1984

           ‘Tothepast,’saidWinston. 

           ‘Thepastismoreimportant,’agreedO’Briengravely. 

           Theyemptiedtheirglasses,andamomentlaterJuliastooduptogo. O’Brientookasmallboxfromthetopofacabinetandhandedheraflatwhitetablet whichhetoldhertoplaceonhertongue. Itwasimportant,hesaid,nottogooutsmellingofwine: theliftattendantswereveryobservant. Assoonasthedoorhadshutbehindherheappearedtoforgetherexistence. Hetookanotherpaceortwoupanddown,thenstopped. 

           ‘Therearedetailstobesettled,’hesaid. ‘Iassumethatyouhaveahiding-placeofsomekind?’ 

           WinstonexplainedabouttheroomoverMrCharrington’sshop. 

           ‘Thatwilldoforthemoment. Laterwewillarrangesomethingelseforyou. Itisimportanttochangeone’shiding-placefrequently. MeanwhileIshallsendyouacopyofTHEBOOK’—evenO’Brien,Winstonnoticed,seemedtopronouncethewordsasthoughtheywereinitalics—‘Goldstein’sbook,youunderstand,assoonaspossible. ItmaybesomedaysbeforeIcangetholdofone. Therearenotmanyinexistence,asyoucanimagine. TheThoughtPolicehuntthemdownanddestroythemalmostasfastaswecanproducethem. Itmakesverylittledifference. Thebookisindestructible. Ifthelastcopyweregone,wecouldreproduceitalmostwordforword. Doyoucarryabrief-casetoworkwithyou?’headded. 

           ‘Asarule,yes.’ 

           ‘Whatisitlike?’