Animal Farm 2 | Act 2: Pigs in Peril
The barnyard was quiet the morning after Cornflower disappeared. A pale sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the half-finished windmill. The animals gathered near the stone platform, their breath visible in the crisp air. They waited, unsure of what would come next.
Brisket emerged from the farmhouse, his heavy frame moving with deliberate purpose. He was flanked by two other pigs—Plush and Gristle—both younger and eager-looking. Behind them trailed Squealer, a clipboard tucked under one hoof.
"Comrades," Brisket began, his voice deep and commanding, "the time for chaos is over. Under my leadership, Animal Farm will return to strength and stability."
The animals exchanged glances. Boxer, standing near Clover, nodded slowly. "Stability is good," he murmured.
Brisket continued. "Cornflower's reckless experiments have left us weak. But I promise you this: no more foolish dreams, no more dangerous risks. Together, we will rebuild what has been lost."
The sheep bleated in unison: "Four legs good! Two legs bad!" Their chant echoed across the yard.
Squealer stepped forward, holding up his clipboard. "To ensure stability," he said with a practiced smile, "we have revised the commandments to reflect our new direction."
The animals turned toward the barn wall. Plush and Gristle had already climbed ladders and were painting over Cornflower's amendments. In their place were new slogans:
"Strength Through Unity."
"Work Is Freedom."
"Stability Above All."
Muriel squinted at the fresh paint. "But weren’t there seven commandments before?" she asked.
Squealer’s smile widened. "Ah, Muriel, you are mistaken! These have always been our guiding principles."
Benjamin snorted softly but said nothing.
Over the next days, Brisket moved quickly to consolidate his rule. The dogs, once loyal to Napoleon and then to Cornflower, now patrolled the farm under Brisket’s orders. They barked sharply at any animal who lingered too long near the farmhouse or whispered too loudly in the fields.
The pigs took up residence in Napoleon’s old quarters, though Brisket claimed the largest room for himself. From time to time, animals caught glimpses of him through the farmhouse windows: sitting at Napoleon’s old desk, his jowls resting heavily on his hooves as he studied papers by candlelight.
Meanwhile, work on the windmill slowed to a crawl. Brisket declared it a "low priority" until more pressing issues were resolved.
Rations were adjusted—"temporarily," Squealer assured them—to account for recent shortages. The hens grumbled but laid their eggs dutifully; Boxer pulled his plow without complaint.
Clover watched all this with quiet unease. In her heart, she wanted to believe Brisket’s promises of stability. But as she stood by the paddock one evening, watching the pigs laugh and toast each other inside the farmhouse, she couldn’t shake a nagging thought: Was this what they had fought for?
As night fell on Animal Farm, Brisket stood at the window of Napoleon’s old room and looked out over his domain. The animals were asleep in their stalls; only Benjamin remained awake, staring blankly into the darkness.
Brisket smiled faintly and turned away from the window. Stability had been restored—or so it seemed.
Months passed. The seasons changed, but life on Animal Farm settled into a monotonous rhythm. Brisket's voice boomed from the loudspeaker each morning: "Comrades! Our production quotas have increased by five percent!" The animals nodded, too tired to question.
In the fields, Boxer strained against his plow. "I must work harder," he wheezed, his coat grayer than before. Clover walked beside him, her steps slow and measured.
"Do you remember," she asked softly, "when we dreamed of retirement?"
Boxer blinked, confused. "But Comrade Brisket says we're building a better future."
The windmill stood unfinished, its skeleton a reminder of abandoned dreams. Weeds grew thick around its base.
Every Sunday, the animals gathered for the flag-raising ceremony. Brisket, his bulk barely contained by Napoleon's old jacket, addressed them from the stone platform.
"Comrades," he declared, "we have never been more prosperous!"
The sheep bleated in unison: "Four legs good, two legs better!" No one remembered when the slogan had changed.
Behind Brisket, a new banner stretched across the barn: "ANIMAL FARM: LEADER IN AGRICULTURAL PRODUCTION." The paint was fresh, hiding the peeling wood beneath.
