1984

           Theysprangapart. Winston’sentrailsseemedtohaveturnedintoice. HecouldseethewhiteallroundtheirisesofJulia’seyes. Herfacehadturnedamilkyyellow. Thesmearofrougethatwasstilloneachcheekbonestoodoutsharply,almostasthoughunconnectedwiththeskinbeneath. 

           ‘Youarethedead,’repeatedtheironvoice. 

           ‘Itwasbehindthepicture,’breathedJulia. 

           ‘Itwasbehindthepicture,’saidthevoice. ‘Remainexactlywhereyouare. Makenomovementuntilyouareordered.’ 

           Itwasstarting,itwasstartingatlast! Theycoulddonothingexceptstandgazingintooneanother’seyes. Torunforlife,togetoutofthehousebeforeitwastoolate—nosuchthoughtoccurredtothem. Unthinkabletodisobeytheironvoicefromthewall. Therewasasnapasthoughacatchhadbeenturnedback,andacrashofbreakingglass. Thepicturehadfallentotheflooruncoveringthetelescreenbehindit. 

           ‘Nowtheycanseeus,’saidJulia. 

           ‘Nowwecanseeyou,’saidthevoice. ‘Standoutinthemiddleoftheroom. Standbacktoback. Claspyourhandsbehindyourheads. Donottouchoneanother.’ 

           Theywerenottouching,butitseemedtohimthathecouldfeelJulia’sbodyshaking. Orperhapsitwasmerelytheshakingofhisown. Hecouldjuststophisteethfromchattering,buthiskneeswerebeyondhiscontrol. Therewasasoundoftramplingbootsbelow,insidethehouseandoutside.