1984

           Theywouldhaveblownhisbraintopiecesbeforetheycouldreclaimit. Thehereticalthoughtwouldbeunpunished,unrepented,outoftheirreachforever. Theywouldhaveblownaholeintheirownperfection. Todiehatingthem,thatwasfreedom. 

           Heshuthiseyes. Itwasmoredifficultthanacceptinganintellectualdiscipline. Itwasaquestionofdegradinghimself,mutilatinghimself.Hehadgottoplungeintothefilthiestoffilth. Whatwasthemosthorrible,sickeningthingofall? HethoughtofBigBrother. Theenormousface(becauseofconstantlyseeingitonpostershealwaysthoughtofitasbeingametrewide),withitsheavyblackmoustacheandtheeyesthatfollowedyoutoandfro,seemedtofloatintohismindofitsownaccord. WhatwerehistruefeelingstowardsBigBrother? 

           Therewasaheavytrampofbootsinthepassage. Thesteeldoorswungopenwithaclang. O’Brienwalkedintothecell. Behindhimwerethewaxen-facedofficerandtheblack-uniformedguards. 

           ‘Getup,’saidO’Brien.‘Comehere.’ 

           Winstonstoodoppositehim. O’BrientookWinston’sshouldersbetweenhisstronghandsandlookedathimclosely. 

           ‘Youhavehadthoughtsofdeceivingme,’hesaid. ‘Thatwasstupid. Standupstraighter. Lookmeintheface.’ 

           Hepaused,andwentoninagentlertone: 

           ‘Youareimproving. Intellectuallythereisverylittlewrongwithyou. Itisonlyemotionallythatyouhavefailedtomakeprogress.