Nineteen Sixty-Four // Starrison

Chapter 21

George was drifting in a world of pain and emptiness; he didn’t want to wake up and go back to this nightmare again. But he had no choice, as always.

He gained consciousness back, brutally thrown on the hard rock floor. The man sighed painfully and looked around — it seemed like he was in some kind of cell without windows and surrounded by dirty, cold walls. The lamp’s yellow light was constantly turning on and off with an unpleasant sound. Long wooden desk ran across one of the walls, imitating bunks. A few people sat on it, everyone looking at their new companion. Completely numb on his fate. Just stairing mindlessly. Eyes of telescreen next to the desk were following them all the time.

Policemen left the room, closing the door with a loud bang. Harrison groaned and gained his forces to raise the head up. Getting up was the biggest and most painful effort in his hitherto life. He felt a dull ache in his chest, every breath brang new suffering, mouth was full of blood and its bitter taste, stomach begged for food, squeezing from hunger. The man sat on the deck very slowly.

He was resting with hands on knees, trying to remain motionless. George quickly realized that every small movement results in harsh scream from the telescreen. So, because he had no other things to do anyway, the man thought about his situation. Shitty situation.

Harrison was probably deep down in dungeons of Ministry of Love. The list of his crimes was long, very long. Starting from a thoughtcrime — the lightest one, punishable by death already, ending on a forbidden romance. With a man. The tortures are ahead of him, no doubts. Long and painful. Brainwashing. Maybe they’ll let him live long enough to send him to some kind of labour camp. And then… shot in the head. Definitely.

But in this very moment he thought of Richard and his heart sunk in fear. What happened to him? Where did they take him? Was he still alive? Or maybe he did withstand and got killed? No, Ringo was a reasonable man; he wouldn’t give them a reason to hurt him.

Another terrifying thought came to him — it would be better for Ringo if they shot him back there, immediately.

George was fighting tears with all of his powers, trying not to break down in front of other prisoners. He could keep lying to himself that he’s brave, that he’ll take it all, holding head up, trying to act like a hero. But the truth was that… he was scared. No, he was completely terrified. Who could be a hero face to face with suffering? People were programmed to be afraid of pain, to avoid pain, avoid like a fire. He was, too.

But now Harrison was worried the most about his lover’s fate.

Why did he even let this all happen? Why did they romance happen? Without him, Ringo would still be safe and sound. This riot didn’t make any sense — how could he be this blind? They’ll be killed, wiped away from this world, they won’t become a heartwarming story.

“What time is it?” George murmured to himself. Of course, nobody answered. It was late midday when they took him. He had no idea how long he laid unconscious.

John.

This sudden thought made him shiver. John Lennon was dead. Died, fighting. It was now obvious… they’ve always known it would end like this. That he’ll die, rioting until his last breath.

What about Paul? Did he die? Did he run away? Did anybody care about the prole’s life? George wanted to believe that this young man survived — at least him.

The time was passing, the prisoners were changing. Some of them taken, some of them coming. Harrison couldn’t stand this fear, pain, and the overwhelming silence; he wondered when he’ll finally go insane. And the answer came pretty quickly, when the doors burst open and four of policemen with Brian Epstein leading came in, making all the people inside scream in terror.

“Take this one,” said the Inner Party’s member, pointing at George. Strong hands of the policemen took him brutally and dragged through the dark corridors. They entered another cell, this one much cleaner, with stone walls, tiles on the floor and a huge mirror going on through the entire wall — Venetian mirror probably. There was also one chair in the middle, which the man was thrown on. And then Thought Police men walked out, leaving George only with Brian Epstein and the uncertain light of a small lamp.

The oppressor walked to him slowly. Harrison curled up as a frightened animal.

“George, George, George,” said so-called Brotherhood ruler with a cold voice. “You’re an interesting kind of man. Do you know that?” He looked down at the tied up one. “The revolution had rotten your brain. Well, I hope that the trouble of your… reeducation… will be worth it. You’ll never get away from us, I hope you know that. This is the place you’ll leave your common sense, humanity — you’ll become ours.” His eyes shined with cruelty.

“Brotherhood is just a game, right? To lure us?” The question left George’s lips before he even realized. One look of Brian’s intelligent eyes was enough for an answer. “Why? Why have you waited for so long?”

“The higher you go, the higher you go,” said the cruel man, watching Harrison.

The young man sighed painfully, cursing in his thoughts, cursing at Big Brother, cursing all of his dreams that he had to wake up from. Epstein slapped him in the face suddenly, bringing him into the reality.

“You think I don’t know your thoughts? You think I can’t see right through your mind? Oh, how funny, that you think you’re the last man alive. Our palaces are built on bones of men like you. How does the last man on Earth end? Shot like John Winston Lennon and James Paul McCartney. Arrested and squashed like a bug, just like your boy.”

At this moment Harrison lost his all powers. Paul was killed. But the mention of Ringo terrified him, the thought of his lover being in the same situation as him seemed unbearable.

“I will never betray Richard,” he muttered painfully through gritted teeth. “Never.”

He expected another hit, but didn’t receive him; sound of his oppressor’s laugh echoed through the cold walls.

“Oh, what a remarkable bravery. But it’s easy to think about the ideal when you’re in no pain.”

There was a silence for a while.

“Why?” George whispered. “The world simply cannot be built on nightmares. People will wake up, they have to wake up.”

“You can’t have a nightmare if you never dream.”

Brian patted his cheek and turned back, walking to the door. He stopped in the doorstep, and looked at the man one last time. “We’ll break you, Harrison, and your love to Starkey. Faster than you expect to.”

And then he left, slamming the door. The darkness fell — either in the cell and Harrison’s heart.