Chapter 1
There are thirty-two steps leading up to Harry's apartment, and the wall parallel to every sixth step is marked with the same poster.
Harry knows this poster very well. It is everywhere, because it is essential to the Party and the Party, as far back as Harry can remember it, is everywhere. Harry would know the poster in his sleep, as any faithful Party member is expected to. The picture emblazoned across the poster's surface shows a solemn, white-skinned man, maybe in his late twenties or early thirties, though Harry has never been much good at guessing ages. The man has dark, slightly wavy hair and piercing eyes that are darker still. Harry has always thought that the man looks a little disapproving as he stares out at the world. Underneath the youthful, handsome face there is always a caption in bold letters: TOM RIDDLE IS WATCHING YOU.
Each day Harry walks home from work and sees this poster everywhere, of course. The walls of buildings hold the poster, decrepit fences hold the poster. Tom Riddle's dark, watchful eyes stare out wherever Harry goes. This is alright, as things go; it is expected. The great indignity is in returning to his apartment from long hours of work and walking up each of those thirty two stairs every day. The apartment building, called Oceania Mansion, is unstable and dusty and all gone to shambles, but Harry thinks it might have been a home if not for all those posters. To go to work with Tom Riddle's eyes upon him would be alright if Harry could ever have a moment's reprieve.
There is no such rest to be found. Harry works each day under Tom Riddle's gaze and returns home to more of the same, and, ever, the telescreens look on. TOM RIDDLE IS WATCHING YOU.
Thank you for reminding me, Harry would like to say, his voice biting, his face twisted into a sneer.
He never does.