In the evenings, the pigs retired to the farmhouse. Laughter and the clinking of glasses drifted across the yard. The other animals huddled in their stalls, stomachs growling.
Squealer bustled about, clipboard in hoof. "Adjustments have been made to the ration schedule," he explained, "to account for our great economic successes."
The hens clucked quietly. "But we're laying fewer eggs," one dared to say.
Squealer's eyes narrowed. "Are you questioning Comrade Brisket's wisdom?"
The hen fell silent.
As the animals struggled to meet their new quotas, a shadow fell across the fields—a lone eagle soared overhead, its piercing cry echoing through the farm, a reminder of the world beyond their fences.
In the far corner of the farm, Benjamin stood motionless, gazing at the spot where the old donkey Boxer had fallen. A new generation of animals worked nearby, too young to remember.
"Excuse me," a young pig named Trotters approached him, "but why do you always look so sad?"
Benjamin turned his weary eyes to the pig. "I remember," he said simply, then walked away.
At night, some animals whispered of Sugarcandy Mountain, where clover was always in bloom and sugar lumps grew on bushes. Others dreamed of the days when Old Major had first spoken of rebellion.
But morning always came, and with it, Brisket's voice on the loudspeaker: "Comrades! Another glorious day dawns on Animal Farm!"
The animals rose, ready to face another day of plenty that never quite arrived.
The first sign of trouble came with the grain.
The animals had worked tirelessly to harvest the fields, but when the time came to distribute the grain, there was less than expected. Much less. Brisket stood on the stone platform, his voice booming across the yard.
"Comrades, this is a temporary setback," he declared. "Our stores are being used for strategic purposes to ensure the future of Animal Farm. Sacrifices today will lead to plenty tomorrow."
The animals murmured but said nothing. Boxer nodded solemnly, though his ribs were beginning to show beneath his coat. "I will work harder," he said, his voice weaker than before.
But Clover was not convinced. She noticed that while the animals' rations grew smaller, the pigs seemed fatter than ever. The farmhouse windows glowed late into the night, and strange deliveries arrived at odd hours—crates stamped with human writing that no one but Muriel could read.
One evening, Clover approached Benjamin as they stood by the paddock. "Do you think things are getting better?" she asked.
Benjamin flicked his tail and stared at the windmill, now crumbling at its edges from neglect. "Things never get better," he said flatly. "They just change hands."
The second sign of trouble came with the hens.
The hens had always been restless under Brisket's rule, but now their clucking grew louder and more defiant. One night, a group of them gathered in secret near the edge of the woods. They scratched messages into the dirt: "Where is our grain?" and "Why do we starve while pigs feast?"
By morning, their messages were gone, erased by heavy hoofprints. The dogs had been watching.
Later that day, Squealer addressed the animals in his usual oily tone. "Comrades," he began, "it has come to our attention that certain elements among us are spreading dangerous lies. These individuals are enemies of Animal Farm and must be dealt with swiftly."
That evening, three hens were dragged before the barn by the dogs. Their feathers were ruffled, their eyes wide with fear.
"They confessed," Squealer announced triumphantly. "They were plotting to sabotage Animal Farm on behalf of humans!"
The animals gasped. Boxer shifted uneasily but said nothing.
The hens were taken away, and no one saw them again.
The third sign of trouble came with the barn wall.
One morning, Muriel noticed something strange about the commandments painted on the barn wall. The words seemed... different. She squinted and read aloud:
"All animals are equal... but some animals are more equal than others."
The other animals gathered around her, murmuring in confusion.
"But that's not how it was before," Clover said softly.
Squealer appeared suddenly, his smile as sharp as ever. "Ah, comrades," he said smoothly, "you misunderstand! This has always been our guiding principle. Surely you remember?"
The sheep began bleating loudly: "Four legs good! Two legs better!" Their chant drowned out any further questions.
Clover looked at Benjamin, hoping for an answer. But Benjamin only shook his head and walked away.
