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“People will say that we’re all born equal. Everyone has an equal shot at life. When I explain to them that we’re all discriminated again, be it by politics, race or intelligence they look at me like I just put a kitten in a blender. Notions of communism seem idyllic and, dare I say, perfect. Communism, the great equal. Bless it’s little heart. It tries to be equal but fails. Communist Russia, the persecution, the dictatorial rule. Never works.”
The silence of the snowy night agrees copiously
“Top down ruling, that’s where it’s at.
Tsarism.
Tyranism
Tyranny”
“The people are pawns.
Not once has a proletariat uprising led anywhere.”
A nodding head signifies agreement
“The elites and the middle class are always in a battle for power. The elites want to retain power and the middle class want to seize power.
The middle class will always enlist the proletariat to help them, and once they succeed, they ditch the proles and bask in their glory.
The low always remain low.”
“Always.” A voice cut in
“Always” I affirmed. “See, if you will, the working class, the proletariat, as sheep, and the elites as their shepherd. Blindly led wherever the shepherd pleases. If the sheep were ever to overrule the shepherd they would have no idea what to do, they would simply accept their juxtaposition underneath another leadership.”
I smiled, this was my favourite part.
“If I were in charge I’d rule with an iron fist.
Crush everyone in my wake and make them fear me.”
They smiled too.
“Freedom is slavery. Slavery to a system”
Thank you Mr Orwell.
“Slavery makes you free. If you’re alone then you’re not free, you will simply wither and die. If you’re part of a system, you’re a part of something that will live on and conquer. Forever. Never forgotten or erased. If you become the system, when you die the system does not die. If you are the system, then you live on because the system lives on.”
Here came the emotional part. Their eyes wide in anticipation were waiting for me to deliver them a meaning.
I cough to clear my throat, and continue.
“I hope, or should I say I wish, that one day the proletariat will realise their inequity and tear open the chest of democracy and savage its blackened heart. Overrule. I would love to be a bystander in a riot, watch the system topple and the aristocrats screaming, then chuckle as the system was rebuilt the same as before. The fight for equality always ends in someone else taking power. People accept it.”
I savagely grip to the railings of stability offered by dictatorial rule in the guise of democracy. The system will eventually destroy itself, I know that much.
“We will rise” I cried, my voice cracking in the bitter coldness. My black lungs cough the remnants of my nostalgic lies into the cold night air.
A heavy cheer echoed throughout the courtyard. A thousand fists flung up into the air in personal celebration. Digest, interpret, and decide.
“I offer you a choice, to stand and fight again the oppression, against the injustice and collapse the inequity we suffer. Are you with me?”
A bloody roar suggested a majority vote.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let us storm the government. The human exterior is no match for rifles and rocks. Let us bring down the establishment, and bring it down tonight.”
Flaming lanterns carried by the mass of enthused proles charged away to bring down the system and achieve minor personal victories. Win or lose I was still the puppet master. I would seize power, it was just a matter of time.
The silence of the snowy night agrees copiously
“Top down ruling, that’s where it’s at.
Tsarism.
Tyranism
Tyranny”
“The people are pawns.
Not once has a proletariat uprising led anywhere.”
A nodding head signifies agreement
“The elites and the middle class are always in a battle for power. The elites want to retain power and the middle class want to seize power.
The middle class will always enlist the proletariat to help them, and once they succeed, they ditch the proles and bask in their glory.
The low always remain low.”
“Always.” A voice cut in
“Always” I affirmed. “See, if you will, the working class, the proletariat, as sheep, and the elites as their shepherd. Blindly led wherever the shepherd pleases. If the sheep were ever to overrule the shepherd they would have no idea what to do, they would simply accept their juxtaposition underneath another leadership.”
I smiled, this was my favourite part.
“If I were in charge I’d rule with an iron fist.
Crush everyone in my wake and make them fear me.”
They smiled too.
“Freedom is slavery. Slavery to a system”
Thank you Mr Orwell.
“Slavery makes you free. If you’re alone then you’re not free, you will simply wither and die. If you’re part of a system, you’re a part of something that will live on and conquer. Forever. Never forgotten or erased. If you become the system, when you die the system does not die. If you are the system, then you live on because the system lives on.”
