1984

1984It was in the park, on a vile, biting day in March when the Earth was like iron and all the grass seemed dead and there was not a bud anywhere except for a few crocuses which had pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind. Winston Smith was hurrying along with frozen hands and watering eyes when he noticed a familiar man passing by.
1984It was rear for a man to look back at another these days; it was rear for a person even to speak to another freely, let alone a stranger, outside in the open air. But when that person passed by Winston, right after the first glance when the both of them turned their heads back to catch a second, none of them could resist. It was as if they knew each other their entire life, as if they knew each other better than they knew themselves and yet, they have never met before.
1984 “Winston?” The stranger asked surprisingly, freezing on the spot. It was an impossible sight for him, to be staring at a character his own mind made up. How was it possible for Winston to even exist?
1984 “Have we met before?” Winston asked confusedly. He could not recall seeing the stranger’s face before, nor hearing his voice, but something about that stranger was too familiar to be ignored. The odd thing was that he did not remind Winston of a forgotten memory or fairytale, but of a person; an entire person that he no longer knew or even remembered clearly. Perhaps somebody from his past, perhaps a person he should have never forgotten.
1984 “No, I suppose not.”
1984 “But you know my name. How can you know my name if we’ve never met?” Yes, it was possible from time to time for a person to know the name of another without it being the other way around, but not ever when it was a complete stranger. It would always be a person you at least vaguely knew, a person you’ve seen at least once on the street and knew the slightest of details about – but never a complete, absolute stranger.
1984 “Because I know you,” the stranger simply replied, as if it was quite obvious. “How is that ankle of yours these days? Getting any better?”
1984 “Not quite, no. Depends on the weather, some days are better while others are worse.”
1984 “And today?”
1984 “Today it’s cold outside.” Winston shifted his body weight from one leg to another, easing the pain he was just reminded about. It was better when he didn’t think of it, everything is always better when he didn’t think of anything.
1984 “Today is indeed a cold day to be hanging outside,” the stranger agreed, shifting his body weight from one leg to another as well, just like Winston.
1984As a few seconds of silence hanged in the air, Winston’ mind begun to wonder over the past half a minute. How could a complete stranger that he had never met know not only his name, but also of his problematic ankle? Panic and fear grew inside of Winston as a simple, obvious solution came to his mind – the person must be a Thought Police officer! ‘Not again, not again, not again, not again, not again,’ Winston repeated in his head, praying for the officer to go away. ‘Not again, not again, not again, not again, not again,’ he thought again and again and again, terrified of what might come.
1984 “What about you brain, is it alright?” The stranger asked yet another strange question, stopping Winston’s mind from thinking just before the horrifying thoughts took a hold of Winston and sent him back to his darkest, most traumatic memories.
1984 “Yes, of course it is, yes– what sort of a question is that?” Winston answered quickly, a defensive tone taking over his voice as his panic grew bigger. Has he done anything wrong? Does he even have a reason to be afraid? No, of course not, he has been perfectly sane ever since he stepped in the fresh air again after the awful, awful time he had spent in the Ministry of Love. He had been the perfect citizen and hadn’t doubt a single thing the government –and in fact, anybody– had claimed. He never even looked for Julia! The thought of her hadn’t crossed his mind since the moment of his betrayal; there was no point of it. It was wrong, everything they have done was wrong and everything they would ever do, if they did it, would have been terribly, terribly wrong. Winston most definitely had no reason to be afraid of the Thought Police, yet, he was absolutely terrified; everybody was.
1984 “I am not here to arrest you, Winston. I’m not here to hurt you,” the stranger ensured, sensing Winston’s ever growing fear.
1984 “How did you- Are you- Who…?” Winston wanted to ask him weather he was in fact an officer or if he was imagining, but he could not find the courage to. How suspicious would it be if he asked a stranger on the street if they had been a Thought Police officer? Would, most certainly, seem as if he had something to hide. He had no reason to be afraid, of course, therefore he shouldn’t be afraid. But he couldn’t rid the fear, it has been there for far too long and it would never ever go away.
1984 “I know you very well, Winston, so very well. And I know everything you are, everything you were, all that you have done and all that you could do. I know all you’ve been through, all of your regrets and fears and most hidden secrets but the one thing I do not know and could never understand is why. Of course, I could understand how and why on their side but it’s yours that I am confused about. You had so much worth fighting for, such faith, such belief and such love! But you threw it all away, and what for? What good has it done? Why?”
1984 “I do not know what you are talking about, nor do I have the slightest clue of who you are or might be, for that matter!” And Winston honestly didn’t know. He could vaguely recall some pieces of his past but all those words the stranger had spoken, it was so far forgotten part of who Winston used to be that he simply did not know. And it scared him, it scared him so much. That stranger, that odd knowing stranger scared him more than anything had ever scared him. He scared him more than rats!
