AN: 1984 is the best book I´ve ever read (until today at least), and so I someday started to write this. It´s my first story that gets posted here, I hope you like it. Also, I have to apologize for all the mistakes I´ve made, but I´m no native speaker.

I think there will be 2 chapters in the end. I´m currently finishing the second.

Have fun!

Winston was on his way back to Victory Mansions. He had just received the book from a man he had never seen, and he still felt the numbness surrounding his mind. The book and the briefcase weighted nearly nothing, but Winston found it nearly impossible to carry it. He had a long way to go, because before he could turn to Mr. Charringtons house, he had to go to his old house and fetch some clothes. He halfway lived at Mr. Charringtons house already, so he had to take most of his things there. But carrying his stuff there seemed to him like coming home from an atrocious exile.

When he reached Victory Mansions, he went up the stairs trying to ignore his twitching ulcer, which on the other hand made him notice that it was much easier now to carry the briefcase. He reached his flat and wanted to open the door, as he noticed a small packet in white paper on the ground.

Receiving packets was a rare case. Everybody knew that the post was opened and checked in the Ministry of Love, so few people wanted to send things by post. The only things that were sended this way were important messages, documents, bills, tools or special things that you could order in the Ministries if you needed them, shortly: Everything that came from the Party. What would this be?

He took it up and read on the label that it was from the Ministry of Plenty. It ran:

miniplenty boon 6079 2 84

request gooddone causaquest upreg miniplenty depreq admin 1957

It was disturbing. He had never ordered anything this year except a fuse as once the old one got burned. Or was this a trick of the Thought Police? Maybe they wanted to know where he hung around these days and whether he came home anymore. But this also meant that they didn´t know already. At this thought he became more confident. Maybe he could really get away from them in his new home for a while. But now he had to be careful anyway. It was better to open it in front of the telescreen, maybe behind a chair, but in a way that his face was shown. Then he had to keep his face emotionless as everytime. But at first he would phone the Ministry of Plenty, more exactly: The Department of Requests, administration point 1657. He unlocked the door and went in. Then he quickly dialed the right number (which also stood on the label). Afterwards he had to wait for several minutes, while sweet music hummed out of the listener. Then a bored female voice said, "Hello. What can I do for you?"

"Hello. I´ve just received something that I haven´t ordered. Can you please look wether it has been sent to the wrong address?"

"Of course. Request number?"

"6079 2 84"

"Thanks. Please wait for a minute."

She seemed to have gone away from the telephone. Winston heard the sound that a pneumatic tube made, and then the Woman was back.

"I´m sorry. But here it is unmistakably written down that this request has been uttered from your home. I´ve got the document here."

"But this can´t be! I haven´t ordered anything since January!"

"I can´t help you."

Winston hung up.

Then he took the packet and laid a scrutiny on it. It would not be uncommon if it had come from the Thought Police. It was possible that they wanted to test his social behaviour, and he would fail if he didn´t give things back that didn´t belong to him. But then he thought that they surely wouldn´t kill him for that, and that it wouldn´t be that bad if he just opened it. So he sat down on a chair in sight of the telescreen and ripped away the paper. Inside there were things that made his eyes open widely in an astonishment much bigger than he had felt as he had first seen the room or the coral. At least 40 twinkling and sharp razor blades!

How long he had missed things like that! Now he wouldn´t again go to or ring up the Ministry of Plenty. But then he saw something else. On a paper, in a raw handwriting, he saw the words:

Do you really live, 6079 Smith W? If you know whether yes or no, contact me at my workstation. Have fun with the blades.

He wondered what was waiting for him. But possibly it was their first job they had to do for the brotherhood. But he had to be careful, of course.

At Mr. Charringtons house, he told Julia about the package and what had been in it. She also was of the opinion that Winston should answer it. But that would have to wait for the next day anyway. Winston spent the rest of the evening reading the book and finding out that Julia had fallen asleep after two chapters. He laid himself down at 11, because he had something special to do on the next day and therefore had to get up early.

It was 8 o´clock when he already was sitting in his cubicle at the Ministry of Truth. He had gotten up at six, leaving Julia sleeping. In this situation, it was again a bit difficult to stay cold and calm in front of the humming telescreen, because the thing he was up to do contained treachery of the party, and on the other hand it was his duty and he didn´t want to fail, and all that made him considerably nervous. But he managed to keep his face expressionless as he whispered into the speakwrite. After that he threw a the piece of paper that the speakwrite had written on into the pneumatic tube and waited. The tube could also be used for communication. He had sended a message exactly to the destination he had found on the label of the packet.

