Nineteen Eighty-Phone

It was a dreary warm day in August, and the bell had rung to begin eighth period. Hammond Wright, his arms curled inward in an effort to evade the pounding heat, strode swiftly through the double doors of the Main Building, though not swiftly enough to prevent a fiery gust from invading the un-air conditioned hall with him. This was not much of a surprise, however, given the doors were nearly always wide open.
The building smelt strongly of onion and school spirit. At the end of the hall hung an oblong painting, encompassing roughly 70% of the wall. Plastered in the golden frame was the full body of a woman in a pastel pink dress, sitting comfortably on a tall turquoise throne and gazing down imperiously at Hammond, who was approaching the foot of the figure. “MATER IS WATCHING YOU,” read the caption beneath the painting. Maintaining his rigid expression, Hammond briskly marched to his left and out another set of double doors to the courtyard of the Performing Arts Center–PAC, in Gatorspeak–which housed an array of well-kept rectangular shrubs, arranged just a foot away from a low brick wall. Taking a quick look in his peripheral, Hammond found it safe to rustle into the gap, so he might be unseen by any potential members of the Phone Patrol.
Hammond had never seen, or at least he wasn’t aware if he’d ever seen, a member of the Phone Patrol, although he was certain they were all around. This patrol was necessary to keep the Darty’s third all-year plan in effect. To handle and use a cellphone during the academic day–as Hammond was doing now, concealed by a dense cluster of leaves–was not illegal, as there were technically no laws in effect, but was punishable by a dreadful visit to the Ministry of Growth. The Ministry of Growth was one of the five branches by which the entirety of the campus’ governing body functioned. The Ministry of Community, in which Hammond held a leadership position, was not far from here, although all of the ministries were within walking distance: the Ministry of Faith, which concerned itself with obedience; the Ministry of Intellect, which concerned itself with news and education; the Ministry of Service, which promoted its namesake to the Darty; the Ministry of Community, which concerned itself with athletics, arts, and schoolwide events; and the Ministry of Growth, which maintained law and order.
Hammond gazed into the intoxicating blue beam of the cell phone, becoming lost in the abstract yet enticing pastel colors of the background. It was a particularly beautiful phone, with round, comforting corners and a pleasant door-knob grip which Hammond now shakily clung to. With great apprehension, he unlocked the phone, greeted by the Darty website, which was plastered top to bottom with images of cheery students. The homepage, although barely loaded, projected the three slogans of the Darty:

HUMILITY IS PRIDE
SIMPLICITY IS NUANCE
KINDNESS IS PUNISHMENT

Hammond quit the application and directed his finger toward the messaging app, which opened to reveal an empty text box. Hammond looked up, once more confirming his solitude, then tentatively punched a sequence of letters into the keypad. “DOWN WITH GATOR NATION” was repeatedly sprawled in over and over again, line after line after line, until Hammond’s thumbs had grown sore, and he breathed. He felt a tinge of heavy guilt for writing such words and had the urge to delete them, but he knew such an effort would be useless–he had committed Phonecrime, as they called it in Gatorspeak, and such an act could not be avoided forever. Eventually, the Darty would discover him, and would toss him into the unimaginable Ministry of Growth–it was hopeless. For whom, it suddenly occurred to him to wonder, was he writing this text? For the future, for the unborn? Hammond scrutinized his contact list, but found neither “the future” nor “the unborn” in his contacts. Without many other ideas, he put the phone away in the bushes. With the tip of his finger, he pinched a bit of pocket lint and deposited it on the corner of the phone case, where it was bound to be shaken off should it be discovered. Or moved by, like, the wind or something.