1984

           Thelittlebeetle-likemenwhoscuttlesonimblythroughthelabyrinthinecorridorsofMinistriesthey,too,wouldneverbevaporized. Andthegirlwithdarkhair,thegirlfromtheFictionDepartment—shewouldneverbevaporizedeither. Itseemedtohimthatheknewinstinctivelywhowouldsurviveandwhowouldperish: thoughjustwhatitwasthatmadeforsurvival,itwasnoteasytosay. 

           Atthismomenthewasdraggedoutofhisreveriewithaviolentjerk. Thegirlatthenexttablehadturnedpartlyroundandwaslookingathim. Itwasthegirlwithdarkhair. Shewaslookingathiminasidelongway,butwithcuriousintensity. Theinstantshecaughthiseyeshelookedawayagain. 

           ThesweatstartedoutonWinston’sbackbone. Ahorriblepangofterrorwentthroughhim. Itwasgonealmostatonce,butitleftasortofnagginguneasinessbehind. Whywasshewatchinghim? Whydidshekeepfollowinghimabout? Unfortunatelyhecouldnotrememberwhethershehadalreadybeenatthetablewhenhearrived,orhadcomethereafterwards. Butyesterday,atanyrate,duringtheTwoMinutesHate,shehadsatimmediatelybehindhimwhentherewasnoapparentneedtodoso. Quitelikelyherrealobjecthadbeentolistentohimandmakesurewhetherhewasshoutingloudlyenough. 

           Hisearlierthoughtreturnedtohim: probablyshewasnotactuallyamemberoftheThoughtPolice,butthenitwaspreciselytheamateurspywhowasthegreatestdangerofall. Hedidnotknowhowlongshehadbeenlookingathim, butperhapsforasmuchasfiveminutes,anditwaspossiblethathisfeatureshadnotbeenperfectlyundercontrol. Itwasterriblydangeroustoletyourthoughtswanderwhenyouwereinanypublicplaceorwithinrangeofatelescreen.