1984

           Itwascurioushowthatbeetle-liketypeproliferatedintheMinistries: littledumpymen,growingstoutveryearlyinlife,withshortlegs,swiftscuttlingmovements,andfatinscrutablefaceswithverysmalleyes. ItwasthetypethatseemedtoflourishbestunderthedominionoftheParty. 

           TheannouncementfromtheMinistryofPlentyendedonanothertrumpetcallandgavewaytotinnymusic. Parsons,stirredtovagueenthusiasmbythebombardmentoffigures,tookhispipeoutofhismouth. 

           ‘TheMinistryofPlenty’scertainlydoneagoodjobthisyear,’hesaidwithaknowingshakeofhishead. ‘Bytheway,Smitholdboy,Isupposeyouhaven’tgotanyrazorbladesyoucanletmehave?’ 

           ‘Notone,’saidWinston. ‘I’vebeenusingthesamebladeforsixweeksmyself.’ 

           ‘Ah,well—justthoughtI’daskyou,oldboy.’ 

           ‘Sorry,’saidWinston. 

           Thequackingvoicefromthenexttable,temporarilysilencedduringtheMinistry’sannouncement,hadstartedupagain,asloudasever. ForsomereasonWinstonsuddenlyfoundhimselfthinkingofMrsParsons,withherwispyhairandthedustinthecreasesofherface. WithintwoyearsthosechildrenwouldbedenouncinghertotheThoughtPolice. MrsParsonswouldbevaporized. Symewouldbevaporized. Winstonwouldbevaporized. O’Brienwouldbevaporized. Parsons,ontheotherhand,wouldneverbevaporized. Theeyelesscreaturewiththequackingvoicewouldneverbevaporized.