as was typical of the High Priest's lifestyle.

As the squad made their way to the central command center, they passed by and said hello to various other soldiers of their battalion. Some were discussing things, others were polishing their holy weapons, and still others were helping out in temporary shrines. Every single man and woman was always doing something, and knowing that the High Priests and First Ranks were always watching only encouraged them to work harder.

Finally, the squad of five made it to the command center, where various soldiers gave reports to their superiors and technicians did their tasks of sending orders, intercepting signals, and all the technical work of the center.

"Squanda Squad 35," a bald Second Rank by the name of Captain Roulier spoke to the squad as he finished filling out a form that would be sent to another squad. "Good to see you're back."

"Sir!" sergeant Oishizu said as she and her troops clicked their heels and saluted.

"At ease, brothers and sisters," the captain commanded, allowing the men and women to relax their stances a bit. "So, how did your mission go?"

"It was a complete success, sir," the Japanese woman reported. "We converted an enemy, made him willingly kill his comrades until he was dead, and then we vanquished all the rest in the brigade, with all of it on film starting from his confession…per your instructions, brother."

"Excellent. Project Divine Sight is moving along nicely with contributions from your team and others. May I have the video disk please?" he opened his hand to receive the item.

"Private-Brother Marcus," Oishizu commanded, and the Italian man took out the camera and gave the square piece of plastic and circuitry to his superior, who took it appreciatively.

"Brother, sir?" the Japanese woman asked as the captain handed the disk to a female technician and faced the squad.

"Yes, sister?"

"What else do you need to be done by us, sir?"

"Oh, well, I suppose you and your squad can take the next 24 hours off until further notice. Yes, why don't you all pay a visit to the makeshift shrine and do a little bit of praying. From there you can each do as you wish to relax for a bit. Eat, drink a little, perhaps even procreate with your brothers or sisters if your Variety allows it. I'll expect you all to be ready at 1200-tomorrow afternoon for whatever duties we may have for you. Understood?"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the five soldiers saluted and clicked their heels once again.

"Dismissed," the bald man saluted back and turned his attention to the duties he had in the command center as the squad exited for the shrine.

Shrines to Divine Retribution at military bases were very similar to the full-fledged shrines of cities and communities in that they possessed the same basic features: a cubic altar with each of the four High Priests facing out at each side, a torch lit by a flame of the sacred fires used in actual shrines to light and heat the room, and a simple tapestry that displayed a picture of the Moment of Retribution (the self-crucifixion of the High Priests upon white crucifixes of light).

The only differences between true shrines and the makeshift ones was that with the military shrines, the altar was a hologram-generator which displayed the images of the High Priests, the sacred torch fire was a simple reproduction used only for symbolism, and the tapestry was actually a blessed sheet of cloth with the images laser printed on it. Nonetheless, soldiers frequented these military shrines just as much as the real ones were by civilians.

The squad made their way through the tunnels and passageways to a yellow room with a large black cube in the center. Above it were realistic computer-generated holograms of the four High Priests, their forms each over 2 meters tall, facing out in four opposite directions. Deus Sonitum faced the East, Dea Umbrae to the South, Bal Or to the West, and Scorpious Scorpernous to the North. Each High Priest stood straight and tall, and below their forms and engraved in a white metal were the three principles and slogan of Neo-Bolshevism:

FAITH IS LAW.

DIVISION IS UNITY.

SUBMISSION IS FREEDOM.

THROUGH PHYSICAL PAIN AND MENTAL STRYFE

ARE WE FREED OF OUR SINS IN LIFE.

All in Eurasia knew these phrases and held them dear. The slogan was also more than just a slogan; it doubled as a blessing that united all the Eurasians in the Faith. Even these five soldiers knew that without these principles and ideas, they would all be feuding communities never in harmony with one another. And without the mental strength the High Priests rewarded to the Faithful who prayed for it, no soldier or civilian could ever accomplish the great tasks in their life alone.

"Everyone, to your altar," the sergeant told her brothers and sisters as they scattered to pray to their respected saints. Adolfina went to Dea, Johnson to Bal Or, little Louise sat in front of Scoprious's image, and Oishizu and Marcus kneeled before the mighty armored image of Deus. Once they were all in place, each Disciple began praying to their patron saints, thanking them for the strength and wisdom they had been given, and asking for the strength to continue to fight for the glory and honor of Eurasia.

