Dear Boethius,
It is June, 1984. I suppose things are quite different now from when you were alive. But then again, that may not be such a good thing. You see, I now live in a world where everything is as it should be. Society knows what is expected of them and when they meet these expectations, things run quite smoothly. Here in Oceania, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But underneath all of the simplicity is an underlining of corruption and fear. There's the Party; corrupting your thoughts and opinions day and night until all that's left of you is a washed out corporate blob. They watch you consistently, always looking for signs. And if they suspect any little sign of treachery, they will torture you inside and out until your thoughts don't make sense anymore. You won't know what is what They have a saying in the Party; "Thoughtcrime does not entail death; thoughtcrime is death."
So there is the Party, watching you always and everywhere. And then there are the proles. They serve as cooks and dishwashers and and garbagemen. They do all of the grimy lowly jobs that the Party would never be caught dead doing. In fact, the proles are so low on the list that the Party members don't
It is June, 1984. I suppose things are quite different now from when you were alive. But then again, that may not be such a good thing. You see, I now live in a world where everything is as it should be. Society knows what is expected of them and when they meet these expectations, things run quite smoothly. Here in Oceania, if you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear. But underneath all of the simplicity is an underlining of corruption and fear. There's the Party; corrupting your thoughts and opinions day and night until all that's left of you is a washed out corporate blob. They watch you consistently, always looking for signs. And if they suspect any little sign of treachery, they will torture you inside and out until your thoughts don't make sense anymore. You won't know what is what They have a saying in the Party; "Thoughtcrime does not entail death; thoughtcrime is death."
So there is the Party, watching you always and everywhere. And then there are the proles. They serve as cooks and dishwashers and and garbagemen. They do all of the grimy lowly jobs that the Party would never be caught dead doing. In fact, the proles are so low on the list that the Party members don't