1984
Chapter 1
littleboyscreamingwithfright andhidinghisheadbetweenherbreastsasifhewastryingtoburrowrightintoher andthewomanputtingherarmsroundhimandcomfortinghim althoughshewasbluewithfrightherself, allthetimecoveringhimupasmuchaspossible asifshethoughtherarmscouldkeepthebulletsoffhim. thenthehelicopterplanteda20kilobombinamongthem terrificflashandtheboatwentalltomatchwood. thentherewasawonderfulshotofachild’sarmgoingupupuprightupintotheair ahelicopterwithacamerainitsnosemusthavefolloweditup andtherewasalotofapplausefromthepartyseats butawomandownintheprolepartofthehousesuddenlystartedkickingupafuss andshoutingtheydidntoughterofshoweditnotinfrontofkids theydidntitaintrightnotinfrontofkidsitaintuntilthepoliceturnedherturnedherout idontsupposeanythinghappenedtoher nobodycareswhattheprolessaytypicalprolereactiontheynever—
Winstonstoppedwriting,partlybecausehewassufferingfromcramp. Hedidnotknowwhathadmadehimpouroutthisstreamofrubbish. Butthecuriousthingwas thatwhilehewasdoingsoatotallydifferentmemoryhadclarifieditselfinhismind, tothepointwherehealmostfeltequaltowritingitdown. Itwas,henowrealized,becauseofthisotherincident thathehadsuddenlydecidedtocomehomeandbeginthediarytoday.
IthadhappenedthatmorningattheMinistry, ifanythingsonebulouscouldbesaidtohappen. Itwasnearlyelevenhundred, andintheRecordsDepartment,whereWinstonworked, theyweredraggingthechairsoutofthecubiclesandgroupingtheminthecentreofthehalloppositethebigtelescreen, inpreparationfortheTwoMinutesHate.
