Lord Flame Stryke
December 25th 07, 09:09 PM
literally nothing, that either of us can do for the other. If I confess,
they'll shoot you, and if I refuse to confess, they'll shoot you just the
same. Nothing that I can do or say, or stop myself from saying, will put
off your death for as much as five minutes. Neither of us will even know
whether the other is alive or dead. We shall be utterly without power of
any kind. The one thing that matters is that we shouldn't betray one
another, although even that can't make the slightest difference.'
'If you mean confessing,' she said, 'we shall do that, right enough.
Everybody always confesses. You can't help it. They torture you.'
'I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal. What you say or
do doesn't matter: only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving
you -- that would be the real betrayal.'
She thought it over. 'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the
one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but
they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.'
'No,' he said a little more hopefully, 'no; that's quite true. They
can't get inside you. If you can feel that staying human is worth while,
even when it can't have any result whatever, you've beaten them.'
He thought of the telescreen with its never-sleeping ear. They could
spy upon you night and day, but i
they'll shoot you, and if I refuse to confess, they'll shoot you just the
same. Nothing that I can do or say, or stop myself from saying, will put
off your death for as much as five minutes. Neither of us will even know
whether the other is alive or dead. We shall be utterly without power of
any kind. The one thing that matters is that we shouldn't betray one
another, although even that can't make the slightest difference.'
'If you mean confessing,' she said, 'we shall do that, right enough.
Everybody always confesses. You can't help it. They torture you.'
'I don't mean confessing. Confession is not betrayal. What you say or
do doesn't matter: only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving
you -- that would be the real betrayal.'
She thought it over. 'They can't do that,' she said finally. 'It's the
one thing they can't do. They can make you say anything -- anything -- but
they can't make you believe it. They can't get inside you.'
'No,' he said a little more hopefully, 'no; that's quite true. They
can't get inside you. If you can feel that staying human is worth while,
even when it can't have any result whatever, you've beaten them.'
He thought of the telescreen with its never-sleeping ear. They could
spy upon you night and day, but i