The comrades of Oceania are dictated to by the Corpus Juris Civilis. Blindly they circumnavigate the world, gently brushing keystrokes; fingertips reading the dots that denote each letter. No further interpretation could be made. All must abide by the unwritten obligations of the Jus Civile, which tracks the errors one can make: Crimethink, Crimespeak, Oldthink, Oldspeak. A series of amateur spies act as a modern day Censura; enabling Big Brother in his pursuit of the reckless, the thoughtless, and the brave.
"Be my friend, comrade," they cajole. Information passes freely; privacy an Oldspeak term diligently made redundant by these regulators of public morality. She knows this, but still pursues the contact; trapped by the unenviable human desire for companionship. There are others, she is sure. Numbed by Victory gin, the web of deceit spins delicately around the limbs of the damned citizen. Paralysed, her soul is dragged to the forum for judgement. Elsewhere, the lions wait.
The stench of betrayal hangs in the air, weaving a path towards the baited meal. Still the lions wait. The comrades mock. The comrades pity. Regimen morum, however, must be upheld. Behind the column of stone lurks the victim's comrade, now promoted to the much revered role of Castigator. An appropriate pathway to Caesar she was sure. The Castigator smiled as she watched her fallen comrade branded with the nota censoria. With that, the damage was done.
How's your Latin?
Corpus Juris Civilis - Body of Civil Law
Jus Civile – Civil Law
Censura – Censor
Regimen morum – Keeping the public morals
Castigator – Chastiser
Nota censorial – Censorial mark
