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These other questioners saw to it that he was in constant slight pain, but it was not chiefly pain that they
relied on. They slapped his face, wrung his ears, pulled his hair, made him stand on one leg, refused him
leave to urinate, shone glaring lights in his face until his eyes ran with water; but the aim of this was simply
to humiliate him and destroy his power of arguing and reasoning. Their real weapon was the merciless
questioning that went on and on, hour after hour, tripping him up, laying traps for him, twisting everything
that he said, convicting him at every step of lies and self-contradiction until he began weeping as much from
shame as from nervous fatigue. Sometimes he would weep half a dozen times in a single session. Most of
the time they screamed abuse at him and threatened at every hesitation to deliver him over to the guards
again; but sometimes they would suddenly change their tune, call him comrade, appeal to him in the name of
Ingsoc and Big Brother, and ask him sorrowfully whether even now he had not enough loyalty to the Party
left to make him wish to undo the evil he had done. When his nerves were in rags after hours of
questioning, even this appeal could reduce him to snivelling tears. In the end the nagging voices broke him
down more completely than the boots and fists of the guards. He became simply a mouth that uttered, a
hand that signed, whatever was demanded of him. His sole concern was to find out what they wanted him to
confess, and then confess it quickly, before the bullying started anew. He confessed to the assassination of
eminent Party members, the distribution of seditious pamphlets, embezzlement of public funds, sale of
military secrets, sabotage of every kind. He confessed that he had been a spy in the pay of the Eastasian
government as far back as 1968. He confessed that he was a religious believer, an admirer of capitalism,
and a sexual pervert. He confessed that he had murdered his wife, although he knew, and his questioners
must have known, that his wife was still alive. He confessed that for years he had been in personal touch
with Goldstein and had been a member of an underground organization which had included almost every
human being he had ever known. It was easier to confess everything and implicate everybody. Besides, in a
sense it was all true. It was true that he had been the enemy of the Party, and in the eyes of the Party there
was no distinction between the thought and the deed.
There were also memories of another kind. They stood out in his mind disconnectedly, like pictures with
blackness all round them.
He was in a cell which might have been either dark or light, because he could see nothing except a pair of
eyes. Near at hand some kind of instrument was ticking slowly and regularly. The eyes grew larger and
more luminous. Suddenly he floated out of his seat, dived into the eyes, and was swallowed up.
He was strapped into a chair surrounded by dials, under dazzling lights. A man in a white coat was
reading the dials. There was a tramp of heavy boots outside. The door clanged open. The waxed-faced
officer marched in, followed by two guards.
Room 101, said the officer.
The man in the white coat did not turn round. He did not look at Winston either; he was looking only at
the dials.
He was rolling down a mighty corridor, a kilometre wide, full of glorious, golden light, roaring with
laughter and shouting out confessions at the top of his voice. He was confessing everything, even the things
he had succeeded in holding back under the torture. He was relating the entire history of his life to an
audience who knew it already. With him were the guards, the other questioners, the men in white coats,
O Brien, Julia, Mr Charrington, all rolling down the corridor together and shouting with laughter. Some
dreadful thing which had lain embedded in the future had somehow been skipped over and had not
happened. Everything was all right, there was no more pain, the last detail of his life was laid bare,
understood, forgiven.
He was starting up from the plank bed in the half-certainty that he had heard O Brien s voice. All
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