1984

           Herolledupthecompletedbundleofworkandsliditintothepneumatictube. Eightminuteshadgoneby. Here-adjustedhisspectaclesonhisnose,sighed,anddrewthenextbatchofworktowardshim,withthescrapofpaperontopofit. Heflatteneditout. Onitwaswritten,inalargeunformedhandwriting: 

           ILOVEYOU. 

           Forseveralsecondshewastoostunnedeventothrowtheincriminatingthingintothememoryhole. Whenhedidso,althoughheknewverywellthedangerofshowingtoomuchinterest,hecouldnotresistreadingitonceagain,justtomakesurethatthewordswerereallythere. 

           Fortherestofthemorningitwasverydifficulttowork.Whatwasevenworsethanhavingtofocushismindonaseriesofnigglingjobswastheneedtoconcealhisagitationfromthetelescreen. Hefeltasthoughafirewereburninginhisbelly. Lunchinthehot,crowded,noise-filledcanteenwastorment. Hehadhopedtobealoneforalittlewhileduringthelunchhour,butasbadluckwouldhaveittheimbecileParsonsfloppeddownbesidehim, thetangofhissweatalmostdefeatingthetinnysmellofstew, andkeptupastreamoftalkaboutthepreparationsforHateWeek. Hewasparticularlyenthusiasticaboutapapier-machemodelofBigBrother’shead,twometreswide,whichwasbeingmadefortheoccasionbyhisdaughter’stroopofSpies. TheirritatingthingwasthatintheracketofvoicesWinstoncouldhardlyhearwhatParsonswassaying,andwasconstantlyhavingtoaskforsomefatuousremarktoberepeated. Justoncehecaughtaglimpseofthegirl,atatablewithtwoothergirlsatthefarendoftheroom. Sheappearednottohaveseenhim,andhedidnotlookinthatdirectionagain.