A/N

This crossover made me to listen while writing it album Diamond Dogs (which is based on 1984) by David Bowie and classical American anti communist song Ain't I Right which in my headcanon fits Paperman much. I want to refer to both songs, Diamond Dogs and Ain't I Right later in the story.


Love: That was something tabboo in the society. A natural human instinct supressed by The Party: Anything connected with sexuality was banned. This was a harsh reality in the superstate of Oceania. If someone still had in themselves and a bit of hope, so faith in God, they themselves had to knew that what the Party is doing is against nature.

This all made our young clerk's starting romance all the way more complicated. Inside there he was full of joy and love, but on the outside he had to act like a robot without emotion. His childhood was difficult, there was no living relative, and now that something above us had given him the girl of his dreams . . . no, it couldn't go wrong, not at any price.

Wars raged all the time and the young man didn't even know what year he was born. According to the general agenda is 1984, but what if the 1980s and 1984 are not at all? What if things are very different and the real year is unknown?

Despite the perils of those forbidden thoughts, he went on: What if in reality the twentieth century is not at all and he can live in 2020, 2070 or even 2200?

Here, though, these were dangerous thoughts, and he could go no further, knowing very well that everything was wrong. It also had to do with the feeling that he felt that at least he didn't belong in the eighties and his real place was 40-30 years ago.

Bullshit, he wasn't even born at the time, and something told him instinctively that there couldn't have been technologies like this at the time.

Although he himself felt that he belonged in the past, this idea that he was actually living in the distant future fascinated him one way or the other. He would like to draw his ideas on paper and describe them, but fantasy was probably the same taboo as natural human sexuality. For he liked to imagine the futuristic technologies that humans had to invent since the 1940s and 1950s, the years in which he felt he belonged into. From spaceships, virtual reality, robots to encountering aliens. Reality, but there was one big dystopia, not an optimistic future if in fact there was a distant future.

He couldn't draw his ideas on paper, and certainly not on the work paper, so he liked to draw it in with ink on his palm at work, even though his hand was dirty from filling to pen.

No matter how hard the government was, the part of his soul that a lot of people would tell him he was a child and had not grown up wasn't taken away by anyone.

He worked at branches of one of the Ministries as an accountant and accounted for stock movements: Actual numbers were charged, and he was obliged at work to tell no one about actual numbers, while propaganda created by Ministry of Truth lied about "improving living standards."

It didn't matter how much advanced technology Big Brother used to spy on the population, it didn't change the fact that on the economic side (which he, as a man with a little economic education, knew), the backbone of everything, the government began to fall, and it became clear that the fall of government by an economic crisis if not revolution (which was impossible) was inevitable.

But at that moment the young man was immersed in his imagination again, drawing his sci-fi creations on his hand instead of manual accounting.

He was startled when his boss, an only actual member of The Inner Party known there stopped him by grabbing his arm and said with a sharp look into his eyes:

"Focus on work George. After what happened last time I have a duty to look out at you. Remember, comrade, paper is not to be wasted, and certainly not these documents."

George looked at his hand, his sci-fi drawings were gone after this unexpected unwanted touch and now his hand was dirty from blue ink smudges.

"Ahhh..." He murmured for himself seeing his drawings gone and his hand now dirty. He returned back to doing his jobs and again only seen from the monthly statements how the situation was bad.

Supplies of production were running low, most of the workers had gone to war, and an economy based on nationalization and commutarianism? The final nails to the grave of this monster which called itself a state.

There was no one to mine or produce, manufactured goods became scarce.

English Socialism or as the fully was ideology of IngSoc called was digging up a grave to itself.

Paper, clothes, cigarettes, even paradoxically condoms over the ban on sexuality or even ordinary toothbrushes.. all were now in short supply.

George as a member of The Outside Party had to go through the poverty and he hated it way more as he knew the actual numbers.

The only thing which today brought smile back to his face was meeting her again after job, somewhere without screens.

In this case forest. It was a nice change from the city, you'd want to live there these days.

"M-Meg.." He finally took bravery to speak up to her, to his surprise, she held the paper plane which brought them together.

"Don't worry, we have privacy here." She said with much more happier voice, starting to hold his hand.

George felt at the moment some kind of relief.

"When you told me the story about how you met me, it felt like a-"

"Fairy tale?" He asked, standing in the field nearby the forest still dressed in his work dress, looking at her as she held the paper plane.

"Yeah." She nodded looking at the paper plane "Even though these things are not suppossed to exists according to those assholes from Thought Police."

George at the moment froze as he heard "Thought Police". He knew very well what this enforcement was and the idea of becoming one of their victims wasn't pleasant either.

"I'm working on the same Ministry as you because they promoted me for some reason. I despise them."

"Ministry of Plenty? That's why I seen you in the building next to?"

She again nodded and he came to her. His loveful hug was something they both needed together.

Even though she was a classical girly girl, she had some kind of a rebelious spirit and motivation; something where he needed a whole bunch of magical paper planes to move him up when they met.

"I don't know my real family or my real last name. I only know my name is George."

She looked at him.

"War?"

He hadn't respond, he just looked sad in eyes, but then he tried to change topic.

"Do you really believe this nightmare will ever end here Meg?"

"George, both you and me knows very well how their economy is bad. It's only a matter of time."

He again started helding her hands in which she held the paper plane with the kiss mark. They kissed.