Here came the emotional part. Their eyes wide in anticipation were waiting for me to deliver them a meaning.
I cough to clear my throat, and continue.
“I hope, or should I say I wish, that one day the proletariat will realise their inequity and tear open the chest of democracy and savage its blackened heart. Overrule. I would love to be a bystander in a riot, watch the system topple and the aristocrats screaming, then chuckle as the system was rebuilt the same as before. The fight for equality always ends in someone else taking power. People accept it.”
I savagely grip to the railings of stability offered by dictatorial rule in the guise of democracy. The system will eventually destroy itself, I know that much.
“We will rise” I cried, my voice cracking in the bitter coldness. My black lungs cough the remnants of my nostalgic lies into the cold night air.
A heavy cheer echoed throughout the courtyard. A thousand fists flung up into the air in personal celebration. Digest, interpret, and decide.
“I offer you a choice, to stand and fight again the oppression, against the injustice and collapse the inequity we suffer. Are you with me?”
A bloody roar suggested a majority vote.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let us storm the government. The human exterior is no match for rifles and rocks. Let us bring down the establishment, and bring it down tonight.”
Flaming lanterns carried by the mass of enthused proles charged away to bring down the system and achieve minor personal victories. Win or lose I was still the puppet master. I would seize power, it was just a matter of time.
Paradox: wrote:
> Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
It's what I had in mind :-)
> Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
It's what I had in mind :-)
Paradox: wrote:
> Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
Paradox: wrote:
> Thank you Mr Orwell.
Yuss.
And sorry, but I didn't like it really. Like you've pointed out, it lacked entertainment. Also, I agree with Mav, I pictured a classroom of teenagers sitting listening to a teacher at first.
Just not my thing.
> Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
Paradox: wrote:
> Thank you Mr Orwell.
Yuss.
And sorry, but I didn't like it really. Like you've pointed out, it lacked entertainment. Also, I agree with Mav, I pictured a classroom of teenagers sitting listening to a teacher at first.
Just not my thing.
It was originally going to be a static opinion-piece but I turned it into a dialogue, just because I can.
I agree, it informed more than entertained.
Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
I agree, it informed more than entertained.
Is it obvious I've just finished reading 1984?
Half of that felt as if the main character was a teacher, teaching students about far left wing politics, rather than a great leader giving an inspirational speech. Therefore, when I finally realised that he's talking to this army of extremists, it's a little unconvincing to think that beforehand he was explaining how the system works.
Also, continuing this, the teaching style made it feel at some points as if I was being informed, rather than entertained. Aside from that, however, it was nicely put together with sinister undertones, a wholly epic feel and an well-developed and ironic unity to the army. The idea wasn't particularly interesting, but it was an ok read.
Also, continuing this, the teaching style made it feel at some points as if I was being informed, rather than entertained. Aside from that, however, it was nicely put together with sinister undertones, a wholly epic feel and an well-developed and ironic unity to the army. The idea wasn't particularly interesting, but it was an ok read.
“People will say that we’re all born equal. Everyone has an equal shot at life. When I explain to them that we’re all discriminated again, be it by politics, race or intelligence they look at me like I just put a kitten in a blender. Notions of communism seem idyllic and, dare I say, perfect. Communism, the great equal. Bless it’s little heart. It tries to be equal but fails. Communist Russia, the persecution, the dictatorial rule. Never works.”
The silence of the snowy night agrees copiously
“Top down ruling, that’s where it’s at.
Tsarism.
Tyranism
Tyranny”
“The people are pawns.
Not once has a proletariat uprising led anywhere.”
A nodding head signifies agreement
“The elites and the middle class are always in a battle for power. The elites want to retain power and the middle class want to seize power.
The middle class will always enlist the proletariat to help them, and once they succeed, they ditch the proles and bask in their glory.
The low always remain low.”
“Always.” A voice cut in
“Always” I affirmed. “See, if you will, the working class, the proletariat, as sheep, and the elites as their shepherd. Blindly led wherever the shepherd pleases. If the sheep were ever to overrule the shepherd they would have no idea what to do, they would simply accept their juxtaposition underneath another leadership.”
I smiled, this was my favourite part.
“If I were in charge I’d rule with an iron fist.
Crush everyone in my wake and make them fear me.”
