“A Colder War”, As Oceania Celebrates its latest Victory in Africa, O’Brien takes a moment to reflect





It would be Bitter Cold in London this evening, O’Brien reflected neutrally. He didn’t particularly care either way- His apartment was always kept at a pleasant temperature. The Thermostat, which would be an obscene luxury amongst the Proles or Outer Party members was common place amongst the Apartments of the Inner Party. O’Brien looked outside His window, towards the sky that hung heavy over the city.


Somewhere he thought with distaste, they are celebrating under this same sky in Africa. The thought of the Party’s latest victory wasn’t unpleasant to him- though the smooth red he was sipping certainly helped. No, it was the fact Despite this victory, despite any number of victories, the Party could never win over the great land masses of Africa And Asia. Certainly it was possible, He vaguely remembered his Grandfather telling him of an ancient war that had pitted what was now Oceania against the rest of the world.


No, it was simply that any great victory by Oceania in Africa would have to be matched by quite informal concessions in other places. After all what would the Party be without the War? These thoughts were troubling, So much so that he didn’t even notice Martin’s approach into the study.


“More Wine sir?” The vaguely Mongolian features questioned in a neutral tone. Martin had been captured years ago in one of the infrequent skirmishes that characterized the War they fought against the other Powers. Staring at the battered man on the Auction Blocks*, he’d suffered fit of Fancy, and thus a younger O’Brien had decided to buy his freedom. In return Martin was indentured to O’Brien. Martin was unique amongst the Population of Oceania, in that he didn’t practice EngSoc- instead he was a “Death Worshipper” the Cult that characterized the ranks of the Eastasian barbarians.


O’Brien shook his head and dismissed the manservant after a moments pause, sighing he placed the drained glass onto his expensively varnished table. The table had been taken from a former superior’s office after he’d been found An “ Insufficiently enthusiastic member of the Inner Party.” The purges never took more then a few of the members of the Inner Party, their ranks were too few for the great Purges the Outer Party had to endure. Not that he minded in particular- it was a rather lovely table.

He paused mournfully at that last thought, and wondered when his turn would come. Strangely his focus shifted for a moment and He thought of Winston. More specifically he thought of their last conversations about Truth. He regretted what had been done to Winston, not out of Compassion but because he saw himself in Winston, and knew that one day it would be him on the receiving end of the gentle administrations of the Thought Police. But such was life, he thought as he turned the Thermostat up, And for now Life was worth living.