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InTune

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steller-v2-tts

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okay. whom will they play next sunday?

they are going to be playing against the portland timbers.

the girl stopped and turned.

suddenly, by the sort of violent effort with which one wrenches one's head away from the pillow in a nightmare, winston succeeded in transferring his hatred from the face on the screen to the dark haired girl behind him.

okay. what was their score last game?

okay. who is their goalkeeper?

awesome. thank you. that's all i needed.

awesome, i hope you have a great day. take care.

hello.

hi. what place are dc united in?

currently in last place in the eastern conference.

do they play today?

'here we are,' she said.

no, they're not scheduled to play today.

who did they play last saturday?

they were not scheduled to play last saturday.

when did they play last?

awesome. and who's their goalkeeper?

their goalkeeper is bill hamid.

okay, thanks. that's all i needed.

when was the last cubs game?

hi, how can i help you?

he was facing her at several paces' distance.

as yet he did not dare move nearer to her.

'i didn't want to say anything in the lane,' she went on, 'in case there's a mike hidden there.

i don't suppose there is, but there could be.

there's always the chance of one of those swine recognizing your voice.

we're all right here.'

he still had not the courage to approach her.

'we're all right here?'

he repeated stupidly.

vivid, beautiful hallucinations flashed through his mind.

'yes.

look at the trees.'

they were small ashes, which at some time had been cut down and had sprouted up again into a forest of poles, none of them thicker than one's wrist.

'there's nothing big enough to hide a mike in.

besides, i've been here before.'

they were only making conversation.

he had managed to move closer to her now.

she stood before him very upright, with a smile on her face that looked faintly ironical, as though she were wondering why he was so slow to act.

the bluebells had cascaded on to the ground.

they seemed to have fallen of their own accord.

he would flog her to death with a rubber truncheon.

he took her hand.

'would you believe,' he said, 'that till this moment i didn't know what colour your eyes were?'

they were brown, he noted, a rather light shade of brown, with dark lashes.

'now that you've seen what i'm really like, can you still bear to look at me?'

'yes, easily.'

'i'm thirty nine years old.

i've got a wife that i can't get rid of.

i've got varicose veins.

i've got five false teeth.'

'i couldn't care less,' said the girl.

he would tie her naked to a stake and shoot her full of arrows like saint sebastian.

the next moment, it was hard to say by whose act, she was in his his arms.

at the beginning he had no feeling except sheer incredulity.

the youthful body was strained against his own, the mass of dark hair was against his face, and yes!

actually she had turned her face up and he was kissing the wide red mouth.

she had clasped her arms about his neck, she was calling him darling, precious one, loved one.

he had pulled her down on to the ground, she was utterly unresisting, he could do what he liked with her.

but the truth was that he had no physical sensation, except that of mere contact.

all he felt was incredulity and pride.

he was glad that this was happening, but he had no physical desire.

it was too soon, her youth and prettiness had frightened him, he was too much used to living without women he did not know the reason.

he would ravish her and cut her throat at the moment of climax.

the girl picked herself up and pulled a bluebell out of her hair.

she sat against him, putting her arm round his waist.

'never mind, dear.

there's no hurry.

we've got the whole afternoon.

isn't this a splendid hide out?

i found it when i got lost once on a community hike.

if anyone was coming you could hear them a hundred metres away.'

'what is your name?'

said winston.

better than before, moreover, he realized why it was that he hated her.

'julia.

i know yours.

it's winston winston smith.'

'how did you find that out?'

'i expect i'm better at finding things out than you are, dear.

tell me, what did you think of me before that day i gave you the note?'

he did not feel any temptation to tell lies to her.

it was even a sort of love offering to start off by telling the worst.

'i hated the sight of you,' he said.

'i wanted to rape you and then murder you afterwards.

he hated her because she was young and pretty and sexless, because he wanted to go to bed with her and would never do so, because round her sweet supple waist, which seemed to ask you to encircle it with your arm, there was only the odious scarlet sash, aggressive symbol of chastity.

there was one on the house front immediately opposite.

two weeks ago i thought seriously of smashing your head in with a cobblestone.

if you really want to know, i imagined that you had something to do with the thought police.'

the girl laughed delightedly, evidently taking this as a tribute to the excellence of her disguise.

'not the thought police!

you didn't honestly think that?'

'well, perhaps not exactly that.

but from your general appearance merely because you're young and fresh and healthy, you understand i thought that probably '

'you thought i was a good party member.

pure in word and deed.

banners, processions, slogans, games, community hikes all that stuff.

the hate rose to its climax.

and you thought that if i had a quarter of a chance i'd denounce you as a thought criminal and get you killed off?'