They smiled too.
“Freedom is slavery. Slavery to a system”
Thank you Mr Orwell.
“Slavery makes you free. If you’re alone then you’re not free, you will simply wither and die. If you’re part of a system, you’re a part of something that will live on and conquer. Forever. Never forgotten or erased. If you become the system, when you die the system does not die. If you are the system, then you live on because the system lives on.”
Here came the emotional part. Their eyes wide in anticipation were waiting for me to deliver them a meaning.
I cough to clear my throat, and continue.
“I hope, or should I say I wish, that one day the proletariat will realise their inequity and tear open the chest of democracy and savage its blackened heart. Overrule. I would love to be a bystander in a riot, watch the system topple and the aristocrats screaming, then chuckle as the system was rebuilt the same as before. The fight for equality always ends in someone else taking power. People accept it.”
I savagely grip to the railings of stability offered by dictatorial rule in the guise of democracy. The system will eventually destroy itself, I know that much.
“We will rise” I cried, my voice cracking in the bitter coldness. My black lungs cough the remnants of my nostalgic lies into the cold night air.
A heavy cheer echoed throughout the courtyard. A thousand fists flung up into the air in personal celebration. Digest, interpret, and decide.
“I offer you a choice, to stand and fight again the oppression, against the injustice and collapse the inequity we suffer. Are you with me?”
A bloody roar suggested a majority vote.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let us storm the government. The human exterior is no match for rifles and rocks. Let us bring down the establishment, and bring it down tonight.”
Flaming lanterns carried by the mass of enthused proles charged away to bring down the system and achieve minor personal victories. Win or lose I was still the puppet master. I would seize power, it was just a matter of time.
The silence of the snowy night agrees copiously
“Top down ruling, that’s where it’s at.
Tsarism.
Tyranism
Tyranny”
“The people are pawns.
Not once has a proletariat uprising led anywhere.”
A nodding head signifies agreement
“The elites and the middle class are always in a battle for power. The elites want to retain power and the middle class want to seize power.
The middle class will always enlist the proletariat to help them, and once they succeed, they ditch the proles and bask in their glory.
The low always remain low.”
“Always.” A voice cut in
“Always” I affirmed. “See, if you will, the working class, the proletariat, as sheep, and the elites as their shepherd. Blindly led wherever the shepherd pleases. If the sheep were ever to overrule the shepherd they would have no idea what to do, they would simply accept their juxtaposition underneath another leadership.”
I smiled, this was my favourite part.
“If I were in charge I’d rule with an iron fist.
Crush everyone in my wake and make them fear me.”
They smiled too.
“Freedom is slavery. Slavery to a system”
Thank you Mr Orwell.
“Slavery makes you free. If you’re alone then you’re not free, you will simply wither and die. If you’re part of a system, you’re a part of something that will live on and conquer. Forever. Never forgotten or erased. If you become the system, when you die the system does not die. If you are the system, then you live on because the system lives on.”
Here came the emotional part. Their eyes wide in anticipation were waiting for me to deliver them a meaning.
I cough to clear my throat, and continue.
“I hope, or should I say I wish, that one day the proletariat will realise their inequity and tear open the chest of democracy and savage its blackened heart. Overrule. I would love to be a bystander in a riot, watch the system topple and the aristocrats screaming, then chuckle as the system was rebuilt the same as before. The fight for equality always ends in someone else taking power. People accept it.”
I savagely grip to the railings of stability offered by dictatorial rule in the guise of democracy. The system will eventually destroy itself, I know that much.
“We will rise” I cried, my voice cracking in the bitter coldness. My black lungs cough the remnants of my nostalgic lies into the cold night air.
A heavy cheer echoed throughout the courtyard. A thousand fists flung up into the air in personal celebration. Digest, interpret, and decide.
“I offer you a choice, to stand and fight again the oppression, against the injustice and collapse the inequity we suffer. Are you with me?”
A bloody roar suggested a majority vote.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let us storm the government. The human exterior is no match for rifles and rocks. Let us bring down the establishment, and bring it down tonight.”
Flaming lanterns carried by the mass of enthused proles charged away to bring down the system and achieve minor personal victories. Win or lose I was still the puppet master. I would seize power, it was just a matter of time.