1984 “Well, I think you do know. Deep down, look deep down and try to remember, because you do know. What was it, though? What made you give up on your brilliant, great mind? You were so sure about everything, yet you’ve let them win! You’ve let the enemy win! All your faith vanished away in a blink of an eye.”
1984 “It took more than one bloody blink,” memories floated Winston brain’s as the darkest time of his life came running back, racing towards him like a long, heavy train that’s about to hit him and bring him to his death. All of the things he had worked so hard on forgetting and ignoring came rushing back and he could hardly handle it. It was important to remember that he was out in the public and everybody and everything were listening and he had to remain sane, and that all those things that he thinks of had never ever happened. Oceania is in war with Eurasia, and Oceania had always been in war with Eurasia.
1984 “You remember,” the stranger smiled sadly, as if undecided weather it was a good thing or a terrible, terrible thing he had done. “What about Julia? How could a person with such mind give up on such love? It is so rare to come across even just a true, honest friend; how could you give up on something more? How could you give up on the one and only person you could truly confide in? And not even that! Not even give up, but betray in the worst possible way!”
1984 “Shut up!” Winston snapped, unable to listen to the stranger going on and on and on about all those things that had been forgotten long ago and should have never been mentioned. “You’re not real,” Winston said quietly, mostly to himself than to anyone else. “You’re not real, you’re not real, you’re not real,” he repeated again and again, knowing that if he really believed it the stranger would just seize to exist, if only in his mind.
1984 “Perhaps I’m not. Perhaps this is why I’m here. Perhaps, I’m the only person you can still talk to about everything that you kept to yourself, about everything that you kept even from yourself,” as the stranger let the words crawl out of his mouth he, as well, doubted his own existence. It could be a dream, of either one of them. It could be a creation of the mind, just a day dream or some sort of illusion. One thing he was certain of, it could not possibly be real.
1984 “I…” Winston felt safe enough to speak. He knew who it was, just like that; he knew that the person in front of him wasn’t real. “Perhaps I did not want to be loved; perhaps I just wanted to be understood! And he understood me, O’Brian, he really did. So what does it even matter? What does it matter if he was an enemy or a friend? He had cured me! I was insane and he helped me get better! And, most importantly, he understood and he listened.”
1984 “But at what price?!” The stranger, if one’s conscious could be called a stranger, grew angry as Winston could not show even the slightest clue of regret.
1984 “None at all,” Winston replied calmly, not even the slightest clue of panic in his voice nor mind. “I get to live; I get to truly live properly in peace. War is peace.”
1984 “No, Winston, war means war and just last month you were at war with Eastasia! How can you not remember it?” The stranger’s tone changed again, it was now deep disappointment. “You were so different, Winston. You were so passionate over it and so determined to prove them wrong, how could you have given up? What for? What is so good about them that is worth believing? After all they’ve done, to you and to everybody else!”
1984 “They did what they had to do, I was ill! I was absolutely insane, bonkers, mental; I was sick in my mind, I wasn’t healthy and they saved me!”
1984 “But…why?” The stranger asked, eyeing Winston worriedly. Why couldn’t he see just how insane the Party had turned him? Now he was sick, now he was ill!
1984 “Why..?” Winston repeated, not sure what the stranger meant.
1984 “Why do you think you were wrong?” The stranger elaborated, hoping for the slightest clue of the old Winston, already on the edge of giving it up.
1984 “If you know me as well as you claimed to, you would know that as well.” Winston simply said, growing tired of the know-all stranger.
1984 “But you were happy, weren’t you? You were free in your mind, you had found things that excited you and had something to cling to, to hold on to. If the Party is so good, why would they take that away from you?”
1984 “Why…me…” The words came out of Winston’s mouth before he managed to stop them, as if they didn’t even pass through his brain before. The question he has pushed away for so long until he honestly thought was gone.
1984George Orwell smiled.
1984 “Why me? Why would they focus on me? Why would they do all of this just to heal me? Why couldn’t they just come quietly one early night and take me away? Why let me have this beautiful imaginary world they’ve let me build just to nick it out of my hands? Why would they give me hope, just to take it all away? Why me?”
1984By the time Winston was done with his questions, the stranger was nowhere to be found. Winston looked around, but saw nothing. There wasn’t any familiar stranger. There never was a familiar stranger. The only place he had ever existed was inside his own mind, thankfully. The only place his words of absolute doubt in the part were heard is inside his own head, and if he believed it, if he truly believed it, these words could be forgotten, forever.
1984It was in the Park on a vile day in March, when the Earth was like iron and all the grass seemed dead and there was not a bud anywhere except for a few crocuses which had pushed themselves up to be dismembered by the wind. He was hurrying along with frozen hands and water eyes, and just as he looked around to make sure the stranger never existed, he saw her - not ten meters away from him.