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was lying flat on his back. But of late his bonds
were looser. They still held him to the bed, but he could move his knees a
little and could turn his head from side to side and raise his arms from
the elbow. The dial, also, had grown to be less of a terror. He could evade
its pangs if he was quick-witted enough: it was chiefly when he showed
stupidity that O'Brien pulled the lever. Sometimes they got through a whole
session without use of the dial. He could not remember how many sessions
there had been. The whole process seemed to stretch out over a long,
indefinite time -- weeks, possibly -- and the intervals between the
sessions might sometimes have been days, sometimes only an hour or two.
'As you lie there,' said O'Brien, 'you have often wondered -- you have
even asked me -- why the Ministry of Love should expend so much time and
trouble on you. And when you were free you were puzzled by what was
essentially the same question. You could grasp the mechanics of the Society
you lived in, but not its underlying motives. Do you remember writing in
your diary, "I understand how: I do not understand why"? It was when you
thought about "why" that you doubted your own sanity. You have read the
book, Goldstein's book, or parts of it, at least. Did it tell you anything
that you did not know already?'
'You have read it?' said Winston.
'I wrote it. That is to say, I collaborated in writing it. No book is
produced individually, as you know.'
'Is it true, what it says?'
'A description, yes. The programme it sets forth is nonsense. The
secret accumulation of knowledge -- a gradual spread of enlightenment --
ultimately a proletarian rebellion -- the overthrow of the Party.