That night, a storm rolled over Animal Farm. Rain lashed against the unfinished windmill, and thunder shook the ground. Inside their stalls, the animals huddled together for warmth.
In the farmhouse, Brisket sat at Napoleon’s old desk, staring at a stack of papers by candlelight. Plush and Gristle stood nearby, arguing in low voices.
"The animals are restless," Plush said nervously. "We need to give them something—anything—to keep them quiet."
Brisket waved a hoof dismissively. "They’ll do as they’re told."
But even as he spoke, cracks were forming—not just in the windmill or on the barn wall but in something deeper: trust.
Outside in the rain, Clover stood alone near the paddock fence. She stared at the farmhouse windows glowing faintly in the distance and whispered to herself: "This isn’t what we fought for."
Above her, lightning illuminated the windmill for a brief moment before plunging it back into darkness.
Animal Farm was holding together—but only just.
The next morning, the storm had passed, but the damage was clear. The windmill, already fragile, had lost part of its roof. Stones lay scattered at its base, and the scaffolding leaned precariously to one side. The animals gathered around it in silence, their faces heavy with exhaustion and doubt.
Brisket arrived late, flanked by Plush and Gristle. His coat was freshly brushed, his jowls glistening in the morning sun. He climbed onto the stone platform and raised a hoof for silence.
"Comrades!" he bellowed. "Do not despair! This storm was a test of our resolve, and we shall emerge stronger!"
The sheep immediately began their chant: "Four legs good! Two legs better!" The rhythm was mechanical, lifeless.
Brisket gestured toward the windmill. "This structure is more than stone and wood—it is a symbol of Animal Farm's greatness! We will rebuild it, stronger than before!"
Boxer stepped forward, his legs trembling slightly. "I will work harder," he said hoarsely.
Brisket smiled. "That is the spirit we need! Together, we will achieve glory!"
But Clover noticed something strange. Behind Brisket, Squealer whispered into Plush’s ear while Gristle scribbled notes on a clipboard. The pigs were always whispering now, always scheming.
In the following weeks, Brisket launched what he called "The Great Rebuilding." Work on the windmill resumed with renewed urgency. Squealer announced new quotas for every animal: more eggs from the hens, more milk from the cows, more hours in the fields for everyone else.
"Temporary measures," Squealer assured them. "For the good of Animal Farm."
But the animals were growing thinner. Rations were cut again—this time without explanation. Clover noticed that even Boxer struggled now; his once-mighty frame had grown gaunt, his steps slower.
One evening, as Clover helped Boxer back to his stall, she whispered to him: "Do you think this is what Old Major wanted?"
Boxer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes were dull, his head low. Finally, he said softly: "I don’t know anymore."
Meanwhile, Brisket worked to distract the animals from their hunger and exhaustion. He organized grand parades through the farmyard, complete with banners and slogans painted in bright red letters: "ANIMAL FARM: A BEACON OF HOPE!"
The pigs rode atop carts pulled by sheep and goats while Squealer narrated their achievements through a loudspeaker.
"Comrades," he proclaimed during one parade, "under Comrade Brisket’s leadership, Animal Farm has surpassed all expectations! Our grain production is unmatched! Our unity is unbreakable!"
The animals marched in silence. They knew there was no grain surplus—only empty silos and hollow promises.
One night, Clover couldn’t sleep. She wandered out of her stall and found Benjamin standing near the barn wall. He stared at the commandments painted there—or what remained of them.
"Benjamin," she said quietly, "what are you looking at?"
He didn’t turn to her but pointed with his nose at the wall. The paint was peeling again, revealing faint traces of older words beneath Brisket’s slogans.
"Nothing changes," Benjamin said flatly. "They just cover it up."
Clover felt a chill run through her. She looked toward the farmhouse where lights burned late into the night. Inside, Brisket and his inner circle were feasting again—she could hear their laughter even from here.
The final blow came when Squealer announced yet another adjustment to rations.
