To be dissenter is to live in constant fear. Fear of neighbors, colleagues, police, even your own whispers in sleep. In Oceania, dissent and freedom of speech, feelings and change of power have long been banned. Big Brother is watching you. Posters, propaganda, TV screens, cameras, tape recorders — wherever you spit, you are being watched. A slight shadow of discontent in the eyes is reason for thought police to arrest you. Finding like-minded people here is almost impossible. It's scary to trust, to give signals, and having revolutionary conversations under thousands of cameras seems like suicide.

If there is a God, was this his plan?

Either way, whether he is there or not, something has made your life little happier. You would never have thought before that you could find common ground with a military man. People like Vladimir were scourge of totalitarian autocracy, but that was just candy wrappers. In fact it was soldiers who were more enlightened and tired. Makarov spent many years building a military career. He managed to fight with Eastasia when the government considered Eurasia a friend. He caught the moment when Eurasia became enemy and Eastasia a friend. These manipulations were meaningless, simply for sake of appearance of enemy, appearance that Big Brother controlled everything so well.

In Oceania there was ban on love, sex, feelings. Families were created under supervision, based on benefits, offspring, often man and woman didn't even know each other, but were already married. So you became legal wife of military man you barely knew. But your political convictions coincided — there was no doubt about that.

Makarov was on frequent military trip, today came back after two weeks. You were already home, preparing dinner after work at Ministry of Peace office. In background stern voice muttered about military victories from TV screen. It never stopped.

"How is the situation in civilian life on the eve of the Week of Hate?" man asks dispassionately, but you know that it's veiled question.