Book IV

Julia Parson's Story

An accompaniment to 1984 by George Orwell

Julia Parsons tied her hair up in a severe bun at her nape, staring at her image in the mirror she was given as a member of the Inner Party. In the twenty years since she had turned her father into the Thought Police, her life had been on a fast track to success. Rewarded immensely, she had quickly become the troop leader of her division of Spies.

She had done her job well, denouncing hundreds of though-criminals. She had done so well, that she had become a member of the Thought Police six years ago. She tugged on her uniform, adjusting the sash around her waist. Tonight she was going to be awarded the position of Head of Thought Police, replacing the recently deceased O'Brien.

"Comrade Parsons," a voice from the telescreen boomed, "Ten minutes."

"Thank you, Comrade," she returned in a silky sweet voice, "I shall be there right away." She thumbed a button to turn off the telescreen, then gave it the finger. She turned around and scowled at her image in the mirror.

She had become quite pretty over time; Winston often said she reminded him of another Julia he had once known. Winston….Yes she spoke with him quite often. O'Brien had assigned her to him.

"You have the talent he requires to stay sane," he had said, patting her on the shoulder. "I leave him in your capable hands."

Little did he know that she was the worst possible choice of caretaker for such a daring rebel.

Over the past four years that she had been in charge of Winston Smith, she had slowly brought his mind back from that bloody nonsense the Party called re-ed. She learned of his affair with a woman named Julia, one who had been shot and killed ten years ago, and learned of their plans to overthrow Big Brother and the Party regime. She learned of the torments of Room 101. She learned to hate the Party more than she already did.

After she had turned her father in to the Thought Police all those years ago, she had hated the Party. She thought she was doing the right thing, and that Daddy would get better like they said.

They were wrong.

O'Brien had come to her, just days after her "heroic deed," and brought her to miniluv, the Ministry of Love. They led out her father, who smiled at her, and waved briefly. She had run forward, wanting to ask him what happened. But before she could speak, his brains splashed out on her Spies uniform. He slumped forward, his head blown apart by a bullet. She was too stunned to scream, but just stared stoically as they dragged her father's dead body away. O'Brien clapped her on the shoulder.

"Good work," he had said, "You have a bright future ahead of you."

Bright future indeed… She caressed the pistol strapped to her hip, the pistol that had shot O'Brien. She had turned him in for thoughtcrime lasts week, and the fool believed her accusations. He begged her to kill him, and she had gladly blown his brains out. She thought taking his life would make her feel better, make the hatred for the Party and its ways disappear, but all it did was make the flames of hate burn hotter in her heart.

She glanced at the bookshelf in the corner, copies of all the Party's books filled the shelves, but hidden inside a copy of War is Peace, was a battered and broken copy of the book. Winston had never retrieved it after he had been released from miniluv, and none of the idiot Party members had ever thought to destroy it, so she went to retrieve it herself. She had read every page of that book over and over again. It contained nothing she hadn't known since the tender age of seven, but she just couldn't put it down. She knew it was just a creation of the Party, as was the Brotherhood, but it consumed her just the same, fanning her burning hatred ever hotter. She wanted so much to be free, to see the world as an old woman had once told her it had been. But that damned Party…it denied her everything she wanted.

But she was smarter than they were. Her lips stretched into a strangely sweet smile. She was going to be free…everyone was. She wasn't like Winston and his Julia. She was better than them. Much better.

Sure, Winston's Julia had acted much like she herself did, and they had dreamed up the same plans as she. But they were stupid, and hadn't taken action on their plans, content to just accept what was as unchangeable.

Tucking the last of her hair into her bun, she picked up a briefcase and headed out the door. Hours worth of speeches, all handwritten, were neatly stacked and ready to go inside that briefcase. Hours of carefully patterned and toned words, slaved over for hours and hours to ensure her words were just right. Hypnotic and enchanting, she would lure the proles and Party members alike to her point of view.

Down with Big Brother.

So much time she had spent on this work. For so long had she practiced on Winston the use of tones and patterns to trick the mind into letting go of the rubbish that damned Party had engrained into their minds since childhood.

Down with Big Brother.

Oh yes…she was much smarter than anyone else… After years of careful planning and work over her masterpiece, she would finally do what her father, and Winston, had wanted so deeply.

Down with Big Brother.

She would bring them freedom. Everyone would be free. She would make sure of it. She would guide everyone with her melodious tones and perfect mindset. She would hold the world's hand and walk it down the path to perfection. Not the Party's foolish ideas of perfection, but her own, the true ideas.

Down with Big Brother.

Staring into the eyes of the masses of people gathered at her ceremony, she smiled. It was time. As she opened her mouth to speak, the hatred drained away. It was her time at last.

Down with Big Brother…

Viva Big Sister.