07/15/2022 Snippet, 2084.

TORTURE!

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He shifted to look at the other person in the room; a large fellow, dressed in the blue medical sweats that the Right and Honorable Guild of Deprogrammers favored. “Is this going to be enough, Dr. …Miles?”

“You wouldn’t think so, would you, Sir James?” Miles’ voice was warm, even soothing; it was a remarkable contrast from the battered, lightly-scarred face it was coming out of. “But sometimes even the look of proper food’s enough. Or the smell. The Invaders’ sepoys never ate well, even during the bad years. These days, the holdouts get just enough to not starve. Goodthink’s supposed to get them through the rest of it.”

He nodded to the prisoner. “That poor bastard, as you put it, he’s got a bellyful of goodthink in him right now. See how he’s mumbling? That’s him going over those Three Rules of theirs, trying to keep ‘em between him and the food. That, and the sign. He knows he’s supposed to obey anything official, especially if it’s written out in goodsay.”

“Even if the enemy wrote it?” Alex shook her head. “That’s a contradiction, isn’t it?”

“No,” Miles said. “It’s badthink.”