1984

           HehardlythoughtofJulia.Hecouldnotfixhismindonher. Helovedherandwouldnotbetrayher;butthatwasonlyafact,knownasheknewtherulesofarithmetic. Hefeltnoloveforher,andhehardlyevenwonderedwhatwashappeningtoher. HethoughtoftenerofO’Brien,withaflickeringhope. O’Brienmightknowthathehadbeenarrested. TheBrotherhood,hehadsaid,nevertriedtosaveitsmembers. Buttherewastherazorblade;theywouldsendtherazorbladeiftheycould. Therewouldbeperhapsfivesecondsbeforetheguardcouldrushintothecell. Thebladewouldbiteintohimwithasortofburningcoldness,andeventhefingersthathelditwouldbecuttothebone. Everythingcamebacktohissickbody,whichshranktremblingfromthesmallestpain. Hewasnotcertainthathewouldusetherazorbladeevenifhegotthechance. Itwasmorenaturaltoexistfrommomenttomoment,acceptinganothertenminutes’lifeevenwiththecertaintythattherewastortureattheendofit. 

           Sometimeshetriedtocalculatethenumberofporcelainbricksinthewallsofthecell. Itshouldhavebeeneasy,buthealwayslostcountatsomepointoranother. Moreoftenhewonderedwherehewas,andwhattimeofdayitwas. Atonemomenthefeltcertainthatitwasbroaddaylightoutside,andatthenextequallycertainthatitwaspitchdarkness. Inthisplace,heknewinstinctively,thelightswouldneverbeturnedout. Itwastheplacewithnodarkness: hesawnowwhyO’Brienhadseemedtorecognizetheallusion. IntheMinistryofLovetherewerenowindows. Hiscellmightbeattheheartofthebuildingoragainstitsouterwall; itmightbetenfloorsbelowground,orthirtyaboveit. Hemovedhimselfmentallyfromplacetoplace,andtriedtodeterminebythefeelingofhisbodywhetherhewasperchedhighintheairorburieddeepunderground.