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From: | Harold Bowling |
Subject: | [Fluxbox-aa-users] pigeon |
Date: | Fri, 15 Sep 2006 06:00:01 +0200 |
What knowledge have we ofanything, save through our
own minds?
It occurred to him that the textureof her skin
would be quite different from what it had once been.
He saw now what OBrien had meant about seeing the
sideview.
He was in the GoldenCountry, following the
foot-track across the old rabbit-cropped pasture. It was the rats that were on the
other side of the wall.
And he was shouting frantically,over and over. Now
turn around and look into that mirror again. He picked up the white knight and moved
it across the board. He could stillremember the smell of the damp
cardboard.
As though for reassurance helooked up at the
imperturbable face in the portrait. He walked easily,with a joy of movement and with
a feeling of walking in sunlight. He had not merely said it, he had wished it. This
is what you accepted whenyou set yourself up against the Party. Atinny music
trickled from the telescreens.
Forty years it had taken him to learnwhat kind of
smile was hidden beneath the dark moustache. They had given him a white slate with a
stump of pencil tied to thecorner. It needed great powers of reasoning and
improvisation.
There were no more doubts, no more arguments, no
morepain, no more fear. In anycase, mere control of the features was not enough. He
realized, nevertheless, that it ought never tohave occurred to him.
If I wished, OBrien had said, I couldfloat off this
floor like a soap bubble. He knew that there was nodanger, nobody would take any
interest in him.
When I press this other lever, the door of the cage
will slide up.
But no, they were merely changing the music. He
released Winston with a little push towards the guards. From fifteen to closing-time
he was a fixture in the ChestnutTree. The circle of the mask was large enough now to
shut out the vision ofanything else. They sat down on two iron chairs, side by
sidebut not too close together. In the old days he hadhidden a heretical mind
beneath an appearance of conformity. They hadgiven him a bath, and they allowed him
to wash himself fairly frequentlyin a tin basin. He dreamed agreat deal all through
this time, and they were always happy dreams. You think theres no other way of
savingyourself, and youre quite ready to save yourself that way. Only surrender, and
everything elsefollowed. But it was allright, everything was all right, the struggle
was finished.
He lay back on the bed and tried to compose
himself.
The news hadrun round the streets like magic.
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