1984

           Fortherestitwasjustanoise,aquack-quack-quacking. Andyet,thoughyoucouldnotactuallyhearwhatthemanwassaying,youcouldnotbeinanydoubtaboutitsgeneralnature. HemightbedenouncingGoldsteinanddemandingsternermeasuresagainstthought-criminalsandsaboteurs, hemightbefulminatingagainsttheatrocitiesoftheEurasianarmy, hemightbepraisingBigBrotherortheheroesontheMalabarfront—itmadenodifference. Whateveritwas,youcouldbecertainthateverywordofitwaspureorthodoxy,pureIngsoc. Ashewatchedtheeyelessfacewiththejawmovingrapidlyupanddown,Winstonhadacuriousfeelingthatthiswasnotarealhumanbeingbutsomekindofdummy. Itwasnottheman’sbrainthatwasspeaking,itwashislarynx. Thestuffthatwascomingoutofhimconsistedofwords,butitwasnotspeechinthetruesense: itwasanoiseutteredinunconsciousness,likethequackingofaduck. 

           Symehadfallensilentforamoment,andwiththehandleofhisspoonwastracingpatternsinthepuddleofstew. Thevoicefromtheothertablequackedrapidlyon,easilyaudibleinspiteofthesurroundingdin. 

           ‘ThereisawordinNewspeak,’saidSyme,‘Idon’tknowwhetheryouknowit: DUCKSPEAK,toquacklikeaduck. Itisoneofthoseinterestingwordsthathavetwocontradictorymeanings. Appliedtoanopponent,itisabuse,appliedtosomeoneyouagreewith,itispraise.’ 

           UnquestionablySymewillbevaporized,Winstonthoughtagain. Hethoughtitwithakindofsadness,althoughwellknowingthatSymedespisedhimandslightlydislikedhim, andwasfullycapableofdenouncinghimasathought-criminalifhesawanyreasonfordoingso. TherewassomethingsubtlywrongwithSyme.