The Window Grows Smaller Still (BigBlog)

Note: Ok so this is basically a retelling of a POV. I'll provide context here: In 1984 (my book, probably) society is overrun by a totalitarian government that has this task force called the 'thought police.' These guys basically monitor everything a person thinks or says, and if they find something negative, (forgive my language) they yeet them out of there. This is a process called vaporization, and although it is mildly explained in the book, I thought it would be interesting to give an actual POV of a person being vaporized. I'm going to be reliving a moment where the narrator talks about his coworker Withers being vaporized.



March 3rd, 1984. I looked up. Waiting. Staring at the endless blackness that enveloped the night sky, out of my minuscule window. It stared right back at me, as if mocking me; the vastness pouring in through a narrow crack.

I waited.

8 AM. The ministry had been boring as usual. Big Brother's right hand man gave another speech about war.

War is peace. Is it not? The shots last a minute, then silence. I looked out of my window again, the same eerie quiet time and time again. I continued waiting.

9 AM. He ended his speech, and the day began. I entered my office at the Ministry, greeted many times in Newspeak. I looked through the window in my office; watched the clouds drag on into the gray, filing an endless void into a 3x3 space. I picked up my papers and started arranging them in a drawer roughly the size of my window.

I didn't think about it, but I knew I should. For a moment, I was tempted to run outside and go as far as possible, and let that void envelop me as it was soon about to. My window seemed to grow smaller every night.

10 AM. I finished filing and closed my shutters; government policy. Every day since years back, I had been waiting. In this very chair, in my very bed. I had become what the government tagged a liability, and with my inner party job, they couldn't afford to keep me intact. I took more reports from the thought police, wondering when my name would be on one of then.

The window grew smaller still, and I felt the waning highlights from the moon ricochet off of it and into my street. It illuminated nothing but the bright treachery of the Party, shedding light on the tension constantly in the air.

11 AM. I walked outside for my 5 minute break, offered daily. I noted the green meadow laying beneath the ministry and saw the usual proles wandering about further out. They milled, covered in dust and scars, wearing bright green rags as if blending in with the ground.
Suddenly, a roar and a flame. One of the thought police had detonated a peace device on a house. The resulting explosion engulfed the area in flames. Many prole children fell into the flames hopelessly, tattered green combusting on impact, while other ran, trying to save the ones caught inside.

I saw the long, snaking cleaning device next to me.

11:06 AM. As I walked into the room, nobody turned to look at me. The courteous greetings in Newspeak were conveniently ignored. I sat back down in my desk.

12 PM. I shifted around, then moved my shutters up a few inches. The light increased slightly, illuminating the proles gathered around the area across the field.

3 PM. I packed up my things and left the office. As I walked to my transporter, I noticed a poster hung in the central room. "Light the fire to success. Burn bright with the Party."

I got home and turned on the broadcasting device. The only two signals found were the Ministry of truth and the happy channel, which consisted of news and reports of wars that were won. Party news, along with Big Brother's speech, were broadcasted. Outside of my flat, another fire erupted.

3/8/84. 9 PM. Curfew was called, and I went into my bed, aware of the camera watching my move. The shutters closed, but I used the tool I had swiped to force them up. The window grew smaller still. I continued waiting

Around 11 PM, it happened. My turn arrived. I was sitting calmly as they came in. 3 quick shots and I was on the ground, electricity cackling around me. The window grew smaller still.

I woke up with the cleansing device strapped to my head, and awaited the Refreshing, with a certain degree of calm. There were no openings in the room.

The window grew smaller still.

The device turned on.

What window?




Note: The hopelessness of a dystopian society is an endless void of darkness. What better way to say that then having a window of hope be voided of all positive light! yay!











Said infinite window of doom ^^

And for clarification purposes, he got arrested for helping stop the fire and coming in one minute late for work. The helping went against Party policy so he got put into the machine!

Here is a helpful diagram:



An example of not-party policy is parties.
An example of party policies is staying put inside of your house and bowing down to your overlords.

Anyway, Hope you enjoyed that little tidbit of a story. It might have given you the shivers, or you might have gotten a kick out of it. You do you.

Anyway, Au Revoir. Excuse my German.