Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 9

As if on the contrary to happiness that recently happened to George, work and duties weren’t giving him any moment of rest now and inquisitive Party’s eyed seemed to stalk his life even more than in common. Maybe it was related to the incoming Week of Hate and solid preparations — volunteers were decorating streets, spontaneous demonstrations now were happening every day and employees had to stay late in works. The entire city lived in a feverish atmosphere.

Harrison was already tired of this, sleepless for another night. The worst part, however, was not seeing Richard since more than a week — seemed like an eternity for him.

He feared more and more those days. He couldn’t explain this rationally, but he felt intense stares of the squealers on his back all the time, burning him, staring into his sinful soul, and it made him nervous. Did he appear too happy? Or maybe anyone could see he’s in love? It would be his doom.

More and more people disappeared, vaporized, even some of George’s co—workers. He could see the Police at every turn. The fear surrounded him, clutching him in a powerful grasp, making him slowly lose his sanity and self-confidence. The man’s face was a mask, as always, but deep down inside he panicked. Betraying the Party was insane. More and more crimes he committed, more limit he exceeded, he wondered when will they finally get him?

It couldn’t last forever — nothing beautiful lasts forever.

That still was the thing he disagreed with Lennon — the older man remained convinced that with a little luck and flair the Party will never know. Big Brother is not infallible, he kept saying. But George knew he isn’t right.

Big Brother is everlasting.

Big Brother knows everything.

They’ll find them.

He’s finished.

And so is Ringo.

George didn’t care about himself as much as about his lover. He feared what the government could do to this man, how could they punish him. He desperately wanted to protect Ringo, anyhow, just protect him until his last breath. Harrison couldn’t stand the thought of putting him in such a danger.

What would he do if one day Richard just didn’t come?

He tried not thinking about this, drowning himself in endless work. Soon. Soon this madness will end, and they’ll see each other.

One day, he saw Starkey, sitting alone in a lunchroom. Desperate to talk to him, even for a moment, hear his voice, he walked into the man’s direction, but sudden scream stopped him:

“George! Comrade!”

Damn, Harrison said to himself and turned back.

His colleague from the Department, working at the same floor, Eric Clapton. George liked him even though Eric was one of those blindly worshiping, mindless people. He was energetic, nice, but always liked to brag about his achievements in job and for the Party. It annoyed the hell out of Harrison, but always listened to the man, knowing that he should show any kind of interest. In this moment, however, he wanted to punch Clapton right in the face.

The colleague opened his mouth and immediately started talking; George was only nodding, from time to time murmuring something, his thoughts far away.

The next opportunity came up at the very same day, near the Main Square. Coming back from work, Harrison noticed big group of people and, whether he liked it or not, joined them. He saw Richard’s head and pushed through citizens to reach him. Truck transporting war captives passed through the streets. People screamed and George touched his lover’s hand delicately.