1984

           Hewasalreadydead,hereflected. Itseemedtohimthatitwasonlynow,whenhehadbeguntobeabletoformulatehisthoughts,thathehadtakenthedecisivestep. Theconsequencesofeveryactareincludedintheactitself. Hewrote: 

           Thoughtcrimedoesnotentaildeath: thoughtcrimeISdeath. 

           Nowhehadrecognizedhimselfasadeadmanitbecameimportanttostayaliveaslongaspossible. Twofingersofhisrighthandwereinkstained. Itwasexactlythekindofdetailthatmightbetrayyou. SomenosingzealotintheMinistry (awoman,probably:someonelikethelittlesandy-hairedwomanorthedark-hairedgirlfromtheFictionDepartment) mightstartwonderingwhyhehadbeenwritingduringthelunchinterval, whyhehadusedanold-fashionedpen,WHAThehadbeenwriting—andthendropahintintheappropriatequarter. Hewenttothebathroomandcarefullyscrubbedtheinkawaywiththegrittydark-brownsoap whichraspedyourskinlikesandpaperandwasthereforewelladaptedforthispurpose. 

           Heputthediaryawayinthedrawer. Itwasquiteuselesstothinkofhidingit,buthecouldatleastmakesurewhetherornotitsexistencehadbeendiscovered. Ahairlaidacrossthepage-endswastooobvious. Withthetipofhisfingerhepickedupanidentifiablegrainofwhitishdustanddepositeditonthecornerofthecover, whereitwasboundtobeshakenoffifthebookwasmoved.