1984
were what was needed. It had faded but before O’Brien had
dropped his hand; but though he could not recapture it, he
could remember it, as one remembers a vivid experience at
some period of one’s life when one was in effect a different
person.
‘You see now,’ said O’Brien, ‘that it is at any rate possi-
ble.’
‘Yes,’ said Winston.
O’Brien stood up with a satisfied air. Over to his left
Winston saw the man in the white coat break an ampoule
and draw back the plunger of a syringe. O’Brien turned to
Winston with a smile. In almost the old manner he resettled
his spectacles on his nose.
‘Do you remember writing in your diary,’ he said, ‘that
it did not matter whether I was a friend or an enemy, since
I was at least a person who understood you and could be
talked to? You were right. I enjoy talking to you. Your mind
appeals to me. It resembles my own mind except that you
happen to be insane. Before we bring the session to an end
you can ask me a few questions, if you choose.’
‘Any question I like?’
‘Anything.’ He saw that Winston’s eyes were upon the
dial. ‘It is switched off. What is your first question?’
‘What have you done with Julia?’ said Winston.
O’Brien smiled again. ‘She betrayed you, Winston. Im-
mediately—unreservedly. I have seldom seen anyone come
over to us so promptly. You would hardly recognize her if
you saw her. All her rebelliousness, her deceit, her folly, her
dirty-mindedness—everything has been burned out of her.