I must confess, if the importance of this document did not extend further than a personal confession to the worst of my sins, I would not be wasting my time. However, I have come to realize, that without a written record of my actions, there will be no safeguard against these disgusting acts in the future. I do not write in this document for my own therapeutic benefit: I realize that the acts I have orchestrated can never be forgiven.
I suppose my true transformation began thirty years ago; at this time, I was a young man living in the London Corridor: careless, deprived, and unusually free. At this time, the blistering remnants of public education were being beset by the party’s influence, but despite cultural turmoil, I graduated in the …show more content…
Whether Winston Smith would admit it or not, this was his undoing. Discontent is the fuel of rebellion; the party found this to be true long ago. I was never afraid of the party, how could I be? They had taken me out of the streets, given me purpose, and given me ambition. However, none of this warranted my submission. Smith clung to the political and social issues of a romantic fantasy— I accepted the truth of the circumstances I was trapped in. I would continue to work until one day I could escape this madness. I hastily devoted every free-second to uncovering information about the inner party. I would clutch documents, data, and people's’ lives from the jaws of the incinerator. It did not take long to amass a collection that could derail the party. I made allies, some of which claimed to be associates of the radical Emmanuel Goldstein. I thought I was being clever, but all my actions, for or against the party, had played directly into their wishes.
Entry 4 In the early days of the party, Interrogation was far simpler. There was no elaborate psychological torture, only the immortal fear of death. Waiting was the hardest part. I can remember patiently pacing the corners of the illuminated cell— if asked, I probably could have recited every detail of the pale, white tile. It would have been impossible to tell how much time had elapsed before I had my first visitor. I was not surprised to see …show more content…
I am nominating you as my successor.”
I almost laughed, “you can’t be serious.”
“You have served the party well; I see no reason to discontinue your talents.”
“I have no intention of assuming your responsibilities; I can only imagine how twisted a person’s mind must me to initiate them.”
The old man stood for a moment, then reached into his pocket. He revealed a pack of cigarettes and offered one to me, I bluntly refused. I watched casually as he brought a lighter to his mouth and puffed a large plume of smoke into the cell. The white haze grew to engulf the room. The lights suddenly became less intense and the room felt comfortable. The old man closed his eyes and released another column of smoke before he resumed speaking.
“ A new era is coming. You would be a fool not to accept your place in it.” With that final statement, the old man turned around and knocked on the door. I watched patiently as he walked out of the room, and shortly after the door shut, I began to cough.
Entry
I suppose my true transformation began thirty years ago; at this time, I was a young man living in the London Corridor: careless, deprived, and unusually free. At this time, the blistering remnants of public education were being beset by the party’s influence, but despite cultural turmoil, I graduated in the …show more content…
Whether Winston Smith would admit it or not, this was his undoing. Discontent is the fuel of rebellion; the party found this to be true long ago. I was never afraid of the party, how could I be? They had taken me out of the streets, given me purpose, and given me ambition. However, none of this warranted my submission. Smith clung to the political and social issues of a romantic fantasy— I accepted the truth of the circumstances I was trapped in. I would continue to work until one day I could escape this madness. I hastily devoted every free-second to uncovering information about the inner party. I would clutch documents, data, and people's’ lives from the jaws of the incinerator. It did not take long to amass a collection that could derail the party. I made allies, some of which claimed to be associates of the radical Emmanuel Goldstein. I thought I was being clever, but all my actions, for or against the party, had played directly into their wishes.
Entry 4 In the early days of the party, Interrogation was far simpler. There was no elaborate psychological torture, only the immortal fear of death. Waiting was the hardest part. I can remember patiently pacing the corners of the illuminated cell— if asked, I probably could have recited every detail of the pale, white tile. It would have been impossible to tell how much time had elapsed before I had my first visitor. I was not surprised to see …show more content…
I am nominating you as my successor.”
I almost laughed, “you can’t be serious.”
“You have served the party well; I see no reason to discontinue your talents.”
“I have no intention of assuming your responsibilities; I can only imagine how twisted a person’s mind must me to initiate them.”
The old man stood for a moment, then reached into his pocket. He revealed a pack of cigarettes and offered one to me, I bluntly refused. I watched casually as he brought a lighter to his mouth and puffed a large plume of smoke into the cell. The white haze grew to engulf the room. The lights suddenly became less intense and the room felt comfortable. The old man closed his eyes and released another column of smoke before he resumed speaking.
“ A new era is coming. You would be a fool not to accept your place in it.” With that final statement, the old man turned around and knocked on the door. I watched patiently as he walked out of the room, and shortly after the door shut, I began to cough.
Entry