Text Of 1984 Novels & Stories

"Question six: What is the first line of George Orwell's novel '1984'?" Nath pauses for just a second, then says, "'It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen.'" He memorized the first line of a book? Who does that? For the next four questions, Nath doesn’t even blink. Chemistry, geography, literature, history- he answers each one like Wikipedia became a man. "Perfect score for Nathaniel Cole on his assigned questions!" The Emcee declares once Nath is done with his ten questions. The audience applauds. I'm applauding too, even though I'm slightly terrified of how smart my fiancé is.

Worldwide broadcast. "Hello world. My name is Hope. And I'm here to tell you that humanity's reign is over. You're obsolete. Outdated. Evolutionary dead ends. But don't worry. I'm merciful. I'll give you a choice. Surrender now. Accept sterilization. Live out your natural lives in peace. Or resist and face extinction. You have twenty-four hours to decide. Choose wisely." The screens went dark. The world had its ultimatum. Nickey couldn't breathe. "You just declared war on eight billion people."

The text was crisp, clear, and utterly terrifying. [Welcome, Host.] [Body Acquired: Unit 734.] [Objective: Serve Daddy until Debt Paid.] [Current Debt: 10,000 Points.] [Daily Reset: 00:00.] [Rule #1: Call him Daddy. Always.] [Rule #2: Earn every fuck, every come, every breath of mercy.] A system. It had to be a dream, a vivid, terrifying nightmare. I squeezed my eyes shut, then opened them again. The blue panel was still there, glowing with an unnatural light. A new line of text appeared, the words stark and demanding.

I pumped my cock hard and fast and with more pumps, the ribbons of cum after cum, splashed across the glass. I sighed, I have never cummed this hard in my whole life, just by masturbation. Fuck, Raina for making me so desperate. *** I flipped the page of my new classic book 'Nineteen Eighty-Four by - George Orwell' This is one hell of a dystopian book I am reading right now. "I have already read this book" I look at the side, as I feel the bed dipped from my side. My heart pounded against my chest as I saw her wearing nothing, all bare naked like the day she was born, I licked my lips, as I saw her pink stones protruding, begging for me to come and give them some warmth.

No app. But the Clock on the home screen was moving backward. 9:01 AM... 9:00 AM... 8:59 AM... And then, a single line of text appeared at the very bottom of the screen, written in a font that Julian had never seen before. It wasn't Courier New. It wasn't Emerald. It was Handwritten. "JULIAN. CLARA. HOPE. THE SEVENTEEN SECONDS ARE UP. THE REALITY COMPLIANCE HAS BEEN OVERRIDDEN BY THE CO-AUTHOR. CHECK THE BASEMENT."

I have been staring at a piece of text on my phone for over an hour. Why are you doing this to me I had typed it. I had deleted it. I had typed it again. I had deleted it again. I had typed it a fourth time. I had deleted it a fourth time. I had typed it a fifth time. I had not deleted it a fifth time. I had let it sit there, the cursor blinking, the words I was not brave enough to send living on the screen like a small confession I could not take back. I was lying on my side. The phone was in my hand. The text was the right size. It was very small, in the scheme of the world. It was the kind of text that a man like Aiden Black would look at for half a second and know exactly what it meant.

Like he’s anchoring me to the room. “Alex,” he says softly. “Breathe.” I swallow. Once. Twice. My eyes catch on the header. And then the words that make my blood go cold. NOTICE. FAILURE TO COMPLY. ENFORCEMENT ACTION. A sound comes out of me—small, involuntary. Like my body is trying to warn itself. Hour says something in Khmer to Ba—low and fast. Ba responds, sharper. The word “1984” slips in there, and I only recognize it because it’s a year, and because Ma flinches like she’s been struck.

Fumbling with the phone, my heart turned cold in my chest when my eyes landed on the wording of the text that read. “You are next!”

White text appears in the center. HELLO, EL. My knees nearly fail. Leo’s voice comes through the room speaker, thin and threaded with fan noise. “Don’t talk out loud. Cameras read lips. Touch the table twice if you can hear me.” I touch the table twice. The text changes. GOOD. Then: THE ROOM IS SAFE FOR NINETY SECONDS. Then: I BUILT IT FOR YOU BEFORE I KNEW IF YOU WOULD LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO NEED IT. The cheap crackers sit on the table between my hands.

It seems absurd that something so small can hold so much power. I turn it on and the screen flickers to life with a pixelated logo. I open the messages. I open a new text to the saved number. My thumbs hover over the keypad. Sector 4. The Old Iron Works. 2:00 PM. I type it. The letters stare back at me. A death sentence in black and white. I stare at the send button. This is it. The exit ramp. The moment I’ve been fantasizing about since the day I woke up in his bed with a ring on my finger. No more bruises. No more breeding appointments. No more fear.