"Comrades," he said one morning as they gathered in the yard, "due to unforeseen circumstances beyond our control—namely sabotage by outside forces—we must tighten our belts once more."
The animals groaned softly but said nothing.
That night, Clover overheard two hens whispering near the coop.
"They’re lying," one said bitterly. "There’s no sabotage—just greed."
"But what can we do?" asked the other.
Clover didn’t have an answer.
As winter approached, Brisket called an emergency meeting in front of the barn.
"Comrades!" he shouted over the cold wind. "Our enemies would have us believe that Animal Farm is failing—but they are wrong! We are strong! We are united!"
Behind him stood Plush and Gristle with forced smiles. Even Squealer looked uneasy.
Brisket raised a hoof dramatically toward the windmill. "This is not just a building—it is our future! And I promise you this: when it stands complete, Animal Farm will be greater than ever!"
The animals looked at each other but did not cheer.
In the distance, thunder rumbled faintly—a storm brewing far away but drawing closer with each passing day.
That night, Clover stood alone near the paddock fence. She gazed out at the fields where nothing grew anymore and at the windmill that seemed more like a monument to failure than progress.
She thought of Old Major’s speech so many years ago—the dream of freedom and equality that had inspired them all to rise up against Jones.
"This isn’t what we fought for," she whispered to herself again.
In the farmhouse window, Brisket’s silhouette appeared briefly before disappearing behind heavy curtains.
Animal Farm was holding together—but only just. And deep down, Clover knew that something had to give… soon.
To be continued?
Thank you!
This story was generated by Perplexity.ai, using a few prompts for background research first. (~98% AI)
prompt: (see Act 1)Let's zoom in on Act 2. Give a more comprehensive outline (still divided into 3 or 4 blocks), with lots of notes about successfully copying Orwell's tone and style.Act 2: "Stagnation Station"
Part 1: The Rise of Brisket
Brisket consolidates power, emphasizing stability over progress.
Introduce new slogans painted over old ones, mirroring Orwell's use of propaganda.
Show animals' initial relief at promised stability, using short, declarative sentences.
Subtly hint at growing inequalities between pigs and other animals.
Style notes:
Use simple, direct language to describe complex political shifts.
Employ irony through contrast between official statements and reality.
Introduce new animal characters sparingly, focusing on their actions rather than descriptions.
Part 2: The Era of Empty Promises
Brisket implements policies that echo Brezhnev's era of stagnation.
Depict gradual decline in farm productivity through concrete examples.
Show increasing privileges for pigs, contrasted with harder work for other animals.
Introduce concept of "Sugarcandy Mountain" as escapism for disillusioned animals.
Style notes:
Use repetition of key phrases to emphasize growing disparity and disillusionment.
Employ animal-specific metaphors to describe abstract concepts.
Keep dialogue sparse but impactful, revealing character through brief exchanges.
Part 3: Cracks in the Facade
Signs of decay become apparent: neglected windmill, dwindling food stores.
Introduce underground dissent among more intelligent animals.
Depict Brisket's attempts to maintain control through propaganda and intimidation.
Show animals struggling to reconcile their memories of revolution with current reality.
Style notes:
Use short paragraphs to create a sense of mounting tension.
Employ understatement to highlight the gravity of the situation.
Maintain a neutral narrative voice, letting events speak for themselves.
Part 4: The Illusion of Progress
Brisket announces grand new initiatives to distract from problems.
Depict elaborate ceremonies and parades that mask underlying issues.
Show how some animals begin to question the pigs' version of history.
End with a sense of unease, hinting at the fragility of Brisket's regime.
Style notes:
Use irony to contrast official narratives with observable reality.
Employ animal behavior as allegory for human political dynamics.
Conclude with a powerful, understated sentence that resonates with the themes of the act.
Remember to maintain Orwell's clarity and directness throughout, avoiding unnecessary adjectives or complex sentence structures. Use concrete imagery to represent abstract concepts, and let the events and dialogue carry the emotional weight of the story.
Now write part [1,2,3,4].