They each ended their prayers with an amen, and then split up to go to different areas of the base. Adolfina headed for the underground target-range, hoping to max her skills out even more for a few hours and then go to her room to meditate, per her Variety's lifestyle. Marcus and Oishizu went to the warriors' lounge to grab something to calm their nerves like Squanda blood wine, and then relax a bit while listening to other soldiers' stories. As Johnson headed for his cot in the barracks to get some shuteye, a meek voice cleared its throat behind him.

"Hm? Oh, Sister Louise," he said as he faced the small girl, who looked at the ground as she began talking to the corporal.

"Um…Brother…I was…Um…" She stuttered, trying to find the right way to say what she wanted.

"Yes?" the German man said as he placed a comforting hand on the French girl's shoulder.

"I…I…Would you like to come work out with me?" she looked up at the man and flushed.

"Oh, of course, sister," Johnson smiled, which made the young lady smile in response as she walked alongside him and went from one tunnel to another to enter the gymnasium.

The base's gymnasium was a large arena encircled by a running track and steel and iron exercise equipment from the early part of the new millennia. Each exercise area had two or three stations at it for working out a certain range of muscles on the body and always had at least one set of weight-lifting bench stations near it too. In the center was a combat mat for low contact sparring and close-quarters combat training. Once every few weeks, the strongest warriors would take out the iron and steel melee weapons that were sacred to their Variety and would fight in mock battles until one opponent was tired or pinned to the ground. Soldiers who didn't fight could make wagers and bets using their rations or war trophies that belonged to them as a form of currency. Even still, winners and losers in bets and fights all had a hell of a time on Fight Night.

Johnson exited the males' locker room dressed in his crimson cotton jogging shorts and his magenta tank top, waiting near the exit way of the females' locker room for his workout partner to come. It wasn't a long wait as the young French girl came out and closed the door behind her. Little Louise wore her long strawberry blonde hair in a ponytail (instead of the usual bun for when she was in combat) and was in her copper-colored sports bra and her earthy-toned spandex bicycle shorts, both articles accentuating her petite yet full figure.

"Well, you look nice, sister," Johnson complimented the girl to make her feel a bit more comfortable around him.

"Th-Thank you, brother," she smiled back at him.

"So, where shall we go first? The treadmills?"

"Um, sure, that would be nice."

"Alright, after you, sister," Johnson bowed to the French teenager, who blushed a little and then skipped over to the four walking-machines with her partner following her in a light jog. The two were silent for a while as they each set the difficulty of their workout on their devices and still quiet when they started running. It took a good 10 minutes of jogging alongside each other in place for little Louise to finally say something.

Um, brother? She asked hesitantly through her inner voice.

Yes, sister? What is it? The brown-haired man asked. Using inner voices outside of combat was perfectly acceptable by the First Ranks and the High Priests' laws. The Faith trusted all that had an inner voice would never converse about overthrowing the Faith or defecting to the Enemy or anything treasonous. And even if one DID speak of such treacherous ideas through their inner or outer voice, the First Ranks said that they had divine sight from the High Priests to see who was a traitor in their midst.

Once in a while, there would be a rumor about a Third or Second Rank losing Faith and talking utter nonsense about not living under the Faith's ideals and saying that the High Priests were not real. But everyone knew these heretics were wrong; they always were. In fact, as far as anyone could remember, once the First Ranks took these heretics to the High Sanctum in what was once called the Vatican and talked with them, the heretics would return to society and immediately profess that they were wrong, the Faith was the only truth to the Universe, and that the High Priests were as real as anyone was.

Um…Never mind… the French girl said as she returned to focusing on running the remaining 900 meters on her pre-programmed course.

Are you sure, sister? Johnson asked, curious as to what the young girl could possibly want to talk about but was too nervous to say. It could have been…no, that couldn't be it.

Um…What…What did you think about last Fight Night's battle between Sergeant-Brother Anseilman and Private-Sister DeMoure?

Oh, well, I was rooting for Brother Anseilman since he's from my Variety. I especially liked how he wielded the war hammer so gracefully against Sister Demoure's sword batons. It's a shame he lost from dehydration, but it was a splendid fight. What about you? What did you think?

Oh, um, well, I was hoping Brother Anseilman would win too, but yeah, I liked the battle a lot as well. I really liked how even though she won, Sister DeMoure still stayed Humble by saluting Brother Anseilman as they took him to the infirmary to get him re-hydrated.

'Blessed be the Humble' after all, Johnson chuckled. Soon, Louise joined him in his mental laughter until they began laughing out loud for a bit. The two smiled at one another for a few moments, then returned to their running, saying nothing for a half-hour or so. During that time, Johnson would sneak long gazes at Louise as she ran in place; her long yellow-orange hair flowing behind her in its ponytail, her light form gracefully kicking her legs back and forth during her work-out, and her small but well-shaped bosom bouncing nicely as she continued to exercise.