He waited.

Suddenly he heard a PLOP and another small paper sprung out of the tube. He was alarmed. Show no expression, he admonished himself as he unrolled it:

times 1.,2.,3.,4.,5. 08 1984 reporting war eastasia doubleplusungood rectify nowstat.

He sighed. That was only a job. He studied it for a moment – it meant that by now Oceania was again at war with Eurasia. No, not again, Oceania WAS at war with Eurasia: Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia. Eastasia was an ally, and the times of the denoted dates were reporting it falsely. He felt relief and anxiousness at the same time and wondered when a reply was about to come –

PLOP!

And that was the reply, as he found out as re read it.

At the end of the morning, the conversation had gone this way:

W: Thanks for solving my request, the razorblades were so sharp that I cut myself this morning.

M:Take care, you could die.

Winston had at that point realized that he somehow had to answer the question that he had read in the packet yesterday if he wanted further information, and he speakwrote:

W: I think I´d stay alive for a while.

Then it all had gone straight to the thing itself.

M: The brotherhood has been watching you for several years, and soon you would have been introduced. Unfortunately, the Thought Police has an eye on you, and now that you have been at O´Brien´s house and confessed that you would torture children with acid for the brotherhood, it is only a question of days, maybe hours when you and your woman get captured. O´Brien has deceived you. We recommend you to use our razorblades. Anyway, we hope that every strength of the world may be with the unbound soul of yours.

It is conspicious to write and receive more than six times in a row to and from the same place, so be careful with what you´re writing me.

W (after a long expressionless pause): What proof do I have that I´m talking to a member of the brotherhood now and not to one of the Thought Police?

M: If it were like that, we wouldn´t be talking now.

W: Good, I see. But can you tell me if there is any way of getting out here?

M: I´m afraid there is not. You will either die or get your mind cleared of any reality. Goodbrainmake, in Newspeak.

W: Well, they will have to kill me. I don´t intend to let them into my brain.

M: Very brave. You should know, we have the opportunity to heal you afterwards. For the unlikely case that they let you live, there is still hope for you. I´ve got to ask you a question. Are you ready to give your live for the brotherhood and let every bad thing of the world come down on you fulfilling your instruction? I know you´ve sworn it to O´Brien, but I need your assurance. You can´t escape the party. But there is still one thing you could do.

Winston sighed again. He speakwrote: Tell me about it.

M: This is the last message I am going to send. One more and there would be too many. If you see O´Brien again, and if you get away alive, and thats all that matters, please try to find out whether it could be possible to get him on our side. Good luck, and remember, there is hope. Just like our leader said.

Then it had ended. The Morning had already gone and Winston could go home to take a break. He was afraid, now that he knew that very soon he would get arrested and tortured and afterwards killed, but he was more determined than ever to stay alive for the brotherhood and for a time where thought would be free. He remembered how he had sworn to O´Brien that he would die for the Brotherhood, and that hadn´t changed, although O´Brien was going to evaporize him.

He came to the shop and went in, to find it empty. Wondering where Charrington could be, he entered the room.

It was empty too. Nothing seemed to be wrong, but Julia wasn´t there. He looked nervously around, feeling his fear rise. Surely they had taken her. Suddenly he noticed a familiar sound, so familiar that he could puke everey second. He turned around. There he saw it. The picture was gone, and now there hung a cold and maddening telescreen.

Mr. Charrington was suddenly there. He had waited in a corner behind the Wardrobe. "Oh my, oh my," he said, "the evil betterthinker. Get him!"

Winston heard a tap behind him and then received a blow on the head by a rubber truncheon that sent him sleeping a the sleep of a dead man.

Winston had to go through every single thing that waited in the Ministry of Love. He was beaten, hurt and humiliated, then his thougts got sweeped out – by O´Brien, who seemed to have his fulfill in teasing him and tearing down his intellecual views step by step, piece by piece.

There was nothing, no real reality, and he was only a shell that contained nothing of importance. There was only the Party, and there was Big Brother, the only thing that existed.

He was a better human. He made no crimes anymore, and his loyality was for the party, and therefore he was happy. His whole life was happy. He ate and ate.

But then, the evil came up again within his mind, and again he denied everything that made the world: The Party. And he hated Big Brother. Because he loved Julia. But O´Brien said that he was on a good way and ready to take the final step: Room 101. And there he betrayed her, and he fell down, until Big Brother came to save him from his endless fall through time and space.

Stupid, self-willed exile from the loving breast!

The long hoped-for bullet entered his brain...

He loved Big Brother...