Chapter Six
I woke up again. I was back in my room. I was safe. No-one had caught me yet. No-one had injected me with anything. Something still felt wrong though. The last dream was so vivid, it was like it seeped into reality and became true. The emotions, the terror, was still with me. I inspected my arm. There was no sign of any injection. No. It was all a dream. Even then something was still horribly wrong. It was dark outside. Night. I had missed the whole day. I was now conspicuous in my rebelliousness. What were they going to do about me? The other dreams came to mind. I couldn’t visualise them, but the feelings of loss and anger and sorrow filled me again. Maybe they would send a force to take me away or kill me. I would fight back though. I wouldn’t accept it. But they’d done nothing yet. They’ve let me be as I’ve began to wear down their control. This was the first time I haven’t dreamt about memorising what we did in class. Maybe because I hadn’t even gone to class. It was the first time I hadn’t woken up at 8:I9am. I’d changed. Everything had changed. It was the beginning of my active rebellion against the state. The beginning of the end of total control that wrecked the lives of everyone. I was going to destroy them. They had made a grave mistake in leaving me unhindered.
Except last night in the palace. Who was it? Was it them? What was it doing there? I remembered the book I had picked up; the Art of War. I grabbed it from under the bed and a sheet of paper slipped out. Floating to the ground, it flipped, revealing an underside covered in text. I picked it up and began to read:
I know everything about the world. I know who you are and what you want. I will help you. Do not try to communicate with me. Do not try to find me. I will initiate everything. I will give you necessary instructions later. In the meantime, I have given you this book as a token of trust. Read it.
An Ally.
There was a co-conspirator. My first thought was of O’Brien, the fraudulent ally of Winston in 1984. It gave Winston a book, Winston trusted it, and it did not end well for Winston. Maybe my “ally” was really the leader, or someone it entrusted, intent on tricking me for some secret purpose. I knew I should tread carefully and reserve my judgement. But then, what would it gain from taking me into its confidence and deceiving me? I couldn’t imagine any reason, any complex plan that would necessarily involve tricking me. This world was all about efficiency as I was all too aware, and some plot by the leader in securing my alliance with the intention of hurting me seemed too farfetched. Anyhow, I could see no harm in doing as the note said and reading the book. It couldn’t do me any harm. It was just a book after all.
Reading the Art of War only took me a week. The book discussed in simple sentences the way to lead an army in a practical sense, which wasn’t too relevant, as well as engaging enemies in actual war, the main thrust of which was to deceive the enemy and act unexpectedly. I returned the book. It was useless. Perhaps it was part of a more elaborate deception, a plan to send me in the wrong direction while they decided what to do with me. If that was what it really was, they had failed. I was pressing on with my mission and had formulated a basic plan during this time. I had realised I didn’t have a tangible enemy within the commune. I could attack the leader, kill it even, but what good would it do? It was an instrument, and its death would not effect any change. The only enemy I would face would be the methods of control imposed on my fellow citizens. The only victory would be in their freedom. My plan was first to undertake any means to free the peoples of my commune, and ultimately take control of it. This disruption would then coerce the central control to send means to quell my rebellion. If I were able to defeat them, then the world would be mine. There would be no-one to oppose me and I would be free to liberate everyone. There were details I needed to iron out: I needed to make sure that once a citizen was freed from control, they would follow me; I needed to be sure that I would be able to defeat the forces of the central control; but a least I had a plan. I was ready to begin a revolution. But one thing at a time. I needed to find a method through which I could free one person. That was my first objective.