Johnson was reminded of his sweet 14 year old daughter back home as he watched Louise. Though she always was trying to hide it, she looked up to him, and he knew it. A stray thought popped into his mind about having a relationship with the 14 year old. She lived, according to her profile information, in the same city as the corporal did, which meant that having her become a Disciple of his Variety or him, his family, and her all becoming Multi-Disciples was an option if he wanted to be coupled with her.

Before the Disciple of Bal Or realized it, his treadmill stopped running. He looked back at Louise to see that she had finished her run as well.

"What would you like to do next, brother?" she asked innocently as she wiped the dripping perspiration from her forehead with her wrist.

"Oh," Johnson began as he caught his breath. He didn't want to admit it, but he was getting old, and exercise wasn't what it used to be for him. "Well, what about the dumbbells?"

"Oh, well, I've…um, I don't do well with those, brother," Louise looked down in shame.

"It's ok, sister, I'll help you."

"R-Really?" she asked as she looked up.

"Of course, sister," he smiled back at the French girl.

"Alright!" the girl chirped

Later that night, after Johnson finished his meager meal of carrots and lean fowl sausage, he passed by his Japanese sergeant Oishizu, who was clad in her two sizes to big T-shirt and night pants, as modesty was required of Deus's Disciples. There meeting was chance, but it was enough to spark conversation.

"Sister," the corporal called to his commanding officer, who turned to face him with a professional smile.

"Yes, brother?"

"Where did you and Brother Marcus go after our after-battle prayers?"

"Oh, the warriors' lounge."

"Oh."

"Yeah, we both had about two shots of some aged Vita Vodka. Good, but strong stuff," she grinned. "What about you? I saw you and Sister Louise head somewhere together. Did she finally confess her feelings to you?" she snickered. Johnson wasn't the only one in the squad that knew Louise was in love with him. In all actuality, everyone in the squad but little Louise herself knew that they all knew about her feelings for the corporal.

"No…"

"Geez, brother…You need to decide for yourself how you feel about her soon."

"Why so soon, sister?"

"We officers were just given a seven day notice that our battalion will be shipping back home. There's something fishy about the whole thing if you ask me…" she sighed.

"Oh, well, thank you for telling me, sister. Good night," the German corporal waved good-bye to his superior, who did the same to him, and they parted ways to each head for their respected Variety's barracks.

Sleep did not come easy for the corporal as he switched between thoughts about Sister Louise and their battalion being pulled out of the war. Was the war coming to an end soon? He hadn't heard much about other battalions' progress in the war against Oceania, but surely with their superior technology, tactics, and their divine right, Eurasia was winning this war. And, as far back as he could remember, they had always been at war with Oceania. What would happen if they were no longer at war with their mortal enemy?

When this became too much for him to contemplate, he switched his thoughts to little Louise. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was well above the acceptable age to be coupled with. And yes, she was probably so enamored with Johnson that she would do anything to be with him, including changing her Variety to his. Males having multiple mates was not uncommon in his and her Varieties, so, there was nothing truly wrong about the whole idea of him taking a second mate. And, even though he knew his current mate was rather accepting of change in their relationship, especially the numerous styles of sex they tried out together some years ago, he wasn't quite sure how she'd feel about having a sister-in-coupling to share her mate with.

None of this was helping his insomnia as he covered his head with his pillow in frustration while he tossed and turned in cot. He tried to relax, but the sound of a few members of his Variety in the barrack making love to each other only made him less drowsy. But instead of hearing his sisters and brothers, he could only hear Louise's soft and innocent voice moaning in pleasurable bliss from his own actions. It was all too much for the corporal as he jumped out of bed and headed over to the barracks belonging to Scorpious's Disciples.

Louise was sleeping serenely when he arrived at her cot and began to caress her sweet teenage cheek, forcing her to open her eyes and see the German man gaze at her lustfully; just before he got into her bed and expressed his feelings for her.

The next day, the two Disciples parted from their embrace at the crack of dawn, Johnson putting his clothes on hurryingly to make it to his barrack before he would be missed and little Louise stretching her petite arms back. Still tired from the love-making of the previous night, she asked the corporal something she never had the time to ask him during their session together.

"Brother?" she asked in her delicate and meek voice.

"Yes?" Johnson turned around to face the girl, whose only cover was her copper-colored nylon blanket.

"Last night…Um…Does this mean that…you and I are, or will…?"

The corporal smiled sweetly at the young maiden and kissed her lovingly on her sweet lips.

"My dear, when we get home, we can make arrangements."

Her face glowed with joy as they both waved goodbye to each other. On his way out, the Disciple of Bal Or felt a sense of opportunity as well as the feeling of having a new start at his life. Of course, this wasn't without a few complications. Would Louise switch to his Variety? Would they all have to be Multi-Disciples? And of course, how would his current mate deal with this idea? But these thoughts could be saved for later; right now all that mattered was getting ready for the day's tasks and orders.

"And for the honor you and your squad have brought to your communities and Varieties, we First Ranks award each of you the Iron Rod of Bravery," the Arbiter proclaimed to the five members of Squanda Squad 35, who each stood in attention in their ceremonial uniforms of the Faith. Instantly the entire crowd of brothers and sisters of the Faith roared with praise as five First Ranks awarded the squad their ten-centimeter long iron cylinders encased in mahogany boxes. Each soldier took their symbol of honor and raised it above their heads to display to the crowd, who cheered and shouted in approval.

"Blessed be each of you for all you have done for the Faith and your people. Your valiant efforts have proven quite useful in our on-going war with Oceania. And through the actions of you and all your comrades-at-arms, we are closer to attaining peace by conquering these sinners," an Arbiter told the squad as each of them bowed in respect to the higher Ranked Disciple.

"It was our pleasure, Arbiter-Brother," Oishizu smiled. "We simply wanted to do the High Priests' will and help our brothers and sisters in whatever way we could."

"Well, we'll be sure that all of your good and selfless deeds don't go unnoticed, sister. Now," he turned to the audience of Disciples. "We must feast in celebration of our holy warriors! To the dining hall!"

And so they went to the grand hall and feasted upon the spoils of surplus the agrarians had to offer to their communities: duck, goose, venison, bottomless baskets of potatoes and other hearty vegetables, and assorted spirits of the finest variety. It was a grand feast, and not even the smallest child left the great tables without a full belly. But, work and pleasure always mix in the Faith, and so all Disciples and children worked together to clean up the messes they had all made.

An easy way to burn a few calories was by performing tasks such as hand-washing over two-thousand plates, wiping the grand tables down with wet and dry rags, storing the spare foods in frozen lockers and refrigeration units, and resetting the table to its pre-mealtime status. Finished with his duties for the night, the Disciples all diverged to their vehicles (chariots they were called) and left for their respected communities in the night. Johnson left with his family shortly after telling little Louise goodnight. He would still have to tell his mate that he wished to be coupled with a second woman, but that could be put off until later.

"What are you thinking about, lover?" Johnson's Italian wife Amelia asked as she strapped their infant son into his child-seat in their chariot.

"Hm? Oh, nothing," he smiled at her sincerely as he opened the door for their teenage daughter to enter in the other passenger side.

"So, father," the couple's daughter Anna asked. "How was the war? Did you kill a lot of sinners?" she nearly squeaked with joy.

"Several, and they all cried out for their Arrogant leader, too," he chuckled as he started the chariot and began driving back to their home.

"Aw! I wish I could have seen it," she said in a faux whine. "If I you two had allowed to join the Holy Army, I'd kill as many of those foreign sinners as I could."

"I know how you feel, Anna," Amelia sighed. "But, sometimes soldiers aren't the only ones needed in times of war. Think of your lesser age being a blessing."

"What do you mean, mother?"

"Well, if you had gone off to war," Johnson explained. "Who would help your mother at home to keep the house ready for us and help take care of your little brother? Your help around the house was just as important to the Faith and nation as my squad and I were."

"If you say so, father…" Anna sighed.

"So, dear," Amelia asked her mate as they continued their drive home. "Who was that young girl you were talking with? Was she a squad member?"

"Oh, Sister Louise? Yes, she was a real trooper in our squad, always fighting hard and being very quick-minded in the heat of battle," Johnson said.

"What Variety and Rank is she?"

"Oh, she's a Third Rank of Scorpious's Variety, and very devoted to the Faith. Kind of like a pair of other girls I know…" he chuckled as he peered back to see his daughter and mate both blush.

"Does she live near by?" Anna asked once her cheeks returned to their lightly tanned shade.

"Yes, we should invite her over, love," Amelia said.

"Well," Johnson thought for a moment. "I believe she said she lives in a community a few miles north of Branzveld. Sure, I'll be sure to ask her about that this week," he smiled as he continued toward his home several miles away, thoughts of a future life with Louise and his family together bringing joy to his heart.