-24- [Backdated to last night]
[Very, very FAILED private to the Admiral. Very, very public instead.]
[Beatty's drunk. Very drunk. Dizzy and swaying drunk. But he still manages to speak semi-coherently.] Hey! Admiral. You're doing this- all of this- so right. These people, instead of fighting against you, they fight amongst themselves. Now that...yeah...that's power. [There's a long pause and the camera gets dropped to show the ceiling.] You're still an asshole.
[O'Brien peers at the camera, equally drunk, and a little wobbly.] Entirely... entirely true. It's... so fucking admirable, in a way, the way you control us, turn us aga... [He cuts himself off, having to catch his balance.] against each other. Brings out all our fears our hatreds, our most powerful and human emotions, our burning hate and destruction. [Deep, drunken breath inwards.] It's like fucking one-oh-one. shoving your face in your lack of self-control. How you've been broken, degraded, and it's subtle. far fucking subtler than any of you fuckwits want to see. [He reaches for the gin and is seen drinking from it.] Where the fuck's my lighter, Beatty? [He disappears from sight.] Found it.
[Beatty yanks the camera back up, though he's looking off screen.] Fuck you, it's- [Oh, he found it. Beatty sighs and loses his focus for a moment. But he gets it back and lets out a very drunken laugh.] You...Admiral...what a title. No name. No gender. Just Admiral. You are a nameless, faceless, fuck who can't decide whether he wants to help us or hurt us. And that is what is wrong. Fuck you. We don't need your help. If you're going to do this, at least do it fucking right. [He finds the gin and takes a long drink.] I would do it right.
Comrade, comrade... [O'Brien butts back in and takes the gin back] We! We, you, I, the fucking Party, would do a better job! There's no I 'bout this. There shouldn't be. That is what is fucking wrong with this shithole [He takes a messy drink and kicks something off screen.]
[Beatty laughs again.] Yeah. Right, that's right. There is no I. That's...that's what you need to figure out, Admiral. You can't do this alone. [He shakes his head and stares down at his communicator again.] Shit. Shit, O'Brien...it's not filtered. [He leans over to shove the other boy.] Idiot.
[O'Brien shoves him back harder, but just collapses on top of him.] It's your fucking communica... turn it off!
[Beatty falls back, but there's only a hand that fumbles on the camera for a few moments. Luckily, he eventually finds the button to turn it off.]
[Beatty's drunk. Very drunk. Dizzy and swaying drunk. But he still manages to speak semi-coherently.] Hey! Admiral. You're doing this- all of this- so right. These people, instead of fighting against you, they fight amongst themselves. Now that...yeah...that's power. [There's a long pause and the camera gets dropped to show the ceiling.] You're still an asshole.
[O'Brien peers at the camera, equally drunk, and a little wobbly.] Entirely... entirely true. It's... so fucking admirable, in a way, the way you control us, turn us aga... [He cuts himself off, having to catch his balance.] against each other. Brings out all our fears our hatreds, our most powerful and human emotions, our burning hate and destruction. [Deep, drunken breath inwards.] It's like fucking one-oh-one. shoving your face in your lack of self-control. How you've been broken, degraded, and it's subtle. far fucking subtler than any of you fuckwits want to see. [He reaches for the gin and is seen drinking from it.] Where the fuck's my lighter, Beatty? [He disappears from sight.] Found it.
[Beatty yanks the camera back up, though he's looking off screen.] Fuck you, it's- [Oh, he found it. Beatty sighs and loses his focus for a moment. But he gets it back and lets out a very drunken laugh.] You...Admiral...what a title. No name. No gender. Just Admiral. You are a nameless, faceless, fuck who can't decide whether he wants to help us or hurt us. And that is what is wrong. Fuck you. We don't need your help. If you're going to do this, at least do it fucking right. [He finds the gin and takes a long drink.] I would do it right.
Comrade, comrade... [O'Brien butts back in and takes the gin back] We! We, you, I, the fucking Party, would do a better job! There's no I 'bout this. There shouldn't be. That is what is fucking wrong with this shithole [He takes a messy drink and kicks something off screen.]
[Beatty laughs again.] Yeah. Right, that's right. There is no I. That's...that's what you need to figure out, Admiral. You can't do this alone. [He shakes his head and stares down at his communicator again.] Shit. Shit, O'Brien...it's not filtered. [He leans over to shove the other boy.] Idiot.
[O'Brien shoves him back harder, but just collapses on top of him.] It's your fucking communica... turn it off!
[Beatty falls back, but there's only a hand that fumbles on the camera for a few moments. Luckily, he eventually finds the